Su Minguan spoke word by word, satisfied to see the little girl’s large eyes filled with dazzling light, her pale red lips opening wider and wider into a crescent moon smile, then suddenly springing up from her chair and pouncing forward, fiercely embracing his neck.
“You… you… You should have said earlier… too fast… you… are terrifying…”
He laughed loudly: “Be more reserved.”
Lin Yuchan wanted to pour out all the rainbow flattery she’d learned in her lifetime. This man was a devil!
Su Minguan sat on the stool, dozens of pounds of person throwing herself at him. He didn’t mind the weight at all, letting her nuzzle against him twice before helping her stand up straight, removing a strand of hair from her slender neck and tucking it behind her small ear.
Her face was flower-like, the air slightly cool, bringing some color to her cheeks. Yet her face was also cool—his warm palm cupped her cheek, warming her into a small shiver.
“Of course, I won’t tell others about the plan to dismantle and sell the ship piecemeal. They only think I’ll buy the ship and then spend money repairing it,” Su Minguan said close to her ear. “Otherwise, if they knew my plan, it wouldn’t be this price.”
“Of course we can’t tell others,” Lin Yuchan agreed conspiratorially. “Otherwise, those ironworks would unite to drive down prices.”
Su Minguan chuckled. When this girl became cunning, her reactions were quite quick, too.
“Alright, that’s the matter.” He casually picked up a ceramic pen holder from the desk and stuffed it in her hands. “Don’t forget to take your things.”
Then, with unchanging expression, he opened the door and politely gestured with a perfectly proper appearance: “Let’s discuss other matters downstairs. Please.”
Lin Yuchan clutched the inexplicable pen holder, stomping downstairs while feigning anger: “I helped you so much, and this is all I get in exchange?”
Su Minguan shook his head, sighing: “I knew there’d be outrageous demands.”
The two had only been upstairs for five minutes, really just retrieving something. The clerks downstairs were writing new schedules and hadn’t finished yet.
Lin Yuchan peeked into the tea room and indeed saw the curtain was broken, half-closed and unable to shut properly.
She couldn’t help but smile, her shoulders still seeming to carry his warmth, making her face inexplicably hot.
She spread out the new contract she’d brought, scanning several lines seriously, returning to business mode.
“I heard recently that Chinese shipping companies have all lowered their rates.”
She smiled as she pushed the contract across.
Without Lin Yuchan saying much, Su Minguan scanned ten lines at a glance and already understood her meaning.
“Oh? Mr. Rong’s contract is in there, too?” He smiled with some surprise. “All need repricing?”
Lin Yuchan replied with a proud smile. Rong Hong was immersed in his Tongwen Academy textbook work, delegating whatever he could. He was too lazy to come to Yixing, and during the last shareholders’ meeting, he’d authorized her to act as his representative.
Su Minguan picked up the contract and browsed carefully.
Lin Yuchan was very meticulous—her contracts rarely offered opportunities for exploitation. Though the old contract specified shipping rates, at her insistence, they’d added a clause: if war, policy changes, tax adjustments, or other reasons caused significant market price fluctuations, Party A had the right to request price renegotiation.
He nodded: “We can negotiate. But there’s something I must clarify first. Buying Guangdong exceeded Yixing’s cash reserves. I’ve already paid a twenty percent deposit—three thousand taels of silver. The remaining twelve thousand taels also need to be gathered quickly. So my accounts are quite barren now. If Miss Lin could continue with the old contract… I’d be very grateful.”
It was only because she was a shareholder that he revealed these details. If she were an ordinary customer, he could easily use flowery words to find an excuse and insist on not lowering prices.
Lin Yuchan made an “mm” sound, only then realizing that dreams had costs. Buying that colossal thing he’d longed for, Yixing’s cash flow should be nearly depleted.
She asked: “Can you pay in installments?”
Su Minguan: “Possible, but the ship can only be transferred and registered after full payment. So installments are meaningless. These few days, I’ll seek connections early, trying for bank loans to pay in full.”
Lin Yuchan nodded, feeling somewhat disappointed.
He’d exposed his weaknesses so openly that she felt embarrassed to haggle over those few coins, robbing his last tael of silver.
She could only silently pack up her things.
Su Minguan held his teacup, covering half his face, looking up to study this honest-hearted girl.
She’d dealt with merchants from all trades and industries. He couldn’t help wondering: was she this generous with everyone, or was she only being lenient with him because of their friendship?
The profiteering flag on his chest gradually lowered, and he felt that people should be upright.
“Miss Lin,” he called to stop her, his voice serious, “someone complains to you about hardship, and you’re willing to take losses for him?”
Lin Yuchan looked at him in surprise. Why was this person undermining himself?
With other business partners, she certainly wouldn’t be so merciful. For instance, every time Shopkeeper Mau entertained her, headache medicine tea was always ready on the table.
She smiled: “Then teach me—how not to take losses?”
“Shipping rates remain at original prices until the old contract ends.” Su Minguan showed no expression, scribbling modifications on her draft. “If we continue cooperating next year, I’ll give you a double discount then.”
She smiled in surprise, truly not having thought it could work this way.
“Yes! Next year we can certainly continue…”
She suddenly stopped, her smile freezing.
1862 was about to end. The old contract took effect last summer for one year. The next contract would extend to summer 1864.
By then, the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom would reach its end, its vast territory dismembered by the Qing court, Tianjing fallen, all of Jiangnan scorched earth.
Moreover, the giant’s fall wouldn’t happen overnight. Before this, war would blaze along the Yangtze River, making merchant travel even more impossible.
Rong Hong’s Taiping Heavenly Kingdom passport could no longer protect him. He’d have no more opportunities to collect tea from inland war zones for profit.
Thus, he’d never enjoy this “double discount.”
Su Minguan asked gently: “Any problems?”
Lin Yuchan: “Let me think.”
Her gaze was vaguely fixed on the contract draft. Su Minguan’s elegant handwriting covered her amateur schoolchild calligraphy—a public execution.
She wondered: even if she warned everyone, announcing the exact date of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom’s collapse, would anyone believe?
After all, she wasn’t the Qing Dynasty’s only fortune teller. Storytellers on the streets, newspaper publishers, and old men walking birds and playing chess were all enthusiastically predicting current events daily. Probably memorials flew to the capital daily with fortune-telling: “Your subject observed the stars at night—the long-haired rebels’ fate is exhausted, they’ll be destroyed this July/August/September…”
What did her little foresight matter?
Everyone knew rebellion carried risks; the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom couldn’t last forever.
When Rong Hong decided to collect tea against the current, he also knew this business couldn’t last long.
Risk was already factored into prices. No need for additional worry.
She figured it out, shaking her head: “No problems. But I require this discount to apply not only to war zone tea collection. If Mr. Rong or I change to other routes and goods by then, we should enjoy the same discount.”
Su Minguan smiled: “It’s a deal.”
Draft revised, contract taken back. This was just a verbal agreement—as long as both parties trusted each other, they could sign next year.
Su Minguan had people clear the tea service and personally saw Lin Yuchan out.
“A’Mei,” when she reached the door, he smiled quietly, “when Guangdong is dismantled and the steam engine installed, I’ll invite you aboard.”
Lin Yuchan smiled beautifully, quickly stepping onto the street, waving back.
Su Minguan returned to the shop, playing with the pen in his hand, eyes slightly lowered, obvious smile remaining at his brows and eye corners.
Until he felt something was wrong with the atmosphere. The clerks erasing blackboards, writing schedules, and organizing tables were all glancing at him sideways.
As if flowers were blooming on his body.
Shi Peng emerged from behind the counter, smiling at him like a father.
Su Minguan’s face darkened as he said calmly: “About buying Guangdong—didn’t most people raise their hands in agreement? It won’t bankrupt us. Society funds won’t stop either. It’s too late for objections now.”
Perhaps this reprimand was delivered too gently—instead of being chastened, everyone smiled more happily, looking like they deserved pay cuts.
Shi Peng smiled at him honestly, quietly pointing toward the narrow staircase behind the shop, meaning they could stay a bit longer.
Su Minguan frowned slightly, following the clerks’ suggestive gazes.
The tea room curtain was damaged, half-hanging on its frame. Through the window frame, he could see—
Su Minguan’s pupils contracted, suddenly feeling hot all over, gripping the pen tightly.
That little broken ceramic pen holder was still on the table! She’d forgotten to take it!
—Oh, the “important item” that must be kept in his bedroom, lost with no compensation, you’d better go get it quickly…
Used and discarded by him, his ulterior motives blazingly obvious.
Su Minguan couldn’t stop his hands from trembling slightly. The laughing voices of those around him froze, becoming a sharp sword piercing a dark corner of his heart.
Seeing their boss’s expression change and about to explode, the clerks quickly lowered their heads, each doing their own work, finding excuses to go to the back.
Shi Peng, relying on his seniority and age, and remembering some past events, carefully approached, choosing what he thought were appropriate words: “Boss, there are still three matchmaker letters in the cabinet, unanswered.”
Su Minguan’s lips barely moved: “Why not reply?”
“All excuses are used up, and you won’t let us offend people—what can we do?” Shi Peng threw caution to the wind, saying in one breath: “If you care about us brothers, there’s someone ready-made who could be the boss’s wife, settling in our shop to bring good fortune. Then we won’t have these social debts anymore. Don’t worry, I’ll instruct the brothers below to treat her like an empress. This is Shanghai, not our old countryside—everyone’s busy making money, if manners are lacking, there aren’t seven aunts and eight sisters-in-law gossiping.”
Su Minguan was struck speechless, a faint blush on his cheeks.
Then that smile became a deliberate sneer. He bit his lip hard, clenching the pen like an enemy, twisting until the nib deformed. Several coarse wolf hairs from the brush core pierced his nail beds, making his brow twitch.
“Never mention this again.” His voice was low and gentle but carried an indisputable authority, speaking word by word: “What boss’s wife… Shanghai Yixing Shipping will never have a boss’s wife.”
With a snap, he threw the pen to the ground, his face like ice, grabbing his cloak and swirling it on, striding out.
“I’m going to the bank for loan negotiations. If anyone comes looking, have them make appointments three days later!”