The Huangpu River stretched wide and expansive, making a bend at the Bund and gathering into waves of delicate white foam. On the western bank of the river, imposing and magnificent Western-style buildings rose in layers, with banks and trading houses from across the Far East all establishing themselves here. Horse carriages carried fair-skinned gentlemen and ladies with high noses, while steamships puffed white smoke, slowly passing beneath the large English signboard of the “International Club.”

Compared to that Forbidden City with its red walls, yellow tiles, Taiji Hall, and eunuchs and palace maids bustling about in competition, it was hard to believe that these two landscapes belonged to the same era and the same country.

Laughter and merriment echoed along the riverbank. Two Indian constables with cotton-wrapped heads wielded wooden batons, chasing a petite Chinese girl. The girl had natural feet, dark skin, and typical Cantonese features, crying and shouting as she ran: “I didn’t evade taxes! It’s unjust!”

She ran to a well-fed scholar’s side: “Sir, please save me…”

But the scholar showed a face full of disgust: “Saltwater girl, get lost! Goods that sleep with foreigners, shameless!”

Guangdong lower-class Dan women who resided in Shanghai and engaged in base occupations, unashamed to serve foreigners, were despised by their countrymen and called “saltwater girls.”

Also, because the foreign concessions regulated the sex trade, prostitutes needed licenses and had to pay taxes. These unregistered streetwalkers were always prime targets for crackdowns.

The Dan woman found herself cornered at one side of the wharf with nowhere to go. The two constables leered as they groped her up and down, saying: “Spend a night with us, and we’ll write off the fine. Come here!”

This kind of scene was also a common sight in the foreign concessions. Passing Chinese people, knowing the constables were vicious, would quickly walk by with eyes fixed on their nose tips, pretending to be just a passing breeze.

Only one young Chinese merchant, with handsome jade-tree features, had an iron-azure face, somehow feeling out of sorts with anger. He strode across the wharf steps and, from the corner of his eye, caught sight of the constable using his wooden baton to prod the Dan woman’s belly while four large hands groped wildly.

The little girl bent over in pain.

His eyes flashed, and he moved two steps closer, as if watching the excitement. Suddenly, with two sharp elbow strikes – thud, thud – both constables had already fallen into the icy Huangpu River. Their faces still wore triumphant grins, but they immediately got mouthfuls of muddy water.

Su Minguan’s lips curved slightly upward. Suddenly, he noticed a fat scholar nearby looking at him with shock and fear. After a long moment, the scholar gave a thumbs up: “Great… great hero, truly mighty, truly raising the spirit of our countrymen…”

With a splash, the fat scholar also went into the Huangpu River, bobbing up and down, crying out for help.

The Dan woman was terrified, trembling all over, staring in stunned silence.

Su Minguan: “What are you looking at? Time to go!”

The Dan woman turned and fled, nimbly leaping into the water and disappearing in a streak of white foam.

Su Minguan also quickly left, calmly removing his navy blue cloak as he walked, revealing the gray cotton shirt underneath. From his chest he took out a foreign cloth soft hat, replacing the skullcap on his head. He fumbled in his pocket for sunglasses and hung them on his ears. Just as the constable squad arrived, he slipped into a scissors shop displaying a copper coin flag.

When he emerged again, all was calm.

Su Minguan sighed inwardly. Good, his quota for the eighth year of Tongzhi was also used up.

But at least his mood had improved somewhat. That inexplicable rage that had made him want to blow up the entire Bund had been slightly extinguished by the ridiculous sight of those two constables falling into the water.

He found a private booth in a teahouse, placed a pot of ginger tea on the table, and kept it warm over a small fire. From his cloth bag, he took out a stack of documents, all carefully written in his hand, stroke by stroke. He tore the papers bit by bit and threw them into the small stove to burn.

The tea server approached with a smile, asking what he’d like to eat.

Su Minguan gave him a cold glance, his gaze driving the tea server out of the private booth, leaving behind a string of quiet complaints.

In three days, he had visited Ralli Bank, Chartered Bank, Mercantile Bank, Hong Kong Bank, Agra Bank, Union Bank, and even Jardine Matheson & Co., with whom he was quite familiar…

Not a single one was willing to lend him even one tael of silver.

The burned paper scraps danced like black butterflies, spinning and fluttering at the flame’s tip.

Su Minguan suddenly gripped a handful of burned paper. His whole body remained ice-cold, only his fingertips burning hot.

When he went to the first bank, the snobbish Chinese comprador had received him warmly, serving tea and refreshments. When he mentioned wanting to borrow twelve thousand taels of silver, the man’s face bloomed like a chrysanthemum with smiles. But after waiting and waiting, the Chinese comprador didn’t return. Instead came two tall, burly Indian guards who politely escorted him out, graciously allowing him to finish the remaining half cup of tea.

After that, time and again, it was universally closed doors, even when he was willing to make concessions, proactively proposing equal principal and interest repayment methods and providing thirty percent additional collateral…

He had vague suspicions in his heart. Until an honest Chinese clerk chased after him and secretly told him the truth.

“Sir, you may not know, but that manager Jin Nengheng from Russell & Co. has recently been organizing a steamship company. From the moment you stepped into Ralli Bank, someone has been reporting to him, saying a Chinese ship owner wants to purchase commercial steamships. He has already coordinated with all foreign shipping companies, jointly pressuring banks and money houses not to lend you money. Even all customers who have business dealings with you have recently had their loans tightly restricted…”

Su Minguan: “Joining together to refuse me loans? Are they the imperial court or the emperor?”

Many fake foreign devils in Shanghai would mercilessly cheat their compatriots without blinking an eye. Su Minguan’s first reaction was suspicion. His face darkened as he said coldly: “How do you know this?”

The Chinese clerk bowed to him: “I’m truly sorry, but I also need to make a living.”

Safe and fast steam engines had always been the monopoly of foreign merchants. Every gear wheel represented the advanced mysteries of Western civilization – how could Chinese people be allowed to get involved?

Some local governments and merchant associations had indeed purchased steamships for combating pirates and escorting grain transport. They paid very generous sums and hired foreigners as commanders, having to pay foreigners even to change a screw. The foreign merchants didn’t object to this.

Now, someone wanted to buy commercial steamships outright, maintain and operate them independently, use them to make money, and compete with Westerners?

Manager Jin Nengheng, that hook-nosed man who swung his walking cane, felt only disgust toward Chinese people.

Su Minguan said in a deep voice: “There doesn’t seem to be any regulation forbidding Chinese merchants from purchasing steamships, right?”

The other party smiled bitterly: “There’s no written rule in black and white. But this is Shanghai – what business Chinese people can or cannot do is still determined by a single word from the foreigners.”

Su Minguan was so angry that he cursed every profanity he knew in his heart. He had already paid three thousand taels as a deposit!

The recipient was the Qing imperial court. This money would never be returned. They didn’t care how you scraped together the remaining payment.

When the ship purchase agreement was signed, many foreign merchants were present, all saying “congratulations and felicitations.” Who would have thought they’d stab him in the back? The thriving Yixing Shipping Company was being collectively boycotted by all foreign financial institutions in Shanghai.

He suddenly looked up, studying that Chinese clerk, and softly uttered a Heaven and Earth Society code phrase.

The other party looked blank: “What did you say?”

Su Minguan changed his approach: “Why are you telling me this?”

The man embarrassedly curled his fingers, saying in a low voice: “You run your own business, while I work for foreigners. I know you people usually curse us plenty. Helping foreigners compete against compatriots, shameless, forgetting our roots… But we also have families to feed. Even government officials bow and scrape before foreigners now – what can we common people do? But making money is one thing, being human is another. I…”

As he spoke, his voice began to tremble, as if suddenly opening a floodgate, pouring out years of suppressed emotions. “We’re all Chinese – who wouldn’t want to earn money with dignity, standing straight? I don’t know why it’s become like this, Chinese people digging pits for each other and scheming against each other, with all the benefits going to foreigners… I know you might not trust me, but I’m also born of parents, and I also have a basic conscience. The court cheats us, foreigners cheat us – I can’t help that, but at least I won’t kick someone when they’re down. Mr. Su, you’re a promising person, but you’re not the first I’ve seen. Foreigners can’t stand seeing us unite. How many ambitious Chinese merchants before you have been secretly eliminated by them, left without a penny! Before, I was also an accomplice, but this time I don’t want to be an accomplice. I only hope you… will keep fighting them.

“You needn’t visit foreign banks anymore. Try the local Chinese moneylenders. That’s all I can remind you of. Mr. Su, take care.”

Su Minguan stared intently at this flustered young man. He had ordinary features, the kind you’d lose in a crowd. He hastily cupped his hands in salute, looked around guiltily like a thief, then turned to leave.

“Wait,” Su Minguan suddenly said. “Ralli Bank clerk, surname Liu?”

The man’s face went pale as he bowed in pleading: “Please just pretend you never saw me today, never remembered me. I would be infinitely grateful.”

Su Minguan didn’t press further, biting his lip as he watched the man leave.

After a long while, he composed himself and followed the clerk’s suggestion to seek out Chinese money houses.

Money houses and exchange shops used outdated management methods, were highly speculative, faced constant bankruptcy risks, and charged high interest. Some were simply tools for high officials and nobles to amass wealth, launder money, and engage in illegal fundraising. Under normal circumstances, they would be his last choice.

At this point, he had no choice but to lower himself, saying all the right words.

However, Shanghai’s financial industry was already basically controlled by foreign capital. The ready cash of most money houses also came largely from short-term loans from foreign banks, which the money houses then re-lent to small and medium merchants who couldn’t communicate with foreigners or didn’t meet foreign company lending thresholds.

Because money houses were highly dependent on foreign capital, they too had no choice but to collectively remain silent, apologetically turning him away.

That Ralli Bank clerk had ultimately been too optimistic about the situation.

The foreign merchants’ purpose was clear: make Su Minguan forfeit three thousand taels for nothing, exhaust his funds, preferably go bankrupt, and nail him to Shanghai’s commercial pillory as a lasting lesson to those Chinese merchants who were toads wanting to eat swan meat.