“Oh my, flip over, flip over, use your strength… sigh, she went back, try again! Ah—so close…”

Nanny Guo clapped her hands dramatically, transforming into a cheerleader, encouraging the little one on the bed.

A wooden board with “Florence” written in English was nailed to the railings outside the small bed. Inside lay a little bundle of flesh, lying on her side with head raised, desperately stretching short arms and legs, swaying like a tumbler with its center of gravity misplaced.

“She’s been practicing this for days, flipping nonstop.” Nanny Guo laughed. “Today with Madam visiting, she’s a bit stage-frightened. Yesterday she was much more energetic…”

Suddenly, the baby seemed to understand the nanny’s words, held her breath, and, with a roll, struggled to flip over!

She raised her heavy head in bewilderment, surveying this suddenly upside-down world.

Lin Yuchan and the nanny clapped and cheered together.

She leaned against the railings outside, feeling like she’d returned to childhood, as if watching monkeys at the zoo.

In a neighboring small building, slightly older orphans followed a teacher reciting simple English. In a corner of the courtyard, a fenced area housed chicks and ducklings, with children feeding them vegetables.

Lin Yuchan turned her gaze back, wearing a maternal smile, urging the nanny: “Remove the pillow and try again!”

Virtual parenting was wonderful. She didn’t need to worry, and each visit showed the baby had automatically grown a size and learned various new skills.

Of course, compared to other children her age, Lin Feilun was still somewhat physically deficient. Her thin arms and legs were delicate and bony, ribs protruding when she yawned, barely any hair, and some red rashes that were slow to heal. If taken to a modern children’s hospital, doctors would probably warn about strengthening nutrition.

But by late Qing child-rearing standards, merely surviving counted as healthy.

Considering her condition when discovered, her survival to this point was miraculous.

Lin Feilun grew tired from flipping and took a break, lying comfortably in Lin Yuchan’s arms. Suddenly, her little face bloomed into a toothless infant smile.

Lin Yuchan’s heart melted as she held the tiny pink hand.

Sometimes when she was exhausted from striving, she would wonder blankly—what was the point of all this effort?

She alone couldn’t change history’s trajectory, couldn’t transform this nation’s suffering fate into a smooth path of prosperity and success.

If someone as extraordinary as Rong Hong couldn’t accomplish it, how could she compete?

She was just a tiny wave accidentally caught in a turbid flood. Besides going with the flow, what other use was there… probably?

The people she helped, the charity funds she accumulated, the copper coins she casually threw to beggars—all destined to return to zero in future calamities. Why bother?

Until she pulled that infant from the cesspit, one almost destined never to open her eyes. Lin Yuchan suddenly realized that what she did might have meaning.

Nations and peoples were too heavy. But what composed nations and peoples were individual, fragile, ordinary, quiet, perhaps not very likable… people.

One such person’s life had been tangibly changed by her own hands.

This frail infant named Lin Feilun might live an ordinary life, accomplish nothing, and never make her voice heard in history. But she was also part of future China, a tiny cell in the nation’s flesh and blood.

And she was super cute too!

This was change Lin Yuchan had personally pushed forward. Realizing this, she was so excited her chest swelled and her mind cleared.

She was just a common grass that could absorb nutrients from the air, the kind that could survive planted anywhere in the desert. Just one infant’s unconscious smile could motivate her to persist another fifty years in this black desert.

After admiring the human cub for half an hour, Lin Yuchan’s worries completely dissipated. She generously gave small New Year red envelopes to all the nannies at the orphanage.

Earlier she’d had a big argument at Xuhui Tea Shop. Perhaps because money was tight near New Year, or feeling this major client was increasingly dependent on his tea shop, Shopkeeper Mao had also become arrogant, proposing contract modifications with price increases on several steps.

Lin Yuchan immediately protested, but discovered that no matter how fierce she acted, it came across like a little girl’s unreasonable tantrum, failing to achieve deterrent effect.

Finally, she invoked Yixing, saying coldly: “What kind of organization our ‘fellow-provincial association’ is, the shopkeeper should understand. Mutual help, no backstabbing—these are basic rules. Last time when I was ill and delayed payment for a few days, didn’t Boss Su immediately cover for you without shortchanging you? Today, you want to raise prices, but I can’t afford it. Why don’t I ask him to cover for me, too?”

Only then did Shopkeeper Mao soften: “No, no, no need to trouble that gentleman.”

After all, since joining Yixing, he’d indeed enjoyed considerable “mutual help” benefits, reducing many friction costs. Being “expelled” over this would be counterproductive.

Merchants changed faces quickly. Shopkeeper Mao immediately smiled: “Miss, what are you saying? I was just discussing it. We businesspeople, whose contract signing doesn’t involve red-faced arguments? Don’t take it to heart, hahaha…”

Lin Yuchan also made concessions, saying amiably: “If market conditions change, I’ll naturally propose price increases before the next contract renewal. After all, your masters need to be well-fed to roast good tea for me. You’ve known me so long—you know I’m not penny-pinching. Can’t you trust me on this?”

Shopkeeper Mao agreed verbally.

He thought to himself, this girl’s wings had truly hardened. When she first stepped into this shop, he still clearly remembered her green speech and manner.

“By the way,” Shopkeeper Mao added, “Miss Lin, my daughter plans to marry within a year or two. Recently, the family’s been peaceful, so we won’t let her show her face at the tea shop anymore. I’ll have skilled masters take over her work—it’ll only be done better. What does Miss think?”

This wasn’t seeking her opinion, just notification. After all, it was a family business. No matter how powerful Lin Yuchan was as the client, she couldn’t interfere.

Lin Yuchan was startled and somewhat disappointed. Mao Shuniang was only fifteen, just getting started with tea techniques.

But since Shopkeeper Mao had just yielded to her, she couldn’t be too aggressive. After thinking, she said: “When is the wedding? Let me meet her beforehand.”

Shopkeeper Mao quickly said it was still early, at least next year or the year after.

“It’s not that we can’t support a daughter—I treasure her like a pearl in my palm. It’s just that… when girls get older, after all, that… haha… It’s inconvenient…”

Lin Yuchan nodded, indicating she understood, too lazy to hear these platitudes.

Treasure like a pearl, my foot.

She inspected the tea-roasting workshop’s work before taking her leave.

She didn’t know how much longer she could cooperate with Xuhui Tea Shop.

Rong Hong’s repeated ventures into the interior showed the situation was slowly changing. Though his safety remained assured, ordinary people along the route weren’t so fortunate. Many familiar tea farmers had disappeared with their families, whereabouts unknown.

Getting high-quality tea leaves was becoming increasingly difficult.

When this tea supply line completely died out and all stored raw tea was processed and sold, she’d need to reconsider her path.

Fortunately, she’d already accumulated considerable capital. Boya Hongkou had opened for six months, already recovering all investment with profit—

But not a penny was in her hands. All went to Su Minguan to buy steamships.

Thinking of this, she was angry enough to puff smoke again.

Damn man! Being nice to me was just for my money!

Puppy love wasn’t reliable!

After the Lantern Festival, government offices and shops gradually resumed work. Lin Yuchan was incredibly busy. The first batch of tea for customs had been delivered. The tea packaging uniformly bore Boya’s trademark, creating a considerable promotional effect. Many new orders came after the New Year, dramatically increasing pressure.

No wonder Shopkeeper Mao had the confidence to raise prices with her.

Recent battles in Jiangsu and Zhejiang were also rapidly changing. Tea prices fell, slightly reducing Boya Refined Tea’s competitiveness. She had to reprice—but couldn’t make existing customers who’d paid deposits feel cheated, so she gave additional regular customer discount coupons, hiring dedicated runners to distribute them to customer mailboxes.

However, as Taiping forces no longer attacked Shanghai, many refugees sheltering in the concessions returned to the countryside, causing labor costs in the concessions to rise with higher prices for temporary workers. Lin Yuchan’s shop had no male clerks, always hiring temporary workers—an increasingly large expense.

She thought it would be good to have a group of dedicated full-time clerks, even just two or three. Then she wouldn’t have to use Xuhui Tea Shop’s people everywhere and be constrained by them.

But she still faced the same old problem: reliable male workers simply wouldn’t apply. The few women who came seeking work either lacked ability or had come secretly without their fathers’, brothers’, or husbands’ knowledge, only to be discovered and persuaded to return home within days.

The North China Herald mentioned in a corner that Guangdong commercial trade continued shrinking recently, with many Guangdong migrants coming to Shanghai, forming a new temporary worker market outside Shiliupu Wharf beyond the county seat, calling for authorities to standardize management soon.

Lin Yuchan decided to take a look when free.

The newspaper was still borrowed from Rong Hong, to be returned that afternoon. She quickly browsed while taking notes on important content.

Suddenly, she saw—

“Shanghai Guangfang Dialect Institute recently began formal classes, located within the Imperial Maritime Customs, with Chinese and Western instructors jointly writing textbooks to teach English. Shanghai’s foreign community holds appreciative attitudes, all saying this demonstrates the Qing Empire’s sincerity toward opening up. Related interview with Hede attached, full of proper words about responding to imperial calls, helping the Qing rapidly achieve internationalization and enter the world stage, promoting Sino-British friendship, and of course, finally appealing for support from all sectors…”

She skimmed through quickly.

Lin Yuchan couldn’t help smiling.

In any case, the Tongwenguan branch school was established, using teaching materials that Rong Hong and various bigwigs had helped write. She felt her efforts weren’t wasted.

She also calculated whether this school with so many people, getting thirsty from lecturing, might need some tea.

Next opportunity at customs, she’d sound them out.

This newspaper issue had so much content. Lin Yuchan browsed through and was about to put it away when she suddenly discovered another brief notice in a corner.

“Chinese Merchants Embrace Modern Technology: Recently, a Chinese shipping company purchased its first steamship, with a maiden voyage imminent, potentially rewriting Shanghai’s transportation industry competitive landscape…”

Lin Yuchan stared fixedly at those neat printed letters. The black letters were like butterflies carrying ink fragrance, spinning and flying before her eyes.

Was it him?

Such a big event, and he didn’t tell her!

The newspaper was last week’s. Looking at the new ship’s “ribbon-cutting date,” it was today.

Lin Yuchan hurriedly changed clothes, took her small foreign cloth bag, had Aunt Zhou return the newspaper, and rushed to Hongkou Commercial Wharf mentioned in the news.

When the spring river water warms, ducks know first. The Westernization Movement had just taken its first step, but cargo ships at the wharf were already quietly increasing. Goods being loaded and unloaded were no longer limited to agricultural products and textiles, but included minerals, industrial goods, and military equipment.

Among the busy Chinese and foreign cargo ships, a medium-sized steamship sat quietly moored. It wasn’t brand new or very large, but had a light exterior like a fish eagle riding wind and waves.

The deck had two-story cabins, two masts, fore and aft auxiliary sails, with huge wheel mechanisms installed on both sides. A tall watchtower pointed skyward.

The air carried a slightly choking smell. Cut ceremonial flowers lay piled on the ground, strings of spent firecrackers spread along the wharf edge.

A group of Chinese and foreign merchants chatted and laughed, pointing at the ship. An official in civilian clothes smiled as he offered encouragement, then returned to his sedan chair to be carried away. A North China Herald reporter with a tripod was photographing the ship.

This seemed to be the one mentioned in the newspaper—the first commercial steamship purchased by a Shanghai Chinese ship owner, pioneering Chinese transportation industry.

The “new ship meet-and-greet” appeared nearly over. Ribbons cut, firecrackers set off, leaders offering condolences, crowds having seen the excitement—about to disperse.

Lin Yuchan stopped, deeply disappointed.

Not Yixing’s ship. Didn’t recognize the model, and no copper coin flag.

Not what Su Minguan had said about dismantling Guangdong ship’s steam engine and installing it on Yixing’s flagship “Swallow”…

Just an ordinary European-manufactured steamship. Some equally shrewd fellow merchant had beaten them to it, becoming the first to eat crab.

A wharf worker whistled at her, pigtail wrapped around his neck, making unwelcome advances: “Little lady, alone? Want to see the steamship up close? Come, I’ll take you over, haha…”

Lin Yuchan stepped back twice and turned to leave.

Suddenly, a low voice beside her scolded the worker: “Get lost.”

That voice she hadn’t heard for two months was like the first spring breeze over water, instantly stirring countless ripples.

Lin Yuchan looked up and smiled: “Minguan! You’re here too.”

Su Minguan wore a blue crepe jacket and gray crepe robe, inevitably thin in this chilly spring weather. However, his tall, straight figure made that thin outfit appear dignified and simple. A neat copper buckle at his waist embodied elegant simplicity, even more ethereal.

He was naturally also here to observe the new ship.

Damn man and such—just curse him mentally. Not seeing him for so long, seeing his complexion normal, whole and complete, not crushed by massive debt as some ill-intentioned “fellow merchants” had rumored…

Lin Yuchan’s first emotion was happiness, asking: “How have you been lately? I was a bit worried…”

Su Minguan coldly interrupted: “Why did you come?”

His tone was quite stiff, somewhat indifferent.

The little girl thought she was inconspicuous, but standing in the spacious wharf, she was like a flower blooming in the desert—anyone would notice her immediately.

Lin Yuchan: “I heard…”

“Who told you?”

Lin Yuchan turned away. After ignoring her for so long, she still has this attitude. No matter how magnanimous she was, she couldn’t help feeling annoyed, answering coolly: “I came to see whether the money I lent out would be wasted.”

She pointed at that fish-eagle-like beautiful steamship, asking: “Whose is it?”

“Whose?” Su Minguan was amused by her, his tense face melting like spring water, with a hint of a smile in his eyes. “Who do you think it belongs to?”

He quickly looked her over. She’d been busy lately—he could tell. Even while watching the steamship, she seemed somewhat distracted, thinking about her tea business. And she thought this steamship belonged to someone else…

“You can take a closer look.”

He pointed forward emotionlessly.

Lin Yuchan pondered his tone, hardly believing: “It can’t be… but you said you’d dismantle the Guangdong ship, sell it piece by piece, keep one engine, and install it on the Swallow…”

She asked rapid-fire: “This isn’t the Swallow… where did Guangdong ship go? Did it sell smoothly? Did foreign merchants cause more trouble? How much money did you recover? Are funds still tight? Where did this ship come from? You… you didn’t tell me anything… couldn’t even send someone to tell me…”

Su Minguan looked apologetically at her aggrieved eyes.

She hadn’t changed at all. This year’s training in shrewdness and boldness was reserved for others. Facing him, she remained transparently kind and pure.

He simply said, “Busy.”

Didn’t know how to face her, so stayed busy.

The vow was spoken by his mouth, and he remembered that state of mind. He had voluntarily given up any possible intimate relationships with any girl in this lifetime. In that cramped carriage compartment, when he confessed to her, he wasn’t that drunk. He’d have to tell her sooner or later.

From then on, he’d prepared never to see her again. After all, he was habitually fickle with poor self-control. This little girl beside him was particularly corrupting—each meeting, he couldn’t help teasing her, getting close to her, doing absurd things with her that defied convention.

He didn’t believe in the femme fatale theory, so this was naturally his problem to solve alone.

The wild thoughts in his heart echoed endlessly, hitting the hard shell-like calluses of his heart, suppressed to ancient well stillness, only remaining at the bottom of his heart to burn slowly and painfully.

But… she had sought him out today. A secret joy arose in his heart. He couldn’t very well ignore her.

Shareholder inquiries also couldn’t be dismissed.

“Guangdong ship transferred ownership smoothly. The money went to the government—foreign companies couldn’t stop it.” Su Minguan accommodated her pace, walking slowly while methodically telling her, “Everyone thought I was sending the ship for repairs. Those foreign shipyards and wharves had already coordinated, even writing to European headquarters to set unified high prices, waiting to fleece me thoroughly.”

He scanned the tender green willows along the riverbank, lips slightly curved: “They didn’t know I went directly to several iron foundries I’d previously scouted, claiming to be a comprador negotiating ship dismantling. I deliberately scheduled different time slots for quick negotiations. When foreigners realized I wasn’t a comprador and the ship being dismantled was the Guangdong ship, only a waste frame remained at the wharf. Shipyard and foundry people nearly fought.”

Lin Yuchan listened like symphony music, delighted, asking: “What about the steam engine?”

“The turbine and steam engine core components were intact. But I’d oversimplified earlier. Foreign steam turbine matching components were too numerous—they couldn’t just be installed on Chinese sailing ships. Retrofitting would cost enormously, not worth it. I simply sold the steam turbine, too. Qiji Iron Foundry happened to receive urgent government military equipment orders, so they paid high prices for steel components, deciding to break the boycott and buy my steam engine at this price. Their foundry and foreign merchants are still feuding.”

Lin Yuchan saw his hand gesture beneath his sleeve and held her breath.

“This… this broke even! Even made a profit!”

Foreign steamships were expensive precisely because of their power systems. The Guangdong ship was wrecked ashore with a damaged exterior only.

Qing officials sold the steamship cheaply, then let commissioned foreign factories buy back intact machinery at high prices—government inefficiency, redundant personnel with poor communication meant such money-burning moves happened yearly, previously all benefiting foreigners. This time Su Minguan precisely fleeced them.

Su Minguan said quietly, “I simply sold the Swallow, too. Scraping together thirty thousand taels, I bought this one—Russell & Co. recently speculated in cotton and needed ready cash. Though second-hand, this ship launched less than a year ago with basically new components, a maximum speed of twelve knots. I… like it.”

Lin Yuchan felt like she’d become a mooring post, probably with “stunned” written on her face. His words reached her ears, converted to images, automatically edited in her mind into a fast-paced film with a magnificent soundtrack.

After a long while, she remembered to express admiration: “These operations… were all what you… kept busy with these two months?”

Su Minguan had been watching the steamship but couldn’t help turning again to admire her undisguised, amazed expression. Brilliant sunlight reflected off the ship’s steel plates into her eyes. Originally jet-black pupils became deep amber in a glance, gracefully spirited, filled with sincere light.

He suddenly felt his whirlwind operations weren’t much. He’d moved too fast—many foreign merchants were still waiting to see his joke, not seeing him repair ships, thinking his financing had failed and he’d gone bankrupt. Only after reading newspaper reports did they belatedly rush over to “congratulate” with bitter faces, letting him receive them with bitter sarcasm, quite comfortable.

Russell & Co.’s Manager Jin Nengheng only saw his true face when the ship changed ownership, discovering it was bought by a Chinese person—the same cunning Chinese from that auction day. His hooked nose nearly bent with rage, almost drawing his gun. Fortunately, others talked him down, but he smashed a seventeenth-century oil painting on the spot.

That surge of spring pride had also silently passed. The foreigners’ humiliated expressions couldn’t compare to her smile.

Two dragonflies flew past her, flapping wings toward the tall watchtower.

Su Minguan bent to pull the cable, lowering the gangplank.

“Want to tour it?”