At this moment, the opera reached its climax with waves of excitement. The audience stomped their feet in enthusiasm, cheers thundered like roars, and whistles rose everywhere, completely drowning out Lin Yuchan’s soft voice until not a ripple remained.

Su Minguan saw her absent-minded expression and smiled, “Not enjoying it at all? Do you understand what they’re singing in the opera?”

She shook her head in embarrassment. She hadn’t been listening seriously to begin with, and the singing style with its pronunciation carried a Suzhou dialect, so she truly hadn’t understood much.

“In ancient times, there was a white snake who cultivated for a thousand years, transformed into human form, and married a mortal man named Xu Xian.” Su Minguan explained the opera to her. “Unexpectedly, there was an evil monk named Fahai who, upon seeing Xu Xian’s face bearing demonic influence, refused to let him leave the mountain. This angered the White Snake, who led shrimp soldiers and crab generals to confront him…”

“I know this!” Lin Yuchan said excitedly. “The Legend of the White Snake!”

Chinese culture truly had an unbroken lineage. The version of the White Snake legend that Su Minguan spoke of was remarkably similar to the plot she had seen in TV dramas. After two centuries, the storyline could still match up.

With this live commentary as a guide, looking at the character movements on stage, she immediately understood the current plot.

“Oh my, flooding Jinshan Temple.”

The Legend of the White Snake had already become a popular folk tale by this time. The stage was now performing the most exciting scene, where the White Snake and Fahai fought until the sky darkened and earth shook, while hundreds of spectators below held their breath in rapt attention, their eyes unblinking.

Su Minguan suddenly asked, “Do you know where Jinshan Temple from the opera is located?”

Lin Yuchan was startled and shook her head.

Why did listening to opera require homework?

Su Minguan laughed, finished the last sip of his tea, pulled her to stand up, and pointed northwest.

A small mountain shaped like an azure spiral, with temples scattered across it in varying heights, broken walls and ruins, collapsed pagodas, and sparse, withered trees, overlooking the rolling torrents of the Yangtze River flowing past.

Since she wasn’t patient enough to listen to the opera anyway, he picked up a coat and smiled, “Straighten your hat. Let’s go find Fahai.”

Zhenjiang’s Jinshan Temple, a historic thousand-year-old monastery, had once been a place where tourists flocked, emperors made visits, and literati and poets competed to visit. Unfortunately, it had been destroyed down to its foundations during the Opium Wars and Taiping Heavenly Kingdom wars, with only occasional pilgrims coming to pay their respects and contemplate the past.

Jinshan Island was originally an island in the river. Through the changes of time, the river changed course, and the island’s land gradually connected with the southern shore, washing up muddy shallows.

People couldn’t walk on the shallows. They found a farming household by the shore and rented two donkeys.

Lin Yuchan was helped onto the small donkey by Su Minguan and carefully straightened up.

Lin Yuchan’s only experience riding an animal was from the previous year at this time, when she rode a war horse with Su Minguan to escape pursuit by government soldiers. When that horse went mad, she couldn’t control it at all, and after just a few minutes, she fell to the ground, leaving her with enormous psychological trauma.

However, the donkey walked slowly and steadily. She gradually relaxed and carefully looked around at the scenery.

“What else did you see?” Su Minguan suddenly asked her.

Though he appeared leisurely, he was somewhat curious about the intelligence Lin Yuchan had gathered.

Now that there was no one around, they could speak freely.

If their roles were reversed, if Su Minguan held some intelligence and Lin Yuchan asked him for it, he would have to put on airs and negotiate for some benefit to maintain his cunning merchant persona.

But Lin Yuchan had no such image burden and said whatever came to mind.

“Right. I didn’t finish earlier. During Tang Tingshu’s day in the concession, besides social networking and buying shops and land, I also saw him meeting with clerks from several other trading houses.”

Su Minguan glanced sideways slightly. Trading houses were also in competition with each other, so why would they meet for no reason?

He asked, “Was there a new treaty or new regulations?”

Lin Yuchan shook her head. “I waited outside to serve, so I didn’t hear the details. But I saw Tang Tingshu come out holding several documents. I pretended not to understand English, so I didn’t dare look too closely…”

Su Minguan suddenly chuckled softly and said in a low voice, “The servant I sent doesn’t understand English. I need to remember that to avoid giving myself away.”

Lin Yuchan smiled charmingly and continued, “And he had a serious illness in childhood, so he’s physically weak. He was once a small apprentice at a tea shop, suffered cold treatment and abuse, and by chance was saved by Boss Su, from whom he received the gift of life. Since then, he’s been utterly loyal, following orders without question. Now he’s just doing odd jobs on the ship, but dreams of becoming a ship captain—you don’t know how chatty Tang Tingshu can be—anyway, I glanced at it and saw it was a price-fixing contract.”

The donkey stopped steadily at the foot of Jinshan. Su Minguan jumped onto the shoreline path and reached out to lift her down.

Seeing her cotton hat was slightly askew, he casually pulled it off, ruffled her beautiful hair, then nonchalantly put it back on her. The little donkey snorted in dissatisfaction.

“Price-fixing contract?” he asked in a low voice.

Lin Yuchan followed him to tie up the donkey and earnestly asked for instruction, “What kind of contract is that? I’ve never seen one.”

Su Minguan had worked at trading houses for several years, but price-fixing contracts were indeed uncommon.

“As the name suggests, it’s a contract for several trading houses to unify prices.” He guided her up the steps, gradually walking into the ruins and rubble of Jinshan Temple. “Not just prices, but also unified division of market shares, taking unified steps to deal with competitors, and so on. When trading houses are evenly matched and don’t want to fall into the quagmire of vicious competition, they temporarily form alliances to deal with…”

He frowned. Several trading house branches in Zhenjiang are forming a vertical alliance—to deal with whom?

Lin Yuchan’s expression became solemn. “I looked at the licenses of those trading houses, and several of them only have cotton business in Zhenjiang. They’re establishing a unified price alliance regarding cotton. Moreover, that price-fixing contract was already the second version, indicating that this time last year, they were already acting in unison to deal with… Chinese cotton merchants.”

She finally understood why the trading house compradors mentioned a “quota” every day during procurement. Regardless of how low the price was, they would immediately stop buying once they reached their quota, because that was the market share agreed upon between trading houses. She also figured out why the trading houses had such tacit understanding—when Chinese cotton merchants refused to sell their goods because prices were too low, even when trading houses faced supply shortages, they wouldn’t raise the price by even a penny.

Because that would violate the “price-fixing contract.”

Zhenjiang’s foreign trade commerce was still in its early stages, with various business operations being relatively simple, which allowed her to see the naked “price-fixing contract.” In the Shanghai concession, where foreign merchants had been operating painstakingly for over twenty years, similar competitive strategies were certainly exponentially more complex.

The remains of Jinshan Temple wrapped around the mountain rocks, scattered across the entire island. As far as the eye could see, there were no signs of human habitation.

Suddenly, she stumbled, stepping into a broken section of stairs.

Amid her small scream, Su Minguan caught her in one swift motion, helplessly touching his head.

“You need to watch the road even when chatting, A’Mei.”

Lin Yuchan nestled in his arms, angry. “I knew they were always scheming against the Chinese! These past two years, cotton prices have been climbing, but the more cotton Chinese people grow, the more money they lose—it’s all their doing! I absolutely must expose this price-fixing contract!”

Su Minguan gave a cold smile. “What good would exposing it do? Have you forgotten about last year when all the banks and money shops refused to give me loans?”

Lin Yuchan looked at him with melancholy.

Yes, even if they played with open cards, pointing at people’s noses and declaring “I’m scheming against you,” what could Chinese merchants do?

They could only grit their teeth and swallow their blood. Su Minguan relied entirely on his accumulated connections, personal willpower, and a bit of luck to narrowly escape the great powers’ burial pit.

But what about those thousands of small-scale merchants—could she make each of them sign a “price-fixing contract”?

Even if she had such persuasive power, even if the trading houses stood by and watched, the Qing court would be the first to object.

Gathering so many people to act in unison—planning a rebellion?

However, upon reflection, she realized that price-fixing contracts were renewed annually, not permanent agreements. This meant the trading houses’ alliance was not unbreakable. They would also adjust their respective shares each year based on changes in their strength.

If she could make them fight among themselves…

“A’Mei,” Su Minguan suddenly released her and gave her a meaningful look. “Someone’s here.”

In the distance, by the ruined Buddhist hall on the small hillside, two people were bending over and climbing, apparently also here to visit the ancient site.

There were also intermittent sounds of “Amitabha Buddha.” Despite Jinshan Temple’s decline, there were still monks persevering here, politely inquiring where the visitors came from.

Lin Yuchan glanced at the young master beside her, feeling a bit embarrassed.

On their rare date, her mind was full of price-fixing contracts.

There were still over twenty days of travel ahead, with plenty of time on the ship to think things through slowly.

She collected her thoughts, gently took the hand he extended down to her, and stepped up to the next level of stairs.

The winter season along the Yangtze River, though without raging northern winds, had subtle cold air everywhere. Miss Lin Yuchan had a cold constitution, and despite being warmly dressed with a scarf and hat, her fingers were inevitably cold. When Su Minguan’s warm hand grasped hers, her whole body trembled lightly.

Mischief arose in her, and she extended her fingers, quietly exploring into his sleeve to test the temperature of the inside of his wrist.

Now it was Su Minguan’s turn to shiver slightly, gritting his teeth in a low voice. “This is a temple.”

The young lady raised her neck, her laughter carrying a hint of willfulness. “I want Fahai to see.”

Su Minguan was silent for a moment, his fingers slightly curling, touching the lines of her palm. The girl’s thin, seemingly delicate palm had an incredibly soft center.

Under the cool, smooth skin, faint blood vessels flowed like hidden currents.

Then he tentatively turned halfway around, pressing against her palm root, carefully but firmly pushing open the spaces between her fingers. Like invading troops advancing layer by layer, finally palm against palm, interlocking their ten fingers.

The tender, sensitive skin at the base of their fingers, being pushed into by unfamiliar touch, sent a slight tingle through her entire body.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her breathing suddenly become rapid.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his suddenly irregular heartbeat, and said softly, “What should I do? I am that evil Fahai.”

My temple has been flooded by someone.