Lin Yuchan hung her head dejectedly, reaching into her bosom to pull out five silver dollars, arranging them neatly in a row on the deck bench.
Su Minguan smiled as he collected them one by one into his bosom.
“Pity,” he sighed lightly, “not everyone likes freedom.”
Lin Yuchan shook her head. “She’s only being loyally devoted to Smith because she doesn’t want to be separated from her children. It’s not that she’s willingly debasing herself.”
Thinking about it, these American slave owners were truly ruthless enough. Big slaves giving birth to little slaves, generation after generation, without end—truly a business with infinite profit and no capital. When little slaves grew up, they could be sold for profit, completely disregarding families being torn apart.
These Westerners who prided themselves on civilization had created such a brilliant industrial civilization and written so many stirring works on freedom and equality, yet still couldn’t eliminate certain stubborn chronic diseases—like selfishness, cruelty, and arrogance.
Su Minguan wasn’t as compassionate as she was, coolly concluding: “But we can’t fly to America to kidnap her children either. So Christmas’s route is blocked. To find evidence of Smith’s crimes, we’ll have to think of other methods.”
Having said this, he picked up the last silver dollar, the corner of his mouth turning up.
Seeing no one around, he pulled the little girl over and quickly stole a kiss.
Having started that night on the deck, it was now unstoppable. Those soft lips of hers were simply irresistible—he could never taste them enough.
Since then, it was as if the two had some kind of shared understanding, a sweet sense of spiritual connection.
In corridors, around corners, on decks, even chance encounters on gangways… whenever no one was around, he wouldn’t let the opportunity pass.
Not too intensely—just light touches were enough to seemingly reach her heart.
Lin Yuchan hadn’t yet recovered when he already restrained his expression, smiling politely: “Anyway, you worked hard. Tonight, when we reach Jiujiang, I’ll give you extra food. Fish from Poyang Lake—white sauce bighead carp.”
She had no way to deal with him. There’s a saying about “a thousand days of being a thief but no thousand days of guarding against thieves.” No matter how vigilant she was, she couldn’t guard against this constant stealing of affection.
Before, when he’d sneak attack her with little gestures—touching her face, playing with her hair—she didn’t dislike it, even rather liked it.
Now, the sneak attacks had become open territorial conquest. He had clear boundaries in his heart—once he knew what she allowed and didn’t allow, he’d push inch by inch, repeatedly testing at the edge of crossing lines.
Subtly pushing back the boundary lines in her heart bit by bit.
She resolutely defended her borders, sternly warning: “Not allowed outside.”
“Fine. Tonight in bed, then.”
She was so angry that smoke came from all seven orifices. She jumped up and chased after him in a few steps: “Wait.”
Su Minguan was putting the silver dollars in his bosom when she reached out to snatch them.
A slightly excited light flashed in his eyes, but his mouth was helpless: “Not allowed outside! If you want to get physical, tonight…”
He assumed a pose of offering no resistance, letting Lin Yuchan feel around and take those five silver dollars from his bosom.
A flash of disappointment crossed Lin Yuchan’s eyes. In just a few seconds, that familiar tenacious determination to achieve her goals reappeared in her gaze.
“I haven’t lost this bet yet.” Lin Yuchan pondered while slowly saying, “Give me three days. Keep an eye on Smith, don’t let him cause more trouble.”
Evening, the ship reached Jiujiang. Due to hydrological conditions, steamships couldn’t navigate at night, so they stayed overnight at the port.
Jiujiang was a treaty port. Most Chinese and foreign passengers disembarked to stretch their legs and find somewhere for a hot meal.
Su Minguan was also generous, directly finding fishermen from Poyang Lake to treat all the ship workers to fresh steamed fish. Old Gui, injured in the engine room, received special compensation with several pounds of preserved fish.
Though small, Jiujiang’s concession had all the essential facilities. Originally, the British had forcibly demolished civilian houses and filled in Penpu Harbor, connecting the Yangtze River with Gantang Lake, enclosing a small piece of land. Within months, densely connected Western-style buildings rose from the ground, including consulates, police stations, courts, public works departments, churches, hospitals…
A veritable state within a state.
Like Zhenjiang, the concession practiced racial segregation inside and outside, closed to Chinese people.
Tang Tingshu’s two attendants had long recovered from their gastroenteritis. Lin Yuchan couldn’t use the same trick again, posing as his attendant to enter the concession.
Moreover, as soon as night fell, the concession closed, with barrier gates heavily locked. Reddish kerosene lamps were like gaping bloody mouths, glaring menacingly at every wandering passerby.
After the full fish feast, Lin Yuchan went into the city for a small tour but returned empty-handed, unable to gather any intelligence.
She could only return to the ship. In the capsule-sized cabin, Su Minguan was packing luggage.
“I’m staying at an inn tonight.” Seeing her surprise, he seemed to smile mockingly while stuffing a toothbrush in his pocket. “Won’t crowd you anymore.”
Lin Yuchan immediately felt somewhat ashamed.
Squeezing with her on that palm-sized bed every day, his legs couldn’t stretch out, and his arms were often numb—it was unfair to him.
At the same time, she secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Finally, she could have a peaceful night.
She was an underage girl who, though not pure of mind, really didn’t want to test human nature dangerously every day…
One night in Jiujiang, then two days to Hankou. Then the Taiping Army deserters hidden on the ship could safely leave. Su Minguan wouldn’t have to squeeze in one cabin with her anymore, either—he could run to the crew quarters and sleep sprawled out as he pleased.
She smiled slightly, helping him pack two towels into his knapsack.
Seeing her seeming relieved, Su Minguan was immediately displeased. He snatched the knapsack from her hands and bent down to kiss her fiercely.
Lin Yuchan’s knees went soft as he smoothly pushed her back onto the bed, leaving her gasping for breath while looking up.
In just these few days, this ancient person’s skills had gradually improved—she really couldn’t handle it much longer.
She twisted away, mumbling complaints: “Tomorrow then.”
“Two months and twenty-five days left.” Su Minguan reached out to wipe the moisture from her lips, saying righteously, “I need to seize the time.”
Lin Yuchan ignored him. If he could withdraw calmly after two months and twenty-five days, she’d respect him as a real man.
She pulled out English and French copies of The Count of Monte Cristo from her bundle, crossed her legs, and began studying by herself.
Su Minguan was curious: “You’re learning French?”
Lin Yuchan’s heart jumped: “Could it be that when you were young…”
“No.” He was amused by her overreaction. “Didn’t have the chance.”
Lying behind her, he looked at the French version’s content that was like heavenly script, then said: “You can teach me later.”
Lin Yuchan was extremely proud, beyond pleased.
Finally, she could show off in certain areas to this ancient person!
However, self-study was inevitably too slow, hitting walls everywhere. Moreover, even if she puzzled out some methods, it would be “mute French”—only readable, not speakable.
She thought, if only she could have a teacher…
Victor was out of the question. She wondered if among Miss Compton’s friends or the orphanage priests there might be someone who knew it… But she probably couldn’t afford tuition befitting their class status… if she could make a small fortune on cotton, perhaps it would be possible…
Lost in wild thoughts for a while, when she looked up, Su Minguan had already left.
She continued gnawing at the book.
After about an hour, someone knocked softly on the door.
“Miss Lin,” it was First Mate Jiang Gaosheng’s voice, “the boss asks you to come out.”
Lin Yuchan was baffled as Jiang Gaosheng led her to a shed outside an inn in the city.
Su Minguan waited at the entrance, smiling at her and handing over a bowl of hot ginger tea.
She accepted it, still confused: “Didn’t you say you were staying at the inn…”
“They’re all full.” Su Minguan smiled. “All the inns, large and small, throughout the city are packed.”
Lin Yuchan pushed the door open to look inside. The inn’s main hall was indeed full of people—some wearing leather jackets, some cotton jackets, some wearing several layers of single clothes, warming themselves by braziers, apparently from various social strata. Many had luggage and goods piled at their feet, everyone complaining to each other in dialects that were hard to understand at first hearing.
She turned back, puzzled: “What’s going on?”
Su Minguan had specifically called her out, certainly not to watch this excitement.
He continued smiling inscrutably, moving a stool for her in a windbreak spot, saying: “Amei, listen carefully to their dialects and try to understand.”
Lin Yuchan nodded, sipping ginger tea in small mouthfuls.
Since opening as a port, little Jiujiang had developed rapidly as Jiangxi Province’s only foreign trade port. It was full of shops, inns, and opium dens, with red-lanterned brothels brazenly operating along roadsides, sticky silk and bamboo music emanating from within.
But the current situation—all city inns packed, crowded with merchants with nowhere to spend the night—was quite abnormal.
The innkeeper was a hunched middle-aged man with a thin queue hanging down his back, bustling about serving hot water to various guests.
“Sorry, government regulations don’t allow overnight stays in the main hall. Please discuss among yourselves whether you’re willing to pay to squeeze into guest rooms… I have no choice, it’s not greed for money. Tonight there are even more people, and the hot tea and food I’m providing are free—profit… everyone please bear with it, thanks…”
The boss was also in a difficult position. With so many guests crowding his establishment, he dared not drive them away, yet feared that if any got sick and died in his inn, the legal trouble would be unbearable. He could only provide tea and food without collecting room fees, his face drawn like a bitter melon, yet having to force smiles, his whole face written with unwillingness.
Merchants from various places were also irritated, sitting on their piles of goods, cursing in different accents: “We’ve been sleeping on the floor for three days! This freezing weather is killing us! Boss, you’re also in business—when away from home, we should help each other. What’s wrong with letting us stay in the main hall? Whoever’s busybody enough to report us, we’ll break his legs! How about it?”
A scattered chorus of agreement.
“Exactly! Boss, our demands aren’t high—just hot water and a brazier! When we sell our cotton, we’ll naturally reward you generously, don’t worry!”
The innkeeper had no choice, sighing and telling his assistant to boil another pot of hot water.
From the babel of dialects, Lin Yuchan sensitively caught the word “cotton.”
She couldn’t help turning back to exchange glances with Su Minguan.
“Don’t know who spread the news that wealthy foreign trading company compradors had come to Jiujiang Port, and cotton prices kept rising,” with people all around, Su Minguan finally couldn’t misbehave and had to sit properly, quietly helping her decipher Jiangxi dialect and speculating: “Cotton merchants from all over Jiangxi, plus some from neighboring provinces, all rushed over after hearing the news. Jiangxi only has this one treaty port, so suddenly there’s not enough accommodation. Many private homes are also crowded with lodgers. Temples and Taoist monasteries are full too, native-place associations are especially lively, and even water carriers are too busy.”
Lin Yuchan quietly leaned against the windowsill.
Looking again at the merchants in the main hall, indeed, what they were stepping on and sitting on—though packaged differently—were all recognizably cotton samples.
“I should have sold all my goods three days ago.” A merchant with a towel wrapped around his head complained to his companion. “Who knew prices would drop so ridiculously? If we wait longer, even travel money will be gone! Old Nine, let’s ignore everyone else and sell tomorrow! At least we can go home for the New Year!”
Another merchant slowly pulled out an opium box, stingily lit a pipe, took a long draw to reward himself for days of hard work, then slowly sighed: “Sigh, can’t blame the foreigners. Their trading companies also have purchasing quotas—they’re not doing charity. The problem is that there are too many Chinese people, too much growing cotton! Once this news got out, whoosh, it seemed like all of Jiangxi Province brought their family fortunes here. With so many goods, naturally, they sell cheaply! Chinese people just love following rumors and crowding together, never having their own opinions…”
Several angry voices of agreement around, all denouncing the bad habits of their countrymen.
Lin Yuchan listened from outside with cold laughter. Everyone hoped to be the only one sober while everyone else was drunk. If others didn’t grow cotton and only I monopolized the market, wouldn’t that be lying down to make money?
Many also complained: “Not understanding foreign languages is such a disadvantage! Knowing those foreign merchant compradors are whispering something, definitely scheming, but they treat us like we’re deaf!—Hey, Little Bean, when I asked you to find foreign language textbooks, did you buy them?”
Someone sighed: “What good would buying them do? Who knows if the foreign words in there are real or fake? Anyway, what foreigners say isn’t in there; what we learn to recite from there, foreigners can’t understand. I think it’s wasted money!”
…
Lin Yuchan heard enough and turned back to summarize for Su Minguan: “Jiujiang is Jiangxi’s only treaty port. Foreign merchants exploit Chinese merchants’ language barriers and information disadvantages to manipulate prices, deliberately raising opening prices, then waiting for merchants to gather and goods to accumulate in large quantities, naturally causing prices to plummet. These cotton merchants who can’t afford inns and can’t bear the cold will sooner or later sell their goods at a loss.”
She asked again: “The stranded guests at other inns…”
“All the same suckers,” Su Minguan breathed on his hands and smiled. “I toured nearly all the inns in the city and couldn’t find shelter.”
Lin Yuchan nodded. In her small notebook, she recorded Jiujiang Port’s approximate raw cotton prices and the foreign company names mentioned by merchants, comparing them with previous notes under the window’s weak lamplight.
Having traveled along the Yangtze River and visited several docks, she’d already found some patterns in the cotton markets along the Yangtze: at almost every treaty port, foreign merchants monopolized prices. Different regions had different dominant foreign companies with varying styles of price manipulation. Sometimes it was fixed-price contracts, sometimes spreading false news. But the common factor was that Chinese individual merchants, lacking a big picture view, were universally played around with, helpless, and only able to sell at a loss.
In Shanghai, she’d nearly fallen into this trap too. Fortunately, relying on Rong Hong’s letter, observing Zheng Guanying’s warehouse, and her intuition, she had withstood pressure and persisted to the correct market entry timing.
But as long as foreign companies from various places joined hands to manipulate prices, similar traps would keep waiting for her one after another.
As a small independent merchant whose total capital didn’t even match a foreign company’s comprador salary, what countermeasures could she have?
Warmth at her back—Su Minguan embraced her shoulders.
“Sorry, you’ll have to sleep with me again tonight.” He chuckled. “Think on the way how to thank me.”
The next morning, the steamship approached Hankou.
This was Luna’s last stop penetrating inland waters. All passengers would disembark here. The first mate and crew had all prepared for docking. Some maintained order while others loudly reminded passengers: “Don’t lose your tickets! Watch your bundles, don’t get stepped on!”
Passengers all laughingly agreed. Steamships were fast and reliable, much more comfortable than the local boats and carriages they’d previously used, with journey time greatly reduced, just in time to get home for the New Year.
In comparison, the somewhat expensive ticket prices now seemed worth every penny.
Moreover, this was a Chinese-owned steamship, cheaper than foreign company tickets, and boarding didn’t require enduring foreigners’ attitudes.
Though hot water was rationed, washrooms had daily queues, third-class berths were crowded, and there was noise…
By Qing consumers’ lenient standards, it already counted as “guests feeling at home.”
Even the few foreigners in first class praised Luna effusively: “Chinese people running shipping lines certainly have their methods! Next time, hire more English-speaking crew and you’ll make big money! Good luck!”
Of course, a very few were dissatisfied. Smith kept grumbling all the way that he’d never take Chinese ships again—very frustrating, bad review, bad review.
No one paid him attention. Even his black slave Christmas followed behind silently, very perfunctorily agreeing a couple of times.
In the corridor where people queued waiting for the ship to stop, paper, pens, and ink were quietly set out. The first few pages of a blank notebook already had people’s comments, full of praise for this journey.
The “guestbook” setup was quite novel. With nothing to do while waiting, many literate merchants picked up brushes to write, some even composing doggerel poems to summarize the trip.
Finally signing their names and places of origin, looking left and right, very pleased with themselves.
Someone asked a crew member: “Is this guestbook staying permanently on the ship?”
The crew member smiled back: “Of course! Traveling together is fate. In the future, in a year or two, three or five years, as long as this ship operates, your name will stay on the ship for later people to see—maybe even make friends! Everyone, come take Yixing ships again!”
Anyone who could write a few characters competed to scrawl in the guestbook.
Someone asked: “Who thought of this? Very classical!”
The crew member smiled without speaking.
Of course, it was Miss Lin “Bai Yushan” “Super Quick Brain” Yuchan!
Not only did she think up this interesting marketing gimmick, but she also led by example, writing much praise on the first few pages to inspire others to follow suit.
From then on, “passenger ship guestbooks” became popular among Chinese shipping companies.
Su Minguan couldn’t read the various praises in the guestbook. He’d gone down early to Crew Quarters #4, where Hong Chunkui was already waiting.
“Helmsman,” he bowed deeply and said respectfully, “you are our savior. Everyone will follow your orders henceforth! Though we’re mostly women and children, we dare not forget this kindness!”
Behind him, fifty-three Jiangning refugees bowed in unison. Only a few ignorant children stared up at him blankly, tugging adults’ sleeves, asking: “Where are we? Will soldiers still kill us?”
Hong Chunkui shot them a look, and the children fell silent, aggrievedly picking at their fingers.
Hong Chunkui then produced an iron box. Opening it revealed sparkling jewels—a pile of valuable jewelry in various styles.
“These are what the sisters brought from the city. Yixing brothers risked danger to save people—we can’t accept this kindness for nothing. These things are worth five or six hundred taels of silver at least, consider it our life-buying money! Anyway, if left in Jiangning City, they couldn’t be eaten as food or used as weapons. Better left to Heaven and Earth Society brothers as funds for overthrowing the Qing…”
Su Minguan was slightly startled at first, listening carefully to the end before slowly showing a cold smile.
He took the box, weighed it, saying lightly: “When begging me you didn’t mention payment, only talking money after success. What, afraid I’d change my mind midway?”
Hong Chunkui said frankly: “Helmsman, you disarmed this bunch of sisters from the start and guarded them like prisoners—you didn’t trust us either.”
Su Minguan laughed. Worthy of someone who’d fought through blood and fire, his situational awareness was also first-rate. Initially his strategy was hostage-taking with clear goals—just escape, caring nothing for a shipload of lives; later after being subdued, realizing they were fellow rebels, he probably wanted to use big hats like “brotherhood” and “anti-Qing” to fool him, hoping Heaven and Earth Society comrades could unite and help for free; finally, after sailing with the steamship for days, he’d also seen Yixing’s nature—knowing they focused on making money and expansion, not particularly enthusiastic about rebellion and uprising. Only then did he think to discuss payment, hastily collecting some valuables to try maintaining this plastic brotherhood with money.
Looking again at these rescued people, mostly women and children, plus a few men. They’d been trapped in the isolated city for years, their horizons and mentality already quite rigid. When first boarding, their eyes held only gloomy numbness, everyone’s face written large with “life and death are fate,” but now, after several days of safety, their eyes showed renewed desire for life. Perhaps they were already calculating how to return home, how to farm, how to raise their children.
Looking at the jewelry box in his hands, they also showed reluctant expressions, unlike the previous days’ detachment and indifference to everything.
Then he couldn’t be polite. Even though they knew money was good, why should he be generous?
The steamship’s whistle made the lower hold echo. The group of women and children’s eyes lit up.
“We’ve reached Hankou!”
Hong Chunkui touched his bald head, saying quietly, “Chunkui keeps his word. I said earlier that once these sisters safely escaped, I’d be at your disposal…”
Su Minguan smiled lazily: “Don’t rush to pressure me. Haven’t safely disembarked yet, have we?”
His gaze was sharp, sweeping over every man, woman, and child. They’d already changed into ordinary clothing—Taiping-occupied areas rejected all “Qing demon” lifestyle elements, ordering people to grow their hair, quit opium, and change Manchu jackets and qipao to Han clothing. But Han clothing had been discontinued for so long that no one had seen old-style garments, so they could only reference opera costumes, creating various incongruous “period costumes”; wearing them out would immediately mark them as different.
So Su Minguan had crew find common people’s old clothes for them to change into. Men all had their heads shaved, women and children also changed hairstyles.
Everyone obediently accepted these arrangements. After all, those who’d rather die than change clothing and insisted on distinguishing themselves from Manchu Tatars wouldn’t have fled the city.
But everyone’s speech and accents would still have flaws if listened to carefully.
“When disembarking, pretend to be ordinary second-class passengers. No talking allowed. Follow the crew. There’ll be vehicles waiting at the dock—only show yourselves after reaching the countryside.” Su Minguan personally instructed. “I took money to save people, mission accomplished. Whether you rebel or become law-abiding citizens afterward is none of my business. But I advise—keeping the green mountains means not fearing a lack of firewood. Before planning your comeback, think whether this life-buying money was worth it.”
He greedily shook the gold necklace in his hand and tucked it in his bosom.
He beckoned. Hong Chunkui gathered these fifty-three people and carefully led them out of the crew quarters, mixing into the crowded disembarking crowd.
Before moving a few steps, suddenly, First Mate Jiang Gaosheng pushed through against the flow, face full of tension.
“Boss,” he said quietly, “they’re setting up checkpoints at the dock, checking everyone’s tickets as they disembark…”
Su Minguan replied quietly: “We wrote temporary tickets for everyone, no problem…”
“…and patrol police and soldiers are intercepting and spot-checking, asking where people live, where they’re from, what they’re doing—some people were questioned for a quarter hour!”
Su Minguan suddenly raised his hand, signaling Hong Chunkui to halt.