“From January 1st, 1863… all persons held as slaves shall then, thenceforward, and forever be free…”
“…and I hereby enjoin upon the people so declared to be free to abstain from all violence, unless in necessary self-defence; and I recommend to them that, in all cases when allowed, they labor faithfully for reasonable wages…”
As Brack’s thin lips opened and closed, Christmas’s eyes changed colors, her facial expression dreamlike and fantastical.
Shock, panic, doubt, grief, ecstasy, amazement, hatred, relief…
This was the same expression that had appeared on the faces of countless black slaves across the ocean in America. Those escaped slaves imprisoned in smuggling control camps were told they could leave freely on the night the Proclamation took effect; plantation slaves left on islands off the Georgia coast welcomed a naval vessel, and after the naval officer disembarked, he read the Proclamation in their presence, immediately declaring their freedom; in the still unconquered Confederate states, the Proclamation was secretly copied and spread by word of mouth, igniting flames of hope in the hearts of suffering slaves. The seeds of freedom spread like wildfire, inspiring slaves to embark on paths of escape and resistance…
“…And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the Constitution upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind and the gracious favor of Almighty God…”
Brack devoutly finished the last sentence and smiled: “Negro lady, you are now a free citizen of the United States of America. Congratulations.”
Christmas stood dumbfounded.
Smith suddenly roared, raising his walking stick in protest: “No! I won’t accept it! She’s my slave, you have no right—”
“Mr. Smith!” Brack kept a stern face, every wrinkle seeming to spell out “justice.” “Are you representing the Southern rebels to challenge me, to challenge the federal government? Stop! If your hand so much as touches the pistol at your waist, I’ll no longer consider you a peaceful merchant but only as Southern rebel forces!”
Smith deflated, breathing heavily in despair.
Yes. Theoretically, he, a slave owner from Alabama, and those Northern abolitionists were in two warring camps. He could perfectly well tell Lincoln to “fuck off,” tear that damned proclamation to pieces, then chain all his black slaves with triple locks, not allowing them to escape a single step.
This was also the first reaction of most Southern rebel state slave owners upon hearing the Proclamation.
But unfortunately, Smith wasn’t comfortably nestled in Alabama’s “enemy-occupied territory” right now. He’d traveled thousands of miles to China and was under the consular jurisdiction of Lincoln’s government. He had no Southern rebel army backing him up. Behind Consul Brack stood at least a dozen fully armed guards.
His brain completely shut down. Snowflakes fell on his eyelashes, blurring his view of the world into white haze.
Smith wondered how things had gotten to this point.
Meanwhile, the Wuhan masses fortunate enough to witness this scene were completely baffled, each harboring an unforgettable question mark in their hearts.
Someone quietly asked: “What’s happening? Freeing slaves? Does this foreign official have such great power to manage people’s household affairs?”
Someone confidently explained: “That brick-stealing foreigner broke the law first, so his household slaves are also confiscated by the state for official sale.”
Someone glanced at the bewildered Huguang Governor-General Guan Wen and gloated: “Haha, this foreigner is a criminal in his own country, yet our official tried to cozy up to him. What a huge embarrassment today!—Hehe, ‘good morning,’ hahaha…”
Someone boldly reached out, grabbed Smith’s bundle, felt out the ancient brick he’d pried from Yue Wang Temple, and returned it to the security officer’s hands.
Smith was in such a daze that he didn’t notice at all.
Guan Wen’s face was ashen as he repeatedly urged his translator: “What’s happening? Go ask clearly for this official!”
Unfortunately, the translator beside him was completely incompetent. Aside from two basic greetings, his foreign language skills were virtually zero. Forcing himself to listen as Brack read passage after passage, he understood nothing and couldn’t grasp the situation at all.
He could only follow the common people in spreading rumors, returning to report: “Sir, this foreigner may have committed crimes in his own country and has been arrested by this consul. They’re pronouncing judgment now!”
The Proclamation only freed black slaves and contained no clauses punishing slave owners. But Smith’s dejected, grief-stricken appearance made it hard not to think in terms of “criminal apprehension.”
Guan Wen was so angry that smoke nearly came from his throat. He felt his official dignity had been greatly challenged, his thunder completely stolen by that American sesame-seed official. This was intolerable!
…Better tolerate it.
While those foreigners were arguing enthusiastically, he ordered with a dark face: “Prepare the sedan. Return to the mansion.”
The Huguang Governor-General left in disgrace, and surprisingly few people knelt to see him off.
Brack then turned to look at the Chinese girl who had visited him today, showing a smile on his serious face.
“Chinese Miss, thank you for informing me that slavery still existed within my consular jurisdiction. Today’s scene will be recorded by history—we’ve taken another step closer to the liberation of all humanity.”
Lin Yuchan smiled and played along: “With great people like you and President Lincoln, America will surely become the world’s lighthouse and cradle of freedom in the future!”
As for “the liberation of all humanity,” that was just talk. If Brack had such awareness, he should have helped China fight imperialism first.
Lin Yuchan knew that to bring down Smith, going to the consulate to file complaints about beating Chinese people or damaging Chinese ships would certainly be useless. Foreigners had extraterritorial rights—if they got into criminal trouble in China, it would all be handed over to their consulates for trial under their national laws. And the standards of such trials were naturally determined arbitrarily by foreigners. Generally speaking, even killing Chinese people would at most result in some monetary compensation.
So she had to find another approach.
The American Civil War was raging, the abolitionist movement was in full swing—it was a hot topic anyone could leverage.
Living in Shanghai, she actively followed current events and, thanks to her foreign lady friends’ afternoon tea gatherings, occasionally learned news not found in newspapers.
Convincing Brack to play savior once and liberate Alabama black slaves brought to China—this was easy work for Brack, but could become a rare highlight of his consular tenure.
So early this morning, she and Su Minguan worked together to craft a detailed report about Smith’s misdeeds. Then she spent a morning visiting the American Consulate to lobby Brack.
After going in for just a quarter-hour, she and the consul hit it off immediately.
Lin Yuchan noticed that besides his guard unit, Brack had also brought a civilian secretary who was writing and drawing on paper. She couldn’t help but laugh.
In a few weeks, sketch portraits of “Consul Brack liberating a negro woman in the snow” would probably be sent back to America for everyone to praise. Then, years later, they’d be displayed in some museum about slave liberation.
As they say, evil people have other evil people to grind them down, and you must consider the owner before beating the dog. This could be considered “using foreigners to control foreigners.”
Who told the Qing to be spineless cowards? To deal with foreigners on Chinese soil, they still had to rely on foreigners themselves.
The black slave Christmas remained in a daze, shaking her head repeatedly: “Impossible, impossible… I’m dreaming…”
She only understood about half of the white master’s scholarly proclamation, catching only the word “freedom.” These two words seemed unremarkable at first, but amid the buzzing discussions of watching Chinese people, they gradually amplified, accompanied by the north wind, roaring in her ears.
Christmas suddenly knelt. After the initial shock, her whole body and face showed fear.
“I I-I don’t want freedom… I want to follow my master’s… I don’t want liberation… Our president is Mr. Davis. I’ve never heard of any Lincoln…”
Lin Yuchan walked to her side, squatted down, and said quietly: “What other concerns do you have?”
Christmas, treated like a gorilla for decades, was quite intelligent. After thinking it over, she realized this Chinese girl was stirring up trouble. Somehow, she’d worked magic to turn her into a free person.
“Miss, have you satisfied your lofty charitable heart?” Christmas angrily raised her eyebrows and said quietly, “But my sons and daughters are still on Smith’s plantation in Alabama. Today I can walk away, but what about them? Mr. Smith will sell them to other slave owners, then change their names, and I’ll never see them again…”
Lin Yuchan soothingly patted her hand. She had naturally already planned Christmas’s future.
“Mr. Smith has firm contracts binding him and can’t get away. The earliest he could leave China would be next year, or he’d have to pay enormous breach penalties.” Lin Yuchan said calmly, “And you’re now a free person. You can immediately leave him, take an ocean liner back to America, saying Mr. Smith sent you back early—no one will suspect… Then remember, bring your children and all the slaves from the plantation willing to escape. As long as you cross the North-South border—that’s what the Proclamation says—as soon as one foot steps into the North, no one will capture and enslave you anymore. You can settle and live there…”
Consul Brack nodded with a smile.
As a loyal supporter of Lincoln, though he believed “blacks should be free,” his thinking hadn’t advanced to “blacks are equal to whites,” so he still harbored discrimination against Christmas, unwilling to approach or touch her.
He only smiled friendly while writing a few lines in his notebook, tearing it out and asking Lin Yuchan to pass it to Christmas.
“Of course, there are risks in the process—pursuit is certain. White slave owner militias and some of your compatriots who aid and abet can’t be easily trusted.” Brack said, “But I can tell you, you’re not alone—this is a tested escape route. Starting from your hometown, there will be black volunteer armies protecting you along the way. Take it, negro lady, don’t let it fall into bad hands.”
Christmas held that half-sheet of paper with the escape route written on it, finally bursting into tears.
She seemed to see Alabama’s plains before her eyes. Darkness shrouded the earth, the wilderness vast and desolate. The cotton plantations that had imprisoned her for half her life were scattered throughout. She hummed negro spirituals, her scarred back bare, holding a child in each hand, following the North Star’s direction, running and running…
She might even encounter her husband on the road.
She cried and laughed, suddenly wiping away her tears and jumping up to punch Smith.
“Scoundrel! Devil! You morally depraved slave trader, living bloodsucker…”
Smith knew Christmas’s fighting ability. Hearing her first wind, he was so scared he ran away, stepped on snow and mud, and slipped hard. He covered his bottom and screamed.
“Bitch! Whore! I raised you to adulthood, gave you food and clothing, let you raise children, and this is how you treat your benefactor?”
“Bullshit!” Christmas cursed, “You’re the son of a bitch!”
…
The American Consulate guards weren’t just for show. Several guns blocked the maddened Christmas.
“Ahem, calm down, Miss Smith…”
Brack paused for a moment, glanced at Mr. Smith, and a brief, gloating smile flashed across his face.
“Miss Christmas Smith. I understand—black slaves take their master’s surname, called that since childhood, probably already accustomed to it. But as far as I know, black slaves who gained freedom within America generally choose new surnames for themselves, indicating they’ve shed their past identity and started fresh—would you like to choose a new surname too? If willing, you can come back to the consulate with me later, and I’ll have someone issue you a federal citizen passport.”
Smith cried out: “I’m a legal citizen of Alabama! You Yankees can’t steal my people! She’s not a citizen! Not anywhere! I won’t allow it! I won’t allow that nigger—”
Christmas glared fiercely at Smith and spat on the ground.
“I’ll change it right now!”
But what surname should she choose?
Some vague syllables appeared in her mind. Black people from Africa were forced onto slave ships and lived like ants in foreign lands, yet some still refused to forget their cultural heritage. They would secretly remember their original tribal names, weave them into children’s songs, and hum them to the next generation.
But Christmas discovered she could no longer remember those so-called black traditions.
Heritage without roots, like leaves drifting from dead trees, would eventually break.
Brack suggested: “If you remember your father’s name… No? Well, as far as I know, some English-speaking blacks who escaped slavery chose the surname Freeman—free person. If you’re willing, your passport could read Christmas Freeman.”
Christmas had little education. Hearing this, she only knew to nod and smile: “Freeman. Freeman is good. I like it.”
Smith watched helplessly as his house slave became “Freeman,” gritting his teeth in helpless rage.
Christmas Freeman then roared to the sky, kicked open Smith’s luggage, shouting and jumping in the snow, splashing black mud all over her lower body. Onlookers pointed and laughed at her.
Lin Yuchan stood very low-key behind several rows of people, smiling as she watched Christmas go crazy. But while smiling, she suddenly felt as if an invisible hand gripped her heart, hot sourness overflowing from her eyes.
Human joys and sorrows were ultimately connected. Even those humble as dust who had never tasted freedom their entire lives still had hatred for shackles carved into their souls.
These shackles could confine her to a tiny farm, preventing her from ever seeing the scenery beyond the mountains. Yet she would still transform into a bird in dreams to visit lakes, grasslands, and oceans.
When Christmas had glared at her coldly, gesticulating to indicate she wouldn’t betray Mr. Smith, that appearance seemed incredibly ridiculous.
Lin Yuchan now understood. Christmas’s overreacting appearance—wasn’t that also a cry for help? Just a small push to help her take that first step of resistance, and everything after would follow naturally.
She couldn’t help but lean slightly against Su Minguan’s chest, listening to that gentle, strong heartbeat, then quickly separate.
The dock was chaotic—no one noticed these two ordinary citizens’ brief moment.
Afterward, Lin Yuchan felt her palm grow cold. Opening her hand, five gleaming silver dollars had been placed in her palm.
Looking up, Su Minguan met her gaze, his eyes showing cunning as he deliberately made a very pained expression.
Suddenly, Christmas’s smile disappeared. She carefully asked Brack: “Excuse me, sir, how much does a ticket to America cost? I’m completely penniless…”
“I can sponsor your ticket,” Lin Yuchan approached and said quietly, “on the condition that you serve as a witness to testify against Mr. Smith’s crimes committed in China.”
In flying snow and dusk, Luna sounded its whistle and set sail from Hankou.
Lin Yuchan lay in her small single cabin, sprawled out on the bed with arms and legs extended, finally stretching luxuriously.
Finally, no one was competing with her for the bed!
She hummed cheerfully.
The Hankou American Consulate had accepted Yixing Shipping’s lawsuit against Smith. As Yixing’s decision-maker, Su Minguan had to stay in Hankou a while longer to complete the litigation before taking another fast ship back.
As for Christmas Freeman, she gained freedom on the spot and was no longer legally bound to Smith. So after obtaining identity documents and giving priority testimony, she boarded Luna back to Shanghai, hoping to buy a ticket to America as soon as possible.
With Christmas’s testimony, plus witnesses like Old Gui and others, the broken copper coins, and Xu Jianyin’s steam engine repair records, the evidence chain was complete, and Smith could no longer argue.
Of course, merely “damaging Chinese people’s ships” wasn’t enough to convict Smith. But fortunately, Luna’s first-class cabin housed many foreigners. Smith’s conspiracy to sabotage the steam engine also directly threatened these foreign passengers’ safety and had to be taken seriously.
When Smith received the summons from his consulate, his dejected, completely defeated appearance made Lin Yuchan regret not having a smartphone for instant photography.
There was also the foreign firm that employed him. Upon hearing the news, they quickly sent people to inquire. Learning that Smith had caused such trouble, they immediately quarreled with him, demanding that Smith compensate for losses caused by business delays.
The “using foreigners to control foreigners” method was truly wonderful.
…
On Lin Yuchan’s first night of regaining exclusive cabin occupancy, she stretched and sprawled on the small bed to her heart’s content. After closing her eyes and lying for a long time, she began suffering from insomnia.
She remembered how, at their parting, Su Minguan packed his change of clothes while she felt quite reluctant and took the initiative to kiss him.
Su Minguan’s ears reddened slightly as he said don’t fool around. But when she made to leave, he pulled her back into his arms, burying his face in her neck and holding her silently until the bell rang.
He whispered instructions: “Don’t get too tired.”
She remembered his composed figure disembarking, his silhouette melding with the wind and snow in the air.
Lin Yuchan thought under her blanket: would he also suffer from insomnia?
Would there be snoring neighbors, noisy attendants, or short-sighted thieves and bandits in the inn, disturbing his peaceful dreams?
Her blanket suddenly felt cold too, with cold wind seeping in finely. She rolled left and right, then lifted her feet high to wrap herself into a cylinder. After warming up for a while, it was still somewhat cold.
No one competed with her for this shabby blanket. No one studied and improved with her late at night. Lying on her pillow, no one breathed warmly in her ear while dodging her and gently teasing her in an unhurried manner.
It just… felt very strange.
They say it takes 21 days to form a new habit. Twenty-one days ago, she was still an independent little darling who disliked having others sleep beside her bed.
So quickly, her habits had completely reversed…
Lin Yuchan desperately thought: it wouldn’t always be like this, would it—unable to sleep when alone? That would be too unhealthy!
After tossing and turning briefly, she got up to open her clothing chest, pulled out a garment Su Minguan had left behind, hugged it in her arms, and slept soundly and peacefully.
Lin Yuchan smoothly returned to Shanghai. When they dropped anchor, the dock was decorated with lanterns and colored banners, with dozens of strings of firecrackers in welcome.
The first Chinese passenger ship to complete the Shanghai-Hankou route returned to Shanghai on time and safely, attracting attention.
As for the various troubles and incidents along the way, they were all suppressed in the hearts of the few who knew, not affecting passengers’ travel experience at all.
Under Su Minguan’s remote control, Yixing’s office immediately began selling tickets for the next voyage. The windows had lines like a snake game, making neighboring competitors both envious and jealous.
“See that? We should do business like Yixing from now on! Can’t stick to old ways! Even foreigners can’t stop us from making money!”
Lin Yuchan heard more than one ship merchant instructing their apprentices and assistants this way.
Among the guests welcoming Luna’s return to port, she seemed to see several foreign merchants too. They hadn’t come to congratulate but were whispering together in the distance with serious expressions.
Chinese shipping power had seized Yangtze passenger transport shares that originally belonged to them, and judging by trends, business was getting more prosperous with more people following suit…
Lin Yuchan felt pleased. These arrogant foreign merchants who intended to monopolize the Chinese market had finally encountered a stubborn troublemaker.
If they weren’t satisfied, they could just hold it in.
A single woman traveling alone should have been prey for swindlers and thieves. But from Hankou to Shanghai, she faced no harassment at all. Lin Yuchan walked proudly on the dock with very peaceful surroundings.
Behind her followed a tower-like black woman, eyeing all ill-intentioned people with hostility. Most people had never seen this species and kept their distance respectfully.
After being “escorted” this entire journey by Christmas, Lin Yuchan finally understood why those domineering CEOs in TV shows liked to bring a bunch of fierce bodyguards everywhere.
Watching herself part the crowd like Moses parting the sea, with the small fry automatically bowing their heads to make way, that feeling was incredible!
Lin Yuchan called a carriage back to Boya headquarters. Seeing that familiar gate, she smiled broadly.
At the same time, a small cart was pushed from the other side of the street.
The pusher wore a foreign shipping company uniform, bowing to read the door plaque carefully.
“Boya Company General Manager Lin…” This person unloaded a large package from the cart and shouted toward the courtyard, “Overseas mail!”
Lin Yuchan was overjoyed and hurried to claim it.
“A letter from Mr. Rong!—Wow, Egypt!”