As the saying goes, some people, while living, are already dead; some people, while dead, are still alive.
Lin Yuchan’s head heated up as she gestured for Su Minguan not to come over yet, but it was already too late.
Schrödinger’s deceased husband strode to her front, ignoring several pairs of eyes around them, concernedly looking her over from head to toe and asking quietly: “Are you alright?”
Officer William was so frightened he stepped back three paces, his face showing all colors, involuntarily touching the cross on his chest.
“You… you’re still alive??”
Lin Yuchan didn’t know where to put her facial features, desperately making eye signals at Su Minguan while quietly pointing to the white flowers in her hair.
Ever since burning her indenture contract and escaping Guangzhou, her identity in the Qing Dynasty had been racing down an illegal path. Hede had kindly helped her forge documents, allowing her to establish herself in Shanghai as a widow, which avoided most troubles, but it still wasn’t a permanent solution.
People often still called her “Miss Lin” rather than “Mrs. Su”—this didn’t matter. Widows could remarry and resume their maiden names without reproach. She also frequently forgot to wear mourning attire and showed no sorrowful behavior—this was fine too, Shanghai’s moral standards had declined, and few cared about such empty rituals.
But the supposedly dead husband, who should be lying properly in his coffin, suddenly coming back to life—this was a very serious problem.
Su Minguan was stunned for two seconds, then immediately understood where Officer William’s ghostly expression came from.
His mind raced as he pulled out cigarettes from his pocket along with two silver dollars, inconspicuously pressing them into the other’s hands while laughing quietly: “Chinese custom—widows must observe mourning for three full years. Three years of youth wasted—what a pity.”
In urgent circumstances, to avoid suspicion, he could only degrade himself—cuckolding himself.
Officer William said, “Oh,” breaking into a smile with an “I understand, I understand” expression.
So it was a young widow taking a new lover during the mourning period, the two calling each other husband and wife. Not the same husband dying and coming back to life.
That made sense.
Officer William didn’t care about Chinese morals at all, saying to Lin Yuchan, “Then please sign a patrol incident report.”
The group of merchants and civilians nearby was all dumbfounded. This Officer William was famously vicious and domineering—many had suffered beatings under his hands. Yet he was treating Mrs. Su with such courtesy?
No justice in the world!
What happened to “Yixing Business Association’s purpose is to resist foreign exploitation”?
But then again, in today’s Shanghai, anyone with capability, regardless of their stance, would maintain good relationships with all sides.
The fellow merchants immediately followed the wind, clinging to this powerful connection, using broken English to complain: “They came to cause trouble! Look, many things in the courtyard were smashed…”
Everyone’s vocabulary and grammar were limited—after talking for ages, they conveyed less information than Lin Yuchan’s few sentences.
Officer William waved his hand impatiently.
Wasn’t the situation obvious? Just troublemakers causing disturbances. He didn’t care why specifically they were causing trouble—anyway they’d disrupted order and traffic, so arrest the leaders and beat them up. Whatever was smashed, make them pool money for compensation.
Among the troublemaking crowd, that “righteous person” who’d reasoned against the gun barrel still wouldn’t accept fate, quietly defending: “We heard there were prostitutes here, that’s why we came…”
Everyone knew the police both hated and loved prostitutes. Because prostitutes evaded taxes and affected public order, every arrest brought substantial fines, sometimes with salacious benefits too.
But Officer William completely ignored this, cursing: “It’s all you rumor-mongering idiots causing trouble in my jurisdiction day and night! A perfectly good respectable woman slandered as a prostitute by you—just for this I could make your asses bloom!”
His three or four subordinate officers waved their clubs, and those dozens of troublemaking scoundrels became obedient, not daring to breathe loudly or run, standing one by one against the wall base with bare shiny bald heads like wheat awaiting harvest, making one very much want to give them a beating.
Officer William squinted his eyes, immediately identifying the ringleaders, ordering them handcuffed with braids tied together.
The old village gentleman wept: “Injustice! Mercy!…”
The wretched vendor threw a tantrum: “This humble one was just passing by…”
The Confucian scholar knelt and wouldn’t get up: “Heaven sees all—how can foreigners swagger so arrogantly on Qing soil…”
Officer William turned a deaf ear, collected another ten foreign coins as a trouble fee, and ordered his subordinates to take away the troublemaking leaders.
Su Minguan frowned, making use of time to hear about the earlier incident from the gatekeeper and tea server.
A dark gun lay at the young woman’s feet. Her face still bore that kind of desperate, excited flush, chest heaving. Though uninjured, she looked quite disheveled.
Since she’d decided to show her face managing the association, such incidents would happen sooner or later. He couldn’t guard her twelve hours a day—she had to handle things independently.
It seemed she’d managed this time. But he didn’t feel very pleased.
Without thinking, he knew how harshly those people had cursed when they came aggressively to “defend morals.”
He gently patted her shoulder.
Lin Yuchan instead said philosophically: “It’s fine, those people couldn’t fight at all…”
“Wait,” Su Minguan suddenly turned, shouting sharply: “Who are you?”
The worst troublemakers were arrested and taken to the police station. The rabble deflated like punctured balls, scattering like birds and beasts with just a little police intimidation.
Among them, one person who’d hidden in the back during the mob disturbance now didn’t flee in panic like the others, but sneaked around, looking back with each step, watching the association entrance with ulterior motives.
Su Minguan’s gaze was sharp, immediately targeting him.
Striding over to grab the man’s wrist, he smiled without warmth: “Haven’t asked your honored name yet? Please honor us by coming in for tea.”
The man had a sallow, pockmarked face and stick-thin build. Dragged by Su Minguan with no power to resist, he could only curse loudly: “Even the police didn’t arrest me—what right do you have to trouble me? I’ll have you know I have people above me…”
Officer William bit his cigarette, turning a blind eye, tipping his hat farewell to Lin Yuchan.
Lin Yuchan was also confused, quickly saying goodbye to fellow merchants, asking them to return first, then following Su Minguan and having the gatekeeper close the main door.
Yellow Pockmark quietly cursed and grumbled. Seeing Su Minguan wouldn’t release him, his attitude softened as he smiled ingratiatingly: “This humble one was just passing by. Hearing commotion here, thinking it was some excitement, turns out people couldn’t stand your association having women and made trouble. Honestly, this humble one completely disagrees—women can manage households and finances, why can’t they engage in commerce? Ancient times had the widow Ba Qing… hey hey, don’t disbelieve me, I even boldly tried to persuade them, but was powerless to stop them… I’m not one of their group…”
Su Minguan dragged Yellow Pockmark into a storage room, making eye contact with the gatekeeper and tea server.
With no one else in the guild hall, the two employees immediately transformed into criminal forces, rushing to search him thoroughly, stripping Yellow Pockmark’s pockets clean.
Yellow Pockmark was so frightened his voice changed tone: “Hey, hey, this humble one is a proper man, doesn’t go for this sort of thing… you’re… you’re violating personal rights, I’ll report…”
With several clattering sounds, a purse, a Western wallet, and several papers fell to the ground. Plus various silver notes.
Su Minguan inserted two fingers into the wallet, extracting several gaudy English business cards.
“Jinliyuan Trading House… mm, Heji, you’re impressive, serving two families simultaneously.”
Lin Yuchan observed from the side, utterly astonished.
“…A comprador?”
“Just a wharf broker,” Su Minguan didn’t turn his head, educating her. “Knows rules, has connections, speaks some pidgin English, helps trading houses with temporary work, selling his life for money.”
Yellow Pockmark broker, his identity exposed, looked ashen.
Lin Yuchan immediately recalled certain trading houses’ common practices: when dealing with Chinese people, they didn’t easily show foreign faces, but commanded Chinese people to use Chinese against Chinese…
Could today’s farce also be foreigner-directed?
The association’s existence inevitably touched foreign merchants’ interests. Compared to the ethereal charge of “women corrupting morals,” “competing with us for profit” was more detestable.
Though this small association hadn’t yet affected market patterns, foreigners were accustomed to bullying, habitually striking first against potential competitors, never allowing tigers to grow strong.
Su Minguan had already released Yellow Pockmark, pressing him onto a stool, even having the tea server brew tea as if hosting a friendly chat.
Yellow Pockmark’s face drooped long, constantly glancing at the door but not daring to stand.
“Speak up,” Su Minguan sneered coldly. “You saw I have connections with that foreign officer earlier. One word could get you into Municipal Council prison for three to five years minimum.”
Of course, this was bluffing. But when Su Minguan intended deception, his face never revealed flaws.
Yellow Pockmark hesitated briefly, believing it true, saying with a bitter face: “The foreigners trapped this humble one!”
He confessed like beans pouring from bamboo—foreign merchants had learned about this newly established “Yixing Business Association” from newspapers, considering it a formidable enemy, so they hired him and several other brokers to find ways to infiltrate, seeking evidence of illegal wrongdoing, preferably to discredit them and make these Chinese people unable to organize, disbanding themselves.
He first disguised himself as a merchant trying to join the association. Unfortunately, his skills were too poor—after a few questions from the gatekeeper, he was politely asked to leave without even seeing the board of directors.
Yellow Pockmark had roamed the streets with a belly full of bad ideas, so he conceived this rotten scheme—inciting neighborhood residents to organize a hunting operation under the banner of “chasing prostitutes.”
One had to admit Yellow Pockmark’s commercial skills were worrying, but he grasped human nature’s dark side accurately. With just a few words and two or three days of inflammatory talk, naturally, people would righteously charge forward. He only needed to hide behind, prepared to sneak in during the mob’s assault on the association to spy on its secrets.
If the association was truly destroyed, even better. When reporting back to foreigners, he might get extra tip money.
Unfortunately, this seemingly fragile female chairman directly came out with a gun, completely crushing Yellow Pockmark’s good plan.
The tea server, gatekeeper, and other workers grew angrier listening, rolling up their sleeves to beat him.
Su Minguan gently raised his hand to stop them.
“Miss Lin is the chairman,” he politely requested instructions. “What do you say we should do?”
Lin Yuchan was busy digesting the information Yellow Pockmark had confessed, mentally reviewing the situation.
Indeed, the association had been established nearly a month—neighbors seeing her coming and going wasn’t the first time. Qing folk customs favored minding one’s own business, especially on foreign territory. As long as it didn’t affect personal interests, even if they disapproved, most would hold their noses and endure.
Coming neither early nor late, but “suddenly” discovering impropriety here, most likely someone was secretly causing trouble.
She should have realized this earlier.
The ringleading troublemakers used as pawns had all been handcuffed into the police station. There shouldn’t be similar incidents in future.
But this Yellow Pockmark—should he be easily released?
He’d done nothing, just followed behind watching the excitement. What could be done?
She thought briefly, having people bring Yellow Pockmark into the guild hall main lobby, saying coldly: “I don’t believe anything you said. I insist on thinking you’re the mastermind, conspiring to close our association…”
Yellow Pockmark quickly swore oaths: “No, no, it was all foreigner instructions. In the concession, foreigners are heaven—this humble one dares not disobey…”
“Then you speak a foreign language?”
“Yes yes.” Yellow Pockmark nodded like a pecking chicken, somewhat proudly: “Know a little… can say a few sentences with foreigners…”
“Then repeat in English everything you just confessed—which foreign merchants, how they found you, what they made you do, how much compensation, all of it.”
This nearly killed Yellow Pockmark. He despairingly rolled his eyes, tongue tied in three knots, struggling to salvage from his blank mind, stuttering for ages with incorrect grammar and word order, finally managing to produce enough keywords forming a barely coherent story. After finishing the last word, his body seemed drained, and he drank three large bowls of tea.
Su Minguan found it strange why Lin Yuchan insisted on forcing confession in foreign language. Hearing Yellow Pockmark’s extremely painful broken English was torture for his ears too.
Suddenly, he was startled. The small office door opened, and out rushed a puffy floral dress!
“So that’s how it is! These shameless, unprincipled, stinking men, daily boasting about reforming the world, never imagining their thoughts were all on such despicable, filthy matters! I thought my article was problematic, but they’d been ill-intentioned all along!…”
Miss Compton had hidden in the office throughout the outside commotion, hearing everything confusedly without daring to emerge. Suddenly hearing broken English outside, she finally understood today’s farce’s cause. Unable to bear it, she rushed out, pointing at Yellow Pockmark’s nose and cursing.
Yellow Pockmark regarded foreigners like emperors and empresses. Seeing a foreign miss imperiously scolding him, not knowing where she came from or understanding what she said, he just endured it.
“Yes, yes, miss is right to scold… this humble one deserves death, this humble one is shameless, this humble one is filthy…”
“Women in business associations are prostitutes?” Miss Compton persisted, hands on hips, asking in the rudest tone a lady could imagine: “Do I look like a prostitute to you?”
Yellow Pockmark again heard cloudy nonsense, habitually groveling: “Yes yes yes…”
Miss Compton nearly fainted with anger, shouting: “Send him to the police station too!”
“That’s unnecessary. I’ll go discuss with the trading house that hired him,” Su Minguan mildly interjected. “Miss Compton, please calm down.”
During Miss Compton’s furious minutes, Lin Yuchan had quickly explained to Su Minguan about Miss Compton’s visit, helping him catch up on cause and effect.
Miss Compton saw Su Minguan and smiled sweetly at him, readily saying, “Fine.”
She was thinking: A living Chinese couple! Must maintain good relations with them—they’d be her gossip source in the future!
This Su Minguan, so unassuming—when she first visited Yixing Shipping for interviews, he and Luna were so polite like siblings, really insufficient! Now she finally knew his secret!
Su Minguan momentarily couldn’t understand these young women’s mentalities, made uncomfortable by Miss Compton’s smile, his expression slightly displeased.
Foreigners smiling at him never meant good things.
Miss Compton suddenly remembered something, intimately approaching Su Minguan to ask: “Hey, has your shrapnel wound healed?”
Su Minguan was so frightened that he stood up immediately, looking reproachful at Lin Yuchan.
What kind of friends are you making?
Lin Yuchan quickly escorted this silly, sweet miss away, calling her a carriage at the entrance.
“Sorry you were frightened today,” she apologized. “But you also indirectly witnessed a ridiculous farce. I hope your impression of Chinese people won’t become too poor because of this.”
These words were neither humble nor arrogant, perfectly satisfying Miss Compton’s inner sense of superiority.
Miss Compton laughed magnanimously: “Don’t worry! British people also have rogues and villains, and Chinese people also have smart, polite girls like you. I’m not so foolish as to lump hundreds of millions of people together!”
Lin Yuchan recalled when she first met Miss Compton, her indiscriminate, malicious prejudices against Chinese people. Now she could say such words—Lin Yuchan felt mixed emotions, thinking this year of afternoon tea service hadn’t been wasted.
Lin Yuchan returned to the main hall full of concerns.
Su Minguan had dismissed the gatekeeper and tea server, handing her a cup of tea.
He’d discarded the inferior tea brewed for Yellow Pockmark earlier, freshly brewing bright green tea.
His expression grave, he asked quietly: “‘Hometown Association’ connections not useful? Miss Lin, don’t be embarrassed. You’re the ‘Bai Yushan’ strategist for the Heaven and Earth Society. Don’t you know that twenty years ago, just this identity alone could summon at least a thousand people to help you raid prisons or kill corrupt officials…”
His tone carried slight reproach.
Lin Yuchan shook her head and smiled.
“Everyone has trouble making a living, too.”
They were all bottom-level small people—she couldn’t have them fighting and showing off every few days. Last time calling people to intimidate Wang Quan was acceptable, but this time the opposition had many people. If she’d called another group, it might have escalated into mass brawling, harming people.
So after quick consideration, she chose to use one gun alone, single-handedly intimidating a large crowd of righteous moralists.
She thought again, then smiled as if reassuring herself: “Really, nothing happened… I treated those words as wind past my ears. I even lectured them back.”
At least someone stood beside her—she wasn’t fighting alone.
When Su Minguan was surrounded and questioned by Heaven and Earth Society veterans, approaching complete isolation, hadn’t he maintained polite smiles throughout?
She felt her psychological endurance was quite good.
Su Minguan poured himself tea, glancing at her and sighing slightly.
“A’Mei, this rebellious streak of yours—were you born with it, or did it develop after meeting me?”
If the latter, he’d corrupted a young person—great sin indeed.
Lin Yuchan felt embarrassed by his question, turning away and refusing to answer.
What rebellious streak? Just the most normal reaction of a normal person with dignity.
Only in a feudal, distorted society was this seen as “rebellious.”
But… Su Minguan had one point right. Without his bad influence, without seeing a rebellious native live so freely, she’d never dare stand out prominently, face society’s beatings, and fight back a little.
Su Minguan suddenly said quietly, “A’Mei, you’re very fortunate.”
Lin Yuchan didn’t understand his meaning: “Hmm?”
“If I were the slightest bit well-behaved, hadn’t made so many heaven-defying oaths, I’d use any means to marry you. You couldn’t escape.”
Lin Yuchan’s face reddened slightly. After silent moments, she retorted: “If you were the slightest bit well-behaved, heaven would tolerate you, but you also wouldn’t fancy me, this rebellious girl.”
“That’s also true.”
Su Minguan laughed philosophically, heading to the back kitchen.
Tea server Liu Wu had just returned from shopping, rubbing his hands and resting against the wall.
Su Minguan thanked him, closed the kitchen door, and lifted a milk jar from the basket.
Lin Yuchan made a “pft” sound, guessing his intention and laughing aloud.
She stood behind him, sweetly making requests: “Today I want to eat double-skin milk.”
Double-skin milk was also a Shunde snack that had become popular recently, not difficult to make.
Su Minguan’s hand movements paused, then he continued calmly, beginning to peel ginger.
“It’s been a month,” he said flatly. “Ginger warms the stomach.”
Lin Yuchan’s cheeks warmed slightly, embarrassed to tell him that, due to her weak constitution, things still weren’t very regular even now…
She was fine currently. No need for ginger.
She asked with a quiet laugh: “Don’t know how to make double-skin milk either?”
Su Minguan ignored her, cold-faced, lowering his head to light the stove, heat milk, grind ginger juice—every movement perfectly standard, mechanically precise.
Lin Yuchan hummed, seeing through him. He wasn’t caring for his girlfriend at all. Today, he was purely here to save face.
Just had to prove there was no craft in the world Young Master Bai couldn’t learn.
Su Minguan muttered under his breath, counting steps, pouring hot milk into a bowl, and handing her a bowl of perfect ginger milk pudding.
The milk custard trembled delicately, pure snow-white, richly fragrant.
Lin Yuchan very cooperatively said “Wow,” asking: “Who taught you?”
Indeed, nothing was difficult in the world for those with determination.
“Hong Chunkui,” Su Minguan looked up, his dark eyes flashing with humor. “Perfect timing to inform you—Luna has returned to port. The second batch of Jiangning refugees successfully landed. Sixty-one people total, with Chunkui now specifically responsible for this matter. Also… someone brought you a letter on the ship.”
Lin Yuchan held her bowl, surprised and delighted, asking: “Who?”
Her mind quickly ran through new contacts along the Yangtze—Hankou Tea Guild officials, two old gentlemen from Anqing tea warehouses, Gao Dewen… surely not Li Weinuofu…
“Miss Lin,” Su Minguan sneered, suddenly adopting a Wuxi accent: “Long time no see ya! I’ve been missing you so much!…”
Lin Yuchan’s eyes widened, softly exclaiming, “Oh my.”
Su Minguan wore a slightly mischievous expression, tossing an unopened letter into her hands.