Lin Yuchan’s heart gave a great leap, vaguely sensing something.

Indeed, a year had already passed. Each year’s Spring Festival differed slightly, and she hadn’t paid much attention.

This time last year, she had been on Luna’s observation deck, teaching him to faire la bise.

Flashing through her mind was this year’s chaos and turmoil: the small Western-style building ransacked by police leaving everything in shambles, letters of desperate pleas that sank without trace, Rong Hong’s newly grown queue, the shrapnel wound under Su Minguan’s ribs, the Book of Changes in Zheng Guanying’s hands, the pomegranate seeds Yellow Crane had peeled, the triangular prism Xu Shou had ground, the old monk in serene meditation, Livinov bundled up like a bear, E.C. Bennett stirring up muddy waters, the pungent smell in the steamship repair room, the thunderous explosions at Anqing’s Inner Arsenal, the clear sweetness of foreign wine, the quiet fragrance of lavender, the drifting snow in Hankou, ginger milk pudding, real estate stocks, the massive shipbuilding platform at Yason Shipyard…

In the chaotic, disorderly whirlpool, dotted with small colored candies.

Seeing her in a daze, Su Minguan’s smile faded as he looked away, gazing distantly at the stage where joys and sorrows came and went.

“The agreed promise,” he said with disappointment, his voice soft. “It seems only I remembered.”

“No,” Lin Yuchan was instantly aggrieved, “I didn’t…”

Who counts days for no reason every day!

Deep inside, Lin Yuchan hadn’t taken this one-year agreement seriously. At the beginning when they confirmed their feelings, she had even briefly thought that if this damn man ever crossed her bottom line in the future, she would end things amicably early rather than suffer through a full year.

But that thought had only flickered by once initially.

And then…

An invisible, intangible flame enveloped her, making her feel an inexplicable warmth on cold winter nights. As she struggled and floated in this chaotic, evil world, when she could barely hold on, someone would lend her strength.

It was these threads of connection that escaped difficulty.

When she planned Boya’s future, signed gambling agreements, and even discussed the three-year wager with the Jiangzhe branches, she had unconsciously exceeded that one-year limit. Inadvertently, in her plans for the future, she had naturally reserved a place for a revolutionary companion.

She judged others by herself, thinking Su Minguan was probably just talking. His almost obsessive countdown of days was merely to alleviate his inner conflicts and contradictions.

Or perhaps to righteously take advantage of her.

On stage, the young female role seemed to have suffered some grievance, her plaintive melody traveling mountains and rivers to reach the small boat cabin. Lin Yuchan felt somewhat aggrieved, too.

“But you were fine this morning.”

How could he change his face so quickly?

She felt an indescribable taste in her heart. Su Minguan wasn’t someone easily swayed by emotions. Even if his eyes were always gentle as water, it couldn’t hide the cold scale in his heart.

The seven emotions and six desires seemed far less important to him than certain “principles” in his heart.

Lin Yuchan felt this was the most normal boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, with blushing heartbeats and cold wars. Boss Su remained consistently clear about public and private matters, never showing favoritism at the negotiating table, lacking any awareness of doomsday revelry…

No, she suddenly remembered he had felt impulses for immediate pleasure, more than once. But ultimately, he hadn’t acted on them, leaving her with a relatively safe romantic experience.

Su Minguan gazed at her gently. Seeing her look up, he quickly lowered his eyes, avoiding that questioning gaze.

“Is this your idea,” Lin Yuchan asked lightly, “or do you think this is good for me?”

He remained silent, only moving around the small table to embrace her shoulders.

Across the water on the stage, civilian drama had turned to military drama. Drums and gongs played lively as actors energetically performed the crowd-pleasing fighting and somersaulting. Cheers and laughter came in waves.

Lin Yuchan felt as if she were floating outside worldly affairs. The small boat cabin seemed particularly quiet.

Words from her heart surged to her tongue several times: Little White Young Master, forget that one-year agreement, okay? Let’s date as long as we want, not fearing social conventions, overcoming difficulties together.

But she was stubborn, not wanting to appear as if she were manipulating him. This thought was best if he figured it out himself; these words were best said by him.

Anyway, he had gone back on his word more than once or twice. In personal emotions, he was like a thoroughly tangled mess, at odds with himself. He probably wouldn’t mind breaking his word once more, right?

But after waiting long, Su Minguan only gently kissed her forehead and eyebrows, never saying those words.

Lin Yuchan was stirred restlessly by those cool lips, going from anxiety to slight disappointment. She picked up the cold tea before her, stood up, and poured it into the river.

“A’mei.”

He suddenly called softly.

Lin Yuchan immediately turned around, breathing unsteadily.

Su Minguan gently bit his lip. Light from the stage scattered through the window, outlining the delicate lines of his nose tip, shrouding his face in a layer of cold mist that seemed distant and unfeeling.

He was silent for long, swallowing words on his tongue tip, slowly retrieving a tin can from the cabinet.

“This tea is better… use this can.”

He felt himself utterly ridiculous. Why demand that the young lady take initiative?

But if she spoke now, even just a roundabout hint—”Why don’t you marry me, it would be convenient for us both…”

He stared at her slightly parted, pale red lips, somewhat expectant yet fearful.

But if she said this, he wondered, would I have the courage to refuse?

But her eyes held only half-hidden sorrow. She sighed almost inaudibly and slowly took the tea can from his hands.

Su Minguan felt he understood her meaning, and an indescribable sense of loss suddenly arose in his heart.

He smiled and helped arrange her teacup.

“There are still four hours. Do you want to listen to opera, or go somewhere…”

The boat cabin swayed slightly. She dropped the troublesome tea packet and tightly embraced him.

“Are you so eager to send me away?” the girl’s thin voice trembled lightly, “as if I’ll rush to marry someone else tomorrow.”

Su Minguan turned his head, gently touching her face with his cheek, asking softly: “Then, what do you want?”

A few seemingly heartless syllables spoken, his heartbeat quickened slightly, ready to say “yes” at any moment.

Even if she said…

But she said nothing.

Neither was coy, and both understood the principle of striking first. But at this moment, out of some peculiar state of mind and excessive caution about the unknowable future, both waited for the other to speak first.

After a long time, Lin Yuchan gently released him, composed her emotions, and smiled bitterly.

“Fine then… as you wish. I’ve had enough fun, too. Let’s end it today.”

The words “as you wish” were bitten out especially hard—even Jiang Gaosheng could hear the petulance in them.

Having spoken, she looked directly into Su Minguan’s eyes.

His eyebrows jumped violently once. He bit his lip and, after a long time, nodded with difficulty.

He remembered his excessively willful childhood. A gifted only child, the star around whom the whole family revolved and coaxed. Except for one family patriarch he feared, everyone else indulged him, tolerating his dissolute and unrestrained nature. He lived seemingly isolated from the world like an immortal, with others figuring out his moods, bringing whatever he wanted immediately to hand. When unhappy, he would make unreasonable scenes, creating havoc in various ways. Thinking back now, he was truly detestable.

Later, the star fell to earth, trampled by society’s big foot into mud. When setbacks overwhelmed him, he often felt intense inferiority, feeling that all his life’s fortune had been used up in those first ten years. Could he still hope for any pure joy?

Of course, this bitter period didn’t last long. He learned to climb up from the mire, grinding his strange, twisted edges smooth, growing claws and fangs, seeking the pleasure of conquest in this new world.

Until now…

One petulant “end” was like a sharp kite string suddenly brushing past, scraping him bloody, pulling that long-distant feeling of inferiority back to his side, leaving him unable to summon the strength to argue.

Just like countless times in youth, when he swallowed grievances. What was this pain compared to those?

He had moved his heart first, he had started it, he had insisted on a boring agreement. From the beginning he had no right to monopolize that pure little moon.

Su Minguan suddenly pushed open the window. Early spring night’s cold wind rushed into his eye sockets, his ears blown red.

He warmed his ice-cold cheeks with both hands, turning back with a smile.

“So, do you want me to leave now, or…”

Lin Yuchan was momentarily choked by his calm tone.

Little Young Master, you’re something!

Her eyes instantly stung, wanting to kick this Great Qing zombie under history’s wheels.

Suddenly, she couldn’t control her emotions. Outside, vendors called one after another. Lin Yuchan called out exaggeratedly: “There are luohan beans!”

Moments later, she received a packet of hot luohan beans through the window, popping one in her mouth and stuffing one to him.

Tears pressed back into her chest. She smiled sweetly.

“It’s eight o’clock now, still four hours left. Stay with me.”

Ancients were ancients after all. A hundred-year generation gap. She wondered if she was being too harsh, insisting he separate marriage from commitment.

He had tried hard, custom-tailoring “one year no-questions-asked return” for himself. Finding it unsuitable, he actively withdrew. And he gave advance notice—a responsible performance.

Lin Yuchan was no longer the high school graduate who made a big fuss and got emotional at every turn. She pressed her lips hard, surprisingly not losing composure.

Instead, she relaxed into his embrace, asking with a slightly provocative tone: “So, when we meet tomorrow, how should I address you?”

Su Minguan smiled: “As you wish.”

“Should I move out the things I left in Yixing’s guest room?”

“If it’s inconvenient… there’s still some space. No rush.”

“The things you gave me…”

“Keep them!”

She finally heard anger in his voice, and a wicked satisfaction rose in her heart.

“Xiao Bai,” she asked seriously amid the sounds of strings and opera outside, “have you ever thought about what you’ll be doing when you’re thirty?”

If not for being used to her wild imagination, Su Minguan would think this girl was indeed heartlessly flowing water toward him.

He thought for a moment, saying in a low voice: “By then I’ll probably be exposed, being chased around the world by the court.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Lin Yuchan persisted, “assuming everything stays peaceful.”

“Then…”

Su Minguan was silent for a moment.

He couldn’t even give a definite commitment about his future, let alone others.

Thinking this way, the Great Wall in his heart collapsed a bit more. Today should indeed end. Further delay would harm them both.

Lost in thought for a while, he found he truly couldn’t answer her question.

His thinking stalled, but his five senses became extraordinarily acute. He smelled the faint floral water fragrance in the girl’s hair beside him. Suddenly his heart was swept by wild wind as he commanded: “Look up.”

Less than four hours left.

The young girl slowly raised her head, not forgetting to stick out her tongue tip to lick off the luohan bean residue on her lips.

Su Minguan leaned down. Suddenly, he heard water waves gathering, boats approaching, laughter passing over layers of black-canopied boats, and someone calling loudly to him.

“Boss Su!…”

Then someone knocked on the cabin door.

“Boss,” Hong Chunukui said in a low voice, “seems like people from ‘Jiuda Sand Boat.'”

A pleasure boat moored nearby. Outside, community opera played melodiously while inside it was also lively, with sounds of drinking and card playing.

“Boss Su, long time no see!” a voice invited loudly. “You came but didn’t tell us, brothers. Half of Shanghai’s boat owners are here watching opera—come over for a drink?”

Su Minguan had stale breath stuck in his chest, murder flashing in his eyes.

Really no justice. The opera troupe he randomly chose had become wildly popular, attracting so many opera fans who never gave him peace.

Any other time, he could socialize however they wanted, but today alone, he wouldn’t accommodate them.

He gave Hong Chunukui a few instructions. Hong Chunukui went out to politely decline: “Sorry, our boss is a bit busy…”

“Busy yet came to watch opera?” The fellow merchants didn’t believe it. “Could it be some gentle embrace in the cabin, hahaha… don’t hide, there are shadows on the window hahahaha…”

Then someone else said: “Minguan, have you heard that this year several major foreign firms want to join hands against us shipping folks? Everyone’s discussing countermeasures, wanting to hear your thoughts.”

Before Su Minguan could answer, Lin Yuchan suddenly laughed.

“Go ahead. Business comes first. Go discuss it.”

She generously jerked her chin toward the outside.

Then, seeing the instant displeasure that arose in him, she sincerely added: “I’ll wait here for you. However long you waste, we’ll extend accordingly.”

Su Minguan suddenly couldn’t maintain his composure, showing slight smile lines around his eyes.

Still extending…

The bloody wounds that the kite string had cut in his heart suddenly didn’t hurt so much.

He was famously diligent and serious among Chinese boat owners. If today he pushed business and career aside for inappropriate emotional entanglements, it would be a laughingstock if word got out.

A’mei wouldn’t like such an Xiao Bai either.

Even if they separated, when she recalled these useless final hours later, she would only frown.

So he gently kissed her lips, saying: “Wait for me a little while. Don’t leave. I still have many things to tell you.”

Then he strode out of the cabin, properly greeting people.

At the moment of jumping onto the pleasure boat, his heart still raced, and he stumbled slightly. The fellow merchants laughed heartily, inviting him in.

…

Lin Yuchan finally had quiet, sitting in the cabin, spacing out for a long time, letting her tangled mind air out a bit.

Not wanting to brood alone in corners, she returned to Boya Company’s chartered boat, chatting casually with employees and chamber of commerce directors, listening to some opera.

Then she visited Yixing’s boat, greeting familiar staff like Shi Peng, Jiang Gaosheng, and Yuan Daming, exchanging pleasantries.

Regardless of how things went with Su Minguan, these people would remain contacts and friends in the future.

The opera troupe worked hard, and everyone was satisfied.

Though tomorrow would be another busy day, and some were already yawning, no one wanted to leave first. Such rare late nights should be fully enjoyed.

Finally, Lin Yuchan returned to Su Minguan’s boat cabin, ate the remaining luohan beans, and when the mood struck, recited passages from “Village Opera” from memory, comparing them with the current scene to pass time.

The merchants’ pleasure boat had drifted farther away, its warm red lanterns flickering. Inside, shadows swayed with toasts and revelry—she couldn’t make out which shadow was Su Minguan.

This socializing was taking quite a long time. Su Minguan had yet to return.

Merchants’ social gatherings were fine without alcohol, but once drinking started, they would chat about everything—eating, drinking, whoring, gambling. To extract useful information, one has to hold one’s nose while listening to people’s wild boasting.

Su Minguan naturally disliked it, but he could endure it.

The opera melodies on stage began to waver, and the somersaulting figures started to blur. Lin Yuchan yawned.

Hong Chunukui carefully pushed open the door, asking: “Miss, would you like a late-night snack?”

Lin Yuchan nodded.

“What would you like?”

Before she could answer, Hong Chunukui suddenly smiled mysteriously, saying in a low voice: “Tired of ginger milk pudding? Let me make you something savory.”

Lin Yuchan’s heart full of knots suddenly had a crack opened, and she laughed: “You’ve worked hard, really teaching him.”

Hong Chunukui laughed: “Don’t mention it—Minguan is much harder than I. To learn this one bowl, he burned his hands several times.”

Lin Yuchan was puzzled: “How does making ginger milk pudding burn hands?”

Hong Chunukui spread his hands: “How would I know? The helmsman has exceptional talent.”

Having said this, he laughed heartily, drew his knife from his waist, and began cooking.

The “Three Thousand Years Old” who had commanded thousands of troops and once nearly killed her, bald, wielding a sharp knife, cut tofu before her. Suddenly, the boat cabin filled with a murderous aura, blades flashing everywhere. Piece after piece of tofu, thin as paper, connected but unbroken, then cut vertically into threads fine as hair.

Lin Yuchan watched, somewhat nervous, finding a topic for casual conversation: “Did you bring your wife and children out this time?”

Hong Chunukui didn’t react immediately, his knife continuing by inertia to split several more layers of tofu before: “Ah?”

Lin Yuchan: “Didn’t you say your wife and children were in Nanjing…”

When kidnapping people in Fahai Cave, hadn’t he angrily told Su Minguan, “If you won’t help, fine, leave! I’ll sneak back to Tianjing City to accompany my wife and children!…”

Among the first fifty-three rescued refugees, his family members weren’t included. Lin Yuchan had thought he probably didn’t want to appear too selfish.

Now that the second wave of refugees had come out, she should advise him to rescue his family for a reunion.

Who knew Hong Chunukui would look at her deeply, his bearded face showing seven parts solemnity.

“They are in Tianjing,” he said quietly. “Starved to death long ago. Buried under Yuhuatai.”

Lin Yuchan’s face stiffened: “I’m sorry…”

Hong Chunukui instead laughed, the wrinkles on his face fierce but not frightening. In a hoarse voice, he said: “Life and death—having seen much, it’s just that. Death isn’t necessarily bad, and living isn’t necessarily comfortable. My only regret is that in those final days, she kept missing the Wensi tofu I made. But then, I ordered people to search the whole city and couldn’t find one good piece of tofu, couldn’t even gather a full cup of soybeans. She never got to eat that Wensi tofu.”

He tossed the lotus-root-like connected tofu into boiling water. Hundreds of tofu threads scattered like flowers.

“Miss Lin, I had a sister who died in battle about your age. I’ve kept these words in my heart, not knowing who to tell, but since you’re willing to listen, I’ll presume to say a bit more. Honestly, I was quite angry then. I’d lived ten years of commanding wind and rain in the Taiping Army—what delicacies couldn’t I get? Why didn’t she say this earlier, waiting until starvation was everywhere to tell me she’d been craving this dish for ten years?

“Of course, I quickly understood. A great man should achieve heroic deeds, leading armies and killing enemies was proper business. Cooking and washing dishes for one’s wife was foolishness only done when newly wed and young, and ignorant. As the Ying King’s consort, she naturally didn’t dare make such an unambitious request to me, thinking I wouldn’t agree anyway. I was crude-minded and never cared what she ate at each meal. Looking back now, if she had asked, I might have been embarrassed and sulked for a few days, but would probably have picked a night, dismissed attendants and guards, and secretly cooked a bowl to leave her speechless.”

He ladled the tofu soup into a small bowl. The fine tofu threads spread in the rolling soup like fireworks.

“Ha, my hands haven’t lost their touch,” Hong Chunukui was quite satisfied. “Try it. Consider it eating for your sister-in-law.”

His gestures still retained noble airs, offering a bowl of Wensi tofu soup like casually rewarding someone with silver.

Lin Yuchan accepted it with both hands. The tofu in the soup was fine as hair, creating a vivid illusion—at first glance, it looked like dragon whiskers noodles.

Taking a spoonful to taste, it was indeed soft, tender, and mellow, melting upon entry—a delicacy that could be remembered for years.

She suddenly asked: “Have you told Minguan about this?”

“We’re both men—who has patience for private matters?” Hong Chunukui smiled bitterly. “I’m only telling you this to let you know Hong isn’t a heartless villain. Sigh, thinking back now, being a woman with a thin face, whatever she wanted in her heart, worrying about gains and losses, she never spoke up, always waiting for others to give. She probably missed many pleasures in her lifetime, who knows how many complaints she had about me, but unfortunately, I have no chance to ask now.”

He suddenly smiled: “Minguan still hasn’t returned—he wasn’t drunk, was he? Should we send someone to check?”

Lin Yuchan’s heart felt stabbed by some blunt instrument. She mechanically lifted the bowl and drained the meticulously crafted tofu soup in one gulp.

—If you don’t ask, how do you know what he thinks?

Why did an honest piece of thick-browed tofu, after being expertly cut a few times, become difficult-to-distinguish downy flowers, making people unable to recognize its true face?

Why did principles usually simple as white paper, once painted by the colorful brushes of greed, anger, foolishness, love, and the seven emotions and six desires, become a colorful maze, making people go in circles unable to find the exit?

Su Minguan was meticulous as silk—often before she spoke, he guessed her little schemes. So she seemed to have grown accustomed to their mutual understanding, forgetting how to speak directly from the heart and resolve real disagreements.

Why must men always take the initiative in everything? She wasn’t the virtuous Ying King’s consort. Being born two centuries late—had she time-traveled for nothing!

Lin Yuchan found thick clothes in the cabinet, put them on, and laughed cheerfully: “I’m going to find him.”

What fun was there in smoke-and-alcohol-filled socializing? Why not use precious time for something else?

No need to struggle with how to make up for centuries of generation gap, no need to rack her brains guessing how deeply he loved her—just speak her heart to him straightforwardly. If they matched, fine; if not, part ways. What’s the big deal!

It’s not like losing a piece of flesh!

She nimbly emerged from the cabin, saying to Hong Chunukui: “Row the boat over. Let’s go rescue him.”