Su Minguan held a fine cigarette between his fingers, lightly tapping the table edge.

Men of the Great Qing mostly had smoking addictions. Even if they couldn’t afford opium paste, they had all kinds of substitutes—dry tobacco, water pipes, foreign cigarettes, and cigars. From nobles to commoners, virtually no man abstained, and even seven or eight-year-old rural children knew how to pucker their small teeth in various stages of eruption and take a proper puff.

Someone enthusiastically offered a fire folder. Su Minguan shook his head, covering his left hand with his right.

Originally, he hadn’t cared. But these past two years, he’d known a peculiar young lady who not only detested all tobacco smells but often warned him dramatically that smoking shortened life.

Though this girl would soon no longer belong to him…

A sharp pain shot through his heart momentarily. He couldn’t leave her with a distasteful impression.

He held an unlit cigarette, watching people around him puffing smoke, feeling somewhat impatient.

They claimed to be “jointly discussing countermeasures,” but after half a day of high-minded discourse, the word “ship” had appeared fewer than twenty times. After three rounds of wine, the topic remained stuck on the brothels of Fuzhou Road.

Normally, he could follow along with nonsense, too. But today he wasn’t in the right state, his mind full of her word “end.”

Restless and irritated, he set aside his cigarette, feigning rising intoxication as he stood to take leave.

“Brothers, I really can’t go on, another day…”

Several hands grabbed him.

“Just one more drink…”

Su Minguan’s peripheral vision was indifferent as he looked at these enthusiastic fellow merchants. Among them were several who had lent him money when buying the Guangdong. Though their personalities and character might not suit him, he always remembered this favor.

So he sat back down, holding his wine cup without drinking, stating directly: “Didn’t you gentlemen say you called me here to discuss countermeasures against foreign firms’ blockade? While brother is still sober, please enlighten me—I’ll do my best to cooperate.”

The various bosses looked at each other, all somewhat embarrassed.

“Hahaha, drink up…”

Su Minguan set down his cup.

“Minguan,” Boss Yang of Shengji Shipping, known in the industry as someone who could drink a thousand cups without getting drunk, with eyes surprisingly sharp and bright, turned them excessively flexibly over Su Minguan several times before calling to him, “Those Westerners are ambitious and unscrupulous. We old brothers have been running ships for most of our lives and are tired, unable to fight anymore. Listen to our words—in life, wealth, and honor depend first on fate, second on luck, third on feng shui. You can’t fight against fortune. Everyone advises you not to struggle so hard. Foreigners shoot the bird that sticks its head out. When you become the top Chinese shipping operator in Shanghai, they’ll unite against you. This is everyone’s heartfelt words—we don’t want to see you suffer for nothing…”

Su Minguan’s expression darkened slightly as he smiled: “At last year’s New Year banquet, didn’t everyone agree to advance and retreat together, resisting foreign aggression? Besides, with you gentlemen’s sand boats supporting things, how could I possibly rank first in Shanghai Chinese shipping? If you gentlemen have doubts about me, you needn’t speak for the foreigners, right?”

Boss Yang laughed awkwardly: “Really for your good…”

Boss Yang had recently taken a new concubine. His eye circles were somewhat dark, and his whole body reeked of cosmetics. Looking at the cigarette in his hand, he’d switched from his usual local tobacco to Mexican cigars, quite rare on the market.

Previously, when going out, he simply brought along an old servant. Today, however, two young, strong bodyguards served behind him, black cloth wrapped around their waists covering the faintly visible outlines of fierce gun muzzles.

Su Minguan impassively raised his eyes, examining these industry leaders around the wine table one by one.

Some avoided his gaze.

“Boss Zheng,” Su Minguan asked softly, “have you paid off your debts? This jade has good quality—not cheap, I’d imagine?”

The named Boss Zheng gave a dry laugh, then somewhat proudly displayed his thumb, nodding: “Work of imperial craftsmen, Hetian mutton-fat jade…”

Finally, someone couldn’t stand it and cut off the conversation.

“Truth be told, Minguan, we’re all planning to return home for retirement! We’ve already disposed of our ships—sorry for not notifying you…”

Su Minguan immediately asked: “Sold to whom?”

Boss Yang’s eyes shot with brilliant light as he looked at him, slowly saying: “Do you know that foreign firms have recently opened Chinese shareholding? We’ve already sold our ships and cargo warehouses as packages to foreign firms, got silver, and bought their shares instead. According to their operating conditions, by next year the value will at least double, plus dividends! We calculated that the silver we get for free each year isn’t less than what we’d earn through our hard work. Minguan, this is becoming the foreigners’ bosses in reverse—it’s bringing glory to our country. Today, we’re advising you to consider it too. Fighting against overwhelming odds is admirable, but you must consider your strength…”

Su Minguan crushed the cigarette in his hand into powder.

With these industry veterans collectively retiring, wouldn’t he, Su Minguan, become that “bird sticking its head out”?

“No one notified me,” he said in a low voice. “This happened just within this month.”

Those present were quite united in heart.

Everyone laughed awkwardly: “The contracts we signed with foreign firms have clauses preventing us from telling others.”

The vague unease in Su Minguan’s heart grew stronger. He nodded, smiling politely: “Understood. Thank you for informing me. Having been colleagues together, Minguan wishes you all enjoyment of rural pleasures.”

“Wait!”

Several people called out together.

“Minguan, think it over again. There are no outsiders here—we can speak without reservation. In the Great Qing, who would let you peacefully make money? Not to mention various taxes and levies—any day you offend an official, they’ll directly confiscate everything you own, leaving you destitute. That’s common. Better to invest silver with foreigners, where you can peacefully earn dividends and interest—why not?”

“Exactly! Foreigners have advantages in laws and policies, making money much easier than us. With the same ten thousand taels of capital, you might not have much left after a year of hard work, but give it to them and it multiplies—you can surely calculate this!”

“Indeed. Foreigners are charitable gods of wealth,” Su Minguan smiled coldly. “The ships full of silver they transport back to their Western homelands all materialized from thin air.”

Everyone forced awkward laughter.

These fellow merchants weren’t wrong. Foreign firms were indeed uniting against Chinese shipping. Their method was acquisition and opening shareholding—since they couldn’t kill you, they’d recruit you, “turning enemies into friends,” making you subordinates.

Once the last sizeable Chinese shipping company submitted, foreign merchants could do whatever they pleased.

“Compradors have long proposed acquisition and shareholding to me.” Su Minguan suddenly turned, a cold smile playing at his lips as he spoke each word clearly: “But I didn’t agree. Today, I’ll reveal a family shame to you gentlemen: When my father was prosperous, he was also a major shareholder in Jardine Matheson’s Guangdong branch, receiving tens of thousands of taels in annual dividends. Later, when a sudden disaster struck and he urgently needed funds, wanting to sell shares and withdraw dividends, Jardine Matheson’s foreign merchants made endless excuses, citing countless Western laws, ultimately only honoring one-third of the actual value. Gentlemen, for the sake of past cooperation, Su advises you to find yourselves an escape route—don’t entrust your entire fortunes to foreigners’ conscience.”

These words were like a bitter winter wind, chilling the wine and smoke at the table.

The fellow merchants were speechless: “No… that can’t be… You must remember wrong… they value reputation…”

“When you bought shares, did you examine the foreign firms’ asset-liability and debt statements? I guess not, because the Municipal Council has no relevant laws requiring foreign firms to present such documents.”

Having finished speaking, Su Minguan left behind a group of stunned retired old men, bent down to lift the curtain, and walked out of the cabin.

He’d wasted half an hour and gotten covered in tobacco smoke—she would mind…

Suddenly, his steps halted. Something hard pressed against his lower back.

“Boss Su, since you’re here, don’t be so eager to leave.” Boss Yang’s newly hired bodyguard pressed close behind him, saying ominously: “Having finally invited your honored presence, why not meet a few more friends—wait, let me finish. I know you have people out here who could dismember me with a finger snap. But today is Spring Festival, a rare celebration. If we disturb the common people and distinguished guests, with so many officials and soldiers nearby, they don’t eat for nothing either, right?”

Lin Yuchan frowned at the cabin full of tobacco smoke, raised her eyelids, and quietly examined those retired ship owners.

All smiling and cheerful, looking like they valued harmony for profit.

But their smiles hid guilty consciences—no need for particularly sharp eyes to see that.

“Um, this lady,” a fat merchant with brilliant eyes stubbed out his cigar, asking with an embarrassed but polite smile: “May I presume to ask what relationship you have with Minguan? Though he has many friends, where he goes is his privacy—we can’t casually tell strangers…”

“Shareholder. Creditor.” Lin Yuchan said frankly. “Su Minguan owes me eight thousand taels and won’t repay. Must I register my household with you gentlemen just to find someone?”

Let others speculate however they want. She’d seen Su Minguan board this boat, but now there wasn’t a trace of him. Asking nearby Yixing boat hands, no one had noticed anything unusual.

Since taking over Jin Lanhe’s position, Su Minguan had been unreliable in many ways, but this kind of behavior—abandoning everyone and vanishing—was the first time.

Today, she had to get to the bottom of it. Whatever romantic scandals these merchants imagined, she’d accept it.

The ship merchants didn’t take her seriously at all. Boya Company had absolutely no business overlap with them and had never made contact; though “Yixing Business Association” had some small fame, its members mostly dealt in bulk commodities with few in transportation, so they didn’t know who Lin Yuchan was.

Seeing this young and pretty girl, their first reaction was to take her for a scholar from a pleasure house. Su Minguan’s reluctance to come over earlier was probably because he was infatuated with her.

Some secretly evaluated her looks: No wonder Minguan was attached to this gentle embrace, almost couldn’t be invited over.

Everyone continued drinking and smoking, smilingly placating: “Minguan ah, probably got seduced away by some newcomer. When he returns, just demand more silver from him, haha…”

The laughter stopped abruptly. The pretty girl flipped her palm, gripping a small walnut-handled pistol.

The gun muzzle pointed directly at Boss Yang, who controlled the scene.

“Don’t waste my time with nonsense,” Lin Yuchan said coldly. “Speak quickly.”

Unexpectedly, the ship merchants were also experienced. If an eight-foot man had threatened them, they might have quickly submitted, but such a slender girl with such a small gun seemed to have limited deterrent power in their eyes.

Boss Yang was only startled for a second or two, then actually laughed, treating “beauty with gun” as entertainment, standing up: “Alright, alright, we’re scared. Do you know how to shoot? Foreign guns are dangerous…”

While speaking, he reached out, wanting to take her gun away.

Lin Yuchan: “…”

Boss Yang was underestimating her, but his immediate move to seize the gun was accidentally accurate despite his carelessness.

Surrounded by hundreds of civilian boats, with the opera troupe still singing on stage, she wouldn’t dare pull the trigger even with ten thousand times the courage.

Lin Yuchan suddenly withdrew both hands, calling: “Brother Hong!”

A gray figure flashed into the cabin. Before anyone could see his face clearly, they inexplicably felt chilled to the bone.

Hong Chunukui held the knife he’d used to cut tofu, pointing at the ship merchants while casually sizing them up, as if selecting a pleasing one to start with.

Still, “Three Thousand Years Old” had the most effective reputation. The ship merchants immediately turned as pale as the earth. Even if he held a pot scraper, it would be a hundred times more frightening than a Western pistol.

Boss Yang: “You… you are…”

Lin Yuchan quickly considered—better not involve the Heaven and Earth Society.

Since the ship merchants took her for a laughing girl from a pleasure house, she’d go with the flow, feigning arrogance as she shouted at Hong Chunukui: “Master Hu Second said if we can’t find the person, we’ll both be punished. Hurry up and ask!”

Master Hu Second was a quite capable human trafficker who had some small fame in Shanghai’s underworld but had never intersected with business circles. The ship merchants were caught off guard, unable to figure out the cause and effect, all dumbstruck.

Hong Chunukui didn’t know who Master Hu Second was, but these jewel-adorned wealthy merchants before him, ten years ago, he would have slaughtered them one by one like fat pigs. Now, having washed his hands in a golden basin, his mindset unchanged, he coldly swept his gaze over them, frightening the wealthy merchants witless.

Someone kept glancing at the knife in Hong Chunukui’s hand, full of regret, saying in a small voice: “I told you we shouldn’t do such heartless things—thankless work… Look, we’ve provoked people we shouldn’t have…”

Lin Yuchan’s heart jumped wildly as she asked: “What did you do to Minguan?”

Boss Yang quickly raised his hand in declaration: “Nothing, nothing at all, we wouldn’t dare. Everyone’s been colleagues—we wouldn’t scheme against him. That would be unconscionable… It’s just that some foreign gentlemen wanted to chat with him, so we all helped invite him… Really wouldn’t dare harm anyone. If we had ill intentions, may heaven strike us with lightning…”

The more Boss Yang swore oaths, the more Lin Yuchan’s heart sank. She frowned and asked: “Where did he go?”

“To… to the foreigners’ place. We don’t know either… Don’t know! Miss and hero, what are your honored names? If we learn of his whereabouts, we’ll notify you…”

In the northern part of the Anglo-American Settlement, a three-story English country-style garden mansion stood by the river. The garden was exquisitely arranged, with early spring small flowers and fine vines winding around European-style white pavilions. A neat waterway at the foot drew living water from the Suzhou River. A Chinese gardener bent his head, working through the night to replace new flower plants. On the riverside lawn burned a bonfire burned where a group of foreign men and women barbecued and laughed.

Outside the garden, connected to a private dock, where an old-style classical North Sea sailing ship was moored. The hull bore the ship’s name in white paint: “Dionysos.”

The Dionysos was already decommissioned, unable to make long voyages, so it had been converted into a dance hall and music hall, just floating around near the Huangpu River as a Western-style “pleasure boat.” At this time, international flags flew from the masts, orange-colored lanterns shone from the portholes, and intermittent Western music came from the cabin doors. Occasionally, portholes opened, revealing several laughing foreign faces, their attitudes relaxed and leisurely.

The sign at the mansion’s entrance bore printed English:

Shanghai General Chamber of Commerce

This was currently Shanghai’s largest chamber of commerce, incorporating dozens of large and small firms—all foreign firms, of course. They considered themselves the main participants in Shanghai commerce, so the business guild they formed didn’t need to specifically include words like “foreign” or “expatriate merchant.”

As for Chinese merchants wanting to join this “Shanghai General Chamber of Commerce,” it was as fantastical as women wanting voting rights—an absolute pipe dream that no one had even considered.

Additionally, various small signs stood before the mansion, such as “Seamen’s Club,” “Shanghai Cricket Club,” “Municipal Council Police Band”…

Indicating this mansion served multiple purposes, along with the sailing ship outside, as a recreational venue for foreign expatriates in Shanghai.

Outside these miscellaneous nameplates, like a protective deity, stood the largest and most conspicuous sign reading “Foreigner Only.”

Of course, like similar signs outside countless buildings in Shanghai’s foreign settlements, the Chinese text below this English was much more blunt, directly stating “Chinese Keep Out.”

“…So,” Manager Kim Neung-heng planted his walking stick, his towering hooked nose slightly furrowed as he showed an arrogant smile, “Minguan, you’re the first Chinese person to enter this villa—how does it feel?”

Even among Westerners, he was considered tall. When looking at Chinese people, he always used a somewhat downward gaze, seeing stubbled skulls and greasy dandruff wherever he looked, making him feel like he was in some large livestock farm.

But with this Su Minguan, he could at most look straight across, accidentally letting the man see into his own eyes. This feeling was terrible, as if something he was determined to obtain had slipped from his control. Seeing Su Minguan’s straight spine as he calmly reached out to push the door, Kim Neung-heng couldn’t help but straighten his chest, curling his toes in his leather shoes, thinking he should have slightly higher-heeled shoes made.

Su Minguan half-lowered his eyelids, quickly scanning his surroundings.

Foreign merchants had long shown intentions to annex Yixing, and he had repeatedly refused to cooperate.

He’d thought the foreigners would engage in three hundred more rounds of strategic maneuvering with him, but their approach was unexpectedly simple and brutal: hold him at gunpoint and force him inside—no signing contracts, no leaving.

This quite fits their bandit character.

He wondered how many other Chinese merchants had fallen to this simple, brutal robbery.

This was a club-like small parlor on the mansion’s third floor. One side had heavy European sofas, walls covered with recreational photos of foreigners in Shanghai, a piano in the corner, and a small fire burning in the fireplace with wood crackling softly.

The entrance connected to a small bar. Several foreigners sat on sofas, swirling fashionable martinis in their glasses while a blonde bar girl charmingly accompanied their relaxed conversation.

Su Minguan’s eyes suddenly brightened slightly as he strode toward a small round table in the corner.

“Mr. Tang, Mr. Xu—you’re here too.”

Kim Neung-heng was left aside, suddenly understanding something. His face darkened as he immediately caught up, supplementing: “I mean, the first independent Chinese merchant invited in… not those who serve us…”

He was too eager to show superiority to Su Minguan, wanting him to feel honored and awed by entering the “Chinese Keep Out” zone. But in his haste, he forgot that compradors were also Chinese…

In foreign merchants’ eyes, compradors were little different from their servants. They helped foreign merchants deal with Chinese people, and foreign merchants habitually treated them as “their people,” giving them access to “Chinese Keep Out” areas.

At the round table, Jardine Matheson comprador Tang Tingshu and Dent & Co. comprador Xu Run were amicably discussing ownership of a plot in Pudong while keeping an eye on the door. Hearing the foreign gentleman casually strip them of Qing nationality, both felt somewhat embarrassed.

Tang Tingshu rubbed his nearsighted eyes, recognized the visitor, and quickly stood to bow in greeting: “Minguan, haha… We invited you several times but you wouldn’t give us face. Today foreign face is bigger after all. Come, sit.”

Xu Run pulled over a stool and instructed Chinese servants to change the tea.

Sofas and alcohol were prepared for foreigners. Though the compradors were wealthy, they were quite tactful in foreign territory, not doing presumptuous things that would annoy people.

Su Minguan’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly as he asked softly: “Foreign face is bigger?”

“Come now, isn’t it just missing one opera performance? I’ll pay for you to make it up later!” Tang Tingshu laughed: “Since you came today, you must intend to split your business for shareholding. Look, we’ve prepared all the documents and forms—quite sincere, right?”

Xu Run stretched his legs, also laughing: “Not that I want to compete with Brother Tang, but our Dent & Co.’s ‘Water Sprite’ is the fastest, most beautiful steamship in all Asia. You’ll like it when you see it. Minguan, don’t go to Jardine Matheson—come to Dent & Co. I guarantee you’ll prosper abundantly—ah, Brother Li, Brother Peng.”

Several compradors from other foreign firms waiting in the corridor now crowded over to exchange pleasantries with Su Minguan.

Of course, face-to-face, no one would call each other “comprador”—all were “so-and-so manager,” “so-and-so agent,” or simply addressed as brothers, sounding quite foreign.

Su Minguan was slightly surprised, the corner of his mouth hooking up as he bowed all around to his compatriots: “I didn’t expect Su would have such a great face.”

Several major foreign firms had condescended to send people today to discuss how to divide up Yixing with him.

Moreover, since Yixing’s assets were high-quality and Su Minguan was capable, regardless of which foreign firm he later submitted to, he would be an effective lieutenant. So the foreign firms seemed to be competing somewhat, giving him some room for choice.

Should he sell to Jardine Matheson or Jardine? Or spread the benefits around, giving each firm a little?…

They left him considerable negotiating space.

It could be called full of sincerity. Much gentler than when the great powers signed treaties with the Qing.

The compradors’ qualifications varied. Some could still be somewhat polite, discussing news and current events; others were impatient, nakedly urging: “Minguan, today this opportunity is truly foreign gentlemen’s mercy. If you miss it, there won’t be another. Stop being picky—let’s talk quickly! Here, first state your intentions, how much proportion you want in cash…”

The compradors were silver-tongued, the best group in all China at drumming up business. Su Minguan was surrounded by them and momentarily found it difficult to handle.

He pressed his hand on the table edge, said nothing, and stood to walk toward the door.

Unsurprisingly, two big men guarded the entrance, their waists bulging with the ominous outlines of gun muzzles.

“Boss Su,” one of them gave a friendly reminder, “please stay. The road isn’t safe.”