Su Minguan tested the boundaries again, only to have a gun pressed against his waist once more. He slowly raised his hands and retreated.
The foreigners had gone to great lengths to “invite” Su Minguan to their territory, and they wouldn’t let him leave without signing a satisfactory contract.
A young girl was still obediently waiting for him on the boat. His mood was at rock bottom, so he deliberately made a scene, swinging a punch while shouting angrily: “What is this? Is this still Great Qing territory or not? Do I have no right to come or go as I please?”
Several big men restrained him. One of them, unfazed, smiled and replied: “This is the foreign settlement—not Great Qing territory. You really can’t come and go as you please here.”
The big man posed as a bodyguard, handling his gun with practiced skill, showing no signs of underworld principles. Su Minguan suddenly had a thought and said quietly: “Green Gang?”
The big man’s expression changed slightly. He released Su Minguan, lifted the black cloth at his waist, and stood alertly by the door.
Green Gang remnants had fled to Shanghai, doing whatever paid. Working as dogs for foreigners was acceptable too.
The Great Qing’s tumors spread throughout its body—eliminate one, and countless more would grow. One Boss Chu fell, but thousands upon thousands of Boss Chus would follow.
Su Minguan was powerless against this.
He turned back.
Tang Tingshu and Xu Run both watched him with complex expressions.
The compradors had all heard Su Minguan’s loud rebuke.
Tang Tingshu’s face changed repeatedly before he finally said in a low voice in Cantonese: “Minguan, what’s going on?”
Su Minguan accepted a martini from a waiter, fidgeting with the lemon peel on the rim.
Tang Tingshu was the leader among this group of compradors. If he could be handled, the rest would be easy.
“As a child, I heard many legends about Western commerce—contracts, rule of law, colonization, reform, commercial warfare—thinking they sailed across oceans pursuing wealth, founding nations through trade, each one a general who killed without bloodshed.” Su Minguan’s lips curved as he made casual conversation. “I never expected to discover today that their methods are just so-so. Put them in ‘Romance of the Three Kingdoms’ and they wouldn’t survive the second chapter. Brothers, you’re wasted talents.”
Tang Tingshu caught the sarcasm, gradually understanding the meaning, his expression becoming complex.
A foreign manager called from nearby: “Tang, don’t chat—ask him directly what his asking price is.”
Foreigners didn’t understand Chinese customs. While they could give orders when communicating with Chinese people, for complex back-and-forth dialogue, they still preferred to rely on compradors.
Su Minguan affectionately put his arm around Tang Tingshu’s shoulder.
“Stop playing dumb, fellow countryman.” He also replied in low Cantonese: “I didn’t come here willingly today. If you say one more word to me, you’re harming a compatriot. From then on, our friendship is finished, and the foreigners won’t give you any extra favors either.”
Tang Tingshu hadn’t expected him to speak so directly. After an embarrassed silence, he nodded.
Then he pulled Xu Run along to report back to their foreign bosses.
“Sorry, we just discovered that the Pudong plot seems to have been measured somewhat inaccurately. We still think we should hurry to confirm it…”
They kept bowing apologetically, then took their clothes and hats, both taking leave together.
Those who could become top compradors at foreign firms had a broad vision and harbored some ambitions for foreign affairs and self-strengthening—they weren’t petty people who harmed others for personal gain. Competing with Chinese merchants in business was acceptable, but participating in such tasteless harm to compatriots would make them despised both inside and out. Their reputation in Chinese circles would be ruined, cutting off all retreat.
Both were sensible people. After quick consideration, they respectfully declined to participate.
Xu Run cast an apologetic glance at Su Minguan: “I’ll make amends later. But Minguan, their terms are quite good—you might consider them.”
Having said this, they chased after each other, leaving quickly, their footsteps clattering loudly on the stairboards.
The remaining compradors also found it hard to continue this charade. After a few words, Su Minguan’s mockery left them red-faced and flustered, looking helplessly at their foreign bosses behind the scenes.
“Useless things.” Kim Neung-heng said hatefully in a low voice. “Get out.”
The atmospheric pressure in the parlor plummeted as several foreign merchants who had been chatting and laughing casually gathered around with displeased expressions.
Su Minguan recognized most of these people—managers and senior partners of Shanghai’s leading foreign firms: Jardine Matheson, Russell & Co., Dent & Co…
Today’s setup was ultimately organized by Kim Neung-heng, who had boasted he could bring over that stubborn Yixing Boss Su, then find some Chinese compradors to sweet-talk him. Under pressure, he wouldn’t refuse to submit.
When that happened, nearly ten percent of the Yangtze passenger transport market share would return to foreign hands.
But now the compradors had all retreated in the face of difficulty. These unreliable Chinese people!
They could only rely on themselves.
Dent & Co.’s senior partner pointed to the sofa: “Mr. Su, haha, we’ve long heard your great name but never met. But you’ll probably be able to come here for drinks often in the future… sit.”
The Western lady on the sofa giggled charmingly, her flirtatious eyes appraising this handsome, exotic young man, with no intention of giving up her seat to a Chinese person.
That laughter made Su Minguan’s heart restless for a moment. From the corner of his eye, he saw the clock—nine-thirty.
The girl on the boat must be getting impatient, right?
He hoped these foreigners wouldn’t be long-winded.
Manager Kim Neung-heng forced a smile at him, then took a deep breath.
Su Minguan desperately drained his drink.
Sure enough, Kim Neung-heng began a lengthy discourse.
“Your steamship, our Russell & Co., can purchase at a discount,” he said grandly. “Other assets, dispose of as you wish. If you want to buy shares, we also warmly welcome it. As you’ve seen, half the Chinese ship owners have already chosen to entrust their assets to foreign firms, because we have more complete laws and freedom from arbitrary exploitation by Qing government offices. This isn’t a display of selling out or weakness—on the contrary, it’s embracing modern commercial rules. If you’re willing, you can still manage your beloved Luna—originally our Mississippi—and will gain much more profit than before, enough for you to buy mansions and farmland, marry three to five beautiful wives, or pursue any career you like…”
Kim Neung-heng’s tone was enthusiastic and sincere, as if he’d never had any friction with Su Minguan or Yixing Shipping, as if he’d only met this promising young man today and, out of one hero appreciating another, planned to spare no effort in promoting him, letting him enter life’s fast lane from now on.
The other foreign merchants all laughed: “Mr. Kim Neung-heng, why would you purchase Luna at a discount? This ship has been modified to suit Chinese travelers—we have reason to believe it retains its value. Fuyuan Trading House is willing to purchase it at the original price.”
…
Su Minguan sipped tea, quietly listening to the foreign gentlemen bid up his value.
Compared to the compradors’ roundabout approach, the foreign gentlemen’s thinking was more direct: give him an illusory dream, making him feel that walking out of this mansion empty-handed would mean missing life’s greatest opportunity.
Amid the endless auditory bombardment, his gaze suddenly lowered three degrees, discovering that the curly-haired, baby-faced bar girl had been using a folding fan to cover her face while watching him with interest.
Su Minguan’s lips curved as he greeted the baby-faced lady with his eyes, mouthing: “So boring.”
The lady’s curved, big eyes clearly showed mirth as she quietly moved her fan aside, revealing lips painted with rouge, mouthing back: “You must be very rich.”
The entertainment ladies also had ranks. These few high-born European courtesans in all of Shanghai only moved among foreigners. Chinese people—even wealthy and powerful Chinese—were never their target customers. Anyone who dared take Chinese business, even just dining at the same table, would see their value plummet.
The reverse was also true. Most Great Qing pleasure women wouldn’t serve foreigners either, or they’d be cutting off their livelihood.
Seeing Su Minguan in the foreign mansion today, the Western lady was just looking at something novel, finding this person quite pleasing and interesting.
Otherwise, why would so many European and American tycoons be circling him?
Su Minguan had a quiet conversation with the lady across the room.
—Beautiful pearl hairpin. French goods?
—Oh, thank you. This is a gift from a respectable gentleman.
—How much? If it’s not expensive, I’d like to buy one for my sister too.
—Hehe, really, your sister?
—Seriously. How much to sell?
…
On the opposite side of the sofa, the senior partner was giving a speech mixing soft and hard approaches when he suddenly discovered that this damned Chinese ship owner was flirting with his female companion, chatting happily without spending a penny!
Words on his tongue—”capital,” “internationalization,” “win-win,” “equity”—suddenly became confused and scattered, rolling around like beans spilled on the ground.
His face flushed red: “Hey, Miss Louise!”
Miss Louise immediately turned her shoulder coquettishly: “Sir, you promised me we’d go to the sailing ship concert at ten o’clock. Can’t these boring topics wait for another time?”
“…”
Su Minguan crossed his arms, smiling as he met the gazes of several colorful foreign merchants.
Foreign gentlemen’s time was valuable. They had to make money, socialize, entertain, dance and flirt with ladies. They didn’t have lots of time to waste on a Chinese merchant.
Today’s hurdle was a test for him, but merely an obstacle they could crush with their toes.
Though his time was also valuable. He should be floating on a black-canopied boat on the river, listening to opera with a sister who would look good in pearl hairpins.
Or doing something else.
He glanced at the wall clock, suppressing momentary irritation. His smile carried obvious provocation.
—Keep chattering.
The foreign merchants found themselves rebuffed. Their nightlife was indeed packed full. Today, they’d just come to make an appearance, thinking “dividing up Yixing” was a sure thing, just a matter of signing papers.
They hadn’t expected to waste so much time and still be spinning their wheels.
The foreign merchants began to split internally. Someone cast blame at Manager Kim Neung-heng, then stood up, politely saying: “The ten o’clock chamber music performance—who wants to go together?”
Kim Neung-heng was so angry that smoke came from his nose.
He had a group of hardworking Chinese subordinates who could busy themselves all over the city at his word, but he couldn’t command his foreign compatriots at will.
He could only grind his teeth secretly, watching fellow merchants retreat one by one, politely hinting they should prepare better before taking action next time.
Kim Neung-heng suddenly smiled savagely, calling over a subordinate and giving low instructions.
Really wouldn’t shed tears until seeing the coffin. Did they think Westerners built their fortunes on civilization and politeness?
“Mr. Su,” he pushed Su Minguan into an adjacent small office, gently closing the door, “since you don’t like the contracts we prepared that could make you wealthy, then I can only ask you to—how does that saying go—those who refuse a toast will be forced to drink a forfeit…”
“Finally,” Su Minguan thought, “the dagger appears.”
Why not jump directly to this step instead of wasting so much saliva and precious, beautiful time?
These Westerners, having been in China long, had also picked up bad habits of beating around the bush, needing to go through all the motions for everything.
He picked up the English contract draft from the desk, scanning it.
“Regarding unconditional transfer of Yixing Shipping shares…”
None of the fancy “shareholding,” “joining,” “cooperation,” “dividends” from before—just simple, brutal “transfer”—though they’d give him some compensation, like paying off a beggar.
“I have reliable information that your steamship ‘Luna’ has engaged in illegal, treasonous activities on the Shanghai-Hankou route.” Kim Neung-heng’s voice was low, his affected British upper-class accent vanishing completely, his throat squeezing out rough American syllables. “Mr. Su, think carefully—have you ordered your subordinates to smuggle certain things they shouldn’t while passing through Nanjing… hmm, contraband…”
Su Minguan’s eyes lost their mirth as his fingertips unconsciously curled.
“…or people?”
Kim Neung-heng smiled as he added these words, cold light shooting from his deep eye sockets as he watched Su Minguan’s expression with satisfaction.
The sailing ship “Dionysos” embraced the water waves like a smooth waltz, rhythmically drifting slowly.
Chinese sailing ships and hand-rowed boats passed by it. Some boats carried sounds of low singing and playing that intertwined momentarily with the Western music from Dionysos before quickly separating, like unmixable water and oil, each returning to its world.
However, this wasn’t entirely true. Western wind instruments, through deliberate acoustic design, were very loud and carried far. In comparison, the gentle Chinese silk and bamboo instruments retreated step by step under the brass instruments’ invasion, finally withdrawing into small boat cabins, no longer echoing over the water.
Su Minguan was silent for long, his fingers forceful as he crumpled the contract draft in his palm and contemptuously tossed it into the wastebasket.
“Friendly reminder,” Su Minguan’s voice was lazy, “though you gentlemen aren’t subject to Great Qing law, as far as I know, attempts to frame Chinese people rarely succeed, because most local officials don’t believe red-haired foreign devils. Of course, the Municipal Council sides with you, but the settlement can’t control Great Qing affairs…”
While speaking, his brain raced: No, there would be no flaws. Those in the know were all reliable society brothers, the entire plan left no evidence from start to finish, all physical evidence on the ship, dock, warehouse, and shipping headquarters had been destroyed…
He was skilled at disguise, raising his eyebrows to show both anger and unwillingness to pursue the matter, cold-laughing a few times as he stood to push the door.
Kim Neung-heng grabbed his arm.
“You shouldn’t have gone to watch those noisy Chinese dramas today, Mr. Su.” Kim Neung-heng laughed happily. “You should have taken the stage yourself—you’d probably be more professional than those drama actors.”
A dusty handwritten letter was slammed before him.
Su Minguan reached out, but Kim Neung-heng wouldn’t let him touch it, only pulling out the letter paper and smugly waving it twice.
“I have a friend near Nanjing who observed Luna’s draft depth.” Kim Neung-heng drawled, reading the letter’s contents. “Hmm… after departing from Yanziji Ferry, throughout one night, its waterline rose one notch. And Luna—also known as the Mississippi—Russell & Co. has all its ship data. Through calculation, we have sufficient reason to believe that during that night, your steamship gained nearly three tons of weight out of thin air. But as far as I know, during that night, your steamship didn’t dock, no one boarded or disembarked, and there was no unloading or loading…”
Kim Neung-heng’s fingers were covered with long hair. He smugly shook the letter paper while Su Minguan couldn’t make out the details, only barely reading the sender’s address at the top—some foreign officer stationed at the Ever Victorious Army camp in Nanjing…
Su Minguan cursed silently but instinctively felt relieved, a heavy burden disappearing from his chest.
His brothers were indeed trustworthy.
The problem arose in an unexpected place.
The waterline…
Walking by the river often, how could shoes not get wet? From the moment he decided to muddy these waters, he never expected to escape unscathed.
His lips still held a contemptuous, cold smile as two fingers pushed the letter paper away.
“A few li away, a telescope’s fleeting glance… Mr. Kim Neung-heng, if this can be used as evidence, with your friend’s eyesight and memory, why is he still stuck in a low-ranking officer position?
“Moreover, conducting such detailed observation of passing civilian ships doesn’t seem to be the Ever Victorious Army’s usual practice. If others ask why you paid such special attention to my ship, you can only answer truthfully—because we’re competitors, and you’ve been sparing no effort to find flaws in Yixing Shipping… This fact would undoubtedly greatly weaken the so-called ‘evidence’s neutrality. Mr. Kim Neung-heng, why would you think such a letter of questionable authenticity and obvious bias would pose any threat to me?”
Su Minguan had learned English as a child, not for long, but all his teachers were orthodox British missionaries who had lived in Guangzhou for years. He studied various old tomes and spoke standard Queen’s English. Having never seriously taken remedial courses as an adult, some of his syntax and vocabulary seemed classical and outdated to modern Anglo-Americans.
To relaxed people like Miss Compton, this unique accent was a charming plus, but to American nouveau riche Manager Kim Neung-heng, it meant two words: showing off.
Very hate-inducing.
Kim Neung-heng pocketed the letter and clapped his hands. The office door opened, and a weak, trembling person was pushed before him.
Blood rushed to Su Minguan’s cheeks, his ears flushing with stress-response pink.
He held his breath slightly, saying softly: “Mr. Kim Neung-heng, your ‘Chinese Keep Out’ sign is just for show.”
This was a raggedly dressed, short man. Actually, “short” wasn’t accurate, because he had severe kyphosis, making him constantly bow his head deeply, as if guilty and not daring to look up.
Su Minguan didn’t recognize him. But from his hairstyle and demeanor, he was undoubtedly one of the second batch of Taiping Army refugees who had escaped from Nanjing.
“This hunchback ran to a village church, claiming he believed in God and asking the local priest to take him abroad to live. And that priest happened to be my acquaintance.” Kim Neung-heng looked at the man with contempt. “Mr. Su, now you know why my officer friend specifically watched your steamship, right?”
Su Minguan slowly nodded.
Hearts are hidden behind flesh. To escape Nanjing and secure a chance at survival, this person had taken the spots of two women and children. He wasn’t honorable to begin with.
Then, to seek a better life, or perhaps under foreign missionary deception, he chose to betray the Yixing Shipping that had once saved him.
“I suppose,” Su Minguan no longer looked at the hunchback, saying to Kim Neung-heng, “this is the ‘human evidence’ to accuse me?”
The hunchback struggled to raise his head, mumbling quietly: “Boss Su, master, I didn’t mean to… the foreigners said they wanted to cooperate with you, that you were friends… I was confused and believed them, so I told them you saved us… They don’t mean you harm, they promised me…”
Su Minguan half-closed his eyelids, staring at his hunched back, his spring-water-like eyes suddenly leaking coldness.
Then the spring water closed, he suddenly smiled, patting the hunchback’s shoulder magnanimously: “You’re trading money for life—we’re square on money and goods, and I’ll bear the risks. I don’t blame you.”
Anyone who’d done business knew that during storage and transport, no matter how careful and attentive, no matter how fresh and sturdy the selected goods, given time, a small portion would inevitably spoil, break, get lost, or become unsellable.
This portion was cargo wastage—it could be reduced but not eliminated. It had to be recorded in costs and considered during purchasing and selling.
This ungrateful hunchback was undoubtedly the “wastage” in the rescue plan.
Kim Neung-heng didn’t understand Chinese. Hearing the tone of Su Minguan and the hunchback’s conversation, he excitedly guessed: “You admit it?”
Su Minguan didn’t answer, walking toward the door while saying in his very annoying Queen’s English: “If Mr. Kim Neung-heng thinks this human and material evidence can plunge my shipping company into eternal doom, then by all means, try—consider it tuition for learning about the Great Qing judicial system.”
Kim Neung-heng, watching his calm, natural expression, fell into momentary self-doubt.
Could all this be a coincidence? Could the hunchback be lying and his officer friend be blind?
No, impossible. This rapidly growing Chinese shipping company had too many mysteries. Su Minguan wasn’t the type to do business by the rules. So many Chinese merchants were struggling along by the rules—why could he rise from behind to lead the trend?
From the street outside the mansion came faint sounds of gongs and drums. The opera troupe that had finished performing was parading through the streets while children chased playfully. Even Chinese constables were immersed in the festival atmosphere, half-heartedly dispersing crowds twice before seemingly joining the excitement, urging the finished troupe: “Sing a piece! Sing another piece!”
Kim Neung-heng was made dizzy by this noise. He beckoned a servant to come in, retrieved the crumpled contract from the wastebasket, smoothed it out, and placed it back on the desk.
“Since Mr. Su is so eager to challenge a foreign firm’s legal capabilities, we can give you a lesson too.” Kim Neung-heng’s eyes flashed with a sinister smile. “You have two hours to think carefully—my contacts at the police station have already received my message. When the midnight bell tolls, they’ll surround Yixing Shipping, prying up every floorboard to find every suspicious piece of evidence—and if I’m not mistaken, at that time, your employees and subordinates should still be happily remaining on Suzhou River, enjoying that ridiculous Chinese drama, right?”
Su Minguan’s expression changed slightly: “This isn’t legal—”
“I just successfully won election as a Municipal Council director and personally oversaw revisions to relevant laws. Now it’s legal. I can order constables to search suspicious Chinese shops at any time.” Kim Neung-heng showed a victorious smile. “Any evidence obtained from Yixing Shipping, I’ll present to the Qing government and collect a handsome reward. If you don’t want to see this happen…”
He pointed to the wrinkled document draft on the desk.
“Now I’m going to enjoy a musical performance with friends.” Kim Neung-heng placed a fountain pen on the desk. “Mr. Su, you’re welcome to join us anytime.”
Kim Neung-heng turned, his affected smile disappearing from his face as he strode away, leaving an open door behind him.