Lao Ba was startled by this magic trick, stunned for a moment, then suddenly remembered what he should do. Just as he tensed his arm muscles, Su Minguan kicked out with his foot. With a crash and clatter, the two stacked chairs collapsed, and Lao Ba flailed his hands wildly in the air like a drowning dog before falling head-first to the ground.
With a thud, seeing stars, Lao Ba groaned muffledly as a knee pressed firmly against his back. He instinctively tried to turn over, struggling for quite a while, when suddenly severe pain shot through the back of his neck, and he collapsed beside Lao Jiu, becoming a limp companion.
Su Minguan flexed his wrist, quickly disarming Lao Ba as well, hanging two guns at his waist.
But he didn’t see his gun.
Su Minguan dragged Lao Ba and Lao Jiu under the table, covered them with the tablecloth, and then turned to open the wardrobe.
Miss Louise had fainted in a very elegant pose, leaning against a pile of miscellaneous items, which made her skin appear even more like congealed cream, resembling Sleeping Beauty.
When Lao Ba and Lao Jiu saw the wide-open window and the stacked chairs, they jumped to conclusions, thinking he had jumped out the window and escaped. Trapped in this mindset, they only pondered “could Su Minguan know bone-shrinking techniques” while forgetting a very obvious fact: people could also hide in wardrobes.
Initially, Su Minguan thought it would be troublesome to get Miss Louise to cooperate. Who knew that as soon as he covered her mouth, before he could even say a harsh word, the lady was very cooperative—her eyes rolled back and she fainted…
Victorian-era Western women considered sensitivity and frailty beautiful. When encountering sudden events, they would faint at appropriate moments to display ladylike qualities.
Combined with the oxygen deprivation caused by corsets and tight bodices, ladies could faint anytime, anywhere, so that gentlemen could care for and protect them.
Su Minguan lightly patted Miss Louise’s face: “Hey.”
No response. Whether she was truly unconscious or pretending, she was certainly very professional about it.
She should have smelled salts for revival on her person, but he was too lazy to look. He directly carried her to the outer room’s ventilated area and placed her on the sofa. Then he pushed and turned the sofa to face the wall, letting the sofa block the lady’s form.
Ding-dong—an exquisite pearl hair clip fell at his feet.
Su Minguan picked it up, playing with it for a few seconds, momentarily tempted.
Forget it. The lady’s money wasn’t easy to earn either. Having to work in the middle of the night wasn’t any easier than his ship-running business.
So he put the hair clip back on the lady’s head.
Before he could rest for a moment, footsteps echoed from the staircase, sounding like two people. Su Minguan quickly retreated to the small office.
“Nothing in the garden! Not even a mouse could escape! Lao Ba, Lao Jiu, if your eyes are playing tricks, don’t blame it on us!”
“Lao San and Lao Si are guarding downstairs! Point out which window the person disappeared from!”
Su Minguan’s mouth curved up. They still knew how to split up operations. Let him catch his breath.
Someone pushed open the office door, saw no one, and became furious.
“Lao Ba, Lao Jiu, where the hell did you go? You can’t even watch one person…”
The complaint stopped abruptly as two black gun barrels pressed against the backs of Lao Wu and Lao Liu’s heads.
…
Moments later, the temporary dormitory under the tablecloth had two more occupants, making it quite crowded.
Su Minguan loaded the dozen or so lead bullets he’d confiscated into his clothing pockets, picked the two best guns from the four to carry, removed the bullets from the remaining two, and threw them into the fireplace.
Then he gave each of them another punch—whether they lived or died depended on fate.
It wasn’t good to open fire on foreign territory, so these lowlifes got off easy.
He thought for a moment, then grabbed the blank contract from the desk, held the steel pen in his left hand, and signed his name in a few strokes.
Then he pulled out someone’s thumb from under the table, used the ink pad on the desk, and pressed a fingerprint.
The clock struck eleven. He pushed open the door and left, locking it behind him and throwing the key out the window.
Miss Louise, on the sofa, moaned softly, beginning to wake up.
Suddenly, her palm felt ice-cold as something hard was pressed into it.
“Go home quickly,” someone said to her in English in a low voice, “this place isn’t safe to linger.”
Miss Louise looked down and saw she was holding a black pistol!
Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted again.
Su Minguan shook his head, no longer concerned with the unlucky girl. He took a bottle of foreign liquor from the bar, avoided the cleaning servants, and quickly went downstairs. Jumping from a first-floor window into the garden, he hugged his arms and rested quietly.
Knocking down one big man wasn’t easy, let alone four.
And it had to be done quietly, without giving them a chance to shout or fight back, requiring decisive strikes that needed explosive power.
Su Minguan clenched his fist, then released it, gently rubbing his swollen knuckles.
Suddenly, the street outside became noisy. Some opera troupe from somewhere, with painted faces and wielding large swords, had come with great fanfare to foreign territory, asking for money, drawing complaints from neighbors.
Su Minguan listened to the commotion with cold amusement.
Suddenly, his eyebrows rose. From those chaotic gong and drum beats, he heard some familiar rhythms.
“Whose brilliant idea was this?” he thought with dissatisfaction, “wasting money.”
He didn’t move.
The opera troupe had probably received too many rejections. Their gong and drum playing became very perfunctory. Seeing no response here, they dispersed listlessly.
Climbing over the wall would mean freedom. With his skills, it wouldn’t be difficult.
Su Minguan suppressed his inner impulse and held his position.
It wasn’t over yet.
The foreigners had disrupted his opera-watching, so they shouldn’t expect to enjoy their music concert in peace.
The two remaining bodyguards in the garden had sensed something was wrong. All four companions had gone upstairs with no word back, not even a sound.
The two quietly discussed: “Lao Si, should we call more people and go up together to take a look…”
The other replied: “What are you thinking! Even if Su has three heads and six arms, could he defeat our four brothers? Wait peacefully and don’t interfere with him signing the foreign contract.”
“But didn’t Lao Ba say the person escaped?”
“How could he escape? Aren’t we here?—He must still be hiding in the Western building! Lao Ba always gets alarmed over nothing. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen it.”
The two guarded the courtyard entrance, occasionally glancing up at the Western building.
Su Minguan hid behind a tree.
He waited patiently. Of the six bodyguard thugs, four were now comfortably “resting” in the Western building, leaving Lao San and Lao Si guarding outside. The early spring night was still cold, and Lao San and Lao Si breathed on their hands, inevitably full of complaints.
Suddenly, sharp-eyed Lao Si discovered a lonely bottle of foreign liquor on the steps by the Western building’s entrance.
“Hey, Lao San, was there liquor here before?”
Lao San said he hadn’t noticed.
Lao Si smacked his lips, hesitated for a while, then went to get the foreign liquor.
Foreigners lived extravagantly and wastefully, playing champagne showers for no reason, carelessly throwing away leftover meat and fish that Chinese servants often picked up—whether for personal use or resale, it was a substantial benefit.
This bottle of foreign liquor was probably left by some drunk and forgotten, and wouldn’t be reclaimed.
Naturally, gang member Lao Si wouldn’t return lost property to foreigners. Grinning, he picked up the foreign liquor, bit open the cork with force, and took a gulp directly from the bottle.
“Lao San, you have some too! Foreign liquor packs a punch, makes your stomach warm, tsk tsk, fights the cold!”
Lao San didn’t respond. So Lao Si drank another mouthful himself.
Foreign liquor wasn’t cheap. With each swallow, Lao Si felt he’d gained several dozen copper coins’ worth. His entire stomach felt wonderfully comfortable.
Of course, while drinking, he didn’t forget his duty, keeping his eyes on the Western building’s entrance—except for a few cleaning servants finishing work, no suspicious personnel had left.
“Lao San, won’t you have a drink?”
After calling several times without hearing Lao San respond, and with the bottle nearly empty, Lao Si’s conscience kicked in. Thinking to save some for his brother, he shook the bottle and returned to the garden.
Lao San still sat on the stool, his upper body sprawled on the stone table, apparently asleep.
Lao Si was displeased: “Get up! Back to work!”
After pushing twice, Lao San didn’t move.
“Lao Ba and Lao Jiu haven’t made any noise. Hey, you go up and ask!”
Lao San still slept like a dead pig, just with a somewhat bluish complexion. When Lao Si pushed again, with a thud, the heavy thug’s body slid down onto the lawn.
Lao Si was horrified: “Hey, you…”
Suddenly, the foreign liquor bottle was pulled from his hand from behind, then cracked—it accurately smashed the back of Lao Si’s head.
…
Moments later, a “gang lackey” emerged from the woods. He had black cloth around his waist, with the outline of a foreign gun vaguely visible beneath the fabric. He held a piece of broken glass as a mirror, making faces for a moment, squeezing out a despicable expression of bullying the weak and fearing the strong.
Jin Lanhe’s gun was still nowhere to be found. Su Minguan had a good idea where it was. It was probably valuable-looking, so these lackeys had taken it to present as tribute to the foreigners.
He looked up at the entertainment sailing ship “Bacchus”, not far away at the dock, with its red lights and wine. On deck, waiters carried trays back and forth. String music came from the cabin.
He dropped the glass fragments, a cold light flashing in his eyes.
He breathed quietly for a few moments, then jogged onto the dock.
Someone immediately stopped him: “Hey, Chinese people, stop! What are you doing here?”
Su Minguan slightly lowered his face, hiding his features.
However, foreigners were generally face-blind to Chinese people. Unless it was Manager Jin Nengheng and others who had “deep” relationships with Su Minguan, ordinary foreigners who had seen him a few times might not remember his specific appearance.
Su Minguan pulled out the contract from his sleeve, revealing the signature in the corner, and waved it.
“Oh, oh… go ahead. Took your time.”
“Shanghai General Chamber of Commerce…” Lin Yuchan frowned in thought, not forgetting to pull her scarf to cover her neck, “but, but we sent people to look there earlier…”
Tang Tingshu sat upright in the hall, took his covered tea bowl, blew on the hot air, opened his nearsighted eyes, and sized up this refined young servant boy.
“Little Lin, for the sake of your loyal service to your master, I’ll say a few more words. If I say too much, it’ll be hard for me to get along, you understand?”
Lin Yuchan was still confused. The opera troupe leader had told her they had made a commotion at the “Shanghai General Chamber of Commerce” door for a full minute. But that Western building was public property, already closed for the day with no one answering the door, so the opera troupe had to leave.
If Su Minguan had been taken there and heard the opera troupe’s secret signal, he had no reason not to respond!
Could it be… he was tied up and gagged, quietly waiting in despair?
Too tragic.
Just as she was about to ask more, Tang Tingshu waved for someone to see the guest out.
“Alright, I need to rest now. Little Lin, please do as you wish… Sigh, being old means I can’t stay up late. The manager originally wanted to invite us to a Western music concert, but I didn’t dare go. I can’t understand it anyway, and I’m afraid I’d fall asleep halfway through and embarrass myself, haha!”
Lin Yuchan nodded, and in the capacity of a small servant, properly bowed to Tang Tingshu, then took her leave.
The big comprador knew something. His interests aligned with the foreigners. Being able to reveal this much information was already quite generous.
She spread her legs and ran at full speed back to the carriage Yixing had hired.
Hong Chunkui and Jiang Gaosheng approached from left and right.
“Miss Lin, did he say anything?”
Lin Yuchan nodded hesitantly.
“Let’s go to the Shanghai General Chamber of Commerce entrance and take another look.”
As she bit her lip lightly and jumped onto the carriage, she kept thinking—if this person was subdued to the point where he couldn’t even speak…
That would be pathetic.
He should stop trying to be tough in business and go home early to accompany his girlfriend.
Arriving at the English country-style Western cottage where the “Shanghai General Chamber of Commerce” was located, it indeed looked completely closed for business.
The gate was tightly locked with a “Chinese People Stop” sign prominently displayed. The Western building’s main door was also locked, and the bonfire in the garden had just been extinguished, emitting faint smoke.
Not far away in the river, a small sailing ship decorated like a Christmas tree was moored, with string music floating from inside.
Jiang Gaosheng couldn’t help but sigh: “Foreigners know how to have fun.”
Hong Chunkui requested instructions: “Should we climb the wall and go in to look?—Miss Lin, I’m not looking down on you, but you’d probably have to wait outside.”
Lin Yuchan was so annoyed.
But that wall was too high. And it had spikes on top.
Just as she was about to nod, suddenly the distant sailing ship seemed to shake, and a muffled gunshot came from the cabin!
“You’re Lao San, right?—You people are casual about ranking. How old are you? I’d say you’re at most the youngest… Alright, wait over there! Don’t make noise, the foreign masters are listening to elegant music!”
The Chinese head servant on the sailing ship snorted through his nose, arrogantly commanding.
Su Minguan obediently bowed, clutching the signed contract, waiting patiently in the corridor.
It seemed that no matter how capable local criminal forces were, on foreign territory, they could only be treated as slaves.
The Municipal Council Patrol Station Band, as the name suggested, consisted mostly of active foreign patrol officers. Being unfamiliar with China, they organized those who could play instruments to form a band together for entertainment.
All foreigners in the settlement depended on the patrol station for protection. When the Patrol Station Band made their shining debut, everyone came to show support.
Although to Su Minguan’s ears, the Western music inside wasn’t particularly pleasant. The violin was off-key, the clarinet cracked, the flute was full of saliva sounds, and the trombone controlling the rhythm was even more anxious and frantic, like a patrol officer chasing an escaped criminal, racing downhill with acceleration, making the entire piece stumble and roll, unable to stop.
“This is Western music?” Su Minguan thought with some confusion, “This isn’t what I heard as a child.”
Suddenly, his eyes sharpened.
The hunchback informant from earlier, now dressed in servant’s clothes, was mopping the floor.
It seemed the foreigners had arranged a stable job for him, which gave him the confidence to expose Yixing Shipping.
The music paused, and the hall filled with applause. A foreign patrol inspector in a black suit took the stage to speak, thanking everyone for their gracious attendance.
Waiters brought drinks. Su Minguan took the opportunity to follow one inside.
His gaze swept briefly, his breathing stopped, and his entire body burned like wildfire from head to toe.
Manager Jin Nengheng sat in the front row, chatting and laughing with several business partners. They held an unloaded slender long rifle, passing it around for examination and admiration, clicking their tongues in praise.
Su Minguan gritted his teeth internally: “My. Gun.”
They treated it as yet another rare collectible, another trophy seized from Chinese hands.
This gun had some history. It was commissioned by his predecessor Jin Lanhe from the most advanced European armory through the official merchants of Canton’s Thirteen Factories, intending to assassinate a Qing official. The gun barrel even had a unique custom serial number. But once received, it had been carefully ground smooth.
Unique in the world, impossible to counterfeit.
To these foreign merchant nouveaux riches, it was indeed a valuable collectible.
A personal servant bowed and approached, telling Jin Nengheng, “Su has already signed the contract.”
Several foreign merchants put down their guns and smiled knowingly.
Exactly. Don’t look at that young man’s tough appearance—he was actually like other Chinese people, cowardly and timid at heart. Give them some tangible threats they could see and touch, and they would hand over everything you wanted.
This experience had been fully verified through the signing of countless unequal treaties.
Jin Nengheng even felt some regret—perhaps he shouldn’t have spent money hiring local Chinese gangs to assist, unnecessarily lowering his standards. Maybe letting his bodyguards handle it would have been enough…
Looking from afar, that “Lao San” with the black waistband stood with his back turned, waiting at the door. He seemed reluctant to communicate with foreigners due to language issues, instead handing the contract to a servant, who then brought it to Jin Nengheng.
Jin Nengheng examined it carefully. Indeed, where signatures were needed, Su Minguan’s name was signed in both Chinese and English, clearly written with bright red fingerprints.
“This young man finally came to his senses, Mr. Crawford.” He said to the patrol station inspector beside him, “Starting tomorrow, Yixing Shipping and all its real estate assets will fly the American flag. I can’t wait to see that beautiful sight.”
Inspector Crawford was the highest official at the patrol station. Understanding the situation perfectly, he smiled and thanked Jin Nengheng: “Thank you for bringing Shanghai’s business leaders today to honor our band performance. Being able to provide elegant entertainment for you elite foreign residents is my great honor—as for that somewhat disobedient young Chinese merchant, I assume you plan to let him go?”
Jin Nengheng stroked the hard-won transfer contract, put it in his personal briefcase, fastened the security clasp, and said with a smile while touching his nose: “Yes! Let your boys sleep well tonight!”
Inspector Crawford laughed heartily, called over two patrol captains, and gave them some instructions.
Su Minguan watched intently as the two patrol captains took their orders and left, until he saw them disembark from the cabin window and disappear into the night.
The string that had been taut in his heart slowly relaxed.
Wait patiently. Wait for the patrol orders to be fully communicated and Yixing Shipping to be completely free of threats.
Eleven-thirty. The band rested briefly, then resumed playing their life-threatening racing waltz.
The audience very civilly made no sound, tapping time with fingers and toes, everyone looking like they had Parkinson’s.
A servant noticed him: “Hey, you can go now! Whoever hired you, come collect your pay tomorrow.”
Su Minguan nodded and left the music hall.
The servant kindly pointed the way: “The gangplank is over there… Huh?”
In the blink of an eye, that little thug with the black cloth around his waist had vanished.
The servant shook his head and, adhering to the principle of “everyone sweeps the snow from their doorstep,” continued cleaning.
Manager Jin Nengheng had obtained the contract and completed his major business, so he had no interest in listening to music. After sitting restlessly for a while, the foreign liquor he’d drunk earlier for socializing began affecting his lower regions. He picked up his briefcase and got up to go to the washroom.
The washroom was designed very fashionably, divided into small compartments according to current popular styles. He leaned his walking stick against the wall corner.
Jin Nengheng was still shaking when the door of the adjacent compartment opened silently.
His hand was still on his belt when suddenly his neck hurt—an arm had wrapped around it from behind.
Jin Nengheng was terrified and opened his mouth to call for help. The arm tightened again, choking his voice in his throat, leaving him to wave his hands futilely.
In the mirror, he saw the Oriental face behind him.
Gloomy yet composed, even with an undisguised cold smile at the corner of his mouth.
“No, no…” Jin Nengheng steadied himself, saying with difficulty through lip movements, “calm down, calm down…”
His first thought was: could it be that the Chinese gang was untrustworthy, colluding with their compatriots and letting Su Minguan escape?
—That must be it. Su Minguan had signed the contract, so the lackey thugs thought their task was complete and relaxed their guard, letting him escape… it had to be this!
The signed transfer contract now rested safely in his briefcase.
As long as he could seize Yixing Shipping, whether Su Minguan lived or died, wherever he fled, what did it matter?
Jin Nengheng had started from nothing in Boston, crossed oceans to strike gold, and had encountered pirates and kidnappers. He wouldn’t be frightened just by being choked.
He wrestled with that arm using both hands, saying viciously: “This place is full of patrol station people. If you dare harm a hair on my head, you’re seeking death! Get lost!”
Su Minguan braced one foot against the washroom door, studying that tough-on-the-outside, weak-on-the-inside face in the mirror.
“Take it out,” he commanded in a low voice.
Jin Nengheng, relying on his larger build than his opponent, held his breath, struggled with all his might, and desperately reached for his walking stick.
Su Minguan tensed all his muscles, feeling like he was restraining a mad bull.
Both men’s muscles trembled. Jin Nengheng’s thick, short fingers spread wide, getting farther and farther from his walking stick, millimeter by millimeter.
In the music hall, another “stumbling waltz” reached its climactic section, about to conclude. When the music ended, more people would come to use the washroom.
Foreigners appeared elegant and civilized on the surface, but were quite martially spirited at heart. Su Minguan didn’t dare to underestimate his opponent. He tightened his arm with force, making Jin Nengheng’s face flush red and his legs go weak. At the same time, a cold gun barrel pressed against his temple.
But he still wouldn’t submit, clutching his briefcase tightly to his chest, curled up like an indestructible beetle.
“You don’t dare kill me! You don’t dare shoot! Harming a foreigner is a capital offense—”
Bang!!
Su Minguan fired into the air, blowing a large hole in the washroom’s wooden ceiling. Wood chips flew everywhere, the mirror shattered, and the gunshot was deafening.
Jin Nengheng’s face went pale as he collapsed limply to the ground, his lower abdomen convulsing.
Fortunately, his bladder was empty, so he didn’t completely lose face.
Su Minguan kicked him unconscious, grabbed Jin Nengheng’s briefcase, quickly opened and checked it, then slung it over his shoulder.
The music stopped abruptly. Screams erupted outside.
“The washroom! Someone fired a gun in the washroom!”
Clang—a French horn fell to the ground, humming and buzzing. Men and women panicked. Several ladies turned pale and immediately fainted.
Inspector Crawford didn’t forget his duty, reviving ladies with smelling salts while shouting: “Calm down! Everyone, calm down! Stay where you are! I’m Chief Inspector Crawford of the patrol station! Now, everyone listen to my commands—”