Lin Yuchan was kissed awake in her sleep, feeling a heavy weight on her body that made her breathless. In her confusion, she struggled unsuccessfully and completely surrendered.

“Is this the contract renewal gift, A’Mei?” Su Minguan’s voice was at her ear, unusually clear and unusually passionate, “Have you thought it through?”

She screamed internally: No no no no wait a minute…

But this kind of self-offering drama—to say it had any other meaning, even ghosts wouldn’t believe it!

She had secretly read plenty of steamy novels! The following plot needed no imagination!

In one dazed moment, she was already overwhelmed by his invasion of her lips and teeth. However weak he had been when escaping danger last night, he was equally strong now. All the previously established boundaries fell one by one, his burning body temperature trapping her under the quilt, making her whole body tremble as she closed her eyes to see flickering stars.

She weakly turned away, her tongue unclear: “There are people in the guest room, I couldn’t find bedding on the floor… I, I think you need rest… don’t think about anything…”

“Why are you wearing my clothes again? Such a practical person.”

The person on top of her completely ignored her words, one hand fumbling with the buttons at her chest.

“Are you of age yet?” He used his fingertip to twist her delicate earlobe, suddenly biting it lightly, “If you’re of age, take responsibility for yourself.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

How did he learn such progressive ideas without a teacher?!

In her desperation, she played tricks: “No. My birthday is in autumn, I can show you my household registration if you don’t believe me.”

Su Minguan was amused by her and laughed out loud, lifting her collar, his fingertip scraping across that exquisite collarbone, “After New Year, you gain a year, that’s how we Chinese calculate it.”

Lin Yuchan thought to herself, according to Chinese customs, we two shouldn’t be sharing a room at all.

This person believed whatever benefited him; his double standards were outrageous.

She instinctively pushed against those powerful arms. She seemed to press on his injured area, making him softly hiss.

But he didn’t retreat; instead vengefully kissed her. Days of suppressed emotions, that bitter daily countdown, all transformed into dry kindling and fierce flames when he discovered her lying beside him, swallowing his entire being, burning away that shell of restraint and excessive consideration, revealing the willful core within.

His distinct eyebrows pierced through the blurred night, his brow tips spreading like butterfly wings in a beautifully flying arc, covering the burning stars in his eyes.

She was made dizzy by that sudden flame, her limbs feeling like they were melting in his palms. Heavy pressure bore down, forcing her to curl up her knees. He no longer deliberately hid, domineeringly pressing close to her skin.

“Xiao Bai, young master, I…”

Finally stealing a moment to breathe, she futilely protected herself, her voice carrying a thin pleading as she softly asked: “What if I get pregnant?”

His advancing offensive hesitated.

“A’Mei…”

His voice was hoarse. In the night light, those passionate eyes were tinged with slight helplessness.

This shouldn’t have been a man’s concern. But he seemed awakened by that one sentence, suddenly pulled back to last night’s battered state of mind, suddenly feeling ashamed.

This girl, who had nestled in his arms for a year, though she had been malnourished since childhood with a thin and slender figure, always used “I’m still small” as a shield, occasionally acting childish and harboring some illusory ideals that only children would have.

But she had long been a woman. From the moment he noticed her difference, she was already a fully developed woman who could marry and manage a household. His mother had already been playing hide-and-seek with him at her age.

Some things—it wasn’t that he didn’t understand, he just didn’t want to think about them.

He breathed unsteadily, and after a long while, admitted in a low voice: “I don’t know.”

Of course, he could easily declare: if you get pregnant I’ll marry you, we’ll have a bunch of children, like in the operas, perfectly matched with descendants filling the halls.

But…

If he swallowed back his vows word by word, and destroyed the Great Wall he had built with his own hands, shovel by shovel, would he still be the same proud Xiao Bai?

Or would he completely become the worldly Minguan, living the same mediocre and sinful life as his ancestors from then on?

He couldn’t even answer such a simple question—what right did he have to possess the girl he liked?

A moment of bitterness flashed in his eyes. Lin Yuchan immediately felt sorry for him and regretted speaking too much.

She lay back on the pillow, reaching out to stroke his nearby cheek, saying gently: “We’ll think of a way slowly. No rush for now.”

Su Minguan hummed like an obedient child.

Then slowly, button by button, he fastened her clothing. His face was flushed.

She was so considerate and tolerant of him—what couldn’t he agree to? He thought, even if Miss Lin asked for his life right now, he would probably efficiently help her load the bullets.

Lin Yuchan found her outer clothes, carefully put them on, and was about to get out of bed.

Her waist was held, “Where are you going?”

She whispered: “Looking for… bedding.”

She wasn’t an ignorant young girl anymore. Though most of her related knowledge had been learned in the Qing Dynasty, she was clear in her heart that getting back in that bed would be deliberately creating torment for both of them.

At the same time, her heart was pounding—she had indeed been quite startled just now.

Half because of that lightning-fast sensation, half because of her fleeting thoughts that made her head ache.

What if she got pregnant in the Qing Dynasty?

Although with her congenitally insufficient constitution and mysteriously appearing and disappearing menstrual cycle, she probably wouldn’t conceive easily…

But this was a matter of life and death—did she dare gamble?

“A’Mei,” Su Minguan called her softly, “come back. Stay with me. I won’t make trouble anymore.”

His voice was very soft, stirring the heart. From that clear pronunciation, one could imagine a tenderly smiling face.

She turned around, half-jokingly saying: “I don’t believe you.”

“Really,” he said, “I can endure it.”

After a pause, he lowered his voice again, adding very resentfully: “It’s not the first time anyway.”

Lin Yuchan’s face burned, but she couldn’t help laughing. Suddenly remembering details from some novel, she asked without thinking: “Won’t it cause problems?”

She was answered by speechless silence. After a long time, she finally heard him suppressing his anger to dispel rumors about her:

“No.”

“Who told you that?”

“I’m a human, not a puppy.”

“The premise is, please do not disturb.”

She couldn’t hold back and covered her face laughing, obediently returning to the covers.

Su Minguan indeed kept his word, his chest rising and falling, only taking her hand and pulling up a quilt to tuck between them.

“In the drawer to your left, there’s a knife,” he suddenly said very softly, “but if you have concerns, you can use it anytime.”

Lin Yuchan’s spine went cold, shocked by his classical way of proving his innocence.

She dared not say anything like “I don’t trust you” again. She turned to look at the distinct profile of the person beside her, suddenly feeling warm all over.

She recalled that brief moment of skin contact, having the impulse to lean over, hold him, and test just when this unfathomable rebel would lose control, and how charming those eyes would be when passion ran high.

But she had the heart but not the courage. She only thought about it in her head.

So she very timidly didn’t move, trying hard to close her eyes and sleep.

How could she sleep? Her thoughts jumped around chaotically, from the previous night’s social opera, luohan beans, wensi tofu soup, to Tang Tingshu’s residence, to the singing and dancing sailing ship, to that foreign briefcase…

Whoever had the foreigners scheme against Su Minguan got counter-killed by him instead, losing both the lady and the soldiers—served them right.

However, she immediately thought that after today’s embarrassment, Jin Nengheng would probably try to retaliate against Yixing Shipping…

Stealing glances at the person beside her, remembering that “please do not disturb,” she suppressed the urge to speak.

He would surely think of it too. No need to worry about him.

For him to sleep peacefully now was the best thing.

When Lin Yuchan opened her eyes, she saw white light outside the window. Su Minguan was sleeping deeply, his cheeks dyed white porcelain by the hazy early spring mist, peaceful like a Western oil painting.

The dividing quilt beside her had long disappeared. She was inexplicably curled up at his chest, just like in the cramped ship cabin before, her head against his shoulder, hollow, her own feet rubbing against his calves.

Her senses weren’t fully awake yet, and she had the illusion of a ship swaying.

She couldn’t help blushing. Half the bed was empty—obviously, Su Minguan hadn’t crossed the line; she had moved over herself.

She had broken the “please do not disturb” rule. But when she “disturbed” him, he was probably already deep asleep, so fortunately, she hadn’t woken him.

She didn’t dare move carelessly. She’d had a few lessons before—the young master in early morning was particularly susceptible to teasing, easily becoming aroused with slight carelessness, which embarrassed him greatly.

She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep until she felt Su Minguan wake up too, his steady breathing immediately becoming irregular. He quickly pulled away, kissed her lips lightly, then quickly left the room.

After a good while, he returned from washing, calling her with a clear mind and few desires: “Lazy cat. Time to work.”

Lin Yuchan rolled up, only to be firmly pressed back onto the bed by him. She giggled, played with him for a while, finally broke free, half her body leaning out to hook out the red flower oil from the cabinet compartment with her fingertip.

“Don’t mind the pain,” she scolded.

Su Minguan sat beside her, obediently rolling up his sleeves.

Yesterday’s fatigue and weariness had mostly slept away, though his body indeed still ached a bit. The subcutaneous bruising from fighting had turned blue, but nothing was seriously injured. If she hadn’t reminded him, he might not have remembered.

She gently drew circles on his slightly bulging arm muscles, then crawled a few steps on the bed, circled behind him, reached her palm to his shoulder, and gently pressed along the direction of the joints. The pungent fragrance of red flower oil diffused.

His spine tensed as he held her hand, his fingers stroking the texture of her finger joints.

“There’s some on the body too,” Su Minguan suddenly said.

Lin Yuchan smiled as she capped the red flower oil bottle.

“Young master, use it sparingly.”

This lie was told without any sincerity. She had felt it out last night—the only bruises were on his arms and shoulders. He hadn’t been beaten, so where would torso injuries come from?

Su Minguan had nothing to say, reluctantly rolling down his sleeves.

Lin Yuchan opened the cabinet and took out the foreign briefcase with the embedded lead bullet.

It was time to unwrap her “contract renewal gift.”

“Transfer contract?” Lin Yuchan was dumbfounded at first sight, “…Letter from the Ever Victorious Army? Holy shit. Holy shit shit shit. What exactly did they make you do yesterday?”

She had no mind to organize any incredulous exclamations, quickly recalling last night’s chaos. When she pieced together the whole story, only the impoverished “holy shit” remained in her heart.

From these clues, she assembled the skeleton of the conspiracy.

Lin Yuchan suddenly turned her head with an inquiring expression: “So… the Shanghai-Hankou route can’t smuggle refugees anymore?”

Su Minguan took the contract he had pretended to sign and tore it up bit by bit.

Signing the contract was just a stepping stone to enter the sailing ship. Even though the signature was from his left hand and the fingerprint wasn’t his, for caution’s sake, it had to be destroyed.

Su Minguan lit an oil lamp and burned the last piece of paper to ashes before coldly laughing.

“Why not bring them? Saving one life is better than building a seven-story pagoda.”

Lin Yuchan smirked.

He was a rebellious star where pressing down one gourd made another float up. Originally, matters he didn’t care about, once others grabbed hold and made a big fuss, his contrary heart would immediately gear up for battle, determined to turn “soft spots” into “hard armor” just to tell those tactless opposition forces: don’t think you can manipulate me.

“I’ll reformulate rules to ensure no one among the refugees dares leak a single word,” his voice was cool. “Also, the waterline won’t let people find flaws again. Although Jin Nengheng is a Municipal Council director, he can’t do whatever he wants. Yesterday’s free use of the patrol station has already overdrawn his status and connections. He won’t trouble me again in the short term.”

Lin Yuchan carefully read through the letter about the waterline, memorizing that officer’s name.

“Won’t trouble you again in the short term,” she pondered again, “but in the long run…”

Su Minguan glanced at the briefcase again, urging her to take out another stack of documents inside.

“It’s not over yet.”

Lin Yuchan was half surprised, half amused, asking: “Not returning it? Not afraid of offending people this time?”

She rummaged through Jin Nengheng’s odds and ends from the briefcase: a steel pen, a box of business cards, a wallet, a stack of blank checks—already water-damaged and blurred, probably couldn’t be used for fraud—and also a stack of seemingly very official contracts, carefully folded in a waterproof document bag.

She concentrated on reading them. Halfway through, the smile on her face couldn’t be hidden.

Flagstaff Trading House’s fixed-price contracts signed with partners this year, covering over ten types of bulk commodities, prices, purchase quantities, and market shares, are listed in great detail. Though she couldn’t read them thoroughly in haste, she knew these were confidential internal materials that only a handful of people had clearance to view.

The competitive and cooperative strategies between trading houses were nakedly presented before her eyes.

She greedily memorized the numbers and symbols above.

Su Minguan brought several of her clean clothes, circled behind her, and gently unbuttoned her nightgown.

Lin Yuchan gasped, instinctively glancing outside the window—third floor bedroom with curtains drawn, actually no privacy could be exposed—then firmly blocked his hands.

“Helping you change clothes,” he smiled helplessly, “return my nightgown.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

Then she heard him lower his head, his warm breath audible, his nose tip gently nuzzling her earlobe: “Didn’t you let me undress you yesterday?”

Lin Yuchan again: “…”

Chinese was vast and profound—this “let” was passive, not active! Besides, it was broad daylight now, could it be the same?

She gave him no face, imperiously pointing to the wall corner: “Go over there!”

Su Minguan laughed softly, the heat in his laughter gradually intensifying, then suddenly released her and turned away.

Lin Yuchan said coldly, “Need to brush your teeth again?”

He had no choice but to stand with his back turned, his ear tips slightly red.

Su Minguan waited for ages without hearing her move. When he turned around, the little girl was already properly dressed, holding that fixed-price contract and continuing to study it.

Suddenly, she looked up, hopefully asking: “Can you give me this too?”

The contract’s specific content was secondary; the key was that from it, one could calculate each trading house’s annual targets and economic strength. With Flagstaff alone leaking secrets, even if they wanted to sign new contracts, the details wouldn’t change much…

If the vast Chinese merchant community knew this precious information, who knew what earthquake it would cause in Shanghai’s business world?

It couldn’t all be released at once. It had to be leaked bit by bit, so the foreign merchants couldn’t figure out the rhythm, letting them also experience being led by the nose.

That’s what they’d do. Lin Yuchan thought happily.

Su Minguan was so angry that he ground his teeth, deliberately saying, “Copy it yourself.”

She disappointedly said, “Mm.”

“Forget it, just take it directly,” Su Minguan said, putting away his nightgown. “It’s useless to me anyway.”

Lin Yuchan immediately secured the contract.

For the shipping company, this information had limited value, but for the newly established chamber of commerce…

Lin Yuchan didn’t dare imagine. This was a weapon of mass destruction!

She moved to his side, stood on tiptoes, and sincerely kissed his somewhat pale cheek several times.

“Be careful of retaliation,” she whispered in his ear.

Unexpectedly, Yixing Shipping suffered no retaliation.

Su Minguan didn’t dare relax. First, he sent the fellow brothers to the guest room. If patrol police had broken down doors for a raid last night, they would certainly have been exposed. Though things seemed calm now, Uncle Cheng and the others couldn’t stay long.

Then he called the night-shift workers to clean up some organizational traces in the warehouse. Tables, chairs, benches used for meetings, Guan Yu statues, regulations and rules—all temporarily piled in the secret room. As for various gunpowder and weapons, they were hidden in cargo ships and taken out to the river.

Having expended enormous physical energy last night, after finishing these tasks, he took another long afternoon nap. Lin Yuchan had already gone to the chamber of commerce to preside over the regular meeting.

For three consecutive days, not only did no patrol police come, but not even a tax inspector appeared.

Sending people to inquire at the patrol station, they learned that at the “Municipal Council Patrol Station Band’s” debut performance that day, the culprit who fired the gun causing the disturbance, though wanted posters were issued, had never been caught.

There were many eyewitnesses present, but no one saw his appearance clearly, only remembering he came and went like the wind. The only useful information was that he had black cloth around his waist—which was like saying nothing, since black cloth could be untied anytime.

Those genuine black-cloth-wearing gang lackeys who luckily escaped also knew whose fault that night’s chaos was. But they were all outlaws themselves who hid when they saw a police patrol. Having suffered such a major loss, they could only treat it as gang warfare and swallow the bitter fruit. They had already hidden in Pudong’s countryside and naturally wouldn’t complain to the officials.

Flagstaff Trading House’s Manager Jin Nengheng was also an insider. But unexpectedly, he didn’t report to the police.

Due to losing his personal briefcase and leaking confidential contracts between trading houses, causing enormous losses to the trading house, Flagstaff’s board of directors had decided to dismiss him.

Without his trading house manager position, his newly elected Municipal Council directorship also had to be abdicated.

Of course, to save face among business partners, the reason couldn’t be stated truthfully. Instead, they issued an official announcement declaring that due to Flagstaff Steamship Company’s continuous declining performance since its establishment, falling short of shareholder expectations, they had decided to dismiss the current manager and seek other talent, etc.

An experienced senior manager with long-term work experience in the Far East would normally be a hot commodity among foreign trading houses. But business partners tacitly understood—no one threw him an olive branch.

The North China Herald published a job posting for a new manager.

No matter how arrogant Jin Nengheng was, he was only arrogant toward Chinese people and subordinates. Against shareholders and the board of directors, he had little bargaining power.

He could only pack his bags and board a ship back to America in dejection, planning to recuperate for a few years before plotting a comeback.

While waiting for servants to carry his luggage, Jin Nengheng leaned on his walking stick, taking one last look around Shanghai Port—this Far Eastern magical paradise that had brought him opportunities and wealth, with mixed feelings.

Suddenly, among the busy dock workers and stevedores, he spotted a somewhat familiar figure.

A jade-faced Chinese youth, quietly smiling as he waved at him.

This smile appeared gentle as spring breeze to others. In Jin Nengheng’s eyes, it was one hundred percent sarcastic.

Jin Nengheng’s anger immediately flared up. What right did he have?

“Someone…”

Space around him. Only then did he remember he was no longer Flagstaff’s manager. The company-assigned bodyguards were already serving others; his Chinese servants had all been dismissed. Now he was completely alone, actually no different from that young and arrogant “Boston Wolf” who had disembarked in Hong Kong years ago.

Jin Nengheng felt somewhat lost. What had he gained from all these years of struggle?

Besides adding two zeros to his bank account numbers—though compared to the millions of silver taels he had handled for Flagstaff Trading House, it seemed negligible and could no longer fill his bottomless desires—plus wrinkles and chronic diseases, what did he have left?

On this prosperous yet ruthless land, how many people could be considered his friends, how many were indifferent to him, and how many harbored endless hatred toward him, cursing him daily even when he was in America?

Just a few months ago, he had thought this land awaiting development and its many ignorant people should welcome him, thank him for his generous tips, and thank him for bringing steamship travel, modern commerce, and civilization to this country.

Even now he couldn’t understand why this young Yixing Shipping owner seemed to have a natural enmity with him, opposing him in everything since buying the Guangdong, determined to embarrass him, determined to adopt Western tones and seriously engage him as an equal.

Wouldn’t it be nice to obediently kneel and make money?

Su Minguan watched Jin Nengheng’s unpredictable expression, his stern exterior masking inner weakness as he glared, and couldn’t help but smile coldly.

However, his opening words were very polite: “Returning your things. Mr. Jin Nengheng, I wish you a smooth journey.”

Su Minguan had very impolitely gone through all the personal items in the briefcase, keeping everything useful to himself, leaving only a steel pen with a cross and Jin Nengheng’s initials engraved on the barrel, which he found uncomfortable to use.

Jin Nengheng received it, somewhat dazed.

He remembered this expensive pen—it was a gift from a fellow missionary long ago. The missionary was devoutly faithful and had advised him not to forget God’s mercy while doing business. And later… right, later during the Ma Priest incident, the missionary was filled with righteous indignation, resolutely put down his pen to take up arms, picked up a foreign rifle to join the Anglo-French Allied Forces. Reportedly, he returned home with a chest of Old Summer Palace treasures and was now a local celebrity, no longer needing to work hard at missionary work.

Jin Nengheng beat his chest, thinking, Why didn’t he have such luck?

And he was tricked by a Chinese person before leaving!

He suppressed a reluctant “thank you” on his tongue tip, stared at the upturned corners of the young Chinese man’s mouth, and said in a low voice: “You’re very pleased now, aren’t you? I tell you, individual destiny is national destiny. In wars with Westerners, you’ll never win—I’m leaving today, but the company will find a more capable successor than me. Do you think they’ll shake hands and make peace with you? Too naive, hmph! We’ll see!”

Unwilling to argue further with Su Minguan, he quickly walked up the gangplank, harshly urging: “Idiots! Hurry up! Hurry up! Don’t lose my things!”

Su Minguan smiled magnanimously, waving at that flustered figure amid the long steam whistle.

If Jin Nengheng had the interest to write something with his steel pen during the long journey, he would discover a small note tucked in the pen cap, which contained his real farewell message:

Go to hell.

Let Jin Nengheng also witness that this legendary Chinese merchant, who was scheming and cunning, accomplished in both literature and martial arts, adept in both legal and illegal circles, and who ultimately caused his downfall, was just a petty, vindictive child.