Shanghai Huangpu. In an antique Chinese courtyard, violin music played melodiously, brandy fragrance filled the garden, and foreign gentlemen and ladies danced gracefully.
Shanghai Arsenal Director, Englishman Ma Qingchen held a drink, watching his wife accept an elderly gentleman’s invitation with unwillingness, awkwardly dancing and even chatting and laughing with her partner!
Damn it, where had she secretly learned so many rules and etiquette?
Like a brilliant peacock, she spread her wings behind his back, flying higher and higher.
After that stunning dowry lawsuit that amazed the entire concession, the Ma Qingchen couple now lived separately, each living their own lives, occasionally gathering to fulfill social obligations.
Truly “respectful as ice.” Only maintaining a harmonious family atmosphere on the surface.
Ma Qingchen no longer dared covet his wife’s property. But looking at that tall, graceful beauty’s figure, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her.
Male nature—what you can’t get becomes unforgettable. The more she ignored him, the more he missed her.
Moreover, Ma Qingchen discovered that compared to himself, this high-ranking fourth-rank official of the Qing dynasty, his wife was more popular in the foreign community’s social circles.
If only they could return to their newlywed days, that era of a harmonious husband and wife! He was her guide, the savior who brought her into the civilized world, her god.
He couldn’t help fantasizing that this woman liked strong men. When he rose two more ranks, made more money from his arsenal director position, hired hundreds of servants like Chinese officials, commanding respect… even if assigned back to England, living in a real Western mansion…
She would apologize to him in return.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up. Gao Dewen’s skirt swayed as she approached radiantly, clinking glasses with him.
Ma Qingchen couldn’t help moving closer: “Darling…”
“Good news.” Gao Dewen said in simple English, stammering, “My investment will profit at least twenty percent by year-end. The manager just told me.”
Ma Qingchen smiled sourly. So what if it profited—it had nothing to do with him.
If he managed that money, he might earn even more.
Gao Dewen smiled, switched to Chinese, and said softly: “That white jade fortune and longevity brush washer you admired—I’ve had someone buy it. Tomorrow I’ll have it sent to your study.”
Ma Qingchen’s eyes immediately brightened.
“Darling, I’m so moved… See, you still love me…”
That brush washer wasn’t something he admired—it was what the Shanghai Daotai admired. He’d wanted to buy it as a gift, but with too many social obligations and a limited budget, he’d even considered embezzling some arsenal funds, but lacked the courage, so he gave up.
Gao Dewen turned her face away, avoiding an enthusiastic kiss: “But there’s a condition. In return, you must help me with something. Who’s the highest official you know? I need you to write a letter to him.”
British Concession Center. Compton Mansion.
In the second-floor lady’s boudoir of the Western building, Miss Compton dismissed her maid and was bent over her desk writing furiously.
Suddenly, knock knock—someone rapped at the door.
She immediately sat up straight, capped her fountain pen, opened the drawer in front of her, tossed the pen and paper inside, pulled out Dickens’ new work “A Tale of Two Cities,” leaned back in her chair reading with relish, and picked up a cup of cold tea for a sip.
The entire sequence flowed like water, taking less than two seconds.
Mr. Compton pushed open the door, glanced at the book title his daughter was reading, and his tense face couldn’t help but show a smile.
“You still have ink on your hands, Emma.”
Miss Compton exclaimed and quickly hid her right hand behind her back.
“I was just cleaning my fountain pen…”
“Alright.” Mr. Compton deliberately frowned. “I said I wouldn’t interfere with you, so you don’t need to guard against me every day.”
His daughter secretly writing and submitting articles, glowing with vitality every day from writing—he couldn’t advise or indulge her, so he pretended not to see while secretly watching that she didn’t go too far.
A perfectly good newspaper editor, busy with work during the day, still worrying about other things evenings and weekends. Mr. Compton was exhausted and felt he’d aged three years prematurely.
Fortunately, so far, no readers seemed to have written protest letters to the North China Herald.
He thought helplessly that this girl would probably write until she married.
Whether for family honor or the bit of soft affection in his heart, he planned to keep this little secret from his daughter forever.
“So Emma, what are you writing?” he smiled gently. “Show me—maybe I can correct your writing style.”
Father’s goodwill had the opposite effect on his daughter’s heart. Miss Compton immediately turned away, alertly pretending not to hear.
Mr. Compton sighed again and handed her a stack of letter paper.
“If I remember correctly, your Chinese friend has encountered some trouble.”
Miss Compton jumped up with a whoosh, her teacup tumbling and spilling, soaking the cover of “A Tale of Two Cities” with black tea.
“Luna? What happened to her? Oh heavens, my God…”
Mr. Compton waited for his daughter to finish reading Lin Yuchan’s handwritten letter before saying, “According to convention, our newspaper doesn’t publish Chinese stories written by Chinese people. I happened to see this letter in the gatekeeper’s waste paper pile. But I thought it necessary to show it to you…”
“Why can’t it be published?” Miss Compton’s eyebrows immediately shot up as she demanded, “If we make a big fuss in public opinion, the consulate might intervene…”
“The consulate isn’t an omnipotent magic lamp—it can’t intervene for a woman of Qing nationality. The Qing Emperor beheads thousands daily. Though barbaric, we can’t interfere.” Mr. Compton was somewhat amused yet regretful. “Besides, this doesn’t conform to newspaper regulations. Sorry Emma, I can’t make exceptions in this matter—it’s my professional ethics.”
Miss Compton sat back in her chair, disappointed.
“Can’t we think of something, Papa?” she said. “Luna might sit in Beijing prison for life!”
Mr. Compton shook his head apologetically and opened the door.
“However,” as he was leaving, he suddenly turned back and said quietly, “this letter contains many details and some newsworthy material related to foreign residents that could be developed. If it wasn’t sent directly to the newspaper but obtained by some foreign journalist… I believe he might dig out some things the concession residents would like to read.”
He gently closed the door, intentionally or unintentionally leaving that letter on Miss Compton’s dressing table.
Shandong Yantai. Zhifu Island floated in the vast blue Yellow Sea like a cluster of lingzhi mushrooms growing in a jade basin.
This thousand-year-old port of the Chinese mainland, where Emperors Qin and Han had once climbed to the easternmost shore to float on the sea, now witnessed steamships and black smoke occupying the water surface, Western-style customs houses and concessions rising from the ground, and foreign flags flying over the land where the Qin king once carved stones.
The checkered flag descended from atop the Yantai East Customs building. Inspector General Hede finished his inspection of Yantai Customs and boarded a ship heading south.
Xiamen, Shantou, Fuzhou, Kaohsiung, Tamsui… one after another, newly opened treaty ports, like thriving saplings, awaited his support and development.
The steamship rode the waves, spewing wisps of black smoke. The speed wasn’t fast, ensuring the cabin remained stable at ground level for the Inspector General’s office work.
Suddenly, an extremely small Chinese junk emerged from the waves, its bow sharp, white sail catching full wind like a swift kingfisher, catching up to the massive vessel in one bound.
The small sailboat didn’t follow maritime rules, neither dodging nor avoiding when encountering the steamer. The sailboat was so small that by the time the steamship’s lookout spotted it, it had already used the sea waves’ power to nearly touch the steamship.
“Hey, don’t want to live!” A sailor waved flags while rushing to the ship’s rail shouting frantically, “Separate! Turn with the crosswind! Otherwise you’ll hit the engine and your sail will shatter!”
The small sailboat kissed the steamship like a dragonfly touching water, immediately borrowing force to retreat. The sail-operating sailor cupped his hands upward, showing apology.
The steamship sailor, still shaken, cursed as he returned to his post.
No one noticed that a rough rope section had already hooked onto the steamship’s rail.
Hede liked solitude. After giving necessary work instructions to subordinates, he returned to his first-class cabin to rest. A Chinese male servant knocked and brought whiskey.
Hede casually accepted it and waved his hand, but the servant didn’t leave.
He looked up and suddenly felt that today’s drink-serving servant had an unfamiliar face. His manner was somewhat too sharp, and his eyes lacked the humble expression he was familiar with.
Hede instinctively closed his diary.
The gloomy “servant” used his shoulder to close the door and gently latched it behind him.
“Inspector General, long time no see.” He set down the tray, calmly cupped his hands, and introduced himself: “Shanghai Yixing Shipping general manager.”
Hede was stunned for two seconds, then suddenly reached for the bell.
“How did you get on! Someone—”
His voice cut off abruptly. Hede felt a chill at his neck, and in his field of vision was a gleaming black gun barrel.
Crash—the glass overturned, whiskey spilling everywhere.
Hede wasn’t one to sit and wait for death. Seeing from the corner of his eye that the safety wasn’t engaged, he immediately ducked and grabbed the inkwell from the table, hurling it hard at those slender fingers holding the gun. With a thud, Su Minguan frowned, taking the hit, but the gun muzzle didn’t move a millimeter. He then grabbed the paper knife from the table and casually flicked it—with a whoosh, the not-very-sharp blade flew past Hede’s temple hair out the porthole.
Everything happened within one second. Hede broke into cold sweat, face pale as paper, tremblingly touching his ear.
Click—Su Minguan engaged the safety.
The ship’s deck swayed twice. He stood steady as if on solid ground. A fly buzzed out the porthole window.
“Yesterday, I sent a visiting card to East Customs requesting a meeting, with no response.” Su Minguan glanced at the trigger from the corner of his eye. “Courtesy before force—Chinese tradition. Sorry about that.”
Hede’s face turned white as he slowly raised his hands.
“That’s regulation.” But he wouldn’t beg for mercy, suppressing his anger: “You should know your shipping company is under Jianghai Customs jurisdiction. Unless you present sufficient reason, otherwise…”
“No time for red tape. Please order now to suspend the southern tour and return to Yantai.”
Hede suddenly remembered this unusual young man. Back when he’d just taken over as Inspector General, following some swindler’s vague clues, he’d led people to raid Yixing Shipping for tax inspection, trying to crack down on Shanghai’s chaotic transportation industry. Result: no evidence found, a wasted trip.
Damn, it was cold that day.
Also, a holiday. He remembered those strings of red lanterns along the river.
He was almost one hundred percent certain that the shipping company had problems. The young boss answered every question thoroughly without gaps, seeming honest, but his eyes occasionally flashed with mockery and hostility, like a crouched leopard ready to pounce.
Nearly three years later, Yixing Shipping still hadn’t let customs catch criminal evidence.
Hede recalled his surname: “Mr. Su, I remember you as a calm and cautious person. No matter what grievances you have, today you shouldn’t be so reckless…”
Hede thought: Couldn’t he anticipate that returning to East Customs, getting off the ship, just the crime of kidnapping a court official would ensure he never returned to Shanghai!
“Thank you for the lesson.” Su Minguan’s expression didn’t change as he urged, “Give the order now.”
After speaking, he casually glanced at Hede’s office desk, reached into that neatly stacked pile of books to grab several leather notebooks, multitasking as he flipped through them.
Hede’s color changed dramatically. How did he know…
He wasn’t afraid of life threats. But these years of work diaries were his life’s blood—losing one page would be an unbearable loss.
He gritted his teeth repeatedly, then gave instructions through the door.
Su Minguan calmly put away his gun and pocketed the diaries.
“I read your petition letter,” Hede said with suppressed anger, organizing his desk and locking sensitive documents in drawers. “I also learned of Miss Lin’s case through other channels. I don’t know where she learned about bribing officials and government-business collusion, but this is criminal behavior I cannot tolerate. I’m sorry, but as a customs official who values reputation, I can only say I hope she receives fair legal treatment like any male citizen through a court trial. I’ve already had someone convey to the local Commissioner that I hope she receives a relatively lenient judgment. This is all I can help her with.”
Su Minguan stared at Hede’s green eyes and suddenly sneered.
This foreigner who’d never been bound by Qing law in his life was pontificating about “fair legal judgment”—truly laughably naive.
The ship shook unusually. The propeller’s roar gradually weakened as waves pushed the hull.
Confused crew members were turning around in place following Hede’s orders.
“Miss Lin is innocent,” Su Minguan said, taking charge, sitting calmly in Hede’s leather chair. “She sent a letter to Jianghai Customs, but since Mr. Hede has been at sea this month, it’s normal you didn’t receive it. Anyway, you’d better convince yourself to believe this. Now let’s discuss specifically what to do.”
Hearing his fluent command-tone English, Hede was momentarily confused: Who was really in charge on this ship?
“Incidentally, I have several companions, some on this ship, some standing by on shore. You can’t identify who they are. Well, don’t overthink it. I’m now your guest.”
Su Minguan removed his servant’s short jacket, found a half-worn pale fine-textured lake crepe long robe from his bag, and put it on, instantly transforming into an elegant scholarly merchant appearance.
He buttoned up and rang the window bell: “Bring Mr. Hede another whiskey.”
“…Alright, Mr. Su. You know, if it’s within my power, I’d be happy to do something for Miss Lin. If you want to plan a prison break, I’ll pretend not to know. Maybe I can even provide you with a pair of light shoes…”
Cold and windless, the sea surface was desolate, the checkered flag atop the Tianjin Customs building hanging listlessly.
Hede’s impatience had nearly been worn away. He’d been politely kidnapped, forced north back to Tianjin, catching Tianjin Customs staff off guard who thought he’d returned for a surprise inspection, causing them to rush around frantically, wasting much redundant effort. And those treaty ports he hadn’t yet visited—all inspection plans were shelved, delaying so much work!
His official seal, passport, and checkbook—all politely confiscated by this man. Hede was certain that if Su Minguan threw him into the sea now, making him an anonymous floating corpse, the consulate couldn’t identify him even after ten years.
Everyone has weaknesses. Hede wasn’t afraid of death, but he feared unfulfilled ambitions, feared disappearing into obscurity, feared those foundations and grand plans he’d worked so hard to lay being destroyed by ignorant mediocrities.
But after several days, he also knew Su Minguan meant no harm. Except when he occasionally lost his temper and the gun muzzle helped him calm down, this young man was impeccably polite, walking and talking with him like an old friend of many years.
“Thank you. If it comes to that, I believe Mr. Hede will cover for me.” Su Minguan nodded in response. “However, I still hope to clear her name through legal means, rather than having her bear the crimes of fugitive and imperial criminal, abandoning everything she’s fought for these years to live in fear forever.”
Hede drained his drink and shook his head regretfully.
“Too demanding, too difficult… This is a crime personally pronounced by your Empress Dowager, not some petty theft. Mr. Su, foreigners may have some privileges in trade and military matters, but I don’t think I can interfere with Qing politics… Even sacrificing my career wouldn’t make it possible. You must accept this. Even if you shot me in the head right now, I couldn’t do it.”
He had experience mediating disputes. In the past, local officials all gave him face. But this time, he was truly powerless.
“Of course I wouldn’t rely solely on your eloquence.” Su Minguan tapped his gun barrel, diligently shooing away a fly in front of Hede. “I believe that with the right price, anything can be accomplished.”
“Bribe the Empress Dowager?” Hede sneered. “Gather enough money to rebuild Yuanming Yuan, and maybe you could win the beauty’s favor…”
“Too expensive—even spitting out Britain’s reparations wouldn’t be enough.” Su Minguan pretended not to hear the sarcasm, analyzing seriously. “We businessmen believe in using the least money to accomplish the most effective things.”
A customs assistant knocked and brought the latest issue of the North China Herald.
Su Minguan calmly used his sleeve to cover the gun barrel.
“What are you looking at?” Hede helplessly scolded the assistant while winking. “This is a guest discussing important matters with me.”
Su Minguan poured Hede a cup of tea and turned slightly, sending a spring-like warm smile.
The young assistant was confused. Mr. Hede was always extremely efficient, never spending more than an hour on appointments and meetings. This had been going on all day!
But he didn’t dare ask about his superior’s affairs, seeing the two chatting enthusiastically, he didn’t dare interrupt, quickly bowing: “Leaving right away.”
Completely ignoring his boss’s pleading eyes. Hede angrily pulled out several hairs.
He thought angrily that when he returned to Shanghai, he’d settle scores. Su Minguan never left criminal evidence, but he’d find fault and fine Yixing Shipping thoroughly!
Su Minguan sneered and took the newspaper.
“…The Waterloo of the Foreign Affairs Faction?—Chinese Official Infighting, Good Relations with Foreign Firms Used as Attack Methods…”
The foreigners were still giving face. Lin Yuchan’s secretly sent exposé and plea letter had somehow been repackaged and published under a freelance journalist’s name, with obvious editing and grafting traces.
As for content, it ignored her unlucky grievances, focusing instead on the more macro level—the open and covert struggles between conservatives and the foreign affairs faction.
Originally, foreign newspapers wouldn’t pay much attention to this kind of Chinese official infighting. But this matter inexplicably involved foreign firms—though it wouldn’t cause any substantial harm to the firms. But with foreigners innocently caught in crossfire, that journalist still mocked mercilessly, the sharp tone seeming familiar, resembling the long-retired E.C. Bennett.
After reading the report, Hede’s expression grew more serious.
Now he believed Miss Lin had truly been set up. Small-scale transactions between officials and merchants were always unstoppable—customs had to pretend not to see. But Jardine Matheson could never have made massive bribes to Chinese officials under his nose—otherwise, he couldn’t have been unaware!
“Mr. Hede, thoroughly investigate Jardine Matheson, make it as big as possible. Best to have the Municipal Council arrest that comprador Tang Tingshu. Arrest his whole family. Arresting more would be even better.” Su Minguan had no pressure of dragging others down. “Then write a statement for the newspapers…”
“Can’t do it.” Hede refused outright. “Customs still needs its reputation.”
“Abandoning former customs employees certainly helps the customs reputation.”
“I’ve already written to the Zongli Yamen requesting lenient treatment for Miss Lin.” Hede couldn’t help defending himself. “As for whether they’ll listen…”
“The Zongli Yamen people can barely protect themselves. If they fall from power, you should worry about your Guangfang Language School first.”
Su Minguan picked through Hede’s pen holder, selected the most attractive fountain pen, and quickly wrote on paper.
“From what I know, this is a list of Yusheng and his subordinate ‘Pure Stream faction.’ Yusheng advocates frugality and established some ‘Patch Society’ with civil official members—I found out about several.” Su Minguan wrote while talking. “From what you know, are any of these people rather… well, unable to withstand scrutiny?”
Hede shook his head: “Even if someone has dirt, it wouldn’t fall into my hands.”
Su Minguan: “Which civil and military officials can you communicate with?”
Without him saying it, Hede began listing names, starting with the highest-ranking officials. Prince Gong Yixin, Grand Secretary Wenxiang, Jiangsu Governor Li Hongzhang…
Su Minguan reminded: “Native places.”
Hede was troubled: “I never pay attention to these things…”
He had a bright idea and rang for a clever Chinese interpreter.
This time, he no longer winked at his subordinates. Su Minguan had given him an exam paper, pressing his head to make him answer. But answering and answering, he discovered he was attracted by the challenge on this paper, not wanting to put down his pen.
Was it because of tender feelings for Miss Lin? He didn’t know. Perhaps more because he’d glimpsed a crooked path into the dark side of Chinese officialdom.