The box contained dried medicinal herbs, with persistent odors of dry earth and faint medicine.

Suddenly, Su Minguan’s chest rose and fell slightly as he chuckled softly.

He hid the small knife under several packages of herbs, then slightly lifted the box lid, letting fresh country air flow around them both.

“…Numb. A’Mei.”

Only then did they realize how cramped the box was. The two were twisted together like a braid, most of their skin touching. His leg had been pressed under her the entire time.

Lin Yuchan hurriedly got up, accidentally hitting her head on the wooden board. A soft thud. She quickly fell silent, listening intently. Fortunately the tarpaulin muffled the sound, and there was no one around the solitary caravan.

She awkwardly turned halfway around, crawling a few inches, groping in the darkness until she found a pair of shoulders marked by the twisted lama robe.

She restrained her strength, slowly helping him pull off the hemp robe, discovering the lama vest underneath was merely draped on – with his hands cuffed together, he couldn’t put it on properly.

Lin Yuchan couldn’t stop giggling softly. Before laughing much, warmth touched her ear as he lowered his head, necks entwining in intimacy.

The caravan descended a small earthen slope. Her whole body floated, thrown by that momentary weightlessness.

She suddenly reached up to grasp his neck, biting those softest yet sharpest lips in the world, sealing his breath, responding almost fiercely. Half a day’s anxious danger, two months of desperate torment – all transformed into vengeful attacking desire. His breath carried moist ocean scent, a familiar smell that surged into her consciousness nearly dried by sand and wind, injecting endless longing.

Longing to be comforted, longing for his fingertip touches, longing for sudden tremors, longing for an endless lingering kiss, longing for unconditional acceptance… longing to possess him, head to toe, inside and out, from the fragmented past to the unpredictable future.

Su Minguan lay half-reclined, arms circled behind her neck, fingering her collar, breathing gently, tenderly accepting her chaotic plundering.

From receiving news of her, for a month and a half, he’d deliberately controlled the floodgates of longing, focusing only on immediate problems – striking, fighting, shattering accusations and criticism, using any means necessary…

Only now could he finally indulge himself, feeling that not heavy yet truly real weight upon him, like sudden sweet dew in dust, hazily seeming to return to their first meeting. Having nothing, moving forward fearlessly.

He held her tighter. Suddenly, the wooden box swayed slightly.

Clang.

…”Han’er?”

A camel driver following the caravan finally noticed something wrong. Why was one camel walking crooked?

“Han’er, what’s happening!” Someone forcefully knocked the luggage rack, scolding, “Why keep leaning to one side? Walk straight!”

The innocent camel shook its head. If it could speak, it would have cursed eight hundred times.

The two in the box quickly restrained themselves, rigidly embracing until the camel driver’s footsteps departed, then couldn’t help chuckling softly.

Laughing and laughing, Lin Yuchan suddenly burst into tears, sobbing quietly: “Why did you take so long to come… I almost got killed… woo woo, I almost married someone else… woo woo, if I died, no one would report to you all…”

Su Minguan gathered his hands together, somewhat difficulty wiping her tears. Tears flowed along his fingers to his reddened, swollen wrists, wetting the cloth strips wrapped around the handcuffs.

“Congratulations to Miss Bai Yushan,” his voice was nasal but laughing, “the Hongmen sister who traveled farthest in history, entered Yuanmingyuan, offended the current Empress Dowager – even the founding master would bow in admiration… you should think carefully on the road about how to boast when you return.”

She asked again: “What connections did you use…”

Su Minguan was silent for a moment, still saying: “We’ll talk when we return.”

Then he pressed down her head, nose touching nose, suddenly sniffing lightly, asking softly: “Really haven’t washed for two months?”

Lin Yuchan was furious, forgot to cry, and forcefully sucked down again, satisfied to hear a light intake of breath. Too dark to see his expression clearly, but he was frowning.

Strong wind passed, the wooden box and tarpaulin colliding with soft patting sounds.

“Hey, don’t move around.”

Su Minguan had to fold his arms, easily suppressing her fighting urge. With hands unable to separate, he could only use his tongue tip to soothe this girl who’d rolled through thorns and was covered in barbs.

Until she finally calmed down, head tilted, obediently lying on his chest, softly sobbing without speaking.

Only then did he say quietly: “Don’t worry anyway. After leaving the Ministry of Justice, you’re a free person with no criminal record. Reputation, property, connections, and that ninth-rank title – all intact…”

Lin Yuchan felt lightheaded, still feeling like in a dream.

She quietly added, “There’ll still be a criminal record, right? Arson, firing guns in the city, kidnapping court officials… unless Baoliang doesn’t report.”

Su Minguan gently kissed her forehead, saying, “Baoliang won’t report.”

His voice carried cold air like an ice blade, scraping her heart.

Before she could ask, he immediately added: “By the way, I left Shanghai five days ago. Your managers have begun year-end accounting. Without your supervision, they’re doing reasonably well.”

Lin Yuchan smiled. Su Minguan’s “reasonably well” by Boya standards already qualified as excellent – bonus-worthy.

She kissed his cheek, obediently not asking more. Feeling his fingers stroking her ear, completely relaxed as never before, she suddenly felt utterly exhausted.

She could stay in this narrow box for a year.

“By the way,” she listened to his heartbeat, murmuring, “That cross-talk performer Master Feng, how much money did he take from you…”

No answer. Perhaps Su Minguan replied, but his voice had already scattered in her mind. Finishing her sentence, her eyelids closed, collapsing unconsciously on him.

She was like a stubborn stone falling into the sea, wrapped in warm waves, slowly sinking to dark depths, transforming into a mass of rich sugar.

…

Quietly, time passed unknowingly. Another floating weightless sensation. The caravan finally stopped. Outside, the sky was beginning to darken.

Su Minguan had also dozed, leaning against herb packages with her eyes closed. Hearing unfamiliar voices nearby, he immediately opened his eyes and shook Lin Yuchan.

From the camel driver’s conversation with others, the caravan had reached Tongzhou city, now resting outside. Camel drivers were unloading heavy burdens from camels one by one, letting them rest properly overnight.

Untying hemp ropes, lifting tarpaulins, moving down boxes and sacks…

Suddenly, a camel driver cried out in surprise. A box that should have been half-empty – he couldn’t pull it with force!

A camel carrying four hundred pounds could easily handle two more people’s weight.

But for humans, it was very different.

In the camel driver’s moment of confusion, the box lid suddenly lifted. He saw only a gray shadow leap out, then his mouth was covered, slight pain at the back of his head, and he fainted limply.

Lin Yuchan took a deep breath of fresh air, patting the meritorious camel’s head that had carried them all the way. Having just finished eating fodder, it energetically opened large eyes, curiously meeting her gaze.

Su Minguan quickly stripped miscellaneous items from the camel’s back, leaving only reins and felt cloth. The camel’s back fur, pressed all day, drooped to one side quite smoothly, as if combed.

Lin Yuchan hesitated: “Will this work…”

While speaking, he scooped her onto the camel’s back, placing her between the humps, right hand grasping a soft whip.

“A’Mei, go!”

Lin Yuchan was amazed to discover camels could run!

And run very fast – no less than a small car!

She immediately felt dizzy, all organs suspended in air, nearly thrown off, crying out: “Hey, you never learned this!”

Tongzhou was the Grand Canal terminus, bustling with people coming and going, dozens of caravans entering and leaving. One camel breaking free for a run – no one noticed this small disturbance.

Unlike horses, which run with front and rear hooves landing simultaneously, creating front-to-back rocking like riding waves, camels were different – left and right hooves landed simultaneously, swaying left and right in staggered rhythm like an amusement park roller coaster.

Su Minguan relied on experience and instinct. Once started, that camel ran with its style and skill, no longer obeying him!

The country road was bumpy and uneven. The camel’s large pads moved as if on flat ground, instantly overtaking two horse carts, a small donkey, and a mounted official messenger. The camel suddenly spotted a crow, became interested, and charged after it recklessly.

Lin Yuchan could only tightly grasp a tuft of fur on the camel’s back. Fortunately, camels were wide and stable – as long as she held tight, she wouldn’t easily fall.

They gradually mastered the technique, using reins to whip the camel’s sides for turning.

In Qing-era North China countryside, famine, plague, and warfare were continuous. Rarely did one see densely populated villages like in Jiangnan. A mad camel running along the ancient Chaobai River post road – only a few people along the way noticed, shouted twice, but that camel ran off like wind with no one able to catch up.

The North China plain, entering winter, was bleak and desolate. Fields on both sides were rough and barren, wild cats and dogs clustered roadside, solitary graves and dry wells dotted low hills, and ancient roads. The pale evening sun stretched that running shadow long.

Lin Yuchan couldn’t help crying out loudly.

When sky darkened, roadside people gradually increased – stalls and tea shops, inns and warehouses appeared. Tianjin-accented merchants bustled about, donkey carts and wheelbarrows jammed together.

Riding a camel was too conspicuous. Su Minguan stopped the camel, jumped down, helped Lin Yuchan down, and patted the camel’s head.

The camel knew its way, consciously turned around, and ran off happily with boat-like hooves.

Lin Yuchan hadn’t yet steadied her legs when someone suddenly approached, speaking roughly: “Hey, boss, why gone all day to return? Here, your gun.”

Then turning: “Eh, Miss Lin!”

Lin Yuchan cried out joyfully: “Brother Jiang!”

Jiang Gaosheng and Hong Chunkui had both come north, but lacked Su Minguan’s boldness to provoke imperial authority in Beijing, only daring to hide in Tianjin awaiting a response.

Before Lin Yuchan could be happy for half a second, Jiang Gaosheng’s second sentence nearly made her faint with anger:

“Miss Lin, why do you smell like livestock?”

Lin Yuchan didn’t answer, casually grabbing Jiang Gaosheng’s hat and putting it on Su Minguan’s head, barely restoring him to normal human appearance.

Jiang Gaosheng inexplicably lost another hat, looking at Lin Yuchan dissatisfiedly. He’d kindly reminded her – such a straightforward, honest character was rare nowadays, yet she treated him like a coat rack!

Su Minguan asked: “Any food?”

“Yes!”

From a nearby small shed, Hong Chunkui waved them over.

The small shed was rented to traveling merchants and boat households for rest stops – not very clean inside, but with pots and a stove, like a self-service inn.

Hong Chunkui’s greeting was much more normal, brief and to the point: “Miss Lin, you’ve lost weight. Suffered hardships? Eat more. It’s safe here, rest well for several days.”

Lin Yuchan had her first meat meal in two months – not oil drops floating in soup, not organ meats for flavoring, but an entire freshly slaughtered chicken!

Made by a Michelin three-star spy!

Stewed in rich broth, white meat, tender bones, so soft it melted on the tongue.

She could no longer care about appearance, devouring skin and bones, obviously uncomfortably full yet reluctant to waste a bite.

The three big men nearby felt embarrassed watching. Jiang Gaosheng and Hong Chunkui spread out luggage, finding small knives and metal pieces, gathering around Su Minguan to work.

When Lin Yuchan had eaten most of the chicken, Su Minguan’s hands were still cuffed.

“…Damn, these foreign things are different. Need the key… Have to go back and consult experts…”

Lin Yuchan felt embarrassed, inviting them: “Eat first.”

Su Minguan smiled gently, raising both hands to pick up chopsticks.

“No rush. Slow burn with small fire for several days, and the iron becomes brittle. Then can break with any struggle.”

The two brothers nodded but looked troubled.

“The canal’s frozen, can’t travel by boat.” Jiang Gaosheng said while eating. “Foreigners are celebrating Christmas, all on holiday early. Foreign steamers to Shanghai run every ten days – one left this morning.”

Hong Chunkui lowered his voice: “Foreigners are pressuring urgently, want me on the next ship to start kitchen work. How about overland?”

Su Minguan shook his head, lowering his voice: “Hebei and Shandong both have Nian armies. Meeting them would waste time needlessly.”

Jiang Gaosheng said, “What’s to fear! Five hundred years ago, we were all one family. Most roads are difficult – better than waiting here. You could come with us, this favor I remember. You two needn’t mind me, return quickly, take care of things later.”

All three ate little, put down their chopsticks, stood up, and bowed to each other formally.

Lin Yuchan bit a chicken wing, belatedly catching fragments of this conversation, slowly turning pale with shock.

She chased after them: “Brothers.”

Regarding how exactly she was released, there were certainly many inside details. Su Minguan told her “we’ll talk when we return.”

But she already had vague suspicions. She stopped Jiang Gaosheng and asked directly: “How much money did Minguan spend to get me out? Is Yixing alright?”

Hong Chunkui kept signaling with his eyes. But Jiang Gaosheng didn’t catch the signal, saying blankly: “Miss Lin, you don’t know? Yixing is gone.”

As if punched in the head, Lin Yuchan momentarily couldn’t stand steady.

“What do you mean gone?!”

“How else to produce one hundred thousand taels of silver?” Jiang Gaosheng said. “But don’t feel guilty – human life matters most. We all voted unanimously. You’re Hongmen sister, Yixing, is Hongmen property – using it for you isn’t wasteful.”

Hong Chunkui, seeing concealment impossible, also sighed.

“These two months, running back and forth at sea with Minguan, exhausted to vomiting several times. Minguan is truly capable – foreigners priced the iron works at two hundred thousand taels, he negotiated it to half price, otherwise we really couldn’t gather the remaining hundred thousand…”

Lin Yuchan struggled to piece together these fragments in her mind, cold sweat pouring down, shocked, speechless: “So…”

“Miss Lin,” Su Minguan, seeing concealment impossible, simply interrupted domineeringly to reclaim explanation rights. According to an official statement, Yixing Shipping was discovered by the Customs Tax Department making false accounts. Tracing back from Daoguang twenty-seven, settling all illegal smuggling crimes, ordered to pay a taels of silver penalty at once. This windfall was taken by Hede to purchase Banner Iron Works, presented to Jiangsu Governor Li Hongzhang. Governor Li reciprocated, uniting court forces, displaying earth-shaking abilities, threatening Grand Secretary Yu Sheng, forcing him to admit errors and overturn your case. Thanks to various inside information you cleverly transmitted, otherwise we outsiders really wouldn’t know where to start.”

Lin Yuchan felt suddenly dropped into a black hole, her belly of hot chicken soup seeming to turn to ice water, chilling her to trembling.

“Why…”

“Time was urgent, mortgaged assets insufficient to gather silver, could only dismantle and sell. Your shares are also gone – one twenty-fifth – I handled it on your behalf, don’t blame me. Fortunately, Jin Nengheng previously drafted contracts and detailed valuations for Yixing, exactly one hundred thousand taels, saving me much trouble.” Su Minguan said. “Luna goes to Baoshun Trading House, two docks to Sassoon, small steamer to Jardine… Other junk, land, and warehouses all found good buyers. Yixing crew continue with ships under new employers’ wages; other clerks all have severance pay – didn’t shortchange anyone.”

Jiang Gaosheng and Hong Chunkui nodded left and right, corroborating his words: “We two helped Minguan run errands, already delayed several days’ work. Must return today, otherwise can’t explain to new employers. Miss Lin, mountains high waters long, until we meet again.”

They hastily finished their last bites, bowing farewell to Lin Yuchan.

She replied dazedly, her mind seeming on fire, inexplicably panicked.

Su Minguan took her hand, walking toward the indigo night, smiling: “Well then, first find a place for you to bathe.”

He carefully chose dark narrow alleys, threading through old city edges, avoiding patrolling soldiers’ eyes until crossing into the foreign concession’s iron gate.

The Tianjin concession was also a Chinese-foreign mixed concession. At the bustling commercial street’s end, on Haihe mud flats, beside warehouses and trading houses, a new three-story Western building displayed “Lishunde” in large characters. This was the first Western-style hotel opened by the British in Tianjin – exterior was arch-lined Indian colonial style, interior authentic British décor. Soft-colored wooden floors rang crisply underfoot, and Baroque brass lamps illuminated spacious corridors.

Northern common people then had no concept of regular bathing. Finding safe bathing places in deep winter wasn’t easy. Chinese inns inevitably brought questioning – the only option was to pay foreigners.

Tianjin had only this one foreign hotel, not just where foreigners met and worked, but where many officials stayed, Chinese-foreign consultations occurred, even treaty signings. Attendants were all trained in strict confidentiality, deeply understanding Western service spirit – asking nothing inappropriate, making it the best hideout for escape.

This past month, Su Minguan had run between Tianjin and Shanghai, familiar with Tianjin port in detail, knowing where was safest.

Lin Yuchan remained immersed in indescribable guilt, dazed, as Su Minguan again produced a silver ingot from his pocket, arranging rooms and hot water.

Only when led by doormen past Murano glass chandeliers, stepping on wooden carved stairs, did she suddenly realize.

“Xiao Bai, what have you done!” She lowered her voice. “You… how could you sell Yixing…”

“My thinking is limited; I couldn’t think of other methods.” Su Minguan looked at her, eyes somewhat tired. “My heart naturally isn’t happy either. A’Mei, can you smile? Let me feel this money was worth spending.”

“But…”

Lin Yuchan couldn’t smile at all. She wasn’t worth that much money!

One hundred thousand taels of silver!

He’d struggled three years, from a dying small broken shipping company unable to produce three hundred taels in penalties, to owning Shanghai’s first Western steamship, a Chinese transport industry giant worth over one hundred thousand taels. Others saw glory, but only she knew how many times he’d risked his life, how many sleepless nights he’d endured for this.

Of course, she’d also invested much effort – those industry-renowned insurance contract clauses, that steamship that fell into Chinese hands due to her loan…

She couldn’t help recalling her naive strategy – she could pretend to agree to Baoliang’s engagement, letting Baoliang work to clear her name. She had a nominal deceased husband. As long as he “revived,” then according to Grand Secretary Yu Sheng’s lifelong advocacy of Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism – one woman doesn’t marry twice – the second engagement would immediately be void, even if the Emperor had betrothed her, she’d have to return gifts.

This wasn’t a very honorable method, rather embarrassing to mention. So when Feng Yikan delivered messages for her, Lin Yuchan hadn’t spoken plainly but bashfully wrote a small note for him to bring to Su Minguan.

With Su Minguan’s reaction ability, he should have understood the hint.

But by mishap, when Feng Yikan reached Shanghai, Su Minguan had already departed for Tianjin. This small hint just missed him.

Lin Yuchan couldn’t help wondering – if he’d known this unorthodox method, would he regret wasting one hundred thousand taels?

Su Minguan ran his hands over the guest room’s doors, windows, tables and chairs, satisfied with the hygiene. He had attendants bring charcoal, lit the fireplace, warming the room.

Lin Yuchan stepped on a thick handmade carpet, embracing him from behind, silently shedding tears.

“I’m… I’m sorry…”

“Yixing is Hongmen property,” Su Minguan glanced back at her, saying lightly. Over the past hundreds of years, Yixing branches everywhere accumulated huge fortunes countless times, then scattered them out countless times – everything returns to its origin. Compared to money burned before, this year’s one hundred thousand taels still has some meaning in my view.”

Lin Yuchan pressed her lips, not arguing with him.

“What’s left of the shipping company?” she asked softly.

Su Minguan slowly unwrapped cloth strips from his handcuffs. After a day’s running, they were stained with mottled bloodstains.

“The original storefront, and one hand-rowed boat.” He smiled. “Still owe five thousand taels debt. Miss Lin, don’t forget – your contract is a living agreement.”

Lin Yuchan was stunned, nearly asking: What contract?

Then she remembered. That romantic contract, she could exit anytime. If afraid of being implicated by his debts, she could terminate at any time.

Lest she feel these one hundred thousand taels were payment for her, owing him.

He was a bastard who remained stubborn and cold-blooded even when having nothing!

She threw herself on that soft bed, burying herself deeply, indulging in loud crying.