Shanghai’s rainy season arrived without warning. The day before still carried spring breeze’s gentle coolness, but by evening torrential rain poured down. The next day, the air was so stifling it seemed water could be wrung from it. At the dock, drops of rain carrying salty fishy scents fell randomly, hitting people’s sweat-dampened foreheads.

Rong Hong held an umbrella, jumping down the ship’s gangplank, unaccustomed to solid ground, stumbling several times in succession before being steadied by a nearby sailor.

“…Thank you.”

His ambitious plan to “travel around the world” had made him suffer enough. First crossing Central America along Mexico’s coast to San Francisco. Then searching everywhere, finally booking passage on a ship to Yokohama. Tossing unpredictably across the Pacific, eating salted fish until vomiting daily. Reaching Yokohama, then changing ships to Shanghai, encountering pirates en route, the ship nearly capsizing.

After returning to Shanghai with no time to rest, he traveled overland by mule cart to Xuzhou to meet Zeng Guofan, who was leading the suppression of Nian bandits. He received commendation for traveling ten thousand li and purchasing machinery, was recommended for a fifth-rank substantive office, awaiting court approval for appointment.

Only then did he have time to rest and recuperate. Rong Hong took a ship back to Shanghai, seeing desolation all along the way. Only then did he learn that during his year-plus absence, the mainland had undergone great changes. The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom had already been reduced to ashes.

Shanghai’s population had sharply decreased by two-thirds. He had already heard en route about that avalanche-like real estate collapse. Sending people to inquire, he found that familiar Western restaurants had long since closed, and churches he used to visit were also sparsely attended. The entire city hadn’t yet recovered from the economic crisis—even ship ticket prices were over thirty percent lower than before.

Rong Hong thought that, at least, Boya Company should still exist, right? Miss Lin was solid and cautious—she shouldn’t have participated in land speculation.

He looked up, searching among the dense array of shipping company signs at the dock, but couldn’t find the two characters “Yixing” anywhere. He had to randomly hire a boat to head toward the Suzhou River dock first.

Looking around along Suzhou River, what he saw was even more shocking. The formerly densely packed docks, sand boats, and Chinese shipping companies lining the riverbank had been reduced to only two or three out of ten. Broken boats were randomly moored at the shore, piled with garbage and reeking.

Rong Hong thought of an old friend and couldn’t help asking the boatman: “Do you know that Yixing Shipping company? How’s their business?…”

The boatman pointed ahead: “You mean that one, sir? Business is great! It’s free—how could there be no customers? Haha!”

At one corner of what used to be Yixing’s dock, a small flag flew with a copper coin symbol and the words “Yixing Free Ferry.”

The Wells Bridge, built by foreigners, practiced discriminatory pricing, charging all Chinese to cross while concession residents had no choice. Some who needed to cross daily for a livelihood had to pay tolls every day.

About two years ago, when Yixing Shipping was flourishing, perhaps unable to stand the foreigners’ arrogant attitude, they allocated a small boat to establish this “free ferry,” carrying passengers across the river at no charge. Though slower than crossing the bridge, the good thing was Chinese operated it—they didn’t roll their eyes at customers, providing excellent service.

This “free ferry” earned Yixing Shipping considerable goodwill. Later, several riverside shipping companies began copying this model, offering low-cost or free river crossing services. Wells Bridge’s business plummeted, leaving the toll collector with nothing to do all day except lean on railings, spitting at ferries below.

But fortune is unpredictable. As foreign steamship companies struck with heavy blows, using subsidized low prices for vicious competition, Chinese shipping companies collapsed one after another. Those “free ferries” also couldn’t continue operating, and the water surface was no longer bustling.

Only the earliest “Yixing Free Ferry,” though its main entity Yixing Shipping had collapsed, miraculously preserved this free ferry service, welcoming and seeing off passengers daily, silently competing with Wells Bridge.

Rong Hong carried his shoulder bag, staring dumbfounded at the young boatman.

“Su… hey, how are you…”

Su Minguan took down a handkerchief hanging on the boat’s side, wiped his sweat, and smiled broadly.

“Mr. Rong, you’re back?—Quick, get on board, it’s raining outside.”

His tone was as calm and cheerful as always, as if they had only been apart a month.

Rong Hong boarded the “free ferry” in a daze, his belly full of more questions than raindrops outside.

After passengers were seated, Su Minguan cupped his hands in greeting, picked up the oar, and slowly rowed toward the opposite shore.

Sweat beaded at his temples, but he didn’t look sloppy. His sleeveless shirt was clean and neat. As he rowed, his arm muscles moved fluidly, pleasing to watch.

Rong Hong sat on his pile of luggage, wanting to speak several times but stopping himself.

“This, Minguan… what happened…”

“Just what you’re thinking,” Su Minguan smiled. “Foreign companies oppressed too much, business couldn’t continue, better to sell everything clean.”

This was seventy percent true. If not for that sudden accident, if he were still struggling under Yixing’s vast enterprise, he’d probably be debt-ridden now, gradually being devoured by foreigners.

Rong Hong: “But…”

But the former heaven-sent genius, the hereditary shrewd merchant who grew up eating abacus beads, was now just a boatman doing unprofitable manual labor?

Su Minguan saw what he wanted to ask and answered frankly: “Already agreed with people. Yixing’s sign can’t be lost.”

Suzhou River wasn’t wide—they crossed in moments. The boat lurched as it reached shore. Passengers stood up, thanking him.

An elderly man even stuffed two copper coins into a small box at the bow, smiling: “Little Su, life’s ups and downs are perfectly normal. Don’t be dejected. Slowly save money, and luck will return! If nothing else works, first trick a wife, have a few kids, establish family before career—no shame in that! Take your time.”

Su Minguan thanked him with a smile. Rong Hong stared at him intently.

After over a year without meeting, perhaps due to life’s blows, this young man’s character had become much gentler…

No, his edges remained sharp—he had just hidden his sharpness.

He still wore a concealed gun at his waist.

Su Minguan checked the sun, tied the boat back to its post, and hung a lock. Right there among the foot traffic, he openly removed his sweat-soaked sleeveless shirt and put on another long-sleeved one.

“Each day during busy morning and evening periods, the free ferry operates one hour each time, exercising the muscles,” he buttoned up, explaining. “Otherwise, being idle all day, a person would get moldy.”

Rong Hong was shocked: “You—idle all day?”

Su Minguan smiled, hailing a carriage: “Your Boya people are too honest—their accounts have no tricks at all. How can I stay busy?”

Rong Hong’s jaw dropped again: “Miss Lin poached you too?”

After the New Year, Boya Company resumed normal operations. Despite the company’s turbulent fortune this year and huge investment in steam engines, due to soaring cotton prices and booming Xingrui brand tea sales, this small foreign trade company outpaced all Chinese businesses in Shanghai, not only profitable but achieving year-end dividend rates of twenty percent.

Shareholders were delighted, all saying Boss Lin was truly lucky—whatever she did made money, truly heaven-blessed.

Outsiders naturally didn’t know how Boss Lin racked her brains calculating pros and cons before every decision, how she wiped wounds and immediately got back up when facing setbacks, how she used shares and bonuses to motivate employee enthusiasm, and how she utilized her bit of talent and foresight to summarize the most promising approaches from various businesses…

These factors were too complex to detail—better summarized as “good luck.”

After the New Year, Su Minguan gloriously assumed Boya Company’s accounting position. After working a few days, he discovered that what previously took Old Zhao a full day, he could finish in three hours with time left to double-check.

Fundamentally, Boya had two highly educated managers who were honest, training subordinates with good work habits. Record-keeping was precise and scientific, receipts and vouchers complete, making auditing crystal clear. Compared to Yixing’s rough accounts—scribbled by crude sailors on rocking decks—the calculation difficulty was incomparable.

Old Zhao had average talent and occasionally got distracted, but was serious when working. Occasionally making accounting errors, he’d work overtime to correct them.

Now with Su Minguan replacing him, he wrote like flying and simply didn’t know how to spell “calculation error.”

Lin Yuchan was greatly surprised, but couldn’t reduce the contracted salary, paying him twelve silver yuan monthly for three hours’ daily work.

Thus Su Minguan became a socially idle person. His first task was restoring the free ferry, preserving Yixing’s tiny market share, letting the double copper coin symbol continue flying stubbornly over Suzhou River.

Additionally, as chief of Guangdong-Guangxi Hong Men and a “remaining in Shanghai for observation” merit-redeeming member, he regularly held water gate in teahouses—handling organizational affairs, receiving brotherhood members, mediating member disputes, etc. These tasks were previously completed at Yixing Teahouse. Now with Yixing Teahouse mortgaged out, the sign changed, but business continuing, he sat there half a day every ten days, inquiring about brothers’ recent situations, fulfilling Jin Lanhe’s duties while getting tea discounts.

Time still couldn’t be used up. So every weekend, he spent time at the merchant association—no longer participating in affairs, just observing and organizing materials, aimlessly listening to commercial intelligence from various places as entertainment.

Remaining scattered time was spent holed up in the small Western building reading and drinking tea, maximally enjoying “room and board included” benefits—reading not Confucian classics but popular interesting novels and picture books, newly printed celebrity poetry and prose, Chinese and English newspapers, natural history surveys. Sometimes pulling his “roommate” to read together.

Lin Yuchan didn’t always give face, often standing him up: “I’m busy!”

…

Su Minguan thought of her seemingly angry yet strange expression, his mouth unconsciously curving upward. He lifted the carriage curtain, seeing the entrance to Saigon Road in the distance.

“She should be in today,” he told Rong Hong. “Lunch together?”

In Boya headquarters’ small Western building, Lin Yuchan wore an exaggerated, stiff smile while receiving distinguished guests.

“…Excellent, with your word, we can rest assured.”

The distinguished guest was an imperial merchant from the Imperial Household Department. His queue was combed smooth and shiny, wearing a thick, crisp silk jacket. Catching Shanghai’s plum rain season, he was sweating all over. Two servants squatted behind him, left and right, mechanically fanning him like robots.

Lin Yuchan considerately opened all windows, lit mosquito-repelling incense, and brewed cooling mint green tea, adding jasmine petals according to Beijing people’s taste.

Due to Cixi’s words last year, Boya Company developed new business supplying Western medicinal beauty products to the Empress Dowager and palace ladies—essential oils, flower water, face cream, honey, plus newly industrialized cleansing milk and powder for palace noble ladies to try.

This was imperial-level procurement—absolutely couldn’t be neglected.

Fortunately, Boya Company now delegates authority, with two managers able to handle things independently, completing the tea and cotton production and sales chains without Lin Yuchan’s intervention. As general manager, her daily work was checking for gaps, formulating investment plans and business strategies, contacting major clients, etc.—freer than before.

So she had plenty of time to invest in Imperial Household Department procurement. Running to countless trading houses, comparing countless products, finally selecting several top-grade items, personally translating elaborate product descriptions. Showing them to the imperial merchant, he was indeed very satisfied.

“Madam is truly the businesswoman the Empress Dowager favored. We haven’t seen these things even in Beijing. First, bring one hundred of each—if the ladies like them, you’ll make your fortune.”

“Madam” was a first or second-rank title. Lin Yuchan currently held ninth-rank Ruren status, normally not qualified for “Madam.” But with current ritual chaos and title abuse, any minor official became “Master” or “Sir”—this imperial merchant calling her “Madam” was quite ordinary politeness.

She quickly stood to thank him, signaling Aunt Zhou to change the tea again.

She thought, goodness, one hundred each…

“Foreigners’ preferences might not suit our Chinese nobles’ eyes,” she hid her emotions, also learning smooth speech, unhurriedly replying, “Which ones the ladies like or dislike, please don’t hesitate to advise us later so we can select more suitable ones—oh, these bottles and jars are leftover samples from selecting goods, not suitable for sending to the palace. Take them for your household ladies to play with.”

The imperial merchant grinned: “How can I be so shameless, hehe.”

…

After heaps of pleasantries, sending countless samples, and making the imperial merchant comfortable, he finally pulled out a special draft from the Imperial Household Department.

“These things, please quote a price, Madam. You serve the imperial family loyally—the imperial family won’t shortchange you.”

The imperial merchant spoke slowly—Lin Yuchan heard hints in his meaning.

She remembered the paper lanterns at the Empress Dowager’s birthday—twenty taels each. All were made by her in prison. She could rush dozens daily.

The Imperial Household Department ate such price differences—not getting some profit from her order would be unconscionable.

Lin Yuchan tentatively said, “Actually, these things aren’t divine nectar, just clever tricks. But overseas shipping costs are high, including losses, charging you twelve taels per piece, do you think…”

She was still reporting high. Boya Company ordered hundreds of bottles of skincare products at once, and shipping costs were already negligible. But she still quoted normal high shipping costs to avoid losing money.

Who knew the imperial merchant frowned displeasedly upon hearing this?

“Twelve taels per piece? Madam misspoke, right? I see just this Western glass bottle alone is worth more than twelve taels.”

“Yes, yes,” Lin Yuchan had to change her answer, “including shipping costs, fifteen taels each?”

“Ridiculous!” The imperial merchant suddenly rose angrily, glaring at her. “Things used by the Empress Dowager and imperial ladies are only worth fifteen taels? Imperial family women get such treatment—what a laughingstock!”

Lin Yuchan’s heart pounded as her mind rapidly calculated.

This was blatant fraud. With other clients, she’d long since questioned their character and found excuses to sever cooperation.

But now they were fleecing the Qing court…

Never mind. This money would benefit others even if not through her. At least she’d earned money that would fund orphanages and schools.

She boldly quoted: “I was wrong, please forgive me. I miscalculated exchange rates earlier. These medicinal beauty products must cost at least thirty taels each.”

The imperial merchant finally showed satisfaction, ordering her: “Write the invoice.”

Lin Yuchan personally wrote the bill, fingertips slightly cold, barely able to grip the pen.

Thirty taels per bottle for sky-high skincare products, selling five hundred bottles at once—that’s fifteen thousand taels revenue!

Most was fictitious—pure profit! Costs less than ten taels each!

The imperial merchant had her write several invoices in different formats—unit price thirty taels, total fifteen thousand taels, copying them himself. Then, taking one total invoice, borrowing her pen, he brazenly added one character next to “fifteen thousand taels.”

“One hundred fifteen thousand taels.”

He folded the invoice, put it in an envelope, and bid Lin Yuchan farewell with cupped hands.

“Madam is a heroine among women, thoroughly straightforward. This humble one will visit again in the second half of the year—prepare goods in advance.”

Lin Yuchan stood alone, holding receipts and drafts, mouth agape, disheveled in the wind.

So… that person casually added one hundred thousand taels to the invoice!

This hundred thousand went into Imperial Household Department pockets!

No wonder he kept hinting she should inflate prices!

Giving her some leftover profit also silenced her from talking.

Imperial family life was extravagant and wasteful—just the Empress Dowager’s face cream let subordinates embezzle one hundred thousand taels. Judging by this imperial merchant’s practiced manner, this was routine.

The same one hundred thousand taels could build an entire well-equipped shipping company to compete with foreigners for maritime profits, or buy an iron factory urgently needed by Chinese industry. Westernization reformers tightened belts but couldn’t save enough, still relying on “customs fines” and such windfalls to fill gaps.

No wonder the Qing fell.

Lin Yuchan deeply reflected for one minute on her evil deed of undermining the country and hastening the Qing’s demise, then screamed and jumped three feet high.

At this rate of supplying goods twice yearly, she could repay Su Minguan’s one hundred thousand taels in just a few years!

Though Cixi might grow fickle and not always order from her, fleecing once was still fleecing—making enough to eat for half a year!

Thinking about wool, her tongue thought of something else.

“Aunt Zhou, Aunt Zhou, I want roasted lamb leg today… No, no, after weekend meetings, let’s all eat roasted lamb leg together!”

Before finishing her words, clear laughter came from the doorway.

“Who’s secretly eating roasted lamb leg behind my back?”

Aunt Zhou hurried to open the door: “Oh, our accountant is back.”

This accountant didn’t do proper work—Miss Lin ran the business frantically while he didn’t lend a hand, leisurely reading and drinking tea every other day like a young master. Moreover, he openly entered her room and moved in with Miss Lin, living their little life.

Such lightning-striking immorality would have gotten him beaten out with a big broom before. But now it was different. He had great kindness toward Miss Lin—ordinary people couldn’t do such things.

Besides, his character was decent, and he was presentable. Miss Lin being with him wasn’t wronging her.

Aunt Zhou silently adjusted her moral standards, beginning to find this Mr. Su somewhat pleasing.

Lin Yuchan’s heart was still surrounded by colorful bubbles of “fifteen thousand taels,” bouncing out the door. Seeing those sparkling black eyes, her mouth corners shot skyward.

“You get a share of lamb leg too.” She threw herself into Su Minguan’s arms, hugged his neck, and kissed him hard. “Just don’t run around weekends!”

Su Minguan openly pecked her forehead, removed his sweat and rain-soaked clothes, tossing them aside, whispering: “Let me change clothes before hugging you.”

Then went upstairs.

Lin Yuchan smiled, about to say something, when she suddenly discovered Su Minguan hadn’t come alone!

Following behind him, Rong Hong held an umbrella and carried luggage, dustily stepping through the door.

“Miss Lin,” Rong Hong waved at her, thick eyebrows and big eyes showing pleasant surprise, “Congratulations! When did you marry? Why didn’t you write in letters? Hiding from me.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

She hadn’t avoided people just now! Rong Hong saw everything!

Su Minguan deliberately didn’t tell her!

She’d settle accounts with him later. Waves of wild joy surged in her heart, happier than just fleecing Cixi for ten thousand taels.

“Mr. Rong! Long time no see, you’ve gotten thinner!”

She grabbed Rong Hong’s hands, shaking vigorously several times.

Something cool was pressed into her hands—a stack of papers.

“Miss Lin, your railroad company stocks. I bought the last batch—haha… finally lived up to expectations.”

Lin Yuchan looked down in delighted surprise at these authentic American stocks.

They looked similar to stocks previously issued by Shanghai trading houses, even less exquisitely printed. A thick certificate-like paper with revenue stamps in corners, topped with beautiful English script reading Central Pacific Railroad Company, middle showing a rumbling locomotive, bottom with handwritten signatures of company executives and issuing bank directors.

However, while Shanghai real estate stocks became waste paper, these few were priceless treasures!

She counted, puzzled: “Why are there 35 shares?”

Originally, her money could only buy 30 shares.

Rong Hong: “When your money arrived, the company was issuing additional shares, and prices dropped somewhat.”

Lin Yuchan “oh” ed, looking down to see the stocks indeed showed face value of 20 dollars.

Dropped…

Don’t know if fortune or misfortune.

Anyway, they couldn’t be bought and sold anytime—treat as long-term investment, holding without moving.

She pocketed the stocks, greeting Rong Hong: “Your guest room is ready, rest first, then taste our Boya steam engine-fried tea!”

After a long trip, Rong Hong’s appearance was indeed hard to look at closely. His beard had grown a full circle, face wind and sun-beaten, hat brim-shaded forehead a shade whiter than his lower face, without looking at clothes, like a justice-seeking Zorro. No time to shave his hair either. Only because he was meeting Zeng Guofan did he hastily tidy up temporarily. Now his temples showed dark stubble pointing skyward, without looking at his face, like a newly ordained Lu Zhishen.

But his eyes radiated a vibrant spirit. While entering the guest room, changing clothes and shoes, he shouted downstairs: “Skip the tea! All the machinery arrived! God bless, not one piece missing! Duke Zeng made me a temporary supervisor. Miss Lin, come see the factory with me!”

Before he finished speaking, Lin Yuchan had already rushed upstairs to change clothes.