Lin Yuchan heard everything clearly from the inner room and smiled bitterly to herself.

Zeng Guofan still cared for Rong Hong. Knowing he was incompatible with Li Hongzhang’s administration at Jiangnan Arsenal and would inevitably be squeezed out, he recommended him for an idle position where he could do what he liked and still earn money.

Rather than care, it was protection.

At this time, Li Hongzhang was already acting as Governor-General of Liangjiang. The new Jiangsu Provincial Governor was the former Shanghai Daotai Ding Richang, straightforward and understanding of some Westernization affairs, willing to accept the oddity that was Rong Hong.

Lin Yuchan reminded softly in English through the door: “The bearer of good news has worked hard—he should be given ten taels of silver for travel expenses.”

Only then did Rong Hong react, taking out silver to express thanks. The man collected it with a grin, then meaningfully glanced at the inner room door before politely taking his leave.

“Suzhou is waiting for you to report for duty!”

After the man left, Rong Hong sat for a long time, surveying his office.

The bookshelves were piled with books about mechanical engineering in various languages; the drawers were full of pending documents and memoranda; the wall was pinned with names, native places, and positions of all factory personnel for him to memorize; he had even used his spare time to write several volumes of ten-year plans for Jiangnan Arsenal, just waiting for an opportunity to submit them upward…

Rong Hong had people bring several boxes and slowly packed these books and papers, tidying the office clean.

Lin Yuchan came out and silently helped him pack.

“It’s fine.” Rong Hong suddenly looked up and smiled stiffly. “I don’t like science and engineering either. At Yale, I consistently failed calculus…”

“Jade in the box seeks a good price, hairpins in the case await their time to fly.” Lin Yuchan smiled quietly. “This place doesn’t suit you. Rest for now. There will always be opportunities.”

Rong Hong was thirty-seven years old, his life not yet half over. Though Lin Yuchan hadn’t memorized the details of his biography, she was certain that the countless encyclopedia entries about him had only written their opening lines.

She suddenly asked: “If Suzhou is leisurely, you can still often come to Shanghai for short stays, right?”

Rong Hong nodded.

“When you went to Nanjing to investigate the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, you met a girl named Gao Dewen, right? She’s now the wife of the Shanghai Foreign Artillery Bureau’s director and also a Boya shareholder and supervisor of Yude Women’s Academy. Most of her family has died, but she still has some distant relatives and connections in Suzhou, all prominent local families. I’ll speak with Dewen—in case someone makes things difficult for you…”

Rong Hong was slightly stunned, then nodded again.

Several attendants came to pay respects and congratulations to Rong Hong, carrying the packed boxes. The office became empty, waiting for its next master.

Rong Hong stood up and habitually said, “Miss Lin, please help me book a ticket on Yixing…”

Lin Yuchan immediately said: “Yiwen Trading House has the fast steamer Luolengdan from Hongkou Pier to Suzhou, single ticket five taels. Is that acceptable?”

Rong Hong sighed deeply: “Aren’t there any ships owned by Chinese people themselves?”

“Well, there are hand-rowed boats…”

Rong Hong glumly put on his outer coat.

Lin Yuchan suddenly opened her arms and gently hugged him.

Rong Hong was stunned for a moment, patted her back, then released her and smiled bitterly.

“Miss Lin… take care.”

“Someday, I will return.”

After finishing a farewell dinner with the old Boya crowd, Rong Hong’s luggage and boxes were all packed and piled in the small Western-style building’s parlor, waiting to be loaded onto carts the next day.

Lin Yuchan dragged her weary body upstairs, cleaned herself up, and crawled back to the bedroom.

The candle burned brightly, a small light in the darkness surrounding a tranquil figure.

Fine fragments of light and shadow, like a handful of gold dust, were evenly scattered on his firm contours.

All the messy business affairs in her mind, all the precarious data and documents piled in her heart, now took their curtain call and departed, her heart filling with a warm, cozy feeling.

On the small tea table, a porcelain plate gleamed, holding a pot of oolong tea and several sweet and savory snacks.

Lin Yuchan pursed her lips in a smile and hung her outer coat on the wall.

“Well, Rong Hong’s transfer is a good thing. Staying at that factory would waste his talents.” Su Minguan looked at her dejected face and smiled, guessing, “Or is it that the bidding failed?”

He kept his word—during this period he had only watched her work frantically, indeed not asking about any affairs concerning Jiangnan Arsenal.

But seeing her expression today, he could guess seventy percent of the result.

Lin Yuchan nodded and said with forced lightness: “Like you said. There were connections. I shouldn’t have…”

The first few words were casual, but as she spoke, her mind kept conjuring up all those days and nights of working by lamplight and running through hardware trading houses. Grievances churned and ruminated in her stomach. As she spoke, the corners of her mouth couldn’t help turning down, her voice taking on a crying tone, two tears rolling out of nowhere.

A salted sesame cake was stuffed in her mouth, blocking the approaching sobbing.

“Try this. I made it.”

With a gulp, Lin Yuchan’s first reaction was to spit it out, holding it in her hands and examining it closely by lamplight as if facing a great enemy.

Su Minguan couldn’t help smiling: “Aunt Zhou made it.”

After saying this, he bent down and picked up a rose honey cake.

Lin Yuchan blurted out: “Tray!”

He helplessly pulled out a tray from under the covers, holding the rose honey cake on it and taking a bite himself.

Distracted by this interruption, Lin Yuchan’s tears vanished without a trace. She huffily ate late-night snacks with him.

“Thinking back now,” her emotions stabilized as she slowly analyzed and reviewed, “when Li Hongzhang initially participated in mediating to rescue me from prison and sent people to intercept investigations into you, it shows he has many doubts about my connections and backing as a civilian female merchant. Choosing not to cooperate with me now also has its reasons.”

Su Minguan raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised she had thought of this.

“Close call,” he joked, “the lifeline of the Qing Dynasty’s first military factory almost fell into a rebel’s hands.”

Lin Yuchan couldn’t help laughing, then said: “Actually, running around for so many days wasn’t entirely fruitless. At least I’ve gotten started with hardware components. If I were to start my iron factory now, I might be able to put something together. It’s just that without connections or customers, it would lose money…”

“No rush.” Su Minguan pulled her onto the bed, kissing while joking, “When the whole country revolts later, there will be plenty of customers.”

Influenced by Lin Yuchan’s language habits, when mentioning anti-Qing activities, unlike other Heaven and Earth Society brothers who said “rebel,” “uprising,” or “great enterprise,” he changed to “revolution,” which sounded very fashionable.

Lin Yuchan thought, By then, I’ll be gloriously retired.

But who could say for certain? Perhaps in this world, it would happen a bit earlier or a bit later.

She asked with a smile, “What if the revolution succeeds? Who would be the emperor?”

Su Minguan looked at her tenderly and asked back: “That three-thousand-acre garden of yours on Hainan Island—should the ground be paved with gold bricks or silver bricks?”

Lin Yuchan was stunned for a while before understanding. He was laughing at her high aspirations—buying a lottery ticket and already planning how to spend five million, not even having the first stroke of the character written yet, but already remote-controlling the nation’s destiny.

Lin Yuchan pouted and turned away, ignoring him.

She had originally wanted to tease him, but he was very realistic and didn’t dream at all.

Su Minguan chuckled softly, embracing her from behind and gently stroking her hair by her ears.

“When the revolution succeeds, everyone will be equal, bullying the weak or exploitation and oppression, no rich drowning in oil while poor starve to death, no false benevolence and righteousness of heaven, earth, ruler, and parents… Let’s take a vacation, then? Wherever you want to go, I’ll accompany you.”

Lin Yuchan was moved by his words, but suddenly wanted to cry. How could his vision be realized by just one “successful revolution”?

“Good, hope is already on the horizon.”

Su Minguan: “What is the horizon?”

In her heart, she said, it’s a line that gets closer as you walk toward it, yet can never be reached.

She wouldn’t share this poor joke to discourage him. Having dreams was better than having none.

Sigh, Jiangnan Arsenal… Li Hongzhang’s damn relative…

Su Minguan felt the body in his arms stiffen and knew she was still unhappy.

He lightly kissed the vertebrae at the back of her neck. She shivered all over from the tickling sensation as he gently turned her body around.

“Time to put out the lamp.” Su Minguan reminded, “May we ask Mr. Li to get off the bed?”

Lin Yuchan’s cheeks flushed red as she turned her head away. This dead pervert knew how to talk!

He gently turned her face back, touching her nose with his nose tip, pulling her attention back from the distant horizon. He tenderly traced her with his fingertips like migrating fish following warm currents to explore.

Young ladies had delicate constitutions. In the beginning he didn’t know restraint and often roughly made her cry. She shed more tears in one night than she had from all frustrations in the previous year, still having tears on her cheeks when exhaustedly falling asleep. Though she generously said she wouldn’t hold it against him, Su Minguan still resolved to manage himself better to avoid her disdain.

After months of struggle, he had finally found a rhythm she could adapt to. He learned to cage the instinctual beast and not let it run wild everywhere.

He pursued challenges in all aspects. Satisfying only himself was low-level pleasure. He liked to control silently, to feel the subtle changes in a woman’s body, to appreciate how her elegant brows furrowed slightly due to his movements, unable to hide her enchanted expression.

And thank heavens, his talent in this area couldn’t be called exceptional, but was at least better than cooking.

However, lately he had been suffering some grievances. Lin Yuchan had transferred her affections elsewhere, spending every day immersed in Jiangnan Arsenal, constantly talking about steel, foreign firms, Rong Hong, Zeng Changsha, Li Hefei. At night she was so tired she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. How dare he be presumptuous? Every day he could see and touch but not taste, only able to hold and rub against her. She slept too deeply and never remembered when she woke.

Today, the dust had finally settled. She could no longer escape.

He was satisfied to hear her breathing become irregular. Not rushing, still keeping the beast caged, he patiently pleased her, murmuring: “Ah, there’s a mole here, I never noticed before…”

Lin Yuchan struggled to gather her wits, glancing downward and whispering: “There’s someone in the guest room.”

Rong Hong had worked hard packing and had long since rested. Through the thick wooden floorboards, they could hear light, regular snoring.

Su Minguan smiled mysteriously, suddenly flicking his hand. Clang—a book by his hand fell to the floor.

Lin Yuchan startled slightly.

In the completely silent night, the sound seemed incredibly abrupt, even carrying a faint echo.

The snoring downstairs continued its rhythm without interruption.

Su Minguan’s lips curved in a satisfied smile as he picked up the book and returned it to the shelf.

Lin Yuchan: “…”

Did he have no shame left?! The man was exhausted from overwork!

Anger rose in her heart. When Su Minguan leaned over her again, she raised her hand and quietly covered his mouth.

“Fine, whoever makes a sound first loses.”

…

…

“A’Mei, when you were inspecting the factory today, someone from the business association visited.”

“We agreed the loser would tell a bedtime story.”

Winning was easy—just bite him hard and it would be done.

Su Minguan had never been outmaneuvered in bed before in his life. He accepted it gracefully.

He insisted stubbornly: “This is the bedtime story.”

Lin Yuchan lay in his arms humming, pressing her cheek against that warm chest, playing with his chin with her fingertips. Under his brow bone the flush hadn’t faded, his eyelashes and lips were moist, like maple leaves in rain and dew.

She smiled: “Tell another one.”

Lin Yuchan was a bit puzzled. Shouldn’t men fall fast asleep at this time? Why did he often seem energetic with his thinking still sharp, while she could barely keep her eyes open…

Su Minguan ignored her commands, pinching her earlobe with his thumb and going his own way: “It was a British assistant from Baoshun Trading House.”

Lin Yuchan hummed in response, half her sleepiness flying away, goosebumps rising on her arms.

“Nothing serious.” Su Minguan said calmly, “Daji Cotton Company is a business association member. Baoshun bought several thousand bales of their cotton at seven pence per pound, then discovered water mixed in the cotton bales.”

Lin Yuchan exclaimed “Ah,” completely captured by this bedtime story, raising her head from his chest.

“Really? That’s too much!—Wait, when did the price rise to seven pence? This afternoon?”

One sentence contained too much information. She focused on the main issue first.

Mixing water in cotton—false weight reporting was secondary; this kind of cotton couldn’t even be shipped to Europe and would rot completely after crossing the equator.

“The trading house people didn’t want to fight a Chinese lawsuit, so they found the business association, hoping to privately negotiate compensation.” Su Minguan’s throat trembled slightly as he related it like a story. “You and several directors weren’t there at the time. I happened to be free, so I helped mediate. Don’t blame me.”

Lawsuits were costly and damaging to reputation, hence the merchant saying, “The living don’t enter government gates.” When conflicts arose, people often preferred choosing respected intermediaries for mediation. As the Yixing Business Association grew larger, it gradually took on dispute resolution functions.

However, mediating disputes between foreign and Chinese merchants was a first.

Though Su Minguan was nearly idle, when matters came to his door, he couldn’t resist the itch and acted as big brother once. Lin Yuchan trusted his capabilities and certainly didn’t blame him.

But she was still somewhat uneasy, asking: “What was the result?”

“I had Daji refund the full amount. Daji’s boss was indignant and argued with me for half a day. At the next business association meeting, someone might use this to attack you. Be prepared.”

Lin Yuchan grimaced and turned over, completely unable to sleep after this “bedtime story.”

Only now did Su Minguan feel apologetic, stroking her smooth shoulders and softly asking: “Should I tell another one?”

“Mrs. Lin, this is too much! If you don’t explain clearly today, we’re all withdrawing from the association!”

At the business association meeting, several foreign trade merchants from different industries simultaneously attacked.

“Our business association’s original purpose was to counter foreign monopoly and siege. Why did you help foreigners when they came knocking that day? This is betraying our original intention—very dangerous!”

The business association had run smoothly for a long time. Except for that initial incident of mobs blocking the door, Lin Yuchan rarely became the target of criticism like today.

“This wasn’t just Mr. Su’s opinion alone.” She patiently waited for people’s anger to subside before speaking methodically. “I’ve consulted several directors and we’ve reached consensus. Doesn’t our business association’s code include ‘credibility first’? Daji Flower Company’s subordinates acted foolishly, disregarding credibility and giving foreigners leverage. If we cover for them, won’t all Chinese merchants’ credibility suffer in the future? Moreover, Daji’s boss has accepted this arbitration result. Baoshun’s foreigners also expressed understanding, stating they’ll continue cooperating with them—this is a win-win situation. Please take a long-term view.”

Fortunately, having heard the “bedtime story” in advance, she was prepared. The next day, she urgently contacted most business association directors and unified their stance.

Some people at the meeting gave confused advice. The opposition wave subsided by thirty percent, but others muttered: “But we can’t make Daji pay full compensation—there’s still good cotton inside, isn’t there?”

Su Minguan couldn’t help laughing: “The trading house wasted manpower opening packages one by one to count. How much money did they lose in that time? They didn’t suffer any losses.”

“Mr. Su speaks easily since you’ve washed your hands of business, but you’ve forgotten how hard it is to trade…”

Su Minguan had his principles. The reason the red-capped merchants of Canton’s Thirteen Factories in the past could obtain huge profits—greed and shrewdness were certainly primary factors, but they also benefited from “credibility first” trade rules. If substandard products were unconditionally exchanged and refunded, foreigners could confidently do business with the Chinese.

But as the Qing opened ports, foreign trade volume grew exponentially, and Chinese merchants’ quality became uneven. Cases of adulteration and counterfeiting were everywhere—mismatched brands and goods, wrong prices, short weights, mixing superior and inferior products… forcing Western countries to establish laws and regulatory systems, working with customs to combat fake and inferior products.

When the Thirteen Factories collapsed, small and medium tea merchants began systematic adulteration, using minerals and medicines to enhance color and fragrance of inferior tea, mixing tea dregs with good tea to reduce costs… making foreign merchants extremely cautious when purchasing tea, spurring various quality inspection standards.

Now cotton prices soared all the way up, and trading houses bought large quantities, inevitably sometimes cutting corners.

Most Chinese merchants ran small businesses. Even if foreign merchants were cheated, the losses weren’t large. Unwilling to bear the time and money costs of local litigation, they usually just accepted the loss.

But this bit-by-bit accumulation of bad deeds had devastating effects on Chinese merchants’ credibility.

A mild-tempered old shopkeeper stood up to lecture this young business association president’s wife: “I know you demand perfection in everything, thinking business should be completely clean without cheating anyone of a single wen. But Mrs. Lin, you don’t know how foreigners acted when they fought us—how domineering and oppressive they were, trampling Chinese people like ants. Now they rely on various privileges to greedily earn Chinese money, and we’re still learning fair competition from them? Confucius said: Repay resentment with directness, repay virtue with virtue—this is our principle. Foreigners have bullied us for so many years. Why can’t we use their methods against them and give them headaches too?”

All the attending merchants nodded in agreement. Everyone had been more or less bullied by foreigners. Though Daji Flower Company’s adulteration wasn’t done elegantly, in some people’s eyes, it was venting frustration, making foreigners waste money while carefully seeking Chinese arbitration.

Lin Yuchan insisted: “Being credible with customers isn’t repaying resentment with virtue—it’s a basic commercial principle. Even from a self-interested perspective, if all Chinese acted this way, wouldn’t it give foreigners more reason to look down on us and scheme against us? Nothing in this world is irreplaceable. For cotton and tea, foreigners can buy from India; for silk they can go without—their domestic textile factories can weave endless quality foreign cloth; as for dried goods, medicines, furs, and native products, Southeast Asia and Japan all sell them. Foreigners come to buy from China because it’s of good quality and cheap. Foreigners aren’t stupid either. If they’re repeatedly harmed by fakes year after year, why not go elsewhere? In the long run, no one could do business and earn a single foreign dollar. This isn’t called repaying resentment with directness—it’s mutual destruction.”

She was well-prepared and spoke convincingly. Those merchants who had temporarily opposed couldn’t find counterarguments.

Lin Yuchan paused and had someone bring out a thick rice paper with writing.

“This is a ‘credibility guarantee’ for business association members. I can’t manage all of China’s merchants, but I sincerely hope our business association partners will all sign and seal this, striving to be credible foreign trade merchants who don’t adulterate. Those who sign will have the business association provide extra guarantees if customers question their integrity. Of course, if counterfeiting is discovered, the business association will also pursue corresponding fines. If any boss insists on ‘repaying resentment with directness’ with foreigners and won’t make this guarantee, they can withdraw unconditionally with full refund of this half-year’s membership fees.”

Now the business association had grown strong and didn’t lack a few people’s fees, so she spoke with confidence.

People below complained sparsely.

But some nodded: “Exactly. Fighting foreigners should be done honorably. Aren’t most trading house employees Chinese? If we sell adulterated goods and foreign bosses discover it and investigate, won’t our compatriots lose their jobs? Everyone should take a long-term view—don’t earn money you shouldn’t earn, and you’ll have good fortune eventually.”

The business association had speedboats carrying intelligence between ports. Over time, this greatly helped member merchants. Many had begun relying on weekly meeting information for decisions, not something to quit casually.

Lin Yuchan gratefully nodded to that person and had paper and brushes brought forward.

Most people readily signed the “guarantee.” However, Lin Yuchan noticed several people signed reluctantly, reading the “violation clauses” repeatedly, with some making excuses to escape to the bathroom.

All were flower company bosses.

In her heart, an invisible string was plucked, producing some belated worries.

She remembered that famous passage: “Once there is appropriate profit, capital becomes bold. With ten percent profit, it guarantees to be used everywhere; with twenty percent profit, it becomes active; with fifty percent profit, it takes desperate risks… With three hundred percent profit, it dares commit any crime, even risking hanging.”

What was the current cotton profit? Seven pence per pound?