Hong Kong’s “Red Flag Gang” was one of South China Sea’s premier pirate forces during the Qing Dynasty’s isolationist period. During the Qianlong and Jiaqing reigns, pirate leader Zheng Yi commanded over a thousand ships and ten thousand followers. He captured Tanka prostitutes as wives, one known as “Zheng Yi’s wife.” He also captured a young fisherman, Zhang Baozai, as an adopted son. Sailing red-flagged pirate ships, they dominated the Leizhou Peninsula and Pearl River basin.

After Zheng Yi’s accidental death, his wife remarried her stepson. Zhang Baozai and his stepmother Zheng Yi became the new bandit couple. They sank countless Chinese and foreign merchant ships, plundering incalculable wealth.

Later, when the Qing court and foreigners jointly suppressed them, the Red Flag Gang had no choice but to accept imperial amnesty and join the Guangzhou Navy. The mighty Red Flag Gang vanished, becoming legend.

But it hadn’t truly disappeared. Before the British army arrived, Hong Kong’s original name was “Red Kan Mountain,” and numerous place names like Stanley, Hung Hom, Red Point, Red Incense Burner… all bore the Red Flag Gang’s colors.

Even fewer knew that the Red Flag Gang’s “red” was a homophone for “Hongmen.” As anti-Qing activities on the mainland faced increasing suppression, Hong Kong became a refuge for rebels. The Red Flag Gang merged with Hongmen’s senior lodge “Qinglian Hall,” remaining rooted in the rugged coastline of China’s southern tip.

In the eyes of ordinary people and the Hong Kong British government, this long-established secret organization branch had a more secular name: Triad.

The current Qinglian Hall leader, known as “Sister Feng,” claimed to be Zheng Yi’s wife’s successor, so she deliberately adopted a dissolute style, teasing this Second Lodge brother who’d come from afar.

Su Minguan didn’t argue with Sister Feng, standing to bow deeply.

“Chunkui and over ten brothers will be in your care from now on. Let’s stay in touch regularly…”

Sister Feng: “Easy! We’re short a fast boat for Lantau Island runs. Your timely assistance today—I could take a hundred more without problem!—Speaking of which, with mainland crackdowns on Hongmen so severe, why don’t you move the entire Hongshun and Honghua halls here? The British devils are tough too, but we have lawyers!”

Su Minguan smiled politely: “We’ll discuss it.”

The mainland was indeed difficult. “Long-hairs” had long become children’s bogeymen, and the Nian Army was destroyed. The Qing court wanted to disband the Xiang and Huai armies, but discovered the military was infiltrated by secret society remnants who united to cause trouble, demanding pay. Such rebellion under the emperor’s nose was intolerable, so searches became exceptionally harsh.

Though Yixing Shipping hid in Shanghai’s concession, ships had to enter Qing waters. Over the years, those members with criminal records were gradually exposed. For instance, Hong Chunkui, who’d served as a Taiping general, was pursued by hundreds of Qing soldiers for three days before sadly deciding to flee the mainland and seek temporary refuge in Hong Kong.

So this trip, Su Minguan personally led the team, bringing over ten refugees requesting Red Flag Gang shelter and protection.

Of course, they wouldn’t let people help for nothing. They included a narrow-sail fast boat for Sister Feng to conduct guerrilla warfare against the British Navy.

Recently, with the Beijing-Hangzhou Grand Canal silted up, the court changed north-south cargo transport to sea routes. This enriched Shanghai’s transport industry. The restarted Yixing Shipping seized opportunities, securing several grain transport contracts with soaring performance, and giving away one sailing ship was trivial.

The inn’s gambling dispersed. Lin Yuchan went upstairs to the guest room, found a corner, and secretly licked the ice cream bowl clean.

Not because she was stingy. Her first ice cream in the Qing Dynasty!

The last time she’d tasted such epoch-making delicacy was aboard the passenger ship from Guangzhou—a stolen egg tart… stuffed into her mouth, hot and slippery…

Ten years later, that taste remained on her tongue.

Hong Kong locally had no proper ice-making industry. This ice was genuinely quarried and shipped from America, then transported long-distance by sea, combined with the dairy company’s vanilla cream and sugar frosting—completely rewarding her day’s hard work.

She looked up contentedly, only to see a pair of beautifully curved eyes staring at her unblinkingly.

Lin Yuchan blushed: “You were busy talking business. I was afraid it would melt, so I ate it first… I’ll buy you one tomorrow…”

Su Minguan couldn’t help but smile, mischievously pinching her cheek and wiping away a drop of cream.

Over twenty years old, HSBC VIP client, Tushanwan Orphanage’s biggest benefactor, Yixing Business Association’s permanent honorary chairman… Mature and steady before others, but under his watch, still like a little girl.

Long ago, he’d thought his life would be lonely and abandoned by all. But somehow, a colorful light began following him like a shadow through his ups and downs, making him accustomed to having someone beside him.

He felt he’d changed. Years of brutal competition with foreign merchants had made him cold and decisive. Sometimes, dealing with strangers, any carelessness made him sharp to the point of unreasonableness.

Only before her could he recover some youthful tenderness, briefly being an ordinary person content with fate.

He lowered his head, claiming some residual vanilla cream from her lips.

“Is the Heaven and Earth Society being watched by authorities?” Lin Yuchan suddenly asked. “Sending so many people at once…”

Su Minguan was silent momentarily, hanging his outer garment on a hook before answering: “Not the Heaven and Earth Society—Yixing. Officials want to collect more taxes from me, so they’re making extra trouble.”

Lin Yuchan nodded. Yixing now formed a three-way balance with Jardine Matheson and Russell & Co., dividing South China’s waterway routes. To save costs and compete with privileged foreign merchants, Su Minguan had used various tax evasion methods, avoiding most miscellaneous taxes.

Long-term, local officials naturally couldn’t tolerate it. This wasn’t the first time they’d troubled Yixing.

Though Yixing’s Hongmen background wasn’t fully exposed, caution was still paramount.

Lin Yuchan joked: “Sister Feng invited you to move headquarters to Hong Kong.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Su Minguan bent to make the bed. “You wouldn’t move with me.”

Reluctance to leave was one thing; besides, truly relocating to Hong Kong—not to mention everything else, who would give orders?

Su Minguan wouldn’t create this trouble for himself.

“Oh my,” Lin Yuchan put her hands on her hips, grudgingly saying, “Certain people, when opportunity comes, move just like that, don’t they?”

“Certain people are going to America, too.” Su Minguan skillfully changed topics. “Leaving just like that, not taking me.”

Lin Yuchan felt guilty, smiling: “Just arranging girls’ enrollment—half a year at most before returning. I wanted to find another female leader, but couldn’t find anyone more suitable…”

“You still owe from the last Hankou trip.” Su Minguan kept a straight face, scooping her onto the bed. “Miss Lin, debts should have limits.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

This man grew more childish with age! Petty to the extreme!

Also, he never warned before lifting her! Just bullying her for being light!

She countered shamelessly: “How about paying double today?”

Reaching out from his embrace, she made a “two” gesture, then thought it unsafe and added a finger for “three,” waving before his eyes.

Su Minguan: “…”

Lin Yuchan smiled smugly: “Oh, if not, forget it. Heroes don’t boast of past glories…”

The air suddenly became eerily quiet. Lin Yuchan instantly sensed doom.

Su Minguan looked at her with burning eyes, containing barely noticeable amusement.

“It’s a deal.”

Lin Yuchan wanted to experience the “Pearl of the Orient’s charm up close. Unfortunately, she wasn’t here for tourism. After recruiting enough male and female students for the study abroad program, she departed for Shanghai.

Yixing’s first venture into the Shanghai-Hong Kong route—to avoid being overshadowed by the rows of foreign giant ships, they specially purchased a new fast steamer named “Eaton,” very locally appropriately moored beside Wan Chai’s newly built wooden wharf.

White waves rolled as the Eaton left Wan Chai wharf’s seafood behind, entering the vast ocean. The bow flew the convenient tax-avoiding Union Jack, covering the double bronze coin symbol.

Being a cargo route, there weren’t many passenger travelers. Spring sea breezes were warm without being dry, refreshing the spirit.

The eight Guangdong girls recruited from Po Leung Kuk had quickly adapted to new life, chattering daily and crowding at portholes to see new sights.

The thirty boys Rong Hong recruited were eight or nine-tenths Cantonese, half from Rong Hong’s hometown, Guangdong Xiangshan. Rong Hong had swallowed his pride, beating gongs and drums for a “triumphant return home” to fool these fellow townsmen’s children. This showed how conservative Qing customs were then.

Lin Yuchan’s fifteen girls were mostly Cantonese too, and uniformly rootless drifters—either trafficked or orphaned. This absolutely couldn’t be reported truthfully, so she urgently telegraphed Shanghai, using various connections to have middle-class families adopt them as “foster daughters,” then fabricate eighteen generations of ancestors to obtain “paternal/fraternal” signed permissions for landing.

Lin Yuchan bought a pile of recent newspapers in Hong Kong, reading and analyzing daily, seeking new business opportunities for Boya. Remaining time was spent befriending the girls, teaching them seasickness remedies.

On the day of Shanghai’s arrival, Lin Yuchan was still sleeping when an unusual wave turbulence woke her.

Reaching out, Su Minguan wasn’t there. She quickly dressed in the dark. The ship lurched greatly, and she rolled and crawled to a corner, putting on her shoes.

Crew shouts echoed in corridors. Running onto the deck, Lin Yuchan was startled.

A much larger wooden steam paddle-wheeler half-hidden in dawn light flew Qing dragon flags, with “Tianji” painted on the bow, pointing black cannon barrels at the “Eaton.”

“It’s Jiangnan Arsenal’s warship!” Lin Yuchan recognized it immediately, shouting to the nearby crew: “Quickly raise white flags!”

Under Xu Shou and his son’s direction, Jiangnan Arsenal had begun shipbuilding, burning massive money to launch several vessels, but performance far inferior to Western ships. Therefore they weren’t used by the navy but patrolled coastlines, maintaining Qing face.

And often broke down at sea, requiring foreign steamers for towing.

But this warship performed well, obviously not the “wait for rescue” type.

Meanwhile, Eaton’s white flag rose, but the warship persisted, slowly forcing it off shipping lanes, past customs checkpoints, to moor beside a small island.

The island housed a Qing outpost. Over ten fully armed soldiers jumped aboard.

“Someone reported this ship carries rebels! Search!”

Scabbards and wooden clubs clanged against railings. All passengers woke. Several Po Leung Kuk orphan girls screamed in the cabin.

Su Minguan led the captain and officers hastily onto deck to receive the soldiers, saying many kind words and giving each some tobacco and alcohol money. Only then did the soldiers give face, neither destroying things nor molesting women. They conducted a whirlwind search, finding nothing.

The lead officer jutted his chin, drawling: “Since you’re not carrying criminals, why fly foreign flags? Guilty conscience?”

This was rhetorical. Chinese ships borrowing foreign tax-exempt permits for navigation could avoid huge miscellaneous taxes. This method Su Minguan invented and others imitated had been promoted for ten years. Pretending ignorance now clearly had ulterior motives.

Lin Yuchan turned to see several other Chinese shipping companies’ sailboats similarly stopped and fined for infractions.

A Russell & Co. opium clipper ship passed through the waters unobstructed, speeding past and leaving a white wake.

They had to pay additional taxes and spend over a hundred taels to dismiss these plague gods. This trip’s profits were completely lost. The sun rose high.

The officer departed with a flourish, sneering: “Refusing a toast means drinking forfeit wine. Hmph!”

The “Eaton” hurried to depart. The few passengers aboard were already grumbling about delays.

Su Minguan came behind her, smiling bitterly: “In recent months, two or three times out of ten, we get played like this.”

Lin Yuchan said softly: “It’s not just Yixing.”

“The court always suspects us sea-based ship owners, thinking we’re all traitors colluding with foreigners,” Su Minguan nodded. “Years ago, several Shanghai ship merchants asked Mr. Rong to submit petitions, wanting to reorganize Shanghai shipping into Western-style steamship companies for competition. It was immediately rejected—no precedent.”

Lin Yuchan shrugged. As expected.

Chinese people wanting to open “limited companies”—no way.

She asked again: “That officer said ‘refusing toast means drinking forfeit wine’—what did that mean?”

Su Minguan patted her shoulder, smiling: “The court recently learned the term ‘sea power,’ wanting to nationalize all maritime navigation rights so money won’t be earned by us profiteers. Several major Shanghai Chinese shipping companies all received acquisition invitations at appallingly low prices. We collectively resisted. The court has recruited shareholders for over a year with no takers.”

Lin Yuchan’s heartstrings trembled, thinking of someone.

“Jin Nengheng…”

Su Minguan sighed and smiled. A clear, hooked nose appeared in his mind.

Eight years ago, foreign merchants collectively suppressed Chinese shipping, using threats, inducements, carrots and sticks—dark rooms and price wars—forcing the Chinese to surrender market share.

They failed. Yixing rose from the dead and thrived. Though foreigners successfully killed several small-scale ship merchants, as time flowed, resilient Chinese climbed from the mire, creating new achievements, continuing under foreigners’ noses to squeeze profits penny by penny.

But this time was different. This time, the Qing court acted, trying to compete with people for profit, monopolizing Chinese shipping shares.

Whoever disobeyed got harassed—tax hassles, interceptions, searches—until they submitted.

Lin Yuchan asked: “What’s the plan?”

Su Minguan gazed at the distant Huangpu River entrance, silent for long moments, then suddenly bent to nibble her earlobe, eyes flowing like water.

“A’Mei, look,” he suddenly pointed ahead cheerfully, “that’s the telegraph company’s barge. That copper wire can reach Hong Kong—do you believe it?”

Lin Yuchan stepped into Shanghai port with heavy thoughts, bid Su Minguan farewell, and called a wheelbarrow.

First, get these eight girls to the dormitories.

Rong Hong’s thirty boys were “government-sponsored students,” each budgeted ten thousand taels from customs foreign tax allocations. The boys now lived in Guangfangyuan’s student dormitories with stationery, new clothes, and shoes provided.

Lin Yuchan’s “self-funded girls” were much more modest. She roughly calculated—supporting fifteen people studying in America cost at least four thousand taels annually.

Enough to buy a Yau Ma Tei street!

No choice. She’d undertaken this—must see it through, crying if necessary.

Economizing started now. Forget carriages—hire economical wheelbarrows.

Fortunately, the girls were all from destitute families, already dazzled by the bustling world with minimal living standard requirements. They enjoyed the wheelbarrow ride, shyly asking Lin Yuchan, “Madam, where will we live?”

“Hongkou has female worker dormitories—squeeze in there first.”

Originally dormitories Lin Yuchan rented for Aunt Hong and her self-combing sisters. Later, word spread and more Lingnan self-combing women came to Shanghai’s mills and factories in groups. When Shanghai land prices were depressed, Lin Yuchan simply rented entire shikumen building complexes, subletting cheaply to migrant working women as collective affordable housing.

Self-combing women set up shrines and ancestral tablets there, sometimes spontaneously gathering to play cards, chat, and speak hometown dialects.

At the dormitory entrance, Lin Yuchan was shocked.

A group of self-combing women surrounded the entrance, shouting noisily. Someone lay on the ground in the middle, blood visible.

A fat middle-aged man with several burly thugs aggressively approached, beating heads with big clubs, roaring: “I’ll teach you to cause trouble! Beat them all!”

Lin Yuchan felt dazed, stunned for a long moment.

Self-combing women were among the most peaceful groups—what had they done to provoke this?

She turned to the Po Leung Kuk girls: “Stay put!”

Rushing forward herself, fumbling for her money pouch while shouting: “Misunderstanding! Tell me what’s wrong, I…”

Thud!

A big club struck her head!

The thugs saw another cart of women and assumed they were also troublemakers, beating them indiscriminately. Lin Yuchan dodged frantically, running a few steps before a fat foot tripped her messily. Everything went black, ears were ringing.

“All troublemakers! Teach them harsh lessons!”

As the club struck again, someone threw themselves over Lin Yuchan, taking the blow on their back.

“Little sister, run! This isn’t your business!”

After beating chaotically for a while, the thugs vented their anger and left whistling. Lin Yuchan groggily got up.

Five or six self-combing women were injured. Another lay roadside, life uncertain.

Aunt Hong had blocked a blow for Lin Yuchan, painfully arched and motionless, blood seeping from her back.

Po Leung Kuk girls were silent as cicadas.

Lin Yuchan’s eyes suddenly moistened, ordering the Po Leung Kuk girls: “Help the injured inside first.”

Then to several stunned self-combing women: “Get a doctor! I’ll pay!”

The last three words were essential. Otherwise, these frugal, hardworking women would endure any injuries or illnesses themselves, not buying a penny’s worth of medicine.

Lin Yuchan bent down, struggling to support Aunt Hong on her shoulder. Several people helped clumsily, placing her on a bed.

“What happened?” Lin Yuchan dabbed Aunt Hong’s forehead with a handkerchief, asking tremblingly: “I was only gone a few days. Who did you provoke? Where are those thugs from? Who were they after?”

This group of self-combing women were her earliest close sisters who’d shared hardships. Whoever bullied them, Lin Yuchan thought, would not have a good time!

The group of self-combing women spoke angrily: “All that evil supervisor ‘Kong the Skin-Stripper,’ harming our sisters. We went for justice but got beaten instead!”

Except for Aunt Hong and a few others employed by Boya Company, the rest had limited qualifications and ambitions, mostly content working at mills. Foreign mills were hard work—ten hours minimum daily. Slightly substandard work meant wage deductions. Sometimes when female workers were injured by machinery, not only did they not get medical expenses, but missed work was deducted.

But the female workers were accustomed to hardship at home and didn’t consider this exploitation. At least working for foreigners paid well, required no serving people or learning skills—just being cautious and working early to late daily earned hard money.

Though bitter, everyone held back tears, gritted teeth, day after day, consuming youth before machines, fearing poor performance meant dismissal and only returning home to farm and marry.

Previously, when female workers had industrial accidents or unfair treatment, if Lin Yuchan heard about it, she’d intervene with the mills to negotiate some compensation.

But according to the female workers, this incident was major.

Mills always had “body search systems” to prevent workers from smuggling. After daily work, female workers had to strip to their undergarments for thorough searches by search matrons before leaving.

Since this was a foreign custom, female workers endured it, with just brief humiliation.

But recently at “Dafeng Mill,” the search matron died of illness, so temporarily, a male supervisor handled “body searches.”

The supervisor was delighted, naturally taking advantage of or targeting female workers he disliked. Anyone who dared refuse—one word from the supervisor meant dismissal tomorrow.

Female workers dared not lose their jobs, suffering silently, undressing before men. The supervisor thus earned the nickname “Kong the Skin-Stripper”—a double entendre showing extreme unpopularity.

Days later, female worker Wu Juemei took some discarded waste thread from machinery, planning to mend clothes at home. Kong the Skin-Stripper spotted this small action. He insisted on hands-on searching. Wu Juemei couldn’t tolerate it and argued with Kong the Skin-Stripper. He used obscene language to shift blame, taking advantage of the situation to molest her while finding half a tael of thread.

Capitalists couldn’t tolerate such transgression. The comprador ordered the disheveled Wu Juemei pushed outside for public display, chest hung with the thread she’d “stolen,” attracting many onlookers.

Wu Juemei had been self-combing since her youth, never touched by men, couldn’t bear such humiliation. In an impulse, she crashed her head against the mill entrance and died.

Hearing this, the mill comprador threw out ten taels silver as funeral compensation, then called body collectors to destroy evidence.

Fellow female workers were outraged, protecting their sister’s body, beating the mill’s iron gates, demanding justice.

Beaten out by compradors and lackeys with big clubs, pursued to dormitories with threats of harsh lessons.

After hearing everyone’s chaotic accounts, Lin Yuchan felt like an alchemy furnace in her heart, ready to explode with rage.