Lin Yuchan struggled to open her eyes. Turning her head, the clean white down pillow had a deep impression, soaked with sweat.

She thought she had only slept for a few hours. Looking at the calendar on the wall, two days had already passed.

At first, she thought it was the lingering effects of anesthesia. After a while, she realized she was simply exhausted…

After inhaling the anesthetic, it still hurt, but not as desperately as she had imagined. With her constitution accustomed to hardship, it was on the edge of bearable. She didn’t remember crying out loudly. She remained conscious enough to provide feedback on pain levels and anesthetic effects. Dr. Kohler even praised her…

Right, these past two days it seemed people had indeed come and gone, washing her, talking to her…

She was too tired to remember the details.

She quickly gave herself an intelligence and memory test, calculating exchange rates, recalling names, and found she hadn’t become stupid. Nineteenth-century anesthetic technology was quite reliable after all.

Science truly saves humanity, she thought. She’d send this hospital a silk banner later.

After resting another two days, she could probably be discharged. Then she’d take a good bath and reward herself with a Boston lobster feast…

After planning happily for a while, she suddenly remembered:

“Hey, where’s my baby?”

It seemed like she had given birth to a baby here!

Lin Yuchan broke out in cold sweat. Looking around the ward, it was clean and tidy, with only her.

The door opened. Huang Hu entered wearing a student nurse uniform, beaming with a smile.

“Sister, you’re awake? Let me wipe your face.”

Lin Yuchan grabbed her shoulders and shook, asking: “Where’s my baby??”

Huang Hu suppressed a laugh, looking toward the door. Su Minguan carefully poked his head in, saw she was awake, his eyes crinkling with a smile, and strode in.

Lin Yuchan interrogated him: “Where did you take my baby! Where did you go?”

Su Minguan set down the basket in his hands and laughed continuously.

“A’Mei. You look much better.”

Then he bent down to kiss her, using a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her temples. Huang Hu had already run out, leaving behind a washbasin.

Lin Yuchan ignored him, staring fixedly at that basket.

…So small.

Is it alive?

Seeing her bewildered expression, Su Minguan laughed lovingly and lifted the basket’s cover, taking out the little thing inside.

His posture was very skilled, just like when he first held the soft Lin Feilun ten years ago.

“Sorry, took her out for a little while.” He said, picking up a towel to wipe her face. “Just took her to the doctor for examination, checking breathing, heartbeat, and weight. Chen Lanbin came to New York on business and insisted on visiting, bringing some gifts. Then he urged me to complete the birth certificate so he could take it back to the consulate and register her in China’s household records.”

Lin Yuchan listened absently, humming acknowledgment, her gaze never leaving her baby.

So tiny, wrinkled, pale, sleeping with eyes closed. Long eyelashes, faintly showing double eyelids.

But still clearly Asian features, no worry about taking the wrong baby.

First glance ugly, second glance cute, third glance her heart melted completely, feeling the baby was even more endearing than Su Minguan.

She couldn’t help smiling foolishly, kissing that soft-as-tofu little face, suddenly remembering something: “Boy or girl?”

Su Minguan froze. “Wait.”

He was too excited when she was born and forgot after hearing…

He quickly searched through his leather bag, finding the freshly made birth certificate copy.

“Girl,” he confirmed with a grin, checking the black and white text on the document. “Nineteen and a half inches, six pounds seven ounces…”

Lin Yuchan was disappointed: “A bit light.”

Su Minguan laughed at her insatiable appetite. Given her build, such a big baby was already quite remarkable. She couldn’t compare with tall, robust Westerners.

Lin Yuchan browsed the birth certificate, seeing her daughter’s name.

Lam Yau-Wa. Lin Youhua.

In front of Hanlin scholar Chen Lanbin, Su Minguan was too embarrassed to use those dramatic, domineering names he’d chosen from the dictionary. He went with her preference after all. The official applauded the choice, saying that when the child was older, if they didn’t mind, he could help choose a courtesy name.

Lin Yuchan raised her eyelids and asked: “Surname Lin?”

Su Minguan looked at her very aggrievedly. “You forgot, Chen Lanbin, I always thought my surname was Lin. With him present, what could I do? Say I’m a wanted criminal?”

She laughed foolishly at the ceiling: “Heaven’s will. No backing out later.”

Actually Chen Lanbin couldn’t read English either. Whatever was written on the birth certificate, the old gentleman couldn’t understand. Having the child not take the father’s surname, although Su Minguan didn’t feel he’d lost anything, was still too unconventional. Su Minguan deliberately acted like “I had no choice” to prevent her from feeling burdened.

Lin Yuchan remembered something and said: “Younger sister…”

Cantonese people habitually called the youngest daughter in the family “younger sister.” But Su Minguan gently covered her mouth with his index finger, correcting:

“A’Nv. Our A’Nv.”

Seeing her confusion, he smiled again: “One younger sister in my family is enough.”

She turned her head and laughed. This man’s thought process was truly unpredictable. Whatever he wanted.

His hand was firm and warm. Half her face was immersed in that warmth, her whole being submerged in fatigue. So comfortable she felt drowsy again. She vaguely felt him playing with her hair with his fingertips, kisses light as nothing falling on her forehead, a voice gentle as water saying: “You worked hard, A’Mei.”

In September 1873, all Chinese students passed their respective entrance exams, entered several local middle schools, and began classes.

Schools sent back report cards. The children’s grades were excellent, they quickly overcame the language barrier, and their compositions were even more fluent than American children of the same age, amazing their teachers.

The second batch of students successfully arrived in San Francisco and were processing entry procedures. Schools had already sent invitation letters welcoming them to apply.

Lin Yuchan felt as if she had suffered a serious illness, relying entirely on rest day and night and care from those around her to gradually recover. The dullness of mind and body gradually faded, slowly regaining her former energy.

But whenever she held her precious A’Nv in her arms, feeling that connected warmth and heartbeat, watching those delicate features gradually develop, she felt it was all so worthwhile.

She began tending flowers and plants in the yard, pushing the baby carriage out for walks, visiting Rong Hong and Mark Twain’s homes.

However, when she opened memos from months ago, seeing a string of to-dos, then looking at the mountain of accumulated letters from recent months, she still felt somewhat overwhelmed.

The baby was so adorable. Work was so boring.

She liked handling things personally, and caring for children was no exception. Although Su Minguan also helped, he couldn’t take everything on. He suggested finding a long-term maid or nanny, but Lin Yuchan shook her head at every suggestion.

“I don’t trust my baby with others.”

With nineteenth-century childcare concepts, educating others was too tiring; better she do it herself.

Su Minguan suggested switching to formula—at this time, formula was a trendy product with overwhelming advertising claiming formula was more nutritious than breast milk, the crystallization of technology, and ideal infant food.

Lin Yuchan shook her head: “Formula nutrition is incomplete, my baby needs breast milk.”

She had already adapted to the various backward inconveniences of nineteenth-century life, but given the option, she would never let her child fall behind at the starting line.

Sometimes, just staring at that increasingly beautiful little face, waiting an hour to catch a smile, pacing half the night to soothe crying, was sweet as honey.

Lin Yuchan vaguely felt this wasn’t normal. A little voice in her head jumped out, reminding her this was hormones at work. In primitive savage times, new mothers had to focus entirely on newborns, forgetting themselves, not fearing hardship or fatigue, to maximize species survival and genetic continuation… Groups that didn’t care for offspring had all gone extinct…

She understood the logic. But… human babies were truly captivating!

Especially children carrying her and her lover’s bloodline. Eyes like hers, mouth like his, and like Su Minguan, a round, pleasant-to-touch back of the head. Though personality and aptitude couldn’t be seen yet, she would surely become like him in the future—a pretty little girl with the power to shatter the old world but retaining a trace of mischief in her heart…

Thick memos spread on the table, unread for two weeks, covered with flower petals from outside the window.

Lin Yuchan began feeling guilty, ashamed of her procrastination. But when Su Minguan asked, she stubbornly said she was fine. Even with some defensive irritation, reminding him not to control her.

This was her problem; she had to solve it herself.

She also understood why so many modern career women would willingly return to family life. In such hormonally unstable vulnerable moments, when her genetic instincts commanded her to care for her baby wholeheartedly, if her husband indulgently said “stop working, I’ll support you,” she could easily soften and close her eyes, abandoning everything.

Lin Yuchan forced herself to calm down and organize all unopened letters. She hadn’t opened two when Youhua cried. The crying sounded like a kitten.

She sprang up like a spring, checking the clock: “Hungry!”

After feeding the baby, she was exhausted again, and she slept until completely confused.

After waking, her sense of defeat was unprecedentedly huge. Another wasted day.

She used to be a workaholic even when sick, how could she neglect public affairs for private ones? Had she regressed with age?

Where had that girl gone who held fast to green mountains, whom no adversity could defeat?

Suddenly recalling embarrassing incidents from her teens: being calculated by shrewd businessmen, cursed with foul language by strangers, thrown out of Standard Chartered Bank, fired by Rong Hong…

The feeling of grievance spread like fishing nets, overwhelming her entire body. The man beside her held her against his chest, and she turned away, tears dropping onto the pillow.

…

Waking the next day, her first reaction was checking the clock: “Late! A’Nv!”

The room unusually had two layers of curtains, dark as winter dawn, which let her sleep until ten o’clock. Looking again, the lace-embroidered crib was gone. Lin Yuchan’s heart skipped a beat.

Rushing downstairs, she saw Su Minguan already seated at the desk, turning to look at her, index finger to his lips, shushing.

In the crib beside him lay her child quietly. The little face was peaceful, sleeping soundly.

Lin Yuchan was shocked: “You…”

“She’s eaten. Knowing you don’t trust formula, I had the nearby farm deliver fresh goat milk, boiled and cooled. She liked it very much, ate more than usual.” Su Minguan held a small paper knife, speaking clearly and logically. “Diaper and clothes changed, bathed according to your method, applied Vaseline. Fell asleep ten minutes ago. Croissants and black tea on the dining table.”

Lin Yuchan slowly relaxed, still incredulous.

These tasks usually felt like warfare, even with both of them. Had he activated some cheat code today?

She noticed something else: “You’re opening letters?”

“Too much backlog, might as well clear some.” He held the knife, lips curved in an almost-smile. “Like this letter from old Zhao, I’d guess it’s mostly resignation…”

Lin Yuchan rushed to the table, somewhat dissatisfied as she protected those letters.

“I… I’ll handle all these. You don’t need to help…”

Halfway through, she guiltily lowered her voice.

This wasn’t the first time she’d said this. But there was too much backlog. In her dozen-plus years in society, she’d never had such a long career gap. Every time she resolved to work, she couldn’t muster the courage or energy.

Su Minguan raised an eyebrow, his water-gentle eyes holding little warmth.

“A’Mei, if you’re tired, rest a few more months. Look at these documents first, sign if needed.”

She glanced again at the baby in the crib, confirming deep sleep, then suspiciously accepted a stack of documents.

All in Su Minguan’s familiar handwriting. Smooth, sharp English, light, elegant small script, but the contents were highly suspicious…

Su Minguan’s expression was cold as he quietly confirmed her suspicions: “Following Hartford mayor’s guidance, thirteen documents total. Sign these, send to different consulates and offices, our marriage certificate will be forever legal everywhere. Miss Lin, sign, I can handle all miscellaneous affairs for you. Trust me, I won’t lose you money.”

Lin Yuchan suddenly bit her lip, pain between her teeth, blood surging momentarily, feeling betrayed.

“I haven’t thought of giving up!” She lowered her voice, gritting her teeth. “I’m just… just a bit tired.”

He nodded, tone pressing: “Sign or not? Some letters can’t wait.”

She slammed the stack of documents back on the table. Did she not see through this provocation?

“Bring them here. I’ll handle it.”

Su Minguan smiled almost imperceptibly, patting an empty stool beside him.

She sat down, feeling dizzy. He waited patiently, picking up those marriage documents, stacking them neatly, glaringly placing them before her.

She defied him, immediately pushing them aside. Several papers floated in the air, landing on the crib’s lace trim.

Lin Youhua turned over, about to cry.

Lin Yuchan’s heart clenched instinctively, wanting to get up and check.

But she held steady. Stubbornly, she didn’t leave the stool. Deliberately ignoring her child for the first time, she felt physiological anxiety, shaking hands, and a sense of collapse.

The newborn cried softly twice, waved her little hands a few times, then fell asleep again.

Su Minguan held her, somewhat smugly announcing his discovery: “See, if you don’t tend to her, she’ll sleep by herself.”

Lin Yuchan thought unconvinced that next time wouldn’t be so lucky.

She took the thickest letter. It was the China Merchants Steam Navigation Company shareholders’ annual report. With a huge official seal, she knew without looking how convoluted the contents would be.

But she was surprised to find the letter had already been opened, edges sharp and neat.

Su Minguan looked back at her frankly, helping her extract the thick bound booklet inside, turning to a certain middle page.

“Reading everything wastes too much time. Just look at the red-circled content.”

Useful information and numbers were already marked out. Exchange rates for various currencies and current interest rates were also noted, clearly at a glance.

Lin Yuchan was stunned.

Looking at other letters, orders, and contracts, all had been opened by him without permission, read, highlighted, and some with his own handling suggestions. As for various newspapers delivered over the month, he had condensed them into thick scrapbooks, similarly circling information-dense paragraphs with a red pen.

Additionally, there were many greeting letters from far and near friends. Some purely ceremonial business letters Su Minguan had already answered for her, keeping copies; others were organized recent invitations, writing invitations from certain publications, cultural salons at certain ladies’ homes, industrial exhibitions in certain places, speeches by certain business magnates…

Already selected and arranged by schedule, with proper replies written, just awaiting her signature.

“Alright.” Seeing her still wanting to check, Su Minguan gently pressed her hand. “Handle this much today. Do you want butter or jam on your bread?”

Lin Yuchan stared blankly at the table full of circles and marks. Suddenly, her vision blurred, she dropped her pen, and threw herself into his arms, crying.

“I, I’m so useless… sob sob… disappointed you…”

Su Minguan said nothing, just silently stroking her hair and temples.

“A’Mei is the most capable girl in the world.” His voice carried laughter, telling her, “The only flaw is being too strong, unwilling to let go of anything.”

“I… sob sob…”

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. Raising children isn’t doing business, never perfect.”

She sobbed, retorting: “I know…”

He didn’t even give birth to or understand. How could she not?

She just felt worthless, needing his hand-holding help to this extent…

“A’Mei, do you remember,” Su Minguan whispered in her ear, “when I dismantled the original Yixing Business Association to raise a hundred thousand taels of silver, I was like a fool, thinking I’d never amount to anything again. If not for your acceptance, keeping a position for me at Boya, letting me have some mundane tasks daily, I… I might not have pulled through.”

Lin Yuchan finally stopped crying, then tears poured out again.

“So,” he kissed her cheek, thumb wiping away scattered tears, “I know. At times like this, you need someone to help, no shame.”

She sobbed and nodded.

“Also…” he lightly kissed her hair, saying somewhat aggrievedly, “taking care of Su Shrimp Girl, you should trust me. I might not do as well as you, but at least I’m better than that great writer, right? You never let me help. What if she doesn’t recognize me later?”

Lin Yuchan laughed through her tears. Compared to Mark Twain’s clumsiness, Su Minguan was practically the universe’s number one model male nanny.

Since Su Minguan had already seen through her predicament, she stopped pretending, wiped her tears, gently thanked him, relaxed her mindset, and began reading the China Merchants annual report.

After reading a few lines, Lin Youhua cried again.

This time truly awake. Newborn sleep was naturally fragmented. Lin Yuchan had rarely had complete rest during this period.

They say baby cries are genetic code, impossible for mothers to ignore.

She immediately broke out in sweat: “Probably wet…”

Su Minguan pressed her down, not letting her move. Then he got up, calmly picked up the baby, changed the diaper, put her in the going-out basket, covered with a cotton cloth.

“Let me take her today, okay?” he said easily. “You said she needs enough sun daily.”

Seeing her vigilant expression, he added: “I promise…”

Thinking about it, what could he promise? Babies were ignorant, like volcanoes ready to erupt, even she as the mother couldn’t always soothe them.

Finally, he could only say: “Promise to bring her back alive.”

Then, under her about-to-go-crazy gaze, he smiled and closed the door, as if just going out for business.

Mother-baby separation. Sharp cries immediately sounded outside.

Lin Yuchan forced herself to stay calm, enduring this painful desensitization process.

Nothing in life was ever smooth. Just as when she first arrived in the Qing Dynasty, full of hope, returning “home,” never expecting what awaited her were opium and indenture contracts.

Just as when she first accepted Rong Hong’s temporary appointment, never expecting that seemingly distant Boya Company would become her life’s wealth and burden.

When she decided to bear this child, her heart held only future and love, never anticipating this harmless little creature would leave her so utterly enchanted.

But she had to break free. Had to overcome billions of years of biological instinct and rediscover her rhythm.

She had taken a detour on life’s journey, entering an unknown world to see scenery, but got trapped in a dark maze. Fortunately, someone waited at the maze’s exit, lighting a beam for her.

Lin Yuchan closed her eyes, took deep breaths, wiped tears from her eyes, adjusted her heartbeat, and began rehabilitation.