Lin Yuchan’s face alternated between azure and pale. Actually, she had sensed it coming and had originally wanted to slip away quickly, but unexpectedly changing shoes had delayed her so long that now she could barely move, finding it difficult even to say another word. He even presumed she had an urgent need to urinate, which made her so angry that her breathing quickened and her lower abdomen felt even more painfully distended.

They had known each other for so long, yet in his eyes, she was still just a little brat who couldn’t hold her bladder.

For a moment, she didn’t know how to explain: “I’m not… I think I…”

He pressed: “What’s going on?”

Lin Yuchan gritted her teeth: “I’ve been eating too much these past few months!”

Su Minguan’s expression became complex, and needless to say, his thoughts had wandered far astray.

Lin Yuchan’s words were completely correct. The previous Lin Ba’mei’s body had been full of problems, all caused by starvation. Genetically, she was still a normal girl after all, and the reason her menarche had been so delayed was that her body fat percentage was too low. These past few months, Lin Yuchan had been frantically supplementing her nutrition, putting some flesh on her bones, so what was meant to come naturally came.

Wasn’t it indeed brought on by eating?

She had originally prepared various coping materials in her dormitory, but who knew that tonight’s shock would trigger an unannounced visit from Aunt Flo, who never gives advance notice.

And it was a vengeful visit at that. The human body is like a machine – she had repaired it, oiled it, and now it was running at full capacity with tremendous vigor, as if trying to make up for all the pain she had missed over the past few years in one go.

Fortunately, she was familiar with this sensation and didn’t panic, but watching her health bar plummet was still quite annoying.

In her previous life, she wouldn’t have minded discussing menstruation with male classmates – something like “I’m not feeling well today, requesting leave from PE class” – everyone understood what that meant.

But considering this person’s “historical limitations,” despite his unconventional nature, Lin Yuchan decided to spare him, lest his worldview shatter again. Besides, he might not understand much anyway.

Lin Yuchan clutched her stomach and crouched down, saying breathlessly: “If you want to help me, boil me some water, find some clean towels, then get as far away as possible, lock the door for me, and let me rest alone.”

The all-capable Helmsman Su, despite having a heart with seven clever chambers, could usually guess someone’s eighteen generations of ancestors from a single sentence, but this time he had stumbled into a rare knowledge blind spot. This girl was practically bristling with anger – if he pressed further, she’d probably kick him.

He obediently shut his mouth and pointed upstairs, meaning to go up.

The shop didn’t have what she needed. Traditional commercial buildings had shops, warehouses, and workshops downstairs, with living quarters for the owner or apprentices upstairs.

Former Green Gang boss Chu Nanyun owned a luxurious suite on the third floor, complete with a stove and cooking facilities. Su Minguan picked her up and half-carried, half-dragged her up there.

He still heard her grumbling protests from under his armpit: “Don’t want to go to someone else’s room, it’s dirty.”

He found it amusing. Was she a princess? When she worked as a servant girl before, he hadn’t seen her be so particular.

But he still went to the trouble of laying out fresh bed sheets. She curled up and played dead.

Su Minguan didn’t idle. After settling Lin Yuchan, he searched the room and found a package of cloud-slice cakes, casually stuffing some in his mouth to satisfy his sweet tooth – he’d been deprived lately. He also found several hundred silver dollars and some drafts, which he took with him.

Then he locked the door to the third-floor stairway and hurried down to the warehouse. The newly subdued underlings had finished their work and were still waiting respectfully.

With Chu Nanyun’s fate uncertain, they had to eliminate all threats. He ordered, “Send people to search along the Suzhou River banks. If he’s dead, fine. If he’s alive, kill him on sight.”

The group had just sworn allegiance to their new boss during a time of uncertainty; moreover, many only feared his gun and had joined purely for self-preservation. They had no objection to being asked to do some cleaning, but when asked to hunt their former master, many showed reluctance.

Su Minguan’s eyes swept over them, observing each person’s expression, then said: “This is dangerous work, so naturally there’s compensation. Those willing to go will each receive five silver dollars. Whoever brings back Chu Nanyun’s corpse gets an additional ten.”

If Chu Nanyun heard these words, all three of his eyebrows would twist with rage simultaneously.

When power changes hands, being a gang boss carries risks: one day you’re bullying men and women, dividing stolen goods, but once you fall, someone occupies your house, eats your food, sleeps in your bed, disciplines your underlings, and uses your years of accumulated wealth to put a bounty on your head.

Sure enough, when the silver dollars appeared, the underlings’ attitudes completely changed. They looked at each other, and several immediately accepted the assignment with pleasure.

Gangs also had their hierarchies. Everyone lived by violence, risking their lives on knife’s edge to make money, with bosses eating meat and lackeys drinking soup – hardly fair.

Today’s new boss was generous with money, and many finally felt genuinely convinced, saying one after another: “The Hongmen brothers are truly righteous. When Boss Chu wanted to establish his faction, we advised him for ages. Today… sigh, he brought this on himself.”

Su Minguan sneered inwardly. Money that came free was naturally easy to spend.

But having the boss personally distribute wages was somewhat undignified. He suddenly thought it would be good to have an accountant…

Miss Lin would be a good candidate. Unfortunately, given her sense of justice, she probably wouldn’t want to get involved in this business.

At the same time, he was somewhat alarmed. At this rate of spending, Chu Nanyun’s “inheritance” wouldn’t last long.

And if he continued following Heaven and Earth Society principles, stopping all activities that bullied the weak, “Yixing Shipping” would probably soon be operating at a loss.

But people still had to eat. To mobilize this rabble of ruffians and scoundrels, besides enticing them with profit, what else could be done?

Disband?

Shanghai was only so big, and various criminal forces had long since divided up the territory. If Yixing Shipping disbanded, others would naturally move in to fill the vacuum.

By then, his hopes of escaping unscathed would likely become mere fantasy.

Chu Nanyun would not be the last gang leader to fall.

He rallied his spirits and called the remaining underlings one by one for questioning, gradually sketching out each person’s temperament, abilities, trustworthiness, and how black their hearts were…

Then he tailored his lectures accordingly. The leadership techniques learned from Senior Jin Lanhe were being tested for the first time, with surprisingly good results.

He had once thought he’d never need to use these tricks. He had originally thought he’d spend his life properly doing business in Guangzhou, saving money, and at most reopening Xingrui Trading House as his greatest life goal.

How had he somehow inexplicably gotten himself into this situation?

The pampered young master who had “learned everything as a child” felt confused about life for the first time.

The night watch drum sounded the hour of chou, when the night was at its darkest, and Su Minguan finally grew tired.

Tomorrow, he still couldn’t relax – there was still a pile of aftermath to handle.

Every day thereafter, he couldn’t relax.

He had to adapt to this kind of life and had to quickly restore regular sleeping habits.

He arranged for the underlings to rest and take turns standing guard. He stayed in the hall, eyes closed, but unable to sleep.

After a moment’s hesitation, he still went up to the third floor, unlocked the door with the key, and lit a small lamp.

The little girl had already tidied herself up and was still curled in the same position, sleeping deeply, her chest rising and falling slowly. One hand supported her cheek, hiding most of her face. The other hand hung over the bed’s edge, fingertips resting on the thick slate-colored bed board, appearing pale and delicate.

She showed no worry about the numerous thugs in the dock warehouse – perhaps she was worried, but was just too tired, with exhaustion overwhelming fear.

Either way, it meant her trust in him was extraordinary.

A warm feeling flashed through Su Minguan’s heart. He took out the remaining cloud-slice cakes from his pocket, rewrapped them carefully, and gently placed them by her pillow.

The bed was one of those wide canopy beds. She found Chu Nanyun’s belongings disgusting and refused to sleep properly, only occupying a small corner by the moon gate – if you didn’t look carefully, you’d think she was just a large pillow. He had found clean bedding from the wardrobe, but she also found it dirty and firmly refused to use it, piling it all at her feet, only covering herself with her cotton jacket, hugging her arms, her lips somewhat pale.

Su Minguan muttered quietly: “So particular.”

He still took off his outer jacket, checked that it had no bloodstains, and carefully covered her with it, wrapping it around her cotton jacket, tucking the hem under her waist, bundling her up like a Teochew dumpling with thin skin and plenty of filling.

“She shouldn’t mind this one,” he thought, “she snuggled against it when I held her.”

His peripheral vision caught her face hidden in her palm, eyelashes sweeping across her eye sockets, quiet as a painting.

Only then did he realize how much she had changed during this time.

He had thought he’d picked up a withered little grass from a mass grave, with survival entirely up to fate; who would have expected that the little grass, upon encountering a few drops of water, not only took root and lived, but grew full leaves, and deep within those leaves had even quietly budded flowers.

He remembered that when she first opened her eyes from the brink of death, hadn’t her eyes also been full of confusion?

She knew how to save up capital for herself. Where was his capital?

Su Minguan moved over a stool, sat beside the bed, and gently placed her small hand back under the covers.

There was plenty of space on the bed. He spread out a cloth, drew the crooked pistol from his waist, removed the jammed bullet, checked the remaining two, then produced a screwdriver from his palm and began disassembling it piece by piece, seriously repairing it.

Gradually, his mind emptied of all distracting thoughts.

Lin Yuchan opened her eyes. Dawn hadn’t broken yet, but thin light seeped through the curtains.

Turning her head, a cold gun muzzle was pointed at her neck!

She was instantly scared into hemorrhaging, rolling up in a somersault and nearly falling off.

Looking again, the gun was loosely held in someone’s hand. The thick, soft bedding created waves when she jumped. The gun handle slipped out, but the person didn’t move.

Su Minguan sat on a stool with his upper body leaning on the bed, pillowing his head on his arm in deep sleep, his posture very relaxed, like a student dozing off during study hall.

His eyebrows and eyelashes fluttered slightly, the lines of his profile soft and peaceful.

He was startled awake by the movement beside him. Before opening his eyes, his fingers closed around the gun. His left hand immediately reached for the bed’s edge—

He touched a thin, cool wrist.

“Young Master,” Lin Yuchan withdrew her hand from his palm, firmly gripping the three bullets in her hand, saying quietly, “It’s dawn, time to be a good person.”

Only then did he open his eyes, looking at her. Suddenly, his ears turned slightly red as he lazily explained: “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

Then he showed off the gun to her: “Look, I fixed it.”

Lin Yuchan had no idea how the gun had been broken and could only perfunctorily praise it a couple of times, then got out of bed and put on her cotton jacket.

“I need to go back to the dormitory to pack. You keep resting and stay safe.”

Fortunately it was her first time – much thunder but little rain, not much blood loss, and her body felt mostly refreshed. But she still needed to get back and rest quickly.

Su Minguan was a bit stunned, rubbing his sleepy eyes. How could she just leave after sleeping, not even bothering with pleasantries?

He had spent the night sitting on a cold stool, feeling like all his joints had rusted, aching everywhere, as if he’d aged sixty years prematurely.

Seeing her get out of bed, he rolled onto it without care, spreading his limbs in a big stretch.

“A’Mei,” he said, hands pillowed behind his neck, watching Lin Yuchan fiddle with the door lock, speaking leisurely, “There are Yixing Shipping’s black account books on the desk, plus a list of merchants they’ve extorted. I checked – the cash in the safe matches the books.”

Lin Yuchan turned back: “Why are you telling me this?”

Of course, he was too embarrassed to say it was to make her stay, so he said more tactfully: “I mean, we can only keep half the shipping company’s people. At least those addicted to opium need to be gotten rid of somehow. Even so, the cash probably won’t last a month.”

Lin Yuchan somewhat understood his meaning and smiled: “So?”

Su Minguan was so frustrated that his teeth itched. He was practically writing “help me” on his face, and this dead girl was playing dumb!

He had to abandon his lazy posture, jump out of bed, stride over to her, and deliberately block her path to the stairs.

“Leave a bit later, I’ll treat you to tea.”

Lin Yuchan regretfully pointed out: “Shanghai doesn’t have the custom of morning tea.”

Su Minguan’s face darkened. He’d been in Shanghai for over a month, with his activities limited to a few boats, never having seen the foreign concessions – truly pitiful.

Thinking this way, she couldn’t bear to shut him down completely: she hadn’t even settled her livelihood yet, and had no time to risk her neck helping him run a gang.

She thought for a moment and smiled: “Hongshun Hall’s Jin Lanhe, sworn brothers in the peach garden across the four seas – if you’re not comfortable with this life of commanding hundreds, you could go back to Jardine Matheson & Co. Just say you had a serious illness…”

You’re so capable, figure it out yourself!

Her words stirred his pride. He slightly curved his lips, turned to take the half package of cloud-slice cakes from the pillow, and tossed it into her arms.

He said: “How long has it been since you’ve eaten? Have something on the way.”

Lin Yuchan caught it, then heard him say: “Today is New Year’s Eve.”

She made an “mm” sound, inexplicably feeling melancholy.

It should be a day for family reunions and welcoming the new year. Here she was, challenging hell mode in the Qing Dynasty.

And carrying a continuous bleeding debuff.

Then she thought that for people from over a hundred years ago, this day held even greater significance.

Young Master Su, orphaned and alone, was also a stranger in a foreign land with no relatives, no warm, festively decorated home.

Only the hot potato of Yixing Shipping, a group of ruffians who appeared loyal, but each harbored their schemes – one wrong step and he’d be crossing the river on a clay Buddha.

Just as she was thinking this, she heard him say: “Yesterday I rewarded them with silver dollars and sent the workers and gang members home for New Year’s. Tonight the shipping company should be empty – I’ll be eating New Year’s dinner alone.”

He spoke with calm composure, wearing a slightly self-mocking smile. Lin Yuchan’s eyes grew misty, suddenly remembering how he had carried her to safety, been hit by a “mud bullet,” and lay unconscious in Aunt Hong’s boat – he looked just as lonely and pitiful then as now.

She forgot how ruthless his methods had been yesterday, feeling only heartache.

Su Minguan smiled: “Could my fellow Cantonese A’Mei honor me by spending New Year’s together? I’m not familiar with this place – you choose the location.”

Of course, Lin Yuchan didn’t want to spend New Year’s alone either. She immediately agreed, smiling: “Five o’clock, I’ll come find you.”

Before returning to her dormitory, Lin Yuchan made a special detour to check on Boya Trading House.

Yesterday she’d been in a daze and only realized after waking that she seemed to have stood up the scholarly Rong Hong. Moreover, their original agreement was that if she didn’t return after curfew, he would report to the authorities. But last night the police station was completely quiet, as peaceful as if on holiday.

Lin Yuchan knew she was still too young after all. Since Yixing Shipping had been running rampant for so long, they were certainly “registered and filed” with the police – they wouldn’t come investigating at the slightest disturbance.

So Rong Hong’s police report had probably sunk without a trace. Fortunately.

But since Rong Hong had kindly taken on the task and risked danger with her, she had to go apologize.

Walking into Saigon Road, she discovered the trading house’s main gate was tightly locked, with several suitcases stacked by the door. An umbrella was set up in the garden, under which Rong Hong lay reading a book and smoking a cigar, eyes vacant, not minding the cold wind.

“Miss Lin,” seeing her, he first jumped down from the lounge chair and ran over, apologetically greeting her, “I worried about you all night. I’m glad you returned safely. It seems you were right – these scoundrels do indeed have honor among thieves, haha – is your hostage friend still safe?”

Lin Yuchan quickly said everything was fine, then looked closely and got a shock.

The usually gentle and refined great philanthropist scholar today had a bruised and swollen face, black eyes, messy hair, and even the fingers holding his cigar were red.

“Mr. Rong, you…”

Rong Hong curled his fingers and put his hands behind his back: “It’s nothing, I’ll be fine in a few days.”

She persisted: “Who hit you? Is it related to me?”

“Not really,” Rong Hong finally told her, saying indignantly, “Yesterday when I was waiting for you, I was sitting nicely on a bench reading when some foreign police came at I don’t know what hour, saying there was a curfew and insisting I leave – you know, the concession’s curfew mainly targets unemployed vagrants and ruffians; proper Chinese and foreigners aren’t restricted, otherwise how would foreigners dance every night? – Normally, I would have left, but yesterday, I was thinking I still had to wait for you, so I explained a couple of sentences and showed them my passport. Who knew they’d punch me right away, pointing at my nose, saying that as long as someone had yellow skin and slanted eyes, regardless of nationality, they’d control them. I got so angry I just exploded…”

Lin Yuchan gasped: “You should have run quickly.”

Foreign police in the concessions swaggered around every day, punching and kicking any Chinese person who displeased them, with no one daring to complain.

Rong Hong puffed out his chest: “I fought back.”

Then he seemed to savor the memory, curling up the corners of his mouth in a smile: “Those foreign devils probably never encountered a Chinese person who wouldn’t obey. They were stunned and took several hits from me before thinking to fight back. I was outnumbered and got beaten up – but it was satisfying! Don’t worry, I only spent half an hour in jail before friends got me out, and several police officers even apologized to me! Look.”

On the suitcases lay a fresh-ink copy of the North China Herald. He pointed to it.

“You can read English, right?”

Lin Yuchan took it and quickly scanned where his finger pointed—

“Last night, a Chinese gentleman was unreasonably harassed by police, leading to a fight and arrest, causing controversy. The American Consul called on the concession authorities to reflect on their treatment of Chinese people, saying they should not damage the reputation of civilized nations through crude behavior, harming Chinese-foreign relations…”

“Heh,” she couldn’t help laughing, “Typical bullies who pick on the weak – once they get hit back, they know to reflect.”

Rong Hong took a strong drag of his cigar and shook his head with a smile.

“But I’m still not entirely satisfied. Chinese gentleman – listen to that phrase, how dignified! I used to be smugly pleased by it, but after being back in the country for a while, I realize that no matter how well you imitate their dress and speech, you can’t change your skin color. You think you’ve integrated into their circle and can leave those dirty, crude compatriots on the ground, but in that circle you’re always second-class.”

Lin Yuchan’s heart raced as she quietly fanned the flames: “Exactly, only when the country is strong will others truly respect you.”

This was a lesson distilled from over a century of bloody modern history for posterity. It seemed like common sense in the twenty-first century, but going back to this time of initial awakening, it was something Qing subjects had slowly learned through countless beatings.

Because most officials and intellectuals of this time still understood international relations as they had in the era of “Yanzi’s Mission to Chu” – it didn’t matter if your country was weak, as long as you were reasonable, disciplined, and cultured, held the moral high ground, and used clever eloquence to leave the other ruler speechless, you could make them humiliate themselves and thereafter treat you with new respect, never daring to threaten you again.

Dreams contain everything.

Lin Yuchan put down the newspaper, looked at the suitcases below, then at the big lock hanging on the trading house door, curiously asking: “Are you going on a long trip?”

Rong Hong nodded with a smile: “There are too many injustices in the concession. Since the clerks have all gone home for New Year’s, I’m going traveling to clear my head.”

Lin Yuchan said “oh,” thinking to herself that being able to just leave, stop business whenever he wanted, Rong Hong didn’t treat money like money.

She was a bit curious where he was going, but with modern thinking, she didn’t want to pry into others’ privacy, so she smiled and was about to bid him farewell when her gaze suddenly fell on the letter in his hand.

A gust of wind blew past, making the bright yellow paper flutter, and the large characters on the envelope jumped into her eyes – she hadn’t meant to look.

“Heavenly Father, Heavenly Brother, Heavenly King, Long Live…”

She immediately felt her eyes flash blind, covering her pounding heart, speechless.

Though she couldn’t see the specific signature, besides the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, what other organization could arrange these Chinese characters in this combination?

Seeing her gaze, Rong Hong quickly stuffed the letter under his bottom.

Lin Yuchan smiled awkwardly: “I already saw it.”

Rong Hong’s expression froze, then he forced a smile: “This is the concession, I’m an American citizen – corresponding with the Taiping Army isn’t a crime, is it?”

Lin Yuchan quickly reassured him: “Same here, I helped Heaven and Earth Society rebels escape from prison.”

Since everyone had dirt on each other, they could continue chatting pleasantly.

“My old friend Hong Rengang invited me to visit Nanjing.” Rong Hong lowered his voice, his eyes excited, “He’s already sent me a Taiping Heavenly Kingdom passport – I can travel freely throughout their territory. I’ve already booked passage and leave tomorrow morning.”

Lin Yuchan found this educational. Her first reaction was: “The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom issues passports?”

She hadn’t seen photos in history books – they must have been lost in later warfare, which was lamentable.

“Miss Lin, the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom! How many people want to see this paradise but can’t? Haha! Is there anything special you’d like me to bring back?”