Watching those government runners disappear in the distance, Lin Yuchan felt heat radiating from every pore of her body. Her first thought was regret:

She had “spent money to avoid disaster” for nothing! If only she had persisted a bit longer just now!

Her heartbeat became irregular. She looked up at the matron, then at the sedan chair behind her. It was as if thunderous gongs were beating in her ears, making her dizzy.

Mrs. Pan had just finished burning incense and was at her most compassionate moment.

Mrs. Pan had just lost a child, so hearing about an infant miraculously saved touched her heart.

Therefore, she had descended the mountain and come back.

Lin Yuchan warned herself not to get too excited too early.

Seeking quick success would be self-defeating.

Mrs. Pan’s temperament was unknown. Just from her strange odor and undergarments barely visible, if she rashly rushed over and frightened the official’s wife, it would mean wasting this final opportunity.

Lin Yuchan’s teeth chattered from the cold as she tried to calm her breathing, saying to the matron: “This common woman’s appearance is improper and odor unseemly, fearing to startle the lady. Moreover, that infant has already been sent to a doctor for examination and treatment. The lady burns incense with fortune today, this child lives with fortune today—truly fated with the lady. If… if the lady wishes to see her, another day I shall bring her to your residence, where the lady may look her fill.”

The matron’s upturned nostrils lowered somewhat, apparently quite satisfied with her response.

She beckoned, and a maid brought over a cloth bundle, placing it on the ground at a distance.

“Here, a cloak. The lady bestows it upon you. When you come, remember to notify two hours in advance.”

Lin Yuchan was brought back to Shanghai by Aunt Zhou and two maids. That very evening she began running a fever. Her mind filled with bizarre dreams.

Sometimes it was Senior Jin Lanhe’s severed head hanging there, eye sockets crawling with fat maggots; sometimes pigs from Haizhuang Temple with numbered tags on their ears charging down a racetrack; sometimes Young Master Qi Ancheng’s piano automatically playing in Yixing’s warehouse, performing the climax of “The Internationale”; sometimes the Wusong Battery in the reeds, with a giant cannon mounted inside going bang bang bang, thirty-tael silk garments floating in the air being eliminated one by one by that cannon…

Relying on the resistance built up from a year of good eating, she endured for a week and finally passed through the most difficult period, her mind gradually returning to clarity.

She only remembered Aunt Zhou caring for her, hiring a female doctor, and daily feeding her bitter medicine of questionable composition.

Her deep sleep was interrupted. She felt someone supporting her neck, a ceramic cup rim touching her lips.

She said hoarsely, “Aunt Zhou, I don’t want to take medicine…”

Someone chuckled softly, the cup tilting further. Her mouth filled with a clear fragrance.

It was tea. Perfectly prepared Wuyi black tea.

Lin Yuchan’s eyes snapped open. She saw a pair of well-defined male hands with nails trimmed short and clean.

She nearly fainted: “How did you get in…”

“I came to check whether the money I lent out would go down the drain,” Su Minguan said coolly. “Open your mouth.”

Without his saying so, she gulped down the entire cup of tea. The bitterness in her mouth cleared slightly, her throat feeling bright and clear.

Glancing over, she saw Aunt Zhou huffily guarding the doorway. Seeing Lin Yuchan awake, she began complaining: “It’s not that I deliberately let people in, madam. He insisted he was some creditor, sweet-talking his way—hey, young man, you’ve seen she’s fine, don’t keep coming around. We women need to save face!”

Aunt Zhou was still quite dutiful. With a widow’s door inviting gossip, she had originally planned to give this young man a firm rejection—but why she had momentarily lost her wits and let him in, even repeatedly let him in, she found baffling, feeling she must have been hexed.

Su Minguan smiled at her: “Alright, Auntie, if you don’t tell anyone, no one will know I was here.”

When he smiled, he was very amiable. Aunt Zhou unconsciously nodded, feeling that letting him stay a bit longer seemed harmless.

“Shopkeeper Mau came to collect payment and found a general’s lock, thinking you were defaulting. He complained to Yixing, which is how I learned you’d been absent without a reason.” Su Minguan tucked in her blanket corner, saying casually, “A’Mei, you should hire a manager… or supervisor, assistant, whatever. Otherwise, business gets delayed.”

Lin Yuchan’s fever had just broken, but hearing this opening remark made her head steam again, asking breathlessly: “Who else came…”

Su Minguan looked at her with amusement, his eyes indicating the desk by the wall where several account books and journals lay spread out.

“Not much happened. Already took care of everything conveniently. My style might be somewhat different from yours—just don’t have any objections.”

Lin Yuchan felt greatly relieved, quickly expressing her position: “No objections, absolutely no objections.”

Aunt Zhou, seeing they were indeed talking business, felt her doubts fade, asking Lin Yuchan’s opinion: “The medicine is almost ready, I’ll go check the kitchen.”

Lin Yuchan pleaded quietly: “I don’t want to drink it…”

Su Minguan said loudly: “Much obliged.”

Once Aunt Zhou left, he showed his true colors. The commercial fake smile vanished from his lips. Seeing a mat on the floor beside her bed, he simply sat down.

“The maids told me everything,” he said with ill intent, leaning close to her face and whispering, “Let me smell if you still stink.”

Lin Yuchan twisted angrily inward, saying with unyielding integrity: “Stay away from me!”

Whether she still had toilet odor, she didn’t know. What she did know was that she hadn’t bathed or washed her hair for days. Aunt Zhou only wiped her face daily, and at her strong insistence, sometimes additionally wiped her hands and neck.

And wouldn’t let her remove her clothes! Three layers! Said she’d catch a cold!

She was practically fermenting like Beijing douzhir!

Su Minguan teased her: “Can’t do that, I need to care for my shareholder.”

Though he said this, he didn’t move, watching her hide in terror toward the inner part of the bed.

This amused him even more. He turned away, hiding his punchable smile.

Lin Yuchan covered her face with a pillow, complaining to him: “Actually, when I came back that day, if I could have taken a hot bath, nothing would have happened… but they wouldn’t let me. Several people held me down, my clothes were still wet inside, they covered me with big blankets and made me drink ginger water to sweat it out, nearly choked me to death… wuu wuu, I want a hot bath…”

Her bed was high. Su Minguan sat on the floor, his eyes level with the bedding, only seeing a tightly wrapped little bundle bumping up and down like a small snail, quite amusing.

Of course, he wouldn’t find her dirty. When he first found her buried in a pile of corpses, how wretched was her appearance? But because she still had a breath of life, hadn’t he reached down and pulled her out?

The former wealthy young master, spoiled and willful, inexplicably fastidious—if a fly landed on his bedsheets, he’d make a fuss about throwing them away; if servants accidentally touched his snacks, he’d rather go hungry than eat them.

But now, these hands had touched who knows how much mud, struggled through blood and sweat, shared bowls with dock workers. The scars on his body, the calluses on his hands—no amount of bathing could wash them away.

He gently smoothed the coarse cloth bedsheet beneath her, smiling faintly.

This second kind of life hadn’t grown tiresome yet.

If it had been the previous young, wealthy brat, hearing this dirty girl had dared fish things from a toilet, he would have flown into a rage, ordering this girl never to appear before him again.

Now? Thinking carefully about that process, he only felt heartache.

Silly girl.

However, hearing her speak with full vigor and still having the spirit to banter with him, she seemed to be recovering well.

Lin Yuchan suddenly said softly: “Sorry.”

Su Minguan didn’t understand, asking with a smile: “What’s wrong?”

“The clothes you picked for me.” She said gloomily, muffled in her pillow, somewhat embarrassed. “I treasured them, didn’t mean to ruin them on purpose.”

After all, he had spent time accompanying her to choose them, and she had sacrificed them without hesitation, making her seem careless and dismissive, wasting his effort.

Su Minguan laughed in surprise: “What’s the big deal about that?”

Just a set of clothes. He’d grown tired of seeing more luxurious ones as a child.

Besides, she had paid the thirty taels herself. Her feeling bad about her silver wasn’t enough—she was still worried about his feelings.

Lin Yuchan sighed again: “Too bad you didn’t see how I looked wearing them. Really beautiful, and perfectly fitted. I should have taken a photograph, sigh.”

Only after speaking did she realize how ridiculous this sounded. Even the most modern people of this era would have at most two or three photographs in their lifetime. Who would take pictures casually?

Su Minguan’s hand stroking the bedsheet stiffened.

Even taking photographs—so formal. Seemed she liked them.

His earlier comment, “What’s the big deal,” appeared rather thoughtless.

He covered his embarrassment with a smile, saying lightly, “Doesn’t matter, I can imagine.”

After speaking, he deliberately examined her small body wrapped in the quilt. This made Lin Yuchan both angry and amused.

“Alright, alright, stay away from me.”

Just then, the door creaked. Aunt Zhou entered carrying a bowl of black medicinal liquid.

“Drink it while it’s hot.”

Lin Yuchan whimpered and futilely rolled toward the inner part of the bed.

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Drink!”

She didn’t object to Chinese medicine—it was national essence, whether useful or not, it was comforting. But she had accidentally heard her prescription, which seemed to contain quite a few unclear insect and animal excrement components…

This era had no vacuum packaging or sterilization. If she ingested some parasite eggs, her little life would be finished.

These past days, she’d been fighting with Aunt Zhou. The expensive medicine, getting one-tenth off, was good, leaving Aunt Zhou lamenting the waste.

Now seeing her being willful again, Aunt Zhou showed the patience of a maid, coaxing: “This is a thousand-year-old prescription, prescribed by the doctor, won’t cause harm. Madam’s illness isn’t fully gone—if you don’t take this medicine, all previous efforts are wasted.”

Su Minguan, seeing these two about to fight again, gently suggested: “Let me persuade her.”

Aunt Zhou looked suspiciously at this young man. Seeing his dignified appearance, not like a rogue taking advantage, she suddenly had a bold idea—

She pitied Lin Yuchan as a lonely widow and had previously advised her to quickly find a man to depend on, only to be rebuffed and threatened with salary deduction.

Could it be she was duplicitous, stubborn, but soft-eared, and had listened to those words?

Aunt Zhou didn’t know whether to be gratified or aggrieved. Remembering how this young man had persistently and eloquently worn her down for half a day to get in, she suddenly felt everything made sense.

Though entering a woman’s bedroom violated propriety, small households shouldn’t be too particular.

Since ancient times, a maid’s cultivation was to see little, hear little, ask little, everything according to the master’s will. If the master wanted to drive away guests, she’d play the villain; if the master felt romantic stirrings, she’d play matchmaker.

Aunt Zhou said with a beaming smile: “Much obliged then.”

She placed the medicine bowl at the bedside, claiming other business, and left.

Lin Yuchan felt nauseous at the smell, pleading: “Pour it out.”

Su Minguan pulled up a stool to sit beside the bed, looking down at her. The little girl’s eyes were bright and clear, her face white tinged with red, blood color evident—didn’t look feverish, more like the quilt was too thick.

He put on a stern face, asking: “You want Western medicine again?”

He still remembered when he first met her—nearly dead, but with an abnormally clear mind, immediately wanting to go to church, absolutely refusing to see a Chinese doctor.

Not many Chinese people would take Western medicine in this era. Only the most ignorant poor people would sometimes confuse foreigners with bodhisattvas, entire villages converting, kowtowing to images, obeying foreign missionaries absolutely, considering them more sacred than the emperor.

At that time, he thought she was one of these foolish types.

But this impression quickly changed. He discovered this girl had a selective superstition about foreign things. He hadn’t fully figured out the pattern yet.

Hearing “Western medicine,” Lin Yuchan didn’t light up like last time, just smiled: “I’m already well, don’t need medicine.”

Having been in the Qing Dynasty so long, she’d long discovered Western medicine wasn’t omnipotent either. Physiology and chemistry were still groping their way forward, and the Western medical system wasn’t perfect either, with many deadly wolf-like medicines.

However, patients willing to try Western medicine in current China were generally hopeless cases at death’s door. Regardless of taking medicine or not, or what medicine, the outcome was death anyway, so naturally, one couldn’t see any medicinal effects.

Her previous luck was having malaria, and quinine happened to be a proven malaria killer, which saved her life.

So Lin Yuchan’s life-preservation strategy was: except for familiar specific medicines like quinine, take as little other medicine as possible. Try to get through minor ailments with physical constitution.

Seeing Su Minguan’s noncommittal expression, she softened her voice: “I’m really better, feel it—no longer hot.”

He smiled and extended his hand. Just as he was about to touch her forehead, his eyes suddenly lowered, and he properly retracted his hand.

“The maid said hiring a doctor cost one and a half taels of silver,” he asked quietly. “Throwing it away?”

Lin Yuchan’s mouth twitched, but she firmly nodded.

Sunk costs couldn’t be taken to heart.

Su Minguan then opened the window and gently poured the black liquid into the grass outside. After pouring half, suddenly curious, he brought it back and touched a bit to his tongue tip with the bowl edge.

His handsome face instantly wrinkled up. He softly spat. Quickly rearranging his features, he looked at Lin Yuchan with understanding and poured out the remaining medicine.

Lin Yuchan was thrilled beyond words. Finally, someone was conspiring with her!

She pushed her luck, pitifully whimpering on the bed.

“Go tell Aunt Zhou I want a hot bath. Have her buy a big tub, no matter how tiring, I must wash once.”

Previously, she’d worried about tiring Aunt Zhou, but now that she had just recovered, she decided to be delicate once. If she didn’t wash soon, she’d really go rancid.

Su Minguan couldn’t help laughing: “Not afraid of throwing out Auntie’s old back?”

Lin Yuchan hesitated again: “Mm…”

This wasn’t just a conscience issue. The contract specified that if Aunt Zhou had any mishap, she’d pay all medical expenses. If she became paralyzed, she’d support her for life.

She suddenly thought of something, blurting out: “How do you usually bathe?”

Young Master Su carried many petit-bourgeois habits from childhood, also feeling uncomfortable after a few days without washing. Sometimes when she went to find him, he was obviously steaming all over, fingertips soft, nail tips white to transparency, lazy and languid—completely like just emerging from hot springs.

Just as the words left her mouth, she realized this question was rather private, too improper by Qing standards.

But spoken words couldn’t be taken back. She brazened it out, innocently cupping her chin, acting attentively listening.

Su Minguan was indeed embarrassed by her question, his brow tips strangely reddening.

He said: “I have my ways.”

“Teach me.”

Unable to withstand her questioning, Su Minguan finally said: “Usually wash at home, every ten days go to public baths. Shanghai people call them bathhouses—ever heard of them?”

Lin Yuchan pondered a moment, half her body bouncing up in delight: “There are public bathhouses?”

He nodded: “More than in Guangzhou. I like Yiyuan on Zilai Street. Few people have private rooms. Early morning for first water, clean, but expensive.”

Lin Yuchan instantly felt every pore tingling, struggling to throw off her quilt and look for her shoes.

“Where was that? Zilai Street, right? Any precautions? How much money should I bring?”

Expensive was fine—let her wash once, and she’d be immune to all diseases.

Su Minguan jumped up in alarm, quickly pushing her back down.

“Sorry, men only, no women.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

Su Minguan, seeing her unwilling expression, ruthlessly added: “Haven’t seen any in all of Shanghai that take female customers.”

Lin Yuchan fell back in frustration. After a long moment, she gritted her teeth: “How much to book the whole place once?”

He couldn’t help laughing: “You definitely can’t afford Yiyuan. As for those low-end places…”

He leaned on the bed edge, smiling maliciously: “Think about what kind of people usually go there—dare you book those?”

Lin Yuchan followed his words in imagining: unparticular lower-class male comrades, covered in black mud, braids floating with oil, full of skin diseases, STDs, eczema, athlete’s foot, parasites…

Hope dashed, everything back to square one. Lin Yuchan collapsed back dejectedly, frantically missing the hot-and-cold shower head in her old dorm.

Su Minguan smiled, stood up, tidied the account books on the table, and suddenly looked up to see a row of purses hanging on the wall with their various serious charitable labels, and chuckled for a long time.

Having such leisure, no wonder she’d worked herself into a fever.

He opened the door and called Aunt Zhou.

“Buy a wooden tub, heat water, let Miss Lin bathe,” he said. “I’m here, can help.”

Aunt Zhou mumbled something unclear, probably about “not fully recovered.”

Su Minguan: “Medicinal bath, understand medicinal baths? For treating illness… just put some scallions and ginger in… don’t worry, we Guangdong people all do this…”

His tone carried natural authority. Aunt Zhou believed him, agreeing and turning away.

Su Minguan smiled and pushed the door open. Lin Yuchan had already jumped out of bed, dizzy and light-headed, rushing to the wardrobe to rummage for towels.

She also turned to scold him: “Think you’re making soup? Adding scallion and ginger? Why not add some fritillaria and wolfberries?”

Su Minguan: “Need pork washed and blanched, double-boiled for two hours, nourishing yin and reducing fever, calming heart and spirit.”

Lin Yuchan dropped her smile and formally bowed to him.

“Thank you for the trouble of helping.”

Su Minguan ignored her: “Why not come closer to thank me? No sincerity.”

Lin Yuchan told the truth: “Afraid of my smell.”

He laughed aloud: “Honestly, there’s no particular odor.”

Lin Yuchan wouldn’t let it go, exposing him: “You smelled me while I was sleeping!”

He feigned innocence: “The maid was watching, how could I? Ask her.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

Very well. Another mystery. No hope of hearing the truth from his mouth.

Seeing she had nothing to say, he smiled: “I’ll go heat water.”

Lin Yuchan nodded with a smile. After he left, she went to the desk to examine the account books and work journals.

Several days’ accumulated business wasn’t much, all handled properly by Su Minguan, “to-do items” checked off one by one.

Several customer receipts he’d issued on her behalf. Shopkeeper Mau’s payment he’d also advanced. A promissory note was tucked in the account book, with several lines of beautiful handwriting thoughtfully leaving blank space below.

Lin Yuchan fished out ink paste from the drawer and cheerfully signed and sealed the blank space.

There was also a personal finance memo. The thirty taels for “Lotus Pond Under Moonlight” were crossed out.

Annotated: “Ruined by washing, not maid’s fault, alas.”

Lin Yuchan felt heartache briefly. She believed his “alas” was sincere. Her entire family fortune was recorded in this book—she didn’t mind him seeing it, having nothing valuable anyway.

The drawer also contained several letters delivered during this period. Su Minguan’s curiosity was limited—sealed ones remained unopened.

She took out a small knife and opened them one by one.

Rong Hong sent a greeting card with English script “Get Well Soon” and several pounds of fruit; the former landlady and daughter-in-law sent a note saying Shanghai real estate was rising lately, asking if she wanted to renew next year’s lease, please negotiate early; there was also a thick letter from Tushawan Orphanage in Xujiahui.

The letter’s phrasing was typically foreign: dictated by missionaries, written by interpreters, with beautiful handwriting, but poor grammar.

But the meaning was simple: thanks to Miss Lin and female missionary Miss Odalsky’s efforts, the unnamed abandoned infant from Songjiang Prefecture had been rescued and treated. Except for possible lung damage, her life was currently safe. Please visit when convenient to arrange the female infant’s registration and baptism.

Lin Yuchan jumped for joy as if a bucket of hot water had poured over her head, refreshing her completely.

She ran to the kitchen and thrust the letter before Su Minguan’s eyes.

“Xiao Bai, Xiao Bai, Su Xia Nu lives!”

Su Minguan was boredly watching a large pot of bath water when she crashed in, first deliberately pinching his nose.

“Speak properly.”

After reading the letter, his reaction wasn’t so exaggerated, just showing slight approval, then asking: “You plan to have this girl baptized?”

Lin Yuchan thought, then said generously: “Let her be baptized, baptized till she’s bald if needed—without these missionaries she couldn’t survive anyway. And…”

She said quietly, embarrassed: “And I can’t afford to raise her either.”

Su Minguan teased: “Raising children is easy—hire a wet nurse for a few months, then just add an extra pair of chopsticks. Your place would be livelier too.”

Lin Yuchan kindly suggested, “I think Yixing has too much masculine energy. Since you understand so well, why don’t you do it?”

She’d also lived in an orphanage for years, big kids caring for small ones—she knew too well the destructive power of little devils.

Just then, Aunt Zhou returned, having bought a large tub and even thoughtfully brought a pound of fresh ginger, telling Lin Yuchan to take her “medicinal bath.”

Lin Yuchan cheered.

Su Minguan helped prepare the hot water. Aunt Zhou kept thanking and praising, saying that having strong labor made all the difference.

Boss Su had busy affairs. He subsequently bid her farewell, instructing: “When draining, just pull the wooden plug; remember to pull slowly.”

Then at the door, he suddenly turned back, curiously asking: “How big is a newborn girl? What does she look like?”

Lin Yuchan thought, then smiled: “I’m going to the orphanage tomorrow, want to come along?”