The foreign sailors were burly with broad backs, each two heads taller than Lin Yuchan. Among them, one who looked like an officer had an ornately carved pistol at his waist.
This was the first time Lin Yuchan had seen firearms in this world, and for a moment her legs went weak. Should she crouch down with her hands over her head?
Fortunately, guns of this era had primitive construction, requiring manual loading of bullets and gunpowder, then ramming them tight with a thin rod. The powder and bullets were kept in special pouches, making firing quite difficult. Moreover, many common people didn’t recognize this object—seeing a crooked stick pulled out, most would lean in to confirm before realizing it was a “fire gun.” In comparison, gleaming bright blades were far more intimidating.
Therefore, the officer didn’t draw his gun to frighten people, but angrily asked in English: “What’s going on? Who’s attacking sailors of the British Empire?”
Aunt Hong was terrified. Though she couldn’t understand English, she could read the officer’s expression. She got up and curtsied to the officer, respectfully saying: “Officer, please see clearly—this common woman conducts honest business. This soldier has been harassing me in the market…”
Before she could finish, the previous sailor interrupted: “Officer, this is a prostitute who cheated me of my money.”
Looking around, he pointed at Lin Yuchan and Su Minguan as a bonus: “These are accomplices!”
The officer naturally trusted his men, wrinkling his large nose: “I’ve told you before—Chinese people have low moral standards. You simply can’t reason with them. They only fear the emperor and officials.”
He ordered his men: “Arrest them and send them to their magistrate for discipline.”
Send them to the officials?
Lin Yuchan hadn’t expected the British to be so reasonable, and unconsciously glanced at Su Minguan with a questioning look.
Would local officials judge the case fairly?
Su Minguan’s face read three words: “You’re dreaming.”
He said quietly, “There’s water behind the house. You two run first.”
Aunt Hong obeyed him completely, put on her shoes, and shakily stood up. Mulan had already slunk away with her tail between her legs.
Lin Yuchan didn’t move. She looked Su Minguan over with great surprise, then counted the number of foreign soldiers before them.
“Are you Ip Man?”
Su Minguan: “What?”
Three foreign sailors approached from different directions. They knew women and children weren’t threatening—they had to deal with this troublemaker first.
This troublemaker was well-developed among Chinese youth, taller than most when walking the streets. But compared to these British soldiers who had been fighting on decks for years, eating beef and drinking milk, firing guns in India and spilling blood in Malaysia, he seemed rather slight.
Lin Yuchan’s heart pounded violently as she quietly suggested: “Maybe you should run too…”
No sooner said than done—Su Minguan ran.
He was almost ethereally light, like a falling leaf touching the ground, and in the blink of an eye was behind the foreign officer.
He calmly drew the gun from the man’s waist and even had time to look down and fiddle with it for a moment.
The British officer came to his senses and then thought to reach out and grab it back.
The dark muzzle pointed at his chest.
“Tell your men to put down their weapons,” the muzzle wavered, “then get lost.”
He spoke in Chinese. Though the foreign sailors couldn’t understand, they guessed from his expression and immediately erupted in angry shouts.
Lin Yuchan’s mind had gone completely blank, her head full of: He knows how to use guns, too?
She, a “veteran” of gun battles who had watched countless police and gangster films, had nearly wet herself at first sight of the gun!
Being… being outdone by an ancient person…
Not until she felt Su Minguan looking at her did this mental chaos suddenly find an outlet, and she could hear the foreign sailors’ whispers again.
“They’re saying…” she immediately understood, “they’re saying you didn’t load bullets! Saying you’re bluffing!”
Bang!!
Su Minguan casually pointed toward the empty courtyard, blowing up a basket of salted fish and creating a small charred pit in the ground.
He had somehow already taken the British officer’s powder pouch. In the drifting light smoke, he raised the gun barrel, his fingers moving with incredible dexterity to load another bullet and cock the firing pin.
The foreign sailors watched wide-eyed like they’d seen a ghost, their faces all turning green. Their colorful eyeballs rolled in their sockets like “large and small pearls falling on a jade plate”—like opening a jewelry shop.
Only then did the salted fish fall to the ground one by one, with a fish tail landing on the British officer’s nose tip and jumping twice as if coming back to life.
“Tell your men to put down their weapons, then get lost.”
Su Minguan calmly repeated.
Undoubtedly, none present had his speed of loading.
Among the foreign sailors, one or two bold ones quietly reached for ammunition and knife handles. Su Minguan had eyes in all directions, immediately turning the gun toward them, and those men froze like startled cicadas, not daring to move.
He pointed back at the officer: “Do I need to say it a third time?”
If time advanced a hundred years, with automatic weapons prevalent and everyone firing like in action movies, spraying and mowing down large areas, this standoff might not favor Su Minguan.
But currently limited by technology, with primitive gun construction, Su Minguan holding the only loaded gun had complete advantage.
One British sailor was the first to raise his arms, carefully speaking in broken Chinese: “Calm, calm. Everyone, calm.”
Where there’s one, there’s a second. The previously arrogant sailors all dejectedly raised their arms. The officer finally helplessly raised his hands too, saying: “Young man, this seems to be a misunderstanding. We didn’t know that lady was a respectable married woman… you’re her husband, aren’t you?”
This was giving himself a way out, indicating we didn’t intend offense—we simply didn’t know Luofu had a husband. If you’d come earlier, this wouldn’t have happened.
Hearing the officer repeatedly call him “shrimp cake,” Su Minguan’s mouth twitched as he nodded.
The British officer sighed in relief and quickly extended his hand: “We won’t pursue your offense. Return the weapon to me.”