He almost jumped up, grabbing clothes to cover himself. As his arm moved, it pulled at the wound, everything went black before his eyes, and he unconsciously arched his back, gripping the towel beside him, suppressing a muffled cry.
“I… I can do it myself.”
Lin Yuchan didn’t raise her eyelids, gently positioning his limbs properly and saying: “Don’t try to be tough. You’ve worked hard and achieved great merit today—just peacefully be a patient for once.”
His chest was firm; when she pressed a little harder, it caused violent heaving.
He was covered in sweat, biting the pillowcase beside his face. It was embroidered by Aunt Hong and still smelled fishy.
He still slowly raised his arm, tremblingly touching his bare chest, suddenly his expression changed slightly, and his breathing became rapid.
“Looking for this?” Lin Yuchan quickly stuffed a small pendant into his hand. “It got dirty, so I took it off and washed it.”
It was an exquisitely crafted gold button jade longevity lock, strung on a red cord. He had always worn it against his skin, and she only saw it when she opened his clothes, showing how much he treasured it.
One side of the lock had been struck by high-speed mud and sand, leaving a small chip.
Su Minguan gripped the jade lock, his thumb feeling the chip, gave her a slight nod, and closed his eyes.
The “mud bullet” had made his wound a complete mess. The jade lock could no longer be worn, so Lin Yuchan carefully put it away.
She meticulously wiped away the dirt from his body bit by bit, talking to herself: “It doesn’t hurt, right?—You don’t fear pain, so I won’t be polite. This kind of wound really should get a tetanus shot, but that doesn’t seem to exist yet… Sorry about that, let’s rinse with saline solution, 0.9%, hand-mixed, hope the margin of error isn’t too big… Tetanus bacteria seem to be anaerobic, so it can’t be bandaged either, let’s just air-dry it for now…”
These were all college entrance exam points, fresh and hot—Lin Yuchan hadn’t forgotten any of them.
Su Minguan was left half-conscious by her ministrations, couldn’t understand what she was saying, and could only let her have her way. He looked up at the ceiling in grief and indignation, realizing that all his cool image in front of her had been wasted—this girl now looked at him like looking at a little brother.
He half-opened his eyes and saw the little girl’s nose tip sweating, with mud stains remaining on her small earlobes that hadn’t been wiped clean. His body was already clean and refreshing, as if he’d just taken a shower.
He licked his cracked lips and said coldly: “If you delay any longer, don’t expect to return safely to the Qi mansion.”
“Screw the Qi mansion!” Lin Yuchan suddenly became agitated, heavily setting down the water basin. “Better not to go back!”
She had never had much fondness for this exploitative, man-eating landlord family. Tea trading was at least a legal business—exploitation was exploitation, but she hadn’t expected them to be trafficking people behind the scenes. That coolie barracks flowing with excrement and urine, with people stacked on top of each other, was a hundred times filthier than the servants’ toilets in the Qi mansion.
Thinking about it afterward, Master Qi must be the mastermind, responsible for smoothing things with the authorities; Wang Quan was the one connecting with buyers, very experienced; the rest might not necessarily know about this. Oh right, Accountant Zhan often worried about the huge losses in the tea business, while Wang Quan was always nonchalant, saying things like “the master still has lending income and land income, won’t die from losses.”
Young Master Qi was devoted to poetry and romance, probably didn’t manage this affair; and most people in the tea house probably didn’t know. But who cares—a bowl of ink dropped into a large dye vat, it’s already blackened.
After today’s events, they would probably repeat their old tricks, luring the next batch of coolies overseas.
She remembered Su Minguan saying, I can’t save all these people.
It wasn’t just him. In the long years to come, all those benevolent people and righteous individuals who emerged from the sea of history—soldiers, merchants, doctors, teachers—when had any of them been able to save all these people?
Lin Yuchan couldn’t help feeling irritated. If she hadn’t been meddlesome, insisting on freeing this batch of coolies, she and Su Minguan wouldn’t be drifting miserably on the river right now.
Su Minguan half-closed his eyes, seeming to see through her thoughts, softly laughing as he delivered the finishing blow.
“A’Mei, I didn’t see it before—you’re so fond of being a bleeding heart.”
“Me?” Lin Yuchan laughed despite herself, “You flatter me.”
This was completely turning black into white. Lin Yuchan knew clearly in her heart that her only survival goal was to muddle through until the Qing dynasty collapsed. Every step she’d taken to this point had been calculated for her future—she was a model of selfishness.
How had she become a bleeding heart?
Though she had indeed acted thoughtlessly in rescuing people. She took a clean towel, gently covered Su Minguan’s wound, tied it with old clothes, while softly conducting self-criticism: “First time launching a mass movement, no experience. Need to improve fighting methods in the future.”
Su Minguan: “…”
Speaking Hakka again.
He raised his voice and called: “Aunt Hong.”
Aunt Hong was rowing outside, worried about Young Master Minguan’s injuries but too embarrassed to enter randomly. Hearing his call, she set down her oar and poked her head through the cabin door, nearly jumping back in fright.
“My goodness, was this a shark bite?”
Su Minguan: “Aunt Hong, please get a clean set of clothes for Miss Lin to change into. Then, moor the boat at the Haizhuang Temple pier on Henan Island. Your steering skills are superb—make sure no one notices. Otherwise, you’ll have to make another trip back to your hometown.”
Aunt Hong’s suspicions grew, but she still nodded in agreement.
When the boat reached shore, Lin Yuchan realized that the so-called “Henan Island” was on the south bank of the Pearl River—what would later become Haizhu District in Guangzhou, where the Canton Tower and Sun Yat-sen University were located.
But now Haizhu District was sparsely populated, mostly farmland and ponds, dotted with ancestral halls and residences. A temple by the shore glowed with eternal lamps in the mist. Waves rolled over the ship’s rail, bringing the sound of midnight bells.
Aunt Hong wiped her sweat and laughed: “This is Haizhuang Temple? I always see its lights from across the river, but never went to worship—I hear it’s rather strange inside.”
Su Minguan just smiled, “I’ve been having bad luck lately, so I’m going to pray. Aunt Hong, farewell.”
Aunt Hong’s smile froze. Leaving just like that—Young Master Minguan was quite heartless.
Lin Yuchan quickly went to console her: “He’s delirious from pain. When we have time, I’ll bring him to thank you.”
As soon as she finished speaking, something hard was pressed into her palm—Su Minguan had slipped her a bloodstained silver dollar.
She understood, both crying and laughing. This man wasn’t delirious at all.
Knowing Aunt Hong would refuse, she wiped the silver dollar clean and quietly left it in the box at the bow.