The next day, beside Tianzi Wharf outside Yongqing Gate of Guangzhou City, a foreign steamship quietly moored.
The steamship still had British emblems on its sides, but they had been scraped off and replaced with a Qing dragon flag, creating quite a jarring sight.
Lin Yuchan was surprised to discover she recognized this wharf. In twenty-first-century Guangzhou, it was still in normal use for projects like “Pearl River night cruises.”
But at this time, Tianzi Wharf was exclusively for welcoming and seeing off officials. Along the route stood a row of kapok trees and an exquisite little pavilion for passing officials to rest and cool themselves.
Years ago, Imperial Commissioner Lin Zexu had landed here when he came to Guangdong to ban opium, and had even drunk a welcoming banquet in this very pavilion.
Now the stone bench where he had sat was cordoned off with rope, locals calling it the “Imperial Commissioner’s Chair,” with a circle of copper coins thrown around it.
Lin Yuchan also wanted to offer a few coins in tribute. However, given her status, she couldn’t enter this pavilion.
Her current identity was a temporary translator for Guangdong Maritime Customs, paid weekly with wages of four silver dollars and fifty cents after deducting board and lodging. The name on her files was Widow Su Lin.
Who told the young master to repeatedly point that dark gun barrel at her? Lin Yuchan quite enjoyed this new codename full of patriarchal oppression—every time someone called her by it, she felt inexplicably vindicated.
It was only because customs operations weren’t connected to Qing court administration, making procedures relatively convenient without needing to report to government offices, and because Hede was about to travel on business and urgently pushed things through, that she could exploit this loophole.
But the green light Hede gave her was limited in effectiveness. She couldn’t possibly become a permanent employee because customs employment of Chinese people involved complex procedures requiring layer-by-layer background checks and standardized examinations—all modern regulations established by Hede himself, and he couldn’t very well lead by example in breaking them. Additionally, Guangzhou Prefecture regulations stipulated that if women were employed by customs, consent forms signed by fathers, brothers, or husbands were required.
Lin Yuchan naturally couldn’t produce these, and generously said Never mind, temporary work was temporary work—at least there was money.
Being a widow was quite good, too—at least the authorities wouldn’t demand her “dead husband” crawl out of his coffin to sign papers.
She didn’t plan to work long-term for foreigners. If someday history’s wheels rolled over and she accidentally participated in drafting some treaty or other, that would leave an eternal stench.
…
Lin Yuchan was still gazing at the “Imperial Commissioner’s Chair” when she suddenly heard someone beside her exclaim “Eh!” and call out: “Little girl! Hey, servant girl! Come here!”
Lin Yuchan’s heart leaped as she stepped back two paces, smelling tobacco in her nose.
A bailiff with a big cigarette in his mouth, his face dark, beckoned to her. His clothes bore a nameplate reading “Guangzhou Prefecture”—who knew what wind had blown him here today.
She was startled momentarily, recognized the person, and immediately felt quite annoyed.
This was the very bailiff who, when she first arrived, had taken her silver, let Su Minguan go, then conspired with Lin Guangfu to trick her away.
“Little girl, don’t hide, I remember—you came to Guangzhou Prefecture to ransom someone! Come here!”
The bailiff’s attitude was unfriendly. Lin Yuchan had no choice but to approach, holding her breath to avoid his secondhand smoke as much as possible.
“Sir Bailiff, what is it?”
Lin Yuchan was somewhat nervous but didn’t panic. Though the bailiff knew she’d been sold to Wang Quan by her father, information traveled slowly these days, and this low-ranking bailiff probably didn’t yet know she’d become a runaway slave with the Qi family searching for her.
The bailiff gave her a cold look and pulled a portrait from his jacket: “Recognize this person?”
The portrait showed a young man with clear, bright features and a somewhat languid expression. Even though the artist had deliberately made him ugly—painting him dark and grimy, dressed in rags, and inexplicably adding a rope-like queue—one could still see his refined features and extraordinary bearing.
Paint flakes from the deteriorating algae-patterned ceiling of the pavilion’s layered roof swayed in the breeze before finally floating down to cover half the portrait subject’s face, turning him into a masked hero.
Lin Yuchan’s heartbeat quickened. She adjusted her expression, pointed at the word “Reward” below the portrait, and asked knowingly: “A… wanted criminal?”
The bailiff squinted with an “I’ve seen right through you” expression.
“What, don’t recognize your fiancé, Su Minguan? Do you know what crime it is to lie to officials?”
Lin Yuchan said nothing. It seemed that during the battle at Haizhuang Temple, Su Minguan had still been recognized by government troops and matched with that unlucky fellow who’d been “mistakenly arrested” in the files.
While she’d been hiding in customs for this day and night, he was being hunted citywide. Who knew how many bailiffs like this had been sent out, searching street by street, alley by alley.
This meant he hadn’t been caught yet… or hadn’t survived.
The bailiff looked at her contemptuously, sneering repeatedly: “Do you know what your man does? Come with me!”
Lin Yuchan’s mind raced as she called out: “My man is dead!”
The bailiff roared angrily: “Do you take me for a fool? Just because you say he’s dead, he’s dead? I say he’s hiding around here somewhere! Confess quickly! If you don’t speak now, the masters have plenty of ways to make you talk!”
Several customs staff had already noticed the commotion and cast questioning glances their way.
A big-mouthed fellow called to her: “Little widow, who are you talking to?”
The bailiff: “…”
His face hurt a bit.
Lin Yuchan wanted to give that brother a bear hug, but had to look grief-stricken as she replied: “I… I’m coming.”
The bailiff looked incredulous and chased after several customs staff to ask around, getting consistent answers: Su Lin, widow. With customs employment contract as proof.
For file investigation, they’d need to register with a foreign assistant on the ship.
The bailiff’s heart struggled for a while. According to Qing law, relatives and friends of serious criminals should be implicated, so he should still arrest this little widow for interrogation.
But the foreign master’s departure was quite grand, with half the wharf full of foreign faces—walking sticks, top hats, full of vigor, making the Chinese guards beside them with lowered heads and hunched shoulders seem particularly small and weak, like malnourished youths.
The bailiff couldn’t help feeling intimidated, chewing his cigarette, and standing with the wanted poster for quite a while.
Better to avoid trouble—anyway, the “bribery for release” incident hadn’t been recorded, no one else had seen this “little widow,” and Su Minguan had already stated in his confession that he had no relatives or friends. Why should he create complications and increase his workload?
A little woman—what waves could she make? How could she “rebel”? She wasn’t some demon empress from opera!
The bailiff made up his mind, executed a smooth 180-degree turn, pretended not to see the steamship, and left.
Lin Yuchan breathed a sigh of relief and jogged to catch up with the other attendants, boarding the ship.