Chapter 24: Ambush at Yangjing, Tieliang Strikes

In the conference room of Jardine Matheson, the rosewood table was polished to a high sheen. The flames of the gilded candelabra crackled and danced, casting an amber glow upon the Lapsang Souchong tea in the cups.

William Jardine and James Matheson sat opposite each other, their fingers gripping delicate bone china cups so tightly that their knuckles turned white.

The foreigners had a penchant for the richness of black tea. Matheson took a sip, the mellow flavor spreading across his tongue. He set the cup down with a faint smirk. "Jardine, I suspect Dent is currently unleashing his fury upon his subordinates."

Jardine did not smile. His expression was as somber as storm clouds over the Huangpu River, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the tabletop. "Dent & Co. has become far too arrogant of late. They need to be reined in, or they will ruin our commercial order."

When he spoke, his tone carried an unquestionable authority.

As the helmsman of the premier Far Eastern conglomerate backed by the East India Company, Jardine Matheson was the primary architect of the Qing Dynasty’s opium trade.

Years ago, when Lin Zexu destroyed the opium at Humen, it was Jardine himself who traveled to London to lobby Parliament, ultimately facilitating the British Empire’s military intervention, igniting the First Opium War, and precipitating the defeat of the Gengzi year.

In a sense, he was the "instigator" of this war. It was precisely for this reason that Jardine never tolerated anyone threatening the status of his firm.

Matheson toyed with the handle of his cup, his smile deepening. "I reckon Dent is scrambling for raw silk sources right now. Either he will try to poach them elsewhere or offer exorbitant prices to force those silk merchants to break their contracts with us."

He spoke with certainty—they had already laid their traps, having anticipated every one of Dent’s countermoves.

In terms of capital, no firm was more robust than Jardine Matheson; in terms of connections, they had aligned with Russell & Co. and several other firms, determined to drive Dent into a dead end.

"Once he realizes that all paths are blocked, he will fall into total despair," Jardine said, raising his teacup as the steam blurred his gaze. "That is when our opportunity will arrive."

"Mr. Jardine." A senior manager in a Western suit pushed open the door, holding a stack of documents. He bowed and reported, "We have investigated that Chinese boy working for Dent & Co. He is just an ordinary child from the concessions, now an orphan. Aside from the Consul granting him special permission to stay, there is nothing remarkable about him."

"Nothing remarkable?" Jardine frowned, setting down his cup, his voice turning cold. "Then who created that cement accelerator? This substance improves cement performance; it could potentially change the future of construction."

The manager quickly added, "There is no definitive proof, but someone from Dent & Co. let slip that the child spent a few years studying with missionaries."

"Missionaries?" Matheson suddenly laughed, interrupting the manager with a tone full of disdain. "Mr. Jardine, he is merely a Chinese boy. Perhaps he stole the formula; what is so extraordinary about that? These Chinese only know how to bury their heads in books; how could they possibly study chemistry?"

Jardine remained silent for a moment, then picked up his cup and took another sip.

The warmth of the tea slid down his throat. He nodded, feeling that he had indeed been overly concerned. "True. Just a Chinese boy; he cannot stir up much of a tide."

They did not know that this "Chinese boy" whom they despised would soon use his actions to shatter their arrogance.

The ferry on the Huangpu River rocked unsteadily, like a leaf caught in a swirling wind.

Chen Lin sat at the bow, his back straight, staring at the riverbank with the composure of a meditating monk.

The river breeze, laden with moisture, blew past, fluttering the edges of his clothes. In the distance, the reed marshes swayed into a gray-yellow blur in the twilight.

The riverbank to his front-left was shaped like a fish’s mouth. On the barren ridges, a few thatched huts were scattered, and the spirit money on the graves fluttered far away in the wind—that was Lujiazui.

Lu Shen, a Grand Secretary of the Ming Dynasty, had once established his family cemetery there, but now only farmland and desolate graves remained; even a human figure was a rare sight.

Chen Lin gazed at the wasteland, calculating in his mind: once Dent’s cement factory and accelerator plant were built, the land in the concessions would no longer be enough.

He needed to build his own industrial empire and had to find a suitable location. However, Lujiazui was surrounded by water on three sides, and the threats from the river were difficult to guard against; it was clearly not the best choice.

By the time the ferry docked, the setting sun had already sunk behind the rooftops, and the sky was gradually darkening.

The wharf at Yangjing Town was bustling. Peddlers carrying poles, porters hauling goods, and merchants in long gowns moved about, their shouting and footsteps blending into a cacophony.

Chen Lin hopped onto the dock first, with Hu San following behind carrying a bundle. The two made their way along the stone-paved path toward the Liu Family Inn.

Passing a steamed bun stall at the street corner, steam rose from the bamboo baskets, and the scent of meat drifted far and wide.

The owner was the same round-faced man. Seeing Chen Lin approach, he hurriedly wiped his hands, his face full of apology. "Young Master, my apologies. I’ve been asking around for the past few days, but I haven't found any news about your younger brother."

He paused, lowering his voice and leaning in closer. "There is one clue that might be useful—many children have gone missing on the streets lately, as if a single gang is behind it. But I truly do not know where these people are hiding."

Chen Lin’s heart sank. He nodded, bought two baskets of steamed buns, and carried them as he continued walking.

The twilight grew thicker, and the lanterns along the street were lit one by one. Their dim yellow light fell upon the stone path, casting shadows of varying lengths.

After walking only a few steps, Chen Lin suddenly felt his scalp tingle, as if pricked by needles.

Hu San also stopped, looking around vigilantly, his voice tight. "Young Master, there are two burly men following us. Looking at their build, I can’t handle them."

He swallowed hard, but his eyes grew resolute. "I will go block them later; you run. You’ll be safe once you reach the Liu Family Inn."

Hu San usually seemed simple-minded, but he was reliable in a crisis.

Chen Lin did not play the hero—if it came to a fight, neither he nor Hu San were a match for them; he could only rely on the people from the Liu family for help.

Seeing Chen Lin quicken his pace, Hu San deliberately slowed down. As the two burly men approached, he suddenly cried out, intentionally bumping into one of them.

"Sorry, sorry!" Hu San stumbled to steady himself, dusting off his clothes while smiling apologetically, trying to block the man's path.

The two men exchanged glances. One ignored Hu San and continued to pursue Chen Lin, while the other pushed Hu San away with such force that Hu San crashed into a wall, grimacing in pain.

Clenching his teeth, Hu San turned and grabbed the man’s ankle, but was met with a flurry of punches and kicks.

Chen Lin glanced back, and seeing the pursuer getting closer, he began to run. His footsteps on the stone path became rapid. Passersby, unaware of what was happening, retreated to the sides; no one dared to step forward.

Suddenly, a "shing" sound came from behind—Chen Lin looked back and saw the pursuer pull out a dagger, its cold glint flashing under the lanterns.

"Committing a crime in broad daylight?" Chen Lin panicked and sprinted ahead.

He had been busy working at Dent & Co. lately and hadn't offended anyone. Who on earth was after him?

As he ran, two more burly men suddenly emerged in front, blocking his path from left and right. Before Chen Lin could react, they grabbed his shoulders with the strength of iron pincers and dragged him into a side alley.

People on the street saw it but merely watched from afar, none daring to intervene.

In this era, the survival strategy of the common folk was to "mind your own business." No one wanted trouble.

"Let me go! What are you doing! Help!" Chen Lin struggled and shouted, his voice cracking from tension.

A rough hand suddenly covered his mouth, the hot, humid breath spraying onto his face as the man threatened viciously, "Little brat, if you scream again, I’ll send you to the afterlife!"

"Easy!" Chen Lin’s arm was gripped painfully. He gasped for air, trying to stall for time. "Are you looking for money? Or..."

No one answered him.

The men dragged him deep into the alley. There were no lights here, only moonlight leaking through the gaps in the walls, casting shadows on the uneven ground.

The pursuer from earlier followed them in. Chen Lin caught a glimpse of blood on his knuckles—was it Hu San’s?

"You are Chen Lin?" the leader asked, his voice gravelly like sandpaper on wood.

Chen Lin’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly shook his head, pretending to be flustered. "You’ve got the wrong person! My name is Liu Qian, and my elder brother is Liu Lichuan, a man of status here in Yangjing Town!"

He invoked the name of the gang-affiliated Liu Lichuan, hoping to scare them off.

But as soon as he finished speaking, the man suddenly burst into laughter. The sound echoed in the empty alley, grating and harsh. "Little brat, you’re quite clever. You’ll be crying soon enough!"

With that, he pulled out a black cloth to gag Chen Lin and took out a sack, slamming it over Chen Lin’s head.

Darkness instantly descended. Chen Lin’s heart raced—they were kidnapping him! Where had things gone wrong?

Just as he fell into despair, a thunderous roar erupted from the alley entrance, loud enough to make his eardrums ache: "Thieves! Stop!"

Hurried footsteps sounded outside the sack, followed by the thud of heavy objects hitting the ground. Soon, the hands gripping Chen Lin’s arms loosened, and he heard the sound of people running away.

Chen Lin couldn't speak, only emitting muffled cries. Soon, a rough but powerful hand pulled off the sack and untied the black cloth from his mouth.

In the moonlight, Chen Lin saw his savior—a burly man wearing the faded uniform of a yamen runner, his waist adorned with an iron badge and a saber, his stubble exuding a sense of authority.

"Young man, are you alright?" the man asked in a deep, concerned voice. "Do you recognize those thieves?"

Chen Lin shook his head, his throat dry and painful. "Thank you, Officer, I do not."

"What is your name? Where do you live?" The man crouched down, his gaze falling on Chen Lin’s silk robe—the fabric was high quality; he was clearly not a child from an ordinary family.

He steadied himself and replied, "My name is Chen Lin. I work at Dent & Co. in the concessions."

Tie Liang nodded.

For the past two days, he had been leading his men in Yangjing Town to investigate a case of child trafficking—over a dozen boys from families had already gone missing, and it was unknown how many orphans had been snatched.

He had been lying in wait for two days, and the thieves had never appeared. He hadn't expected to run into them by chance today.

"Are you injured? Did you lose anything?" Tie Liang asked, reaching out to help Chen Lin up.

Just as Chen Lin was about to shake his head, he heard stumbling footsteps at the alley entrance. Hu San ran in, bruised and covered in mud. Seeing Chen Lin, he lunged forward: "Young Master! Are you alright?"

"I am fine." Chen Lin looked at the injuries on his face, a warmth spreading through his heart—it was Hu San who had spotted Constable Tie and screamed for help, saving him.

Seeing Tie Liang, Hu San bowed hurriedly. "Thank you, Constable Tie! I am Hu San. You helped me once before; do you remember?"