Andrew spread his arms wide, warmly embracing his long-lost friend Lewis. Yet, he keenly noticed a veil of lingering sorrow shadowing Lewis’s brow.
After several glasses of rich Bordeaux wine, the initial chill of their reunion melted away.
Andrew leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, unable to hold back any longer: “Mate, did I somehow fail to entertain you properly? Have I done something to upset you?”
“Oh no, please don’t think that way,” Lewis quickly waved his hand, his fingertips absentmindedly tracing the stem of his crystal glass.
He sighed deeply, the furrows between his brows deepening. “Your hospitality has been impeccable. It’s… it’s just that I’m worried about a young man I met on the train.”
Met on the train? A kid?
Andrew raised his eyebrows in surprise, sitting up straighter without realizing it.
Lewis’s nature was well known— a gentle, virtuous man with almost rigid standards when it came to friendships. He was not the type to casually call someone “friend.”
And yet, a brief train journey had caused him such concern that he respectfully referred to this young man as “friend”? That was truly remarkable.
Under Andrew’s persistent prodding, Lewis finally opened up.
As the story unfolded, the astonishment on Andrew’s face grew more pronounced.
At the climax, he abruptly slammed his hand on the table, interrupting Lewis, his voice rising in shock: “Wait! You said he’s an uneducated… slave?!”
“Absolutely,” Lewis’s expression turned complex, as if reliving the stunned silence of that train carriage. “Everyone present, myself included, was rendered speechless. That scene— I’ll never forget it as long as I live.”
Andrew trusted his friend’s character; Lewis was a gentleman who never lied.
So this young man, born a slave yet possessing such extraordinary talent, was real.
A heavy wave of regret seized Andrew’s heart.
He waved his arms excitedly: “God! What a colossal waste! To have such a genius buried in obscurity all this time! Listen, Lewis, I can offer a full scholarship for him to study abroad. With his talent, any top university worldwide would be eager to open their doors to him.”
Lewis smiled bitterly at this.
“Mate, you’re not the only one who offered to pay for his education.”
Indeed, after Jiang Mingchuan’s earth-shattering speech on the train, the entire carriage was abuzz, and everyone was willing to help fund his studies.
Most notably, Mr. Song revealed his identity as the head of the Foreign Language Department at Peking University.
He offered Jiang Mingchuan special admission, waiving all tuition and fees, plus a full scholarship for living expenses.
Lewis wanted to recommend Jiang Mingchuan to his alma mater, Oxford, and was happy to cover tuition and living costs there as well.
But Jiang Mingchuan had rejected every generous offer.
Recalling the young man’s recent response, Lewis grew increasingly anxious and restless.
“I might pursue academic research in the future, but not now. As you can see, I’m a slave. Interests, refined pursuits, scholarly research— they’re luxuries I can’t afford. I have no time to develop these.”
Speaking of this miserable background, which others would avoid mentioning, Jiang Mingchuan was calm and unpretentious.
He bluntly stated in a thoroughly pragmatic tone: “Right now, I just want to make money— the more, the better. When I’m successful and famous in the future, and need a diploma to package myself, then I’ll go to school.”
Andrew finally understood why his friend was so troubled. A similar heaviness pressed down on his own heart.
A genius who should be shining in academia was instead forced to dive into the treacherous commercial seas for “bread and butter,” wasting precious talent on petty calculations.
It was a pearl cast into the mud— how could anyone not feel pained?
Yet no one could blame him for it.
As Lewis said, being a slave, Jiang Mingchuan had never been given the chance to nurture lofty ideals. His lowly origins naturally bred a strong desire for fame and fortune.
…After all, even a genius like Sir Isaac Newton had a strong craving for fame and power, fiercely competing and suppressing rivals on his path to success.
Andrew sighed, marveling at the cruelty and irony of God.
He had bestowed extraordinary gifts upon a man to lift him from humble origins, only to cast him into another quagmire named fame and fortune.
“So,” Andrew pressed on, his voice tinged with subtle nervousness, “what exactly does he plan to do to earn his first pot of gold?”
At this, Lewis’s expression grew stranger, a mix of helplessness and absurdity.
“He said he plans to start an advertising company in Shanghai. He even hastily printed a stack of business cards, handing them out, promising to advertise in major newspapers once he arrives. That way, everyone can find him through the papers.”
Lewis recalled Mr. Song’s sullen, twisted face when receiving those cards, almost wanting to laugh.
Mr. Song was the most outraged by Jiang Mingchuan’s choice. He had muttered curses like “fool,” “ignorant,” and “a frog in the well.”
But despite his scolding, Mr. Song pocketed the simple business card and actually followed Jiang Mingchuan to Shanghai, determined to “set him straight.”
It took much persuasion from friends before Mr. Song reluctantly gave up.
Lewis had a feeling that this stubborn Peking University department head wouldn’t give up easily— if nothing changed in Beiping, he’d likely head straight to Shanghai to “fetch” Jiang Mingchuan himself.
“I gave Jiang Mingchuan your address,” Lewis said. “He promised that once settled in Shanghai, he’ll send a telegram immediately with his new address.”
“Shanghai has many of our friends,” Andrew tried to think optimistically, drumming his fingers lightly on the table. “We can write to them and ask them to look out for this young man’s business. Maybe… once he quickly makes enough money, he’ll settle down and focus on his studies.”
Lewis hoped so too.
By all logic, Jiang Mingchuan should be left to face the hardships of business on his own— after all, business isn’t easy.
Countless merchants on the Shanghai Bund faced bankruptcy or worse, despair and suicide.
Once he tasted hardship and recognized his lack of business talent, perhaps he would find his way back to academia.
But Lewis couldn’t bear to let Jiang Mingchuan suffer more.
Since birth, this boy had never lacked hardship.
What was rare was his resolute spirit— he had not given up on himself.
So when Lewis met him, a sense of responsibility and mission rose in his heart.
He felt perhaps Providence had arranged their meeting to extend a helping hand, so this tarnished gem might suffer fewer hardships and bloom earlier with the brilliance he deserved.
Thus, Lewis and Andrew sat at the desk, carefully selecting several foreign trading companies that might need advertising agents.
Once the telegram from Shanghai arrived, they would immediately send out recommendation letters.
Four days later.
Jiang Mingxi stepped onto the bluestone slabs of Nanjing Xia Guan Wharf.
The river breeze carried mist and salt, brushing away some of the fatigue from her long journey.
After traveling north then south, enduring the hardships of land and water, she had finally reached the final leg.
From here, she only needed to transfer onto the Huning Railway; the next stop would be Shanghai.
She had kept busy all along, handing out business cards and striking up conversations wherever she could.
She knew well: many paths meant many opportunities. By casting a wide net, even catching one respectable fish would justify the trip.
What comforted her even more was that she had already earned back her travel expenses during the northbound leg, with some profit to spare.
On the train to Beiping, she had clung to Mr. Lewis’s side, eagerly absorbing the unfamiliar but refined English pronunciations and grammar, barely paying attention to anything else.
Only after bidding farewell to that kind gentleman did she truly relax and start figuring out how to cover the expenses of this long journey— she never fought unprepared battles, nor did she want to eat into her reserves.
Her opportunity came during the wait at Tianjin Station.
Among the noisy platform and ceaseless calls from hawkers, her sharp eyes fixed on a newsboy carrying a cloth bag, shouting about a “foreign language special edition.”
She beckoned and bought a copy.
Flipping through it quickly, a thought struck her.
The foreigner who launched this special edition clearly knew nothing about the Chinese market.
The special edition was beautifully packaged, printed on thick paper, with roughly double the pages of a normal issue, yet it cost only one copper coin more.
Jiang Mingxi instantly recognized the business opportunity.
Without hesitation, she bought out the newsboy’s entire stock at retail price.
She then handed the bewildered newsboy a few copper coins, her tone urgent but clear: “Go, call your friends! Whatever amount of these special editions you have, I want all of it. Cash up front, no debts.”
The next five hours turned into a frantic purchasing spree.
Newsboys flooded the corner of the platform, surrounding her with half-grown kids. She handed over money and gathered the goods with lightning speed.
By the end, the stack of special editions at her feet weighed a full twenty-five kilograms.
Because of this, she had to pay an expensive overweight luggage fee of more than ten silver dollars to haul these “heavy hopes” onto the southbound train.
They bounced along with her from Tianjin to Nanjing Pukou.
As soon as she disembarked, she didn’t rush to catch a boat.
Instead, relying on her previous life’s experience wandering alleys collecting scraps, she easily found the largest secondhand newspaper recycling merchant in the Pukou area.
These hefty magazines were impossible for one person to carry alone, so she hired a helper on the spot.
The dealer, upon seeing a stranger hauling such a pile of foreign language publications, initially showed no interest.