The Bund Chronicles, Chapter 39: A Taste of One's Own Medicine

Chen Lin and Wu Jianzhang did not cross paths. One boat headed toward Dent & Co., while the other steered toward Jardine Matheson.

The damp breeze on the water set the boat’s canopy swaying gently. The two vessels brushed past each other, neither party noticing the other.

Jenny had received word from Hu San early that morning—the official boat escorting Chen Lin had capsized, and Chen Lin’s whereabouts were unknown.

The coffee cup in her hand clattered against the saucer. Brown liquid splashed out, scalding her hand, yet she didn't even notice. In that moment, she felt as if the sky were collapsing, and her vision blurred with darkness.

From a young age, Mr. Dent had taught her: "Never show pity to anyone. If you want to build a family empire, you must have a heart of iron. Nothing should move you except for profit."

At first, she had indeed only valued Chen Lin for his capabilities. She had approached him with intent, feigned kindness, shared the story of her upbringing, and put on a pathetic act, using her beauty to manipulate his sympathy so he would serve her interests wholeheartedly. In this era, such a routine was almost flawless.

But she didn't know how deeply Chen Lin had been scarred by "gold diggers" in the past. He was all too familiar with such tactics. Even so, Chen Lin had helped her—he had resolved the raw silk crisis.

He was the most capable Chinese man she had ever met. But why, she wondered, did she feel such a crushing ache in her heart upon hearing the news of his disappearance?

Jenny stood outside the temporary office building of Dent & Co., her gaze fixed on the construction site nearby. The outer walls of the grand building were already complete; workmen were brushing cement, and stacks of fresh, greyish-blue tiles sat in the corner, catching the light. In a few days, those tiles would cover the walls, complementing the Chinese-style pavilions above with their intricate carvings—it would look beautiful.

But Chen Lin, it seemed, would never see it.

"Miss Jenny." A familiar voice came from behind her.

Jenny whirled around, her feet moving of their own accord toward the sound. In the next second, she threw her arms around the man—it was Chen Lin.

Now it was Chen Lin’s turn to feel awkward. His hands hung in mid-air, not knowing where to place them. The person in his arms felt soft, carrying a faint scent of perfume. His damned hands—why couldn't they move? He struggled for a few seconds before finally pushing her away gently and taking a step back.

Jenny lowered her head, her cheeks flushed, her fingers twisting the hem of her skirt as she, too, felt the embarrassment. That moment of impulse had been too much.

"Long time no see," she said softly, her voice still trembling slightly.

"Yes, it has been a while," Chen Lin nodded, his eyes drifting elsewhere. In truth, they had seen each other across the deck on the river just the day before, though they hadn't exchanged words.

"Now that you're back, the silk business can continue," Jenny said, quickly changing the subject, her tone as calm as she could manage to ease the tension.

"Yes, Mr. Gu is a man of his word. He will send people with the goods in a few days. Just have James prepare the payment."

Chen Lin followed her lead, his tone relaxing as well.

"Thank you for saving me," Chen Lin said suddenly after a few seconds of silence, his eyes filled with sincerity.

"Don't thank me. It was all Mr. Hobson’s doing; you should thank him," Jenny shook her head, her voice softening, "and in the end, we didn't really help much."

"Jack?" At that moment, the burly Irishman James walked out of the firm. He spotted Chen Lin at once, his face breaking into a wide grin, his voice booming loud enough to startle the sparrows.

"James, hello," Chen Lin turned, offering a polite smile.

"You're back! That’s fantastic!" James rushed over and hugged Chen Lin, squeezing with such force he nearly lifted him off the ground. Chen Lin let out a muffled grunt and patted his back to signal him to let go.

Since he had run into James, Chen Lin had no choice but to head upstairs to see Mr. Dent. Strangely, Mr. Dent didn't mention yesterday’s events at all, merely giving a few brief instructions regarding the raw silk, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather.

After leaving the temporary office, Chen Lin headed straight for the construction site—he had left Li Bin there earlier. But he wasn't there for Li Bin.

In the work shed, Hu San had prepared tea, the blue-and-white porcelain cups arranged neatly. Han Zhongxin, Sun Baoshan, and Li Yunshan were sitting on a bench, and upon seeing Chen Lin enter, they immediately stood up.

"Boss, the people you asked us to find are all here," Han Zhongxin began, his tone formal and solemn. "There are over five hundred workers at the site, and two hundred remain at your estate. The land has been cordoned off, and Hu San had Mr. James confirm the boundaries with the concession officials... though the plot for your residence is a bit small."

The recruitment and the reconstruction of the Chen family residence were tasks Chen Lin had delegated earlier. These three men were the founders of the construction company and had naturally taken on the primary responsibilities. Han Zhongxin was sharp and managed operations; Sun Baoshan, a carpenter by trade, understood the technical side and recruited craftsmen; Li Yunshan was broad-shouldered and strong, managing the general laborers with ease. Judging by Han’s report, the three were working well together.

"The concession is bounded by the Yangjingbang Creek; the north side is under Western administration, while the south remains under Chinese jurisdiction," Chen Lin pointed toward the area behind the site, his tone resolute. "Old Han, go and purchase the wetlands behind the creek. We are expanding the house in that direction."

He knew that in the future, the Yangjingbang Creek would disappear, replaced by Yan'an East Road. This waterway was destined to be filled in. However, Han Zhongxin frowned, looking troubled. "Boss, expand into the wetlands? How are we supposed to build a house there?"

Chen Lin gestured toward the reinforced concrete building nearby and explained with a smile, "Have you forgotten? We have cement and steel. We just need to drive iron cylinders into the creek, drain the water and silt, and then lay the foundation..."

Before he could finish, the three men understood. Their eyes lit up, and the hesitation vanished from their faces.

Chen Lin had already arranged with Old Man Zhai the night before to find a few reliable shopkeepers to help Han and the others build the framework of the company. In a few days, the Shanghai First Construction Company would be registered in the concession, becoming the first professional construction firm. With the Dent & Co. building as a living advertisement, who would worry about a lack of business?

After finishing the company business, Chen Lin took Li Bin, picked up the gift he had prepared in the laboratory, and headed to the consulate.

Reverend Hobson was in his study. The room was small, its walls lined with bookshelves packed to the brim. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting spots of light upon the pages. As soon as Li Bin entered, his gaze was hooked by the shelves, his pace slowing. He had never seen so many books in his life.

"Jack?" Hobson looked at Chen Lin with surprise. Yesterday, he had seen Chen Lin being taken away by the authorities and had assumed the worst.

"Mr. Hobson, thank you for saving me yesterday," Chen Lin said, handing over the wooden box, his tone sincere.

Hobson’s gaze fell on the box. Upon opening it, he found two exquisite ceramic bottles, white porcelain with gold trim—very beautiful.

"This is?" He cared little for the gift itself, curious only about what was inside. Li Bin leaned in as well, eyes wide with curiosity.

Chen Lin picked up one of the bottles, removed the stopper, and poured two yellow pills into his palm. "Mr. Hobson, I know you are an excellent doctor with your own hospital. These are pills to treat angina, and they are particularly effective for heart-related illnesses."

These were, in fact, pills made with diluted nitroglycerin. He knew that nitroglycerin wouldn't be synthesized by the Italian chemist Ascanio Sobrero for another two years—and that fellow had even scarred his face in the process. Another twenty years would pass before Nobel stabilized it to invent smokeless gunpowder, and as for medical use, that was forty years away. Western doctors of the current day were utterly helpless against angina.

Sure enough, Hobson’s eyes lit up instantly. He leaned forward, his tone urgent: "This medicine... has it been verified?"

"I bought it from an old Taoist priest who has used it for decades with great effect," Chen Lin fabricated a reason, his tone firm.

Hobson felt a surge of excitement. Europeans loved high-calorie foods, and many—mostly the wealthy—suffered from coronary heart disease and angina. If this medicine truly worked, it would be worth its weight in gold.

"What is this medicine made of?" he pressed, his hand gripping the bottle unconsciously.

Chen Lin shook his head, feigning difficulty. "The old Taoist wouldn't say. I only know it tastes incredibly bitter."

"Can a steady supply be maintained?" Hobson asked again, his eyes full of anticipation.

"It should be no problem," Chen Lin nodded, his tone certain.

Li Bin, standing to the side, was confused. He suspected the "old Taoist" was a complete fabrication—he had loved reading supernatural novels since he was a child, and they always used "old Taoists" as excuses. Anything that couldn't be explained was blamed on an old Taoist. After all, they were elusive and impossible to verify.

"Oh, by the way, Mr. Hobson, let me introduce someone to you." Chen Lin seemed to suddenly recall something, pulling Li Bin forward with a smile. "This is Li Bin, a scholar well-versed in both Eastern and Western learning that I mentioned to you."

"Mr. Hobson, a pleasure," Li Bin said, his English accented with a Suzhou lilt—stiff, but clear.

Hobson reached out to shake his hand, and once the two began discussing academics, they couldn't stop. From Western physics to Eastern Confucianism, the topics flowed one after another. Chen Lin stood to the side, becoming little more than a bystander.

In truth, he had brought Li Bin today for two purposes: first, to launch the publishing house, which would allow him to gather a circle of scholars well-versed in both traditions, forming his base of intellectuals; second, to use Hobson as a channel to sell the nitroglycerin pills.

Selling the medicine was only the first step. The medicine was real, which would build trust with Hobson and allow him to open a channel for "exporting Eastern medicine to the West." His true goal was not to treat Westerners for heart disease—but to use their own methods to hold them accountable.