William Sullivan’s brows furrowed. When a woman is punished for adultery with the rod, she must be stripped to receive the beating—in other words, her trousers and undergarments are removed, and she is beaten on the buttocks.

For a woman subjected to the rod, being stripped naked from the waist down in public is a humiliation worse than death, especially in this era of strict propriety—such an insult is simply outrageous.

Meanwhile, that man was still boasting smugly: “I’m not going to beat him—what’s the point? I just want to see his woman’s ass, and let everyone else see his wife’s ass too! If I’d known, I’d have taken a few days’ post myself. Damn, the kid doing the punishment even told me about it—hell, he even copped a feel right in front of me!”

Another burst of raucous laughter erupted.

William Sullivan snorted, “Bastard!”

Charles Bennett’s eyebrows had already shot up. Seeing William Sullivan cursing openly, he didn’t hesitate—he slapped the table and stood up. Peter Parker and several yellow-belted men followed behind him in a rush, with the other attendants close on their heels. Only Richard Lee, bleary-eyed with drink, looked around in confusion, not knowing what was happening.

Next came the sounds of tables and chairs toppling, dishes shattering, and startled cries from the next room. The man screamed hoarsely, “Damn it, I’m a clansman of Zeng Bohan, the Hengzhou militia leader, you… ah—” His scream turned to a wail, evidently as he was beaten again.

William Sullivan’s heart stirred. Hengzhou militia? Zeng Bohan? Wen Zhenggong? He hadn’t expected the next room to house a relative of Zeng Guofan, but the man’s character was truly despicable.

But even if Zeng Guofan wasn’t famous yet, and even if he would one day become a Grand Secretary and a Marquis of the First Rank, would these yellow-belted men really care about him?

The screams continued. William Sullivan sipped his wine slowly, never expecting his first encounter with Zeng Wen Zheng would begin like this. Regardless of who was right or wrong, it seemed they had already become enemies.

Over there, Charles Bennett seemed to have tired from the beating and shouted loudly, “Damn it, send them all to Shuntian Prefecture! Today I’m going to deal with you myself!”

As the commotion grew, even if they were distant relatives, if this case really went to court, it would bring great shame to Zeng Guofan.

William Sullivan made no move to stop Charles Bennett. So what if he made an enemy of this future influential figure? So what if it affected his plans to rejuvenate the nation? A man must be able to live with his own conscience.

Chapter Ten: I Am Not a Pervert

William Sullivan, the imperial envoy, truly traveled light—he brought only a single groom, six Mr. White, five personal bondservants including Henry Foster, and his old tutor John Miller, who had just returned from Shandong a few days ago and now served as William Sullivan’s adviser. In addition, there were Emily Smith, Mr. Smith, David Harris, and seven other members of the Heaven and Earth Society.

More than twenty people hired carriages to Zhigu, then requisitioned a sand boat from there to travel by sea to Shanghai. With unrest everywhere, the sea route was the safest.

Under the blazing sun, with endless blue waves, the sand boat’s huge sails flapped in the wind. William Sullivan stood at the bow, gazing into the distance. Though he didn’t know their exact position, he figured they had already left Bohai Bay.

“Sir, the wind at the bow is strong—you shouldn’t stay long.” The boat owner was a sturdy man in his thirties, speaking official Mandarin with a curled tongue. His surname was Li, and he owned the sand boat—a native of Chongming. The Chongming guild was one of the three major shipping guilds in Shanghai, though this so-called “three major guilds” was just a way for merchants from the same hometown to band together and compete with outsiders for business.

Mr. Thompson had just brought a boatload of white rice from the south, planning to buy soybeans at Niuzhuang before returning to Shanghai. But when the authorities requisitioned his boat to carry passengers, he gladly agreed.

Though William Sullivan was dressed plainly and all the arrangements were handled by Henry Foster, the six Mr. White in red tassels and full regalia never left his side, making it obvious who the real master was. William Sullivan was young, but there had been many Manchu nobles in the capital who achieved success early, and besides, this young official had only a handful of attendants—he was probably not some high-ranking aristocrat.

“Brother Thompson, it must have cost several thousand taels of silver to buy this boat, right?” William Sullivan asked with a smile.

Mr. Thompson’s face showed a hint of pride. Indeed, from working as a laborer in a trading firm as a boy to co-owning a boat and making a living from it, he had achieved what many could only dream of in a lifetime.

But his reply was naturally modest: “Sir, I bought this old boat in partnership with others—please don’t laugh at me. My partners and I plan to borrow some money in a few years and buy another one.”

William Sullivan nodded slightly, gazing into the distance, then sighed softly, “It’s still not as fast as a steamboat.”

Mr. Thompson laughed, “Looks like you’ve been to Shanghai and seen the foreigners’ steamboats. To be honest, I once thought about it too, but first, I didn’t have enough money, and second, steamboats are complicated to operate and there aren’t any trained crews. Eventually, I gave up on the idea.”

William Sullivan said, “If you don’t have enough money, you can raise it from different sources. If you don’t have a crew, you can learn from the foreigners—it’s not such a profound skill. In your line of work, you have to keep up with the times. If you always stick to the old ways, you’ll be eliminated sooner or later.”

Seeing Mr. Thompson smiling politely but clearly unconvinced, William Sullivan continued, “How does everyone make money now? It’s all about transporting goods north and south. The foreigners’ steamboats are currently banned from trading north, but who’s to say that rule won’t change someday? Think about it—steamboats can go to Niuzhuang for beans and grain, and there will be no more restrictions on going north or south. When that happens, how will our sand boats survive?”