Chapter 168: Hope
Xie Jing spent the night and, at the first hint of dawn, went to He Dongting’s place.
His time in Shanghai was short. The previous night, he had spent half the night discussing work with Lord Bai Jiu and had only managed a brief nap. This morning, he still had many tasks to handle at the docks, but he took a moment to visit He Dongting. He was worried about his father’s health, and seeing him was on his mind.
When he arrived at the He residence, Xie Siquan was also unexpectedly there.
The head of the Xie family still wore the same clothes from the previous day, weary from travel, hair barely combed, with bloodshot, narrow eyes showing he hadn’t slept well. Two men accompanied him, bringing medicine for He Dongting. Although their words were harsh, over the past two years since Xie Jing had returned, their attitude toward this brother-in-law had softened considerably compared to previous years.
He Dongting was touched, especially seeing that Xie Jing came so early. He said with concern: “Jing’er, there’s no need to make a special trip next time. You’re busy; get some rest. Just have someone report back safely.”
Xie Jing said: “I just wanted to see you. I’ve been thinking about you. How has Father been lately?”
Being addressed like this had a remarkable effect on He Dongting; he laughed repeatedly, saying he felt much better.
Seeing this, Xie Siquan felt a twinge of annoyance.
He opened his mouth to speak but, noticing He Dongting’s pale expression, lost interest and sat idly by. After waiting a bit, he urged Xie Jing: “Jing’er, come back another time to chat. There’s still a lot to do at the docks; you can’t linger.”
He Dongting agreed: “Yes, yes. Be careful while working outside. Listen to your uncle. Go quickly.”
Xie Jing nodded and left with his uncle.
At the docks.
The Xie family managed many ships. Xie Siquan and Xie Jing were responsible for different batches. Seeing Xie Jing carefully inspecting the cargo, he did not stop him. With shipping schedules so tight, he couldn’t oversee everything for his nephew; Xie Jing needed to learn to handle responsibilities independently. Once Xie Jing finished, Xie Siquan advised him to be careful and then added: “Have Hu Da and a few others accompany you. When you’re out, it’s always good to have extra hands.”
Xie Jing replied: “No need, I already have people with me.”
“Times are chaotic. Just a few days ago, there were ship robberies. A few extra people wouldn’t hurt.”
Xie Jing shook his head: “Lord Bai Jiu has already assigned staff. Don’t worry, uncle.”
Xie Siquan did not argue further, showing a hint of relief: “Bai Jiu is careful and reliable. If he has provided personnel, then so be it.”
Xie Siquan busied himself with other tasks and went to other ships.
Hu Da followed closely behind, reluctant to part: “Should we… secretly follow young master?”
Xie Siquan laughed: “He’s grown up. Let him go; it’s fine.”
Hu Da, who had followed Xie Jing for years, was worried: “But things are chaotic outside. Young master…”
Xie Siquan: “He’s stronger than you think. Do you think he’s never encountered ship robbers?”
Hu Da, shocked, stammered: “He… he has? But I never heard him mention it. Uncle, let me take a few people to accompany him! None of his companions mentioned it either!”
Xie Siquan chuckled and shook his head: “That’s why I say Jing’er has grown. You have to let him face challenges. I can’t protect him forever. He needs this experience.”
Hu Da continued to argue, but Xie Siquan ignored him, thinking of these things a hundred times over.
Navigating the rivers was hard; those left behind had it even worse.
The Beiping-Shanghai Railway focused entirely on transporting troops and ammunition; other logistics were at a standstill. The western river routes were barely usable, and even the ships they managed to find were quickly taken by refugees.
Amid enemy bombing, factory workers risked their lives to move their most precious machinery. When planes came, they ducked, then immediately returned to move machines once the planes passed. Some workers were killed; others lifted their fallen comrades and continued working through tears. Cold machinery was stained with boiling blood, carried day and night by men and horses.
The war intensified. Multiple regions set up offices for Yangtze River shipping operations. Lord Bai Jiu took multiple roles, commanding dozens of large river-sea vessels and taking responsibility for relocating factories. Industrial operations were never abandoned. If tugboats weren’t available, hundreds of wooden boats sufficed. In a single day, six machinery factories were moved one after another.
Ships moved along the river as gunfire drew near. At the docks, shrapnel flew, and collapsed buildings littered the area.
For safety, the military blocked a section of the river, trapping over ten ships. He Dongting immediately went to negotiate and clear the route, ensuring materials could be transported out of Shanghai. Lord Bai Jiu’s staff arrived amidst enemy bombing. A building collapsed mere feet from them, and if not for He Dongting’s timely protection, disaster would have struck. Even so, he merely dusted himself off and sent everyone back to work.
Seeing blood on He Dongting, his men were alarmed: “Sir, you’re injured!”
He Dongting, slightly hindered in movement, waved them off: “Just a foot injury. Tell Bai Jiu I’ve got this. Let him handle the important matters; he doesn’t need to worry about coordination here.”
They persisted, but He Dongting urged: “He’s busy. I’m just doing what I can. Don’t confuse priorities! Go back to your tasks!”
“Sir, your injury…”
“Only superficial wounds. A few days’ rest will do. Go, tend to the important work!”
Finally, they left in a hurry.
Supported back, He Dongting’s companion said: “You really care for that Mr. Bai. Everyone says you value him.”
He Dongting shook his head with a light smile: “It’s not about valuing him. It’s about his abilities. We’ll need to rely on him in the future.”
“Rely on him?”
“Yes. Not just in a few years, but decades, even longer.”
He Dongting murmured, eyes fixed ahead, growing resolute.
Lord Bai Jiu excelled at strategy. Every coin and ship was accounted for precisely, maximizing the port’s throughput. Several shipping companies in Shanghai failed, but only Bai Jiu’s had the capacity to support operations. Not only did he sustain the company, he leveraged opportunities to solve problems and overcome losses, ensuring the survival of wartime logistics. After fulfilling military transport tasks, his company opened two new routes, expanding operations and preparing funds for post-war maritime trade. The Bai family, with a century-long business, never sought merely to profit from locals. Even in hardship, their strategy always considered the long-term.
October of the following year.
Wuhan fell.
Eighty thousand tons of munitions were shipped to Yichang, while factories from the middle and lower reaches relocated to western Hunan and Sichuan.
Every ship on the river was loaded with steel equipment, not just machinery, but also horses, pianos, and even a cow to provide milk for women. The decks were crowded with civilians carrying all their belongings, holding children, and wounded soldiers. Everyone’s faces were expressionless, clutching their meager possessions, trying to stand on the tiny space they had. Those on the shore hoped to leave, but those on the boats were heartbroken. This land had been theirs for decades; they would not leave easily if not for the war.
Ships were frequently seized by refugees or requisitioned by the military, causing panic.
Nightfall.
A group of five or six wounded soldiers crept to the dock, forcing their way onto a wooden ship.
The ship’s crew resisted: “We have paperwork, stamps, assignments… Hey, hey, you can’t board!”
The soldiers shoved the crew aside. The leader, cursing, spat and said through gritted teeth: “We’re dying on the front lines! This ship is ours—why shouldn’t we take it?!”
“This ship isn’t fit! It belongs to the Xie family!”
“I don’t care whose it is. I’m taking this ship today—” The leader lifted a straw curtain and froze.
Inside the cabin were neatly stacked elementary school textbooks and bundles of pencils labeled “Zhonghua.”
The ship’s dim lantern flickered. The crew raised his hands to block them, eyes red from lack of sleep, anxious. Facing him were wounded soldiers, some missing limbs, others with bandaged faces, stained black from war and blood.
Silence fell, broken only by the soft flicker of the lantern.
The crew, gathering courage, trembled: “Next spring, the children will go to school. They’ll need these. They’re just books and pencils… they aren’t worth much…”
The wounded leader stared for a long moment, his face twitching, then slammed the curtain down. His remaining good eye reddened as he whispered hoarsely: “Let them go. Off the ship!”
The crew quickly packed the scattered items, bowed to the soldiers, and left under the cover of night.
On the shore, the soldiers watched the little boat on the river.
After a moment, they silently turned and walked into the darkness.
They were human too. They wanted to live, but they had more pressing matters.
Everyone was waiting for the spring to come.
And they believed that spring would surely arrive.
