Chapter 9

"Damn those foreign devils!" A muffled curse came from the next room, and after a moment, the courtyard gate slammed shut. Guan Zhuofan remained silent, thinking to himself, who made your family’s gate the most impressive? He wondered how much had been stolen this time.

Turning around, he saw Bai Shi and Xiao Fu cleaning the bloodstains inside the house with water. Tubo had already dragged the Indian soldier’s body to the side and started digging a pit under the courtyard wall. Beside it, there were a mess of the Indian soldier’s rifle, ammunition pouch, powder bag, and two bundles. Guan Zhuofan’s research focus before his穿越 was world history, and he knew that these muzzle-loading rifles were on the verge of being phased out in Europe, and would not be of much help to his future. So, he only picked up the two bundles and returned to the west wing room. He carefully wiped the blood off the knife, changed into a clean robe, and sat by the kang, deep in thought.

As a seventh-rank military official, today was the first time he had killed someone. The Battle of Baliqiao had indeed changed him a lot. When he faced the Indian soldier, he did not feel any fear or hesitation, and killing this Indian did not make him feel the slightest bit guilty or uneasy.

"Serves him right!" he thought. The Indian’s own country was occupied by the British, yet he still helped his masters bully the Celestial Empire. He clearly deserved to die. As for the contents of the bundles, he naturally accepted them without hesitation.

He first opened the smaller bundle and saw two rough tea bricks, a box of snuff, some dried meat (beef or horse meat), a small knife, some loose silver coins, and most eye-catching, a dozen or so golden coins.

Gold pounds! Guan Zhuofan picked one up and examined it under the oil lamp. Indeed, the back of the gold coin had a portrait of Queen Victoria. He calculated that these dozen gold pounds would be enough for a middle-class family to live on for a year in 19th-century Britain. It seemed this Indian had accumulated a small fortune, but unfortunately, it had all fallen into his hands, and he didn’t even need to say thank you.

He pushed the gold coins aside and swept the loose silver coins into his waist pouch, which amounted to about seven or eight taels. Then he picked up the larger bundle. As soon as he opened it, a dazzling silver light caught his eye. Upon closer inspection, he was stunned. At the bottom of the bundle were over twenty white silver ingots, two gold bars, and some fine jewelry. Just the emerald ring alone was worth a considerable amount. This bundle must be worth two or three thousand taels of silver!

But where did this Indian get so much money? He was puzzled for a moment, then suddenly realized it had just been looted from the next house.

The family in the next house was the one he had mistakenly knocked on the door of on his first day in Shoubihu Alley. He had heard from Tubo that the owner of the next house was surnamed Zhou, a Langzhong in the Ministry of Revenue, and was quite wealthy.

But wealthy or not, he never expected such wealth. Guan Zhuofan thought, not counting the house and land, or any buried treasure, just the movable property looted by the Indian soldiers and divided into this dead man’s bundle was quite alarming. A fifth-rank official in the Ministry of Revenue, without relying on corruption, where did he get so much money? The corruption of Qing officials, which he had only read about in books, was now a living example.

After a moment of reflection, he decided to rewrap the bundle, tie it up, and return it to the Zhou family the next morning. He felt justified in taking the Indian’s money, but this bundle was his neighbor’s property. If he kept this "ill-gotten wealth" and used it to support his family, he would not be able to live with himself.

Having made up his mind, he put everything on the kang into the cabinet. Just as he closed the cabinet door, he heard a commotion outside. This time it was different; the alley was filled with noisy voices, and the sound of doors being knocked on. After a while, the noise moved toward his house, and the outer courtyard gate was violently pounded.

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At this moment, the only ones who would dare to rampage through the city were the foreign soldiers. The southern part of the city was the British military zone, and the door-to-door search was clearly for the missing Indian soldier.

The bloodstains in Bai Shi’s room were not yet cleaned, and Tubo’s pit was not yet dug. The Indian’s body was still lying by the inner courtyard wall. If the British came in and took a look, everything would be over. His journey through time and his life would end here.

Guan Zhuofan could not allow this to happen. He put on a small hat, walked out of the room, and called Tubo to follow him with a lantern to the outer courtyard. He looked at his own appearance, which seemed like that of a young master. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, and signaled Tubo to open the courtyard gate.

As soon as the gate opened, four armed British soldiers rushed in, followed by an officer and then four more soldiers. Outside, more soldiers with torches were watching. The officer, without even looking at Guan Zhuofan and Tubo, raised his hand to give an order but suddenly paused, his gaze falling on the white cross on the wall. He turned his gaze and suspiciously sized up Guan Zhuofan, who stood in the middle.

Guan Zhuofan knew that if the officer’s hand moved, the soldiers would immediately rush into the inner courtyard. Now, his only hope was in the words he would say.

"Captain, I am honored by your visit," he said respectfully and warmly.

He spoke in English, the London accent he had practiced and believed to be quite standard. The skills he had used to deceive foreign tourists in the museum’s small shop were now being used to deceive foreign soldiers over a hundred years earlier.

The officer’s face showed surprise, and he lowered his hand. "You speak English, are you a Christian?"

"Of course," Guan Zhuofan made the sign of the cross, "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen."

To his great surprise, his old steward, Tubo, was also trembling and repeating the sign of the cross, touching his forehead, chest, left shoulder, and right shoulder, almost perfectly. It was clear the old man had secretly practiced this "spell" many times.

"Amen," the British officer also made the sign of the cross and finally smiled. Any doubts were dispelled when he saw the wrinkled old man devoutly making the sign of the cross. He was convinced that the light of God had long shone upon this Chinese family.

"We are just searching for a missing soldier," the officer gestured, and the soldiers who had made the sign of the cross under the cross retreated from the courtyard. "I apologize for disturbing your rest."

"Oh, may he receive the Lord’s protection," Guan Zhuofan bowed humbly, thinking to himself: He certainly received the Lord’s protection, isn’t he now enjoying himself in heaven?

The officer nodded and turned to leave.

Guan Zhuofan knew that once he left, he would search every house in the alley, causing chaos and possibly leading to tragedy if they encountered a beautiful woman. He had an idea and, taking a deep breath, called out to the officer, "Captain!"

"Hmm?"

"The soldier you mentioned, does he have a lot of facial hair—" Guan Zhuofan gestured on his face, "and wrap his head in white cloth?"

"Yes!" The officer came back, "Have you seen him?"

"Yes, I saw him come out of my neighbor’s house and run out of the alley in a hurry," Guan Zhuofan pointed to the alley entrance.

"FUCK HIM!" the officer cursed.

Guan Zhuofan still had a humble expression, but in his heart, he thought: Yes, curse him, curse him.

"Thank you, you’ve saved us a lot of trouble," the officer waved his hand, "Form up! Let’s go." He led his soldiers toward the alley entrance.

However, just as Guan Zhuofan was about to close the gate in relief, the officer suddenly stopped and turned back.

"Trouble often arises from speaking too much!" Guan Zhuofan was inwardly distressed, not knowing what the officer had noticed. But it was too late to back down, so he steeled himself to face the challenge.

The British officer walked up to him, expressionless, and sized him up again, a sly smile on his lips.

"Your English is very good, although your way of speaking is a bit strange," he stared intently at Guan Zhuofan, "You said you are a Christian?"

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(Translation note: The last sentence is incomplete in the original text, so it is left as is.)