Admittedly, compared to my small apartment, the General's Estate was vast.
I could walk around freely. Without lifting a finger, food and drink were provided.
But it was so boring.
Sometimes I'd pretend to enjoy the scenery, slip past the first ring of guards, and climb over the back wall—only to be caught by the second ring and brought back.
There were three layers of security here.
"The young General has ordered that Miss Ouyang may not go out."
They were courteous enough, but no matter how frantically I shoved and pushed, they didn't budge an inch, their iron-cast arms making a polite gesture of invitation, firmly carrying out Victor's orders.
"They guard me like I'm a thief."
I mumbled and grumbled my way back to Grace, who was reading in the small garden.
Grace smiled. "Who keeps a thief in their own home?"
Just then, a guard hauled a boy in by the back of his collar and deposited him in front of Grace. Snapping his heels together, he reported:
"Miss, this little thief says he offended the Green Gang because of the Young General and is afraid of retaliation. He wants the General's Estate to give him some money as a safe haven fee."
Since it was only a child, the guard wasn't being too rough, but the boy had been hauled so many times he wouldn't leave, and the grip on his collar had grown progressively tighter.
The child was nearly being strangled.
I hurriedly told the guard to let go.
"I know this kid—he's the little boy who tipped us off last time."
I steadied the grimy child and looked toward Grace.
I had already told her about these events. She understood instantly, nodded, and smiled warmly at the boy: "You saved my family. We should pay you, but you're too young—having too much money would only be dangerous. Why not stay at the General's Estate instead..."
After catching his breath, the boy rubbed his small, blackened hands awkwardly. "Ma'am, I just want money. I don't want to stay here."
I explained, "You're just a child. If you get a lot of money, you'll be easy prey for robbers. Better to let us take good care of you."
But he insisted, "I really don't need that. Just give me the money."
It wasn't up to him, though. The guard had already hauled him inside by the scruff of his neck.
Mrs. Lambertu gave him a bath with scented soap and dressed him in Victor's childhood clothes.
When he came downstairs, he was a clean, neat little young master.
Mrs. Lambertu followed him down, saying that when she bathed him, she found the child was skin and bones—only his face still had a bit of flesh to keep up appearances.
The housekeeper prepared some food and called the boy over to eat.
The boy said his name was Owen.
Grace watched with fascination as the child devoured his food—his small frame packing away twice what she could eat.
I asked curiously, "How did you discover there was something wrong with the car that day?"
He swallowed everything in his mouth before answering: "One of our brothers overheard the Green Gang people gathered around the car saying the Young General wouldn't live through today. Then two strange-looking men crawled under the car and tinkered for a long time..."
He was talking about the mercenaries and the Green Gang—one group keeping watch, the other planting the bomb.
"I saw that the Young General was with you. You're the lady who threw money at us before—you have a good heart, and you're generous, so I wanted to help."
This child spoke such blunt truths. After the fact, a cold sweat broke out all over me.
This had nothing to do with him. He should have looked the other way, yet because of a small, unintentional act of kindness from me, he turned around and saved both our lives.
If he hadn't warned us, Victor and I would have been blown to pieces.
Whether he could resurrect himself was another matter.
I, on the other hand, would definitely be dead.
Grace's face went pale—she was also shaken by the memory. "We still need to bring more people when we go out. Many more people."
Owen, seeing that we both acknowledged his contribution, quietly stuffed the uneaten pastries into his shirt while tentatively asking, "So, ladies, how much can I get?"
Grace hadn't actually promised him money. Seeing that Owen had eaten enough, she said gently, "Is there some difficulty you haven't told us about? Maybe we can solve it."
Owen looked troubled. "I know you mean well, but even the General's Estate probably can't feed all of us."
He finally told the truth:
"I heard that the Green Gang's Harrison Huang was killed by the Young General. They can't get back at him, so they're taking their anger out on us kids. Even though I'm the one who tipped you off, those villains don't care which street kid it was. All the children wandering out there are suffering. We're now hiding in an abandoned factory by the river. We can't go out to sell newspapers or cigarettes, so we have no income, but we still have mouths to feed. That's why we came here to ask for some money..."
I clenched my fists and stood up.
"How can the Green Gang bully a bunch of children!"
Grace asked, "Owen, take me to that factory. I want to figure out how to settle you all. If the Green Gang really means to harm you, we can't wait."
She was ready to head out with her people—three cars, bodyguards front and back.
I looked at Grace longingly. "Sister Grace, take me with you."
She was easier to persuade than Victor. She would agree to take me out, but the guards at the door feared Victor more, and they hesitated at the eldest Miss's request.
"Unless the Young General personally approves, Miss Ouyang may not leave the General's Estate."
"What is he doing? It's not like I can run away from here!"
In this era, I had nowhere else to go but the General's Estate. Even if I went out, I could only return to sleep there at night—I didn't even have money, so I couldn't go far.
But others apparently didn't see it that way. The rumor that I had flown down from the third floor had quietly spread through the military.
Yet they didn't stop to think—if I really had that skill, why would I be pacing in circles here, frantic with worry?
I went back and tried calling him, but the call didn't go through.
"Forget it, Rose. It'll be the same if I go." Grace stood at the door, holding her purse and leading Owen, ready to leave.
I glanced at the bodyguards waiting by the cars outside, had a sudden idea, and ran back to my room to change into young Victor's military uniform.
Pulling the hat low, I hurried to Grace and Owen's side.
"Let's go."
Grace sighed and had the bodyguard in the middle car move so I could take the wheel.
I beamed. "You really are my own sister!"
She shook her head in resignation. "Then please, don't fight with him anymore."
Time couldn't be wasted. It would be dark soon. The temperature could drop at any moment in this season—and no matter how resilient the children were, they'd fall ill or worse.
We followed Owen's directions all the way to the riverbank.
It turned out to be the same abandoned factory Victor and I had passed on our boat ride.
Back then, it had been empty and quiet.
But now, over a hundred children had gathered here.
Some built fires, some cooked, some fetched water. It was rudimentary but orderly.
The older children took care of the younger ones.
"Doesn't Shanghai have orphanages?"
I couldn't help whispering to Grace.
The war hadn't even started yet, but so many children were left uncared for. It was inconceivable.
Grace sighed. "Look—half these children have disabilities or illnesses. The orphanages probably won't take them."
Owen said, "After my parents died, the orphanage came and wanted to take just me. They said my sister couldn't be raised—but I couldn't bear to leave her, so I ran away with her instead."
Orphanages took in children hoping they'd eventually be adopted, or once grown, sent to dark factories—otherwise, the children would accumulate year after year until the place could no longer support itself.
So they tended to accept only healthy children.
The children in this abandoned factory—some were born missing a fist but were perfectly intelligent, some were strong and sturdy but not very bright—had formed a tradition of mutual support. And then there were children like Owen, perfectly healthy but unable to abandon their sick loved ones, who became the leaders of this group.
Owen wove through the children, asking about how the afternoon had gone. Then he seemed to remember something, smiled, and pulled the pastries from his shirt.
A few squashed honey cakes were quickly divided among countless small dark hands.
There was no fighting. They ate the hard-won sweetness in tiny, careful mouthfuls, each one smiling with satisfaction, revealing rows of fine white teeth.
"Delicious. So delicious."
Owen explained to us, "These past days, some got hurt, and we spent a lot on medicine. We haven't been able to earn any money, and everyone's been very hungry."
Grace's eyes reflected the firelight of the children cooking. She seemed to have made up her mind.
"I originally planned to renovate this place and send some people to ensure your safety, but this factory is too old. It leaks wind and rain, and there are no railings. Someone could easily fall from upstairs at night."
She had always been kind. Seeing this with her own eyes, she would certainly help however she could—not to mention these children had saved her only brother.