Victor spoke extremely rapidly. In the span of one corridor, he had already mixed English and French to tell Lin Yuchan about eight hundred words worth of catching up. Lin Yuchan treated it as listening practice. When they reached the stairway, she stopped.

“Please introduce me to Mr. Yin Mei. I have an appointment with him at ten o’clock today.”

Victor nearly cried: “I thought you came specially to see me today. I thought you remembered our Nevsky Prospect agreement.”

Lin Yuchan remained unmoved and retorted: “You also promised to get me a signed book by Tolstoy. Then we can discuss Nevsky Prospect.”

From her first day entering Guangdong Maritime Customs, big-nosed Victor had been pestering her with solicitous inquiries, inviting her to return to St. Petersburg with him to stroll down Nevsky Prospect. At first, Lin Yuchan was somewhat afraid, worried these flirtatious conversations might slide toward ill intentions. But within a few days, she discovered that the few countable female employees in the customs house, including Aunt Sun, who made egg tarts, had all been invited by him to stroll Nevsky Prospect.

She had initially mentioned this to Hede, receiving the reply “handle it yourself.”

Westerners who could come to adventure in the Far East were no pushovers. Victor was also a pillar of his department in the customs house. Flirting with a few Chinese girls didn’t affect performance and wasn’t considered a problem at all.

So Lin Yuchan handled it herself. Though Victor was currently talkative toward her, he didn’t dare truly be disrespectful.

Just a few decades ago, people still considered foreigners physically strange and morally detestable, uncivilized barbarians. But as the Qing Dynasty suffered repeated humiliating defeats by foreign powers and its borders gradually opened, social opinion was rapidly shifting. In open treaty ports like Shanghai, some people were even beginning to think that high noses, deep eyes, and luxuriant body hair were marks of superior breeding.

Add to that foreigners’ wealth and power, so they usually had no shortage of girls around them.

Since moving to Shanghai, Victor, unfamiliar with people and places, had maintained a very conservative private life, establishing relationships beyond friendship with fewer than one hundred red-light district girls—there was absolutely no need to pester Lin Yuchan, a half-acquainted young woman, to the bitter end.

He dramatically bowed: “Darling, please proceed. If you’re free later, I’ll treat you to tea.”

Lin Yuchan smiled: “If the customs house tea supply could be switched to my brand, I’d be delighted to accept.”

Having said this, she gently knocked on the door.

Inside the office was a Chinese man surnamed Cui, given name Yin Mei. He was reportedly a mathematics expert who could mentally calculate the Qing Ministry of Revenue’s annual tax income accurately to the hundred tael, someone who in modern times would at least be a Ministry of Finance official.

Unfortunately, his eight-legged essays weren’t beautifully written—he couldn’t even pass the scholar’s examination. Hede had recruited him with high wages to manage procurement and handle invoices and documents, work at which he was thoroughly experienced.

Mr. Yin Mei loved playing teacher. His desk displayed Nine Chapters on Mathematical Procedures, and he tested everyone with math problems. The foreigners in Maritime Customs got headaches whenever they saw him. Fortunately, Lin Yuchan had little interaction with him. Appearing to be an ignorant young woman, she’d only been tested a few times on “chickens and rabbits in the same cage” problems, earning the assessment “this girl is quite bright—she won’t suffer losses when she marries.”

Today, when Mr. Yin Mei saw Lin Yuchan, he greeted her with his usual enthusiasm: “Come, come, little one. Look at this diagram—here’s a water tank connected to iron water pipes. Pipe A is responsible for filling, and pipe B for draining. The diameters of the two pipes are as follows. After a quarter hour…”

“Filling and draining simultaneously is defective—wasteful. Lord Hede would dock your salary for that.” Lin Yuchan had hated these application problems since childhood and decisively tore up the test paper today. “Sir, you’re busy. I dare not take too much of your time. I’m here to bid.”

Mr. Yin Mei was still drawing water pipes, his smile frozen on his face.

“…Bid? Hey, you’re not back to work?”

Lin Yuchan inevitably spent another long time in pleasantries, explaining her current business.

“…Both black and green tea. All this year’s new tea from the Jiangsu-Zhejiang region. Self-processed, clean and hygienic, eliminating middleman markups, prices negotiable. I know the customs house has annual quotas for food procurement. I also know that in recent years, Wan Records Tea Shop has been supplying Maritime Customs, which was a supplier designated by former Inspector General Li Taiguo. You know the taste of that tea… tsk, heaven knows how much profit he skimmed…”

These were bits of information Lin Yuchan had gathered piecemeal at the customs house. Hede’s customs operated with flat management, removing redundant hierarchical oversight, so even Lin Yuchan, a small temporary worker, could access different departments’ work content. With intention, learning by observation was easy.

Mr. Yin Mei listened with a smile, but his first words were: “Su… um, Madam Lin, congratulations.”

Lin Yuchan was bewildered: “Congratulations for what?”

Mr. Yin Mei said, “Congratulations on your lifelong security. Your new husband’s family runs such a large tea business—you’re a wealthy lady now. Sigh, but don’t they have their interpreters? Making you work so hard, running around discussing business, isn’t very considerate.”

Lin Yuchan suddenly understood and laughed: “I’m not married. The business is a joint venture with others.”

Mr. Yin Mei’s squinting eyes instantly doubled in size.

When working at the customs house, this “little widow” had been efficient and sensible, quite likeable.

Shanghai wasn’t a place of deep moral instruction either. Her remarrying before mourning ended might cost lives in some inland clan areas, but here it seemed just normal procedure.

Mr. Yin Mei felt his compliments had been quite accurate and thoughtful.

He gaped, asking in disbelief: “You’re in a joint venture? You—by yourself? Where did your money come from?”

Lin Yuchan didn’t want to waste time expounding her entrepreneurial journey, but Mr. Yin Mei was surprisingly interested, asking detailed questions for ages, his words full of “a little girl actually managed this?”

“You’re lying.” Mr. Yin Mei pushed his glasses and smiled as he reached his conclusion, lowering his head to continue flipping through application problems.

Lin Yuchan could only hit the highlights, avoiding sensitive business operations, finally managing to placate Mr. Yin Mei and with great difficulty steering the conversation back to her tea bidding.

“I saw the customs bidding announcement in The North China Herald. There are many British employees in the customs house, and they often need to give gifts and entertain, consuming enormous amounts of tea. Lord Hede surely has replacement intentions. You can calculate—replacing Wan Records with me this year could save at least thirty percent of expenses.”

Mr. Yin Mei immediately went off-topic again, smiling: “You even subscribe to The North China Herald?”

The implication: Can you understand it?

Lin Yuchan smiled: “Yes. To stay informed about current events.”

She was borrowing Rong Hong’s. This English newspaper cost fifteen taels for an annual subscription—she couldn’t bear to spend that money yet.

Lin Yuchan: “Just treat me like a man, go through all the proper procedures, let me compete fairly with other businesses, alright?”

Mr. Yin Mei tried hard to adjust his mindset. After a couple of seconds, he still shook his head.

“Registering for bidding, I can accommodate you. But then several firms’ managers or even owners will be present for a meeting—everyone argues, has a banquet, toasts each other, it’s social networking too. How can a woman participate in such things? How would you toast people? Won’t they smoke opium at the table? Invite singing girls? Even worse things… hey, what would it mean for you to sit there?—Ai, little girl, just focus on going back to sell tea to those Western ladies. Don’t get mixed up in this.”

Lin Yuchan frowned slightly. The greasy “business entertainment” Mr. Yin Mei described was something she’d naturally never had the opportunity to attend, but it sounded vivid and realistic, not like fabrication.

She said, “Those are Chinese businesses’ entertainment customs. You know Lord Hede’s style—he may not be willing to engage in such empty formalities.”

Mr. Yin Mei spread his hands: “Who knows? First year of bidding, no precedent. It’s very difficult for me too.”

Lin Yuchan still insisted: “If it’s really like that, I’ll find a male interpreter to represent me. Please register me first.”

Who to find? She naturally had a ready candidate in mind. But Su Minguan would one hundred percent take advantage of the situation to demand astronomical fees, possibly eating up all her profits.

Even so, it would be worth it. Opening customs sales channels would make her business soar several levels instantly.

She was still in debt now. Without being more aggressive, by this time next year, her Yixing shares would no longer belong to her.

Having decided, she looked determinedly at Mr. Yin Mei: “Please.”

The other party smiled helplessly, picked up his brush to dip ink, and said in a tone of humoring a child: “Alright, alright. May I ask your firm’s full name?”

…

The registration form was nearly complete when Mr. Yin Mei’s child-humoring smile gradually disappeared, replaced by an excited smile of irrepressible curiosity, like encountering a new problem type.

“Promising, hehe, not bad. Comparable to the one who came yesterday.”

Lin Yuchan was pleasantly surprised and asked: “Which one?”

Mr. Yin Mei thought about it—telling her wouldn’t matter. The bidding was public anyway.

British Baoshun, an old-established foreign firm. That comprador young man was quite sharp—he solved one of my sequence problems.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

Why not just organize a college entrance examination testing Olympic mathematics, with the highest scorer winning the bid?

Mr. Yin Mei smiled: “Mm, last question. What payment methods can your firm accept…”

Current treaty ports had chaotic currencies. Silver dollars and coins issued by the Qing Dynasty were widely despised, while foreign firms competed to issue different specifications of notes with varying tax and exchange rates. Paying for something could involve dozens of variations.

Lin Yuchan thought seriously: “Um…”

Suddenly, Mr. Yin Mei’s smile vanished. He dropped his brush, stood up, and bowed respectfully toward someone behind Lin Yuchan.

“Sir, uh, why have you come?”

Lin Yuchan also quickly turned around. Hede had somehow pushed through the door and was silently observing the forms before Lin Yuchan with his pale, handsome face.

He was her former boss and now a potential client. Lin Yuchan dared not be negligent, also bowing gracefully and smiling: “Lord Hede, good morning.”

Though the sun wasn’t high yet, Hede had been at work for some time. His face was gloomy, his Eton collar shirt front wrinkled and disheveled, his tie pulled askew, right sleeve rolled up, playing with an inkless fountain pen in his hand, his whole person radiating an aura of “lots of problems, don’t provoke me.”

Lin Yuchan immediately tactfully withdrew: “You’re busy first. I’ll come back later.”

“You don’t need to come back.” Hede glanced at her lightly, then focused on the bidding registration form, clearly reading the Chinese characters. “Boya… Boya, is it? Strike this firm from the candidate list—no need to consider it.”

Both Mr. Yin Mei and Lin Yuchan were dumbstruck.

Hede pursed his lips, opened the door, gently pushed Lin Yuchan’s back, and escorted her out.

“Goodbye, little liar.”