Hede’s office occupied the third floor of Maritime Customs with the best scenery. The room was enormous, with wide glass windows admitting abundant southeastern sunlight that illuminated layers and gradations in the silk Chinese carpet on the floor.

Previously, this office was filled with disordered heavy furnishings, walls covered with oil paintings of various styles, and even a bar against the wall stocked with various spirits, allowing the office’s master to overlook the busy Huangpu River scenery and the international ships cruising the river while in a tipsy state.

Now this office had transformed completely into a minimalist style—besides necessary desks, chairs, and bookcases, it was spotlessly clean, spacious enough to play a game of squash inside.

The excellent square white walls hung only a few maps and employee conduct regulations.

Two or three secretaries and clerks worked with eyes straight ahead, focused like robots.

Only Lin Yuchan was a female presence, wearing a light-colored dress and skirt with a long braid, somewhat restless from nervousness, completely out of place with the office’s atmosphere.

Not to mention she carried a heavy bag containing various tea samples and documents. Looking around, she felt like a delivery person.

Hede rose and opened the window, letting the moist air from the Huangpu River blow throughout the room.

He stood by the window for a while before turning back to look at Lin Yuchan, saying: “You just told Mr. Cui that you know quite a few respectable families’ womenfolk.”

Lin Yuchan collected herself and nodded: “I organize weekly afternoon teas. Those who come are indeed womenfolk. Not exactly friends. All customers.”

“Who are they?”

“Um, Miss Compton, daughter of The North China Herald editor,” Lin Yuchan generously shared her client list, “Mrs. Butler, wife of British Baoshun Trading House clerk, Mrs. Fisher, wife of American Consulate second secretary, and Miss Florence Aldesey, female missionary from Xujiahui…”

Hede nodded. He’d heard most of these names, knowing her words were true.

As Lin Yuchan spoke, a strange thought emerged: “Are you getting married?”

The foreign social circle in the concession was narrow. To marry locally, they’d ask Western ladies of the same social level to introduce each other. Otherwise, why would he suddenly ask about womenfolk?

“Lacking a charming wife who’s socially adept is indeed my networking weakness. I will remedy this, but not now.” Hede raised one eyebrow, tactfully denying her guess. “Those are all foreigners. Do you know any wives or daughters of Chinese officials?”

Lin Yuchan looked at the ceiling, pretending to think for a long time before regretfully shaking her head: “My business is mainly in the concession, no need to deal with Chinese officials. If you could kindly mediate to help the Qing recover partial sovereignty over the concession, starting next month I’d introduce you to a titled lady every day.”

Hede’s face darkened: “The customs house is a neutral office. We don’t discuss politics here.”

Lin Yuchan thought: neutral my foot.

She smiled innocently: “Oh my, I was joking.”

How could a gentleman lose his temper with a young lady? Besides, he’d already been fierce with her once. Hede could only put this treasonous remark behind him, pretending not to understand.

He slowly organized the bookshelf by the wall, suddenly taking a folding fan from a small box and handing it to Lin Yuchan.

Lin Yuchan carefully accepted it.

White jade fan ribs, hard paper fan surface—without close examination she knew it was high-quality goods, not the gaudy export products that fooled foreigners on the Bund.

She slowly opened the folding fan and exclaimed, “Ah,” lowering her head to hide her expression.

On the paper, in thick black ink, seven characters flowed boldly:

“Learn the foreigners’ superior techniques to control the foreigners.”

The signature was in flowing calligraphy. Her calligraphy knowledge was limited, so she couldn’t read the characters at first. But below the name was a large, complex seal, indicating the writer’s status.

Hede observed her expression, smiling: “What does Miss Lin think of these characters?”

Lin Yuchan inwardly shouted: What can I think? This is the resounding slogan of the late Qing Self-Strengthening Movement! A mandatory test point!

From Wei Yuan’s Illustrated Treatise on the Maritime Kingdoms. Though this book had been published for twenty years, it hadn’t previously caused much stir.

But after decades of beatings, finally, someone in the court realized China couldn’t remain self-enclosed, dreaming with that bit of “supreme” and “Celestial Empire” capital. They had to face reality, learn advanced science and technology from foreigners, to resist further invasion by foreign powers and extend the Qing Dynasty’s life.

Of course, “controlling foreigners” was just an early slogan. Later, the Qing court probably felt the goal of “controlling foreigners” was too ethereal and uninspiring, so they changed it to “learn foreigners’ superior techniques for self-strengthening,” further evolving into “Chinese learning as essence, Western learning for application.”

But the meaning was similar—selectively absorbing “useful” Western knowledge while not abandoning Chinese ethical teachings and moral education.

Thus the Qing Dynasty conducted reform and opening for the first time. Factories were built, schools opened, students sent abroad, Western talent brought in. Steam’s black smoke rose on Chinese soil for the first time. The aging dragon dreamed of using foreign techniques to sharpen its claws and regain its position as the Celestial Empire.

Of course, people gradually realized the gap between the Qing and foreign powers couldn’t be bridged by mere “technology.” Like a dangerous building in torrential rain, already rotten to the foundation—how long could just patching the roof last?

The Self-Strengthening Movement proceeded magnificently with remarkable results, but simultaneously nurtured a batch of corrupt officials and treacherous merchants, burning money without restraint and exhausting enormous national strength. The Beiyang Fleet, pride of the Self-Strengthening faction, was defeated in the First Sino-Japanese War. This ambitious movement ultimately entered history’s garbage heap, too.

This was a later story.

At this moment, in the real, ongoing Qing Dynasty, suddenly seeing this slogan she’d memorized countless times, Lin Yuchan felt somewhat dazed.

Outside the window, flags unfurled on the playground, and magnolia trees bloomed magnificently. History textbooks marked with key points and thumbed to pieces lay on desks. A gust of wind blew into the classroom, making wrinkled pages rustle wildly.

Now was the first year of Tongzhi, 1862, in the Western calendar, precisely the infancy of the Self-Strengthening Movement.

These seven characters, “learn foreigners’ superior techniques to control foreigners,” were not yet widely known.

Lin Yuchan calmed her emotions, closed the folding fan, and smiled as she answered Hede’s question: “The Chinese person who gave this fan must trust you greatly.”

Otherwise, shouting about “controlling foreigners” to a foreigner—wouldn’t that be asking for a beating?

Hede smiled: “Last year, when I went to Beijing to mediate the Osborn Flotilla affair, I met Prince Gong’s minister Guerjia Wenxiang from the Zongli Yamen. He’s very curious about foreign things and quite likes me. The fan was his gift.”

Of course, there was a small contribution from Lin Yuchan here: relying on her bit of bad advice, Hede changed strategy to join Qing officials in “using foreigners to control foreigners,” each taking what they needed, thus returning triumphant.

Hede briefly mentioned the past without elaborating, lest she claim credit and become presumptuous with him again.

“The Qing court is brewing modernization reforms.” Hede carefully chose his words, measured in revealing political trends. “I submitted a memorial proposing using customs tax revenue to establish a specialized foreign language academy to train diplomatic talent—after all, self-taught language geniuses like Miss Lin are rare among the rare—they agreed and began implementation.”

Lin Yuchan’s heart pounded as she whispered: “Tong… Tongwen Guan?”

The Treaty of Tianjin stipulated that future treaties between the Qing and various nations must use English and French as authoritative texts, not Chinese characters, thus requiring sufficient foreign language talent to handle increasingly heavy diplomatic affairs. So the Qing government established Tongwen Guan, China’s earliest modern educational institution.

—This was the history textbook summary.

Hede was surprised: “Seems it’s already gained some fame. Unfortunately, when others mentioned it to you, they didn’t mention my name along with it, did they?”

Lin Yuchan honestly shook her head.

Tongwen Guan, later the Imperial University of Peking, Beijing Normal University, Peking University School of Foreign Languages…

Indeed, she’d never heard that these schools’ histories included Robert Hede’s place.

“They took my customs revenue, then cast me aside, saying, though this isn’t orthodox classical learning, it’s still a Qing school, forbidding my involvement in school affairs.” Hede suddenly stood from his office chair, clenching his fists, his tone gradually becoming an angry Irish accent. “I wrote several protest letters, but you know their efficiency—one letter takes several weeks, they won’t build telegraph lines, even the lowest messenger acts superior, needing constant bribes to pay you attention—perhaps deliberately. Wenxiang couldn’t withstand my urging, but his reply to me was—Give me an answer in another month.”

Hede’s desk was piled with papers. Written and crumpled letter papers showed he was already exhausted over this matter.

Lin Yuchan bowed, using her gaze to express deep sympathy.

No wonder Hede chose her as a punching bag today. Regarding voice in Tongwen Guan, he was also the unlucky one rejected in “bidding.”

She followed his words: “Seems there’s no solution.”

Hede smiled coldly. How could he give up so easily?

Wenxiang’s wife is currently in Shanghai. I don’t know what she’s here for, but she’ll stay about a month. My intelligence tells me Wenxiang’s wife is a talented woman, and he values her opinions highly.”

After circling, I finally reached the main point. Lin Yuchan understood.

“You want to go through Mrs. Wenxiang’s connections.”

Hede nodded.

“A court minister’s principal wife won’t easily receive foreign men, much less foreign devils.” Hede used this curse word he’d learned in Guangdong without psychological barriers, his position highly suspicious. “Since I can’t conjure up a socially adept little canary wife in time, may I ask Miss Lin to try helping me open this connection? If successful, no need to compete for tea bidding—I’ll give it all to you.”

Lin Yuchan nodded. Her black tea had grown cold. She smiled: “Lord Hede, try my green tea again?”

Hede was impatient. Hearing her speak so leisurely, his face had already darkened three shades. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“Quickly.”

While water boiled, Lin Yuchan pondered the logic involved.

Mrs. Wenxiang. A matter of pillow talk. Among the Qing officialdom’s many tactics, this could only be considered elementary.

But…

She patiently poured away the first tea-washing water, choosing her words carefully: “Lord Hede’s duties are in customs. Tongwen Guan matters… differ too greatly from your work. At most, it’s chocolate chips on cake. Is it worth your effort to fight for?”

Hede looked at the green tea cup without moving, his face darkening.

“Miss Lin might as well speak directly—you think my hands reach too far, I’m meddling too much, right?”

Lin Yuchan smiled: “I wouldn’t dare. I’m not the court—supervising you earns no money.”

Hede’s ambition had been revealed bit by bit. Last time with the Osborn Flotilla affair, he enthusiastically took it on, conducting risky operations that brought huge returns.

Having tasted success, he began interfering with Tongwen Guan.

A “barbarian” whose appearance and culture differed greatly from others, gradually carving out his position in the chaotic, evil Qing officialdom.

Of course, he genuinely intended to help the Qing train foreign language talent. Publicly and privately, it benefited people and himself, beyond reproach.

In the stagnant world of the Qing, to live meaningfully and skillfully, one couldn’t passively accept fate, waiting for pie to fall from heaven.

Everything had to be fought for oneself.

Lin Yuchan could summarize this experience—how could he not realize it?

Hede finally accepted the green tea cup, sipped it, wasn’t quite used to the taste, but still drank it all drop by drop.

“Miss Lin, as a Qing subject, having doubts about this official is understandable and counts as fulfilling civic duty.” He leaned back, saying coldly, “Then look at this.”

Lin Yuchan thought: How did I inexplicably become a Qing subject? From his tone, he sounds quite loyal and patriotic.

Just as she was pursing her lips, a gust of wind brought a book he’d thrown at her.

Hede’s habit of throwing things was getting worse. But he didn’t account for her size. Sitting behind the tall office desk, only her head and chest showed—the book hit her chest squarely, quite painfully!

Realizing his mistake, Hede quickly apologized, but his eyes were still fixed on the book, waiting for her to open it.

What could Lin Yuchan do but play the grandson?

She smiled through gritted teeth: “What book is this? Quite heavy.”

She was now quite comfortable reading vertically bound books, and traditional characters in account books posed no obstacles. But the moment she opened this book, she still felt dizzy.

The title was clear enough: Beijing Tongwen Guan English Annotation Literacy Textbook.

But from the first page, she completely entered illiterate mode, staring blankly at lines of gibberish.

“Lài sī méng hā fū yǎ fū yóu pú luán sī…”

She read it several times, thinking: could this be some Heaven and Earth Society code?

Until laughter sounded beside her.

Hede had somehow walked behind her, watching her muttering, his face finally clearing with flying, domineering laughter.

“Less than one half of your price.” He suppressed laughter, saying, “This is business terminology, meaning asking the seller to reduce the price by half.”

Lin Yuchan snorted—fortunately, she hadn’t been drinking tea just then.

This English was wrong too! Even Indians didn’t speak like this!

Flipping two more pages, every character recognizable but no sentences comprehensible, making her suspect she’d developed aphasia.

“Tuō mǎ liù ǎn yǐ jí fū yóu ǎn wǔ shǐ wéi” was “Tomorrow I give you answer”—please await good news tomorrow.

“Tǔ dù huí fū mǎi yǐ wù lún tuō” was “to do with my friend”—traveling with friends.

…

This textbook’s “editorial committee” probably gathered people from all corners—the Chinese phonetic annotations for English sometimes approached Mandarin, sometimes Wu dialect, sometimes seemed like Sichuan accent…

“Dì shì miǎn shì bì dì wàn dá lián wēi lì wēi lù…”

Lin Yuchan suddenly cheered: “Got it! These men speak Mandarin very well! This sentence was compiled by Cantonese!”

The clerks in the office corner were startled, casting dissatisfied glances at her.

Flipping to the end, probably the editorial committee also felt embarrassed, adding a study guide note at the book’s end:

“Only let learners figure it out themselves.”

Then, deeply hiding merit and fame, not even leaving a postscript.

Facing the client, Lin Yuchan dared not be too presumptuous, desperately suppressing a string of complaints on her tongue tip.

“I hear this book was compiled by those with connections. It certainly exhausted the customs revenue I provided.” Hede’s voice sounded behind her, each word suppressing a pot of anger. “Miss Lin, tell me, if I don’t interfere, can my conscience rest easy?”

Lin Yuchan slammed the table and stood: “Mrs. Wenxiang, right?”

For the sake of national righteousness, she had to step up!

Thinking of the future Qing Dynasty, where everyone spoke English like this, she might as well pierce her ears.

Hede looked at her, slight laughter flashing in his eyes.

He knew she’d react this way.

“Of course, I’ll also seek other connections. You needn’t feel too much pressure.” He flipped through the desk calendar, circling a date with his fountain pen. “Tea bidding is in one month. Wenxiang’s reply will also arrive as scheduled then. If you delay, sorry, I won’t favor your business, but I will give some thanks. If you can’t manage it…”

Lin Yuchan asked with a smile: “There won’t be punishment too, will there?”

“I’m fighting for enforcement authority for customs, but unfortunately haven’t succeeded yet.” Hede finally showed a smile, making a joke. “But you know this matter has risks. The other party is nobility after all, while you’re a commoner, though a capable commoner. Chinese officialdom is complex and dangerous; its social principles would be thicker than the Bible if written out. I presume I needn’t remind you as a foreigner.”

Lin Yuchan’s face darkened slightly.

Indeed, all risks were calculated into the price.

There was no free lunch anywhere.

She collected those ups and downs of emotion, methodically tidying tea implements, slowly organizing her thoughts: “So within this month, I need to find opportunities to approach Wenxiang’s wife, somehow get her to influence Wenxiang, adding Mr. Robert Hede’s name to Tongwen Guan’s school committee.”

Hede nodded.

Lin Yuchan continued: “If I handle this matter well for you, my reward is the customs house’s tea order for the next tax year. If I mess up, my greatest risk is losing my head, while you at most lose your official hat, taking the generous severance you set for yourself back to Dun County to buy a manor and raise dogs.”

She looked up with a sweet smile: “Lord Hede, I feel like you’re bullying people a bit?”

Hede stood, stretching: “If you’re afraid, don’t agree.”

After all, Tongwen Guan was extra business he’d taken on. There were extra matters every year—if there was no opportunity this time, there would be next time.

Why spoil her?

Domineering CEOs were domineering because bargaining power was in their hands.

As for the powerless Party B, at others’ mercy…

Enough playing the grandson. Lin Yuchan bowed in farewell, saying coolly: “I take my leave.”

Hede’s brows flickered as he waited quietly. Seeing her pack up efficiently, really intending to leave, he called someone darkly: “See the guest out.”

“Oh right,” Lin Yuchan suddenly turned, pointing at a stack of printed but not yet posted recruitment notices on the document desk, smiling: “After Tongwen Guan trains foreign language talent, they can be directly supplied to customs, saving Lord Hede the time and effort of interviews and recruitment. Congratulations in advance.”

The azure dress with trim flashed by the door. Hede suddenly spoke.

“Stop.”

The little dress trembled. Lin Yuchan slowly turned back.

Indeed, Hede’s expression was complex.

Originally thinking Tongwen Guan was “extra business,” but this damned girl’s reminder suddenly made this “extra business” seem not so extra!

Didn’t this mean that in the future, the Qing government could randomly place people in its customs?

And all were “advanced” foreign language talents who spoke “lài sī méng hā fū yǎ fū yóu pú”??

Hede’s ears seemed to ring with proud voices, each word in this damned little widow’s damned clear accent: “Tongwen Guan graduates oh, Lord Hede please accept them all, first graduating class, unemployment would be embarrassing, besides they were all trained with your customs revenue oh…”

He grabbed his orange hair, wanting to find a pastor at church to discuss life and the future.

If he thought carefully, he might not have failed to consider these consequences.

But because it was “extra business,” he hadn’t thought deeply.

While Lin Yuchan, searching through her history textbooks, felt this consequence was obvious.

Hede pulled Lin Yuchan back to the office, momentarily unsure what to say, pacing in agitation several times before pointing at the wall map.

“What I said earlier was customs orders—who said it was only Maritime Customs?” He was aggressive, openly reneging. “Miss Lin seems to forget I’m now Inspector General… not only Shanghai Maritime Customs, all Qing open ports—Guangzhou Yuehai Customs, Tianjin Jinhai Customs, Yantai Donghai Customs, Hankou Jianghan Customs, Ningbo Zhejiang Customs, Fuzhou Fujian Customs, Shantou Chaohai Customs, Jiujiang Customs, Zhenjiang Customs, Xiamen Customs, Taiwan Customs, Danshui Customs… theoretically all within my jurisdiction. Many customs offices were newly established this year, all procurement starting from zero.”

Lin Yuchan looked at the dense English place names on the map, dazzled.

Probably even the Qing Emperor couldn’t recite them all like a menu, listing so many place names.

Hede spread five fingers, squinting, measuring distances on the map: “…Taiwan is too far, other places also have shipping inconveniences. But the Yangtze River and East China Sea coasts should be manageable… Miss Lin, Yantai, Hankou, Zhenjiang, Ningbo, Jiujiang, Fuzhou, plus Shanghai—all seven customs houses’ departments’ annual tea supply, can you handle this order?”

The damned little girl opened her damned little mouth, her damned big eyes unblinking, nodding blankly.

“Your expression tells me you haven’t calculated seriously at all.” Hede opened the door for her. “But I’ll assume you have. Goodbye, little liar.”