Inside the Yixing Shipping Company shop, several clerks of varying heights and builds went about their duties, yet their movements were all equally stiff as they stole glances at the radiant foreign young lady.

Exposing her collarbones and arms… such a thin waist… such long eyelashes—didn’t she get tired when she opened her eyes…

Miss Compton was also visiting a local Chinese establishment for the first time. Looking tense, she secretly surveyed her surroundings, carefully studying the faces of these Chinese men.

Like an alien visiting a zoo, both sides found each other fascinating and quite educational.

Fortunately, Miss Compton had a “guide” beside her who timely reassured her: “They’re all ordinary Chinese people with wives and children. They don’t eat cats, dogs, or rats. Most don’t speak English. Don’t be afraid—just wave hello.”

Miss Compton stiffly waved her hand.

The neckline of her Western dress fluttered. Several young men who had never seen the world instantly blushed, finding excuses to run to the back.

Miss Compton felt she must be insane. Two years ago, when she first arrived in China, she would never have dared come within ten feet of Chinese men. Her female companions had warned her that Chinese people worshipped devils and were morally corrupt—if you showed their men a kind face, they would find opportunities to rape you.

And now, for the sake of some ethereal journalistic dream, she had voluntarily entered a den of wolves full of Chinese men…

She felt she must be crazy, unconsciously gripping Lin Yuchan’s hand tighter.

Fortunately, these men showed no intention of being rude to her. If anything, they seemed more nervous than she was, looking at her as if she were a witch.

Miss Compton breathed a sigh of relief, then inexplicably wondered what she had been afraid of for the past two years.

Remembering the purpose of her visit, she took out paper and pen from her small handbag, observing the shop’s layout and jotting down quick notes.

The small tea room door opened, and someone softly called out in English.

“Please sit. Would you like some tea?”

Miss Compton jumped in fright, hurriedly turning around, then froze.

She had never seen such a handsome Chinese man…

Clean and upright, with a somewhat sickly pallor that gave him a youthful quality somewhere between boy and young man. But his eyes sparkled like stars, touched with gentle humor in their depths.

This completely overturned all her previous impressions of Chinese men.

However, even if she had occasionally glimpsed such a talented Chinese person on the street before, she would likely have ignored him completely, never looking closely.

Su Minguan looked at this bewildered Western girl, then glanced questioningly at Lin Yuchan.

This is the “journalist” you mentioned?

At first glance, he might have thought she was here to sell Western nightgowns.

“Those veteran foreign male journalists wouldn’t bother digging into the stories behind Chinese merchants.” Lin Yuchan cheerfully introduced them. “This is Miss Compton. She’s here to listen to stories today. Boss Su, don’t bully her—tell the truth.”

Su Minguan chuckled softly and shook his head.

He knew quite a few Western men, and whether he liked it or not, most were in adversarial relationships with him—meeting meant drawing swords.

He also maintained high vigilance toward Western women, having no interest in getting close to them.

However, since this was someone Lin Yuchan had brought in, she was his guest. This girl’s mind was full of colorful schemes, never playing by conventional rules.

Su Minguan, therefore, politely clasped his hands toward Miss Compton, courteously saying: “My apologies—I’m injured and couldn’t greet you properly.”

Miss Compton stared for several seconds, finally collecting her shattered worldview. Suddenly coming to her senses, she pulled up a stool, sat down, and arranged her paper and pen.

“Please call me E.C. Bennett—that’s my pen name.” She introduced herself very professionally. “Mr. Su, I hear your transport fleet recently encountered a suspicious accident?”

…

…

…

Steam Ship’s Maiden Voyage Passes Test, Chinese Shipping Delivers Perfect Reputation

Rip! In the simple Western-style office, angry hands tore a stack of fresh-scented Maritime Commercial Daily newspapers in half.

“This is your newspaper?” Manager Jin Nengheng struck the floor with his walking stick, waving the torn newspaper fragments in his hand and roaring in a low voice. “This is the result of Jardine Matheson & Co. sponsoring your newspaper one thousand dollars annually?”

The North China Herald was thriving and had recently launched a supplement called the Maritime Commercial Daily, which, as the name suggested, specialized in shipping and commercial news.

This report about Yixing Shipping even occupied the supplement’s front page—who knew how they reviewed their manuscripts!

Mr. Arthur Compton, chief editor of the North China Herald, sipped his black tea and smiled politely: “Our newspaper is a neutral institution and won’t favor anyone based on donation amounts. Moreover, I’m kindly informing you that our recent income mainly comes from individual subscriptions. I don’t understand why an article about Chinese merchants would create conflicts of interest with the American Jardine Matheson & Co., prompting you to visit personally, Manager.”

Manager Jin Nengheng listened to the other’s deliberately affected standard Oxford accent, feeling extremely irritated. Looking at the black tea on his desk, these Brits truly couldn’t go an hour without tea. The tea tin was rather distinctive, with finely hand-painted flowers and birds. He’d heard of the brand—”Boya.”

Jin Nengheng said coldly, “Who wrote this report that turns black into white? I want to meet him personally.”

Mr. Compton picked up another complete newspaper from his desk, carefully examining the article’s byline.

“E.C. Bennett… sounds like a young writer’s pen name. Do you know him?”

“Sounds like—sounds like?” Jin Nengheng was about to explode. “Don’t you spend one minute getting to know authors before publishing articles?”

“Is that necessary?” Mr. Compton shrugged. “Many people submit anonymously to our newspaper for various considerations. As long as the content quality is sufficiently solid, we publish the best submissions. You know, sometimes a writer’s fame and identity can influence editorial judgment, while anonymous publication ensures that manuscript quality is our only priority consideration…”

Mr. Compton spoke official platitudes while silently pondering. This unknown E.C. Bennett, though submitting for the first time, had very sophisticated writing, producing believable news that resulted from thorough field research and investigation, requiring considerable effort.

Moreover, he deeply understood the North China Herald’s style and characteristics, writing articles that perfectly matched the editors’ tastes and thoroughly comprehended the new supplement’s mission. The submitted manuscript needed virtually no word or sentence modifications—it was printed as originally written.

This person had considerable connections with the newspaper.

Mr. Compton had speculated. Could this E.C. Bennett be some intern under him? Some freelancer he regularly collaborate with?

But he had discreetly made inquiries and found no one quite fitting.

There weren’t many foreigners in Shanghai’s foreign settlements, with various circles overlapping each other. If there were such a talented young person, like an awl in a bag, they would eventually show their sharp point. But Mr. Compton was surprised to discover that this E.C. Bennett was truly untraceable.

Could it be… a Chinese person who understood English?

Impossible. Years of writing experience gave him accurate intuition. E.C. Bennett’s word choice and phrasing, use of slang and allusions, and the perspective revealed between the lines was undoubtedly authentic English.

Mr. Compton had been puzzled for several days before abandoning the investigation of such trivial details.

After all, since the person chose anonymity, they hoped the newspaper would respect their privacy without prying too deeply.

In any case, the report E.C. Bennett brought had generated tremendous response, giving the inaugural Maritime Commercial Daily excellent sales—that was enough.

Thinking of “sales,” Mr. Compton silently smiled.

Across from him, Manager Jin Nengheng had paced dozens of circles, like a kettle about to boil, accumulating anger with gurgling sounds.

“I don’t consider this report neutral.” The kettle finally blew its top as he said angrily, “Recently, your newspaper’s stance toward China has been quite ambiguous…”

Mr. Compton smiled, reiterating: “Our stance has always been neutral.”

What nonsense.

Newspapers also needed profit. Past readers were mostly foreign residents, so naturally, the language favored European and American perspectives. However, in recent years, large numbers of Chinese had flooded the foreign settlements, including many intellectuals capable of reading English. These people gradually became mainstream subscribers. There were even rumors that one anonymously subscribing user was the rising star of Qing politics, Li Hongzhang.

Since late the year before last, when the North China Herald accidentally reported a small piece about “a Chinese gentleman and a foreign patrol officer fighting, with patrol officer sheepishly apologizing,” newspaper staff discovered that Chinese subscriber numbers increased daily, apparently hoping to find more such satisfying stories in the paper.

The North China Herald naturally began reassessing its stance. While not completely taking the Chinese perspective, at least articles hostile to Chinese people and the Qing government faced greater review difficulties.

Not to mention that currently, British policy toward China has gradually transformed from “forceful military suppression” to “assisting the Chinese Empire in restoring order and protecting the powers’ interests in China.” In short, it had become more friendly.

After giving the stick, they should offer carrots. Even beatings had limits—you couldn’t beat someone to death.

This was the current British political stance. Mr. Compton thought Americans were simple-minded and naturally wouldn’t understand.

Moreover…

Mr. Compton thought of his lovely brown-haired daughter. She unfailingly ran to some Chinese girls’ tea gatherings weekly, often bringing fresh street anecdotes that enlightened even him, a long-term China resident.

Unknowingly, this had also influenced his views of Chinese people.

These internal affairs naturally couldn’t be shared with outsiders. Mr. Compton took another sip of tea, watching Manager Jin Nengheng plop down across from his desk, grab a fountain pen, and underline sentence by sentence.

“Fine, Mr. Compton, then let me ask you—why do you describe a failed shipping operation as if it were a hero’s triumphant return?”

The industry was spreading jokes about “Yixing Shipping’s maiden steam voyage failing, facing huge compensation claims,” but that damned E.C. Bennett’s skillful writing transformed it into a king’s return when published for public view!

A perfectly good commercial newspaper’s headline was written like a serialized adventure novel—no wonder sales were good!

Mr. Compton smiled in response: “You might carefully read this in-depth report. This Chinese fleet faced bandits ten times their number, bravely maneuvered, decisively opened fire, and annihilated the bandits with no casualties of their own. The entire process is clearly described, comparable to classic battles in history books. If this doesn’t meet triumph standards, then Caesar’s, Darius’s, and Napoleon’s deeds should be removed from history books. Our readers are all highly educated, intelligent gentlemen. I believe anyone reading this thrilling story would unanimously agree that in this confrontation between fleet and bandits, victory inevitably belonged to the former.”

Mr. Compton paused, looking at the swaying hooked nose across from him, then smiled and added: “Moreover, doesn’t this also prove that their flagship—the steam ship manufactured by us Westerners, reportedly purchased from your company—is strong and fearless of cannon fire? This brings us honor! Manager, think about it—if even Jardine Matheson & Co.’s retired ship could perform so excellently, isn’t this the best advertisement for your company?”

Jin Nengheng was speechless, angrily thinking: Then why didn’t you mention in the report that the ship was bought from us?

But he immediately remembered that Boss Su of Yixing had somehow found a Western proxy—traitor among Western powers, who had swindled the ship from Jardine Matheson. He considered this a great humiliation and had spread word that no one should publicize this matter.

His mess.

“Then, then this part,” Jin Nengheng persisted, pointing to the next section, “most of their cargo was damaged, and they can’t afford compensation, facing years of lawsuits. How dare you turn black into white, calling them credit-worthy?”

“Where’s the black and white reversal? For God’s sake, please retract your false accusations.” Mr. Compton impatiently twirled his pen. “Did you read this report carefully? Mr. E.C. Bennett, the author, personally met with Mr. Su, Yixing Shipping’s leader, and received his promise to fully compensate all insured cargo. You know, such straightforward, responsible attitudes are rare even among Western merchants. They would exhaust every method seeking loopholes in insurance clauses, leaving poor customers empty-handed. Isn’t such a positive, responsible attitude and perfect contractual spirit worth detailed coverage as an exemplar for future Chinese and foreign merchants in Shanghai?”

Jin Nengheng’s face paled as he touched his hooked nose, murmuring: “He’s willing to pay full compensation?”

Anyone could make grand claims. But once printed in newspapers, it was black and white—completely undeniable.

This meant Yixing Shipping was accepting fate and preparing for major losses.

But this differed from Jin Nengheng’s expectations.

Jin Nengheng’s envisioned “major losses” meant swallowing broken teeth, suffering in silence.

But now, while Yixing was indeed bleeding, they had gained a priceless front-page newspaper advertisement!

Calculated by paid advertisement word count, this advertising fee was incredibly cost-effective.

On his way to the newspaper office, Manager Jin Nengheng had seen at least three or four Western passersby reading the paper with relish, struggling to pronounce “Yixing” according to the pinyin in the article.

His hooked nose was nearly crooked with anger!

Who was this E.C. Bennett, working so tirelessly to speak for Chinese people, completely lacking Western powers’ awareness?

Manager Jin Nengheng struck the floor with his walking stick, muttering: “Full compensation-full-full-full-full-full-full-full—full compensation, where’s he getting the money? No bank is lending to him…”

Mr. Compton smiled: “You say our newspaper has biased positions—in some sense, that’s not entirely wrong. Please look at the words behind me: Justice, Truth, Kindness—these are the North China Herald’s positions. Anyone, regardless of nationality, skin color, or religion, who respects these three principles deserves our extensive coverage.”

Mr. Compton finished speaking, his expression slightly darkening as he looked meaningfully at Jin Nengheng.

Though E.C. Bennett’s report never mentioned where the bandits attacking Yixing came from, the text implied these bandits weren’t common thieves but organized, disciplined, and prepared—hence the fierce battle rarely seen in the industry.

Anyone slightly knowledgeable knew that Yixing Shipping led Chinese shipping, and its major competitors weren’t Chinese.

Mr. Compton poured himself tea, seemingly talking to himself: “My daughter learned a Chinese saying: ‘Always leave room for maneuver—you may meet again someday.’ Though Chinese people are weak and easily bullied, bullying them too severely inevitably breeds extreme xenophobic sentiment. When that happens, the first to suffer impact will certainly be we defenseless expatriates… Alas, unfortunately, some short-sighted people find these principles difficult to comprehend.”

He finished his tea and signaled his secretary to show the guest out.

Manager Jin Nengheng ground his molars, threw the crumpled newspaper out the window, and stomped heavily downstairs.

The teapot was empty. Mr. Compton bent down, took a new can of Boya Fine Tea from his desk drawer, opened the tin lid, inhaled the aroma inside, and was renewed with work energy.

“A total of 1,350 pounds, plus forty taels of silver insurance compensation. Hmm, and last year’s ship purchase loan, all settled today. To avoid exchange rate losses, I’m repaying everything with bank notes—shall I count again?”

Lin Yuchan smiled slightly and shook her head.

The messy stack of bank notes and drafts on the table, new and old, with various handwritten characters. She arranged them one by one, put them in an envelope, and tucked them into her waist pouch. Then she took out several IOUs. Su Minguan accepted them, confirmed they were originals, tore and burned them in her presence, then wiped the remaining ashes from his hands with a handkerchief.

Two weeks had passed since the surgery. Su Minguan had recovered from his serious injury. Though his complexion remained slightly pale, his movements were again full of strength.

“A’Mei, thank you.” Only after repaying the money did he smile, standing and clasping his hands toward her. “Without your emergency assistance, I truly couldn’t have achieved ‘full compensation’—I’d only have let the foreigners laugh at me. Everyone at Yixing owes you a debt.”

After the formal words, he leaned forward, eyes smiling, asking softly: “Little one, how did you think of the newspaper publicity idea?”

Once again, she had impressed him beyond expectations.

The girl could always bring surprises when situations seemed hopeless.

Lin Yuchan smiled in response: “If we don’t occupy the position of public opinion, the enemy will. Boss Su, this is the nineteenth century—we must learn to open new battlefields.”

Having witnessed the enormous power of later-era social media, even if she hadn’t eaten pork, she’d seen pigs run, knowing how to guide public opinion most effectively. Not utilizing this opportunity would waste her transmigration.

Scholars’ pens were indeed extraordinary, capable of destroying hearts and souls or moving heaven and earth.

Turning “shipwreck and cargo loss” into “great bandit slaughter,” making “forced compensation” into “honest trustworthiness”—not altering a single fact, but retelling events this way made Yixing the light of shipping, an advanced example of justice conquering evil.

Giving the battered Yixing new life.

Now, Yixing’s shop was unprecedentedly busy. Clerks methodically received customers, handling insurance claims—this time, customers’ attitudes had completely reversed. Everyone smiled broadly, chatting with clerks while quickly signing compensation receipts.

“About last time, so sorry, it was all a misunderstanding, misunderstanding, haha… Don’t know which troublemaker spread rumors saying you planned to default. We were too anxious and believed it—truly shameful…”

Yixing clerks sneered inwardly but maintained commercial smiles, politely saying: “Just a misunderstanding—what’s the big deal! We’ll continue cooperating in future—can’t let petty troublemakers sow discord.”

Of course, “full compensation” didn’t mean immediate refunds. After customers registered and verified losses, they received partial principal first, with the remainder promised within months, somewhat reducing Yixing’s cash flow pressure.

But no one questioned this. Yixing’s decision for full compensation had been reported in foreign newspapers—definitely couldn’t be fake.

Manager Jin Nengheng believed Chinese people were ignorant and easily manipulated, but this national character was double-edged. For many Chinese merchants, what appeared in black and white in foreign newspapers was absolute authority. With the North China Herald endorsing Yixing, it became much harder for him to secretly incite Chinese merchants to backstab Yixing.

Beside the long queue of insurance claim customers stood another long line of new business customers.

Less than a week after the newspaper article’s publication, orders of all sizes nearly buried Yixing’s counter. All chose Yixing Shipping for being safe and responsible—they could fight bandits and compensate losses, combining muscle with conscience. Who else would they choose?

Su Minguan borrowed over one thousand pounds from Lin Yuchan as temporary “bridge financing” to settle all insurance claims.

Originally planned as one month’s emergency funding, but by April, total orders received almost equaled last year’s annual total.

He immediately repaid Lin Yuchan’s debt, including daily interest at two per thousand, cleanly and efficiently.

Lin Yuchan felt her bulging waist pouch, saying seriously, “The thousand-plus pounds I lent you were originally Boya’s emergency funds. My unauthorized use was already improper. You mustn’t tell anyone.”

Su Minguan took a pear from the table, peeling it with a small knife while smiling: “Didn’t Rong Hong entrust you with full authority? Besides, adding my bridge interest, Boya can survive a few more days.”

The implication: she saved others while saving herself—no need for psychological burden.

Lin Yuchan thought this made sense, looking up and half-jokingly asking: “How will you thank me?”

Su Minguan laughed softly, skillfully finishing the pear and handing it to her.

“What do you want?”