Nineteenth-century billiards differed considerably from modern versions. Lin Yuchan found the cue in her hands quite heavy, made of some unknown wood. The billiard table wasn’t slate but wooden, with no rubber cushions at the edges—all wood. The cue tip was inlaid with marble, and the billiard balls themselves weren’t plastic but seemed made of ivory.

Naturally, there was no cube-shaped chalk either. Lin Yuchan rubbed the cue tip, and though she’d played a few games long ago, this time wouldn’t be easy.

Fortunately, the billiard hall had only opened in Shanghai this year, and the visiting foreigners were all amateurs seeking social entertainment.

Several young men cheered and eagerly set up the balls for her, explaining the rules with overlapping voices: the white and yellow balls were each side’s cue balls, with another red ball. Different points were scored based on striking and pocketing sequence.

The billiard club had been open for months, with only a handful of foreign ladies visiting, who always sat aside drinking tea and wine, admiring their male companions’ heroic figures. Today was the first time a woman played, and a Chinese woman at that…

There were no relevant regulations. The club needed business, too, and wouldn’t spoil the fun by throwing her out—they’d just treat it as entertainment.

Miss Louise suddenly noticed it had gotten quieter around her. Looking up, she found half the men had gone to crowd around a billiard table, excitedly whispering.

Miss Louise tugged at her dress straps in dissatisfaction and sauntered over to see what was happening. Naturally, someone made room for her in the best viewing spot.

Looking inside, she was stunned—

She saw that poised Chinese girl from earlier rolling up her sleeves, bending over, properly holding the billiard cue, staring at the ivory white ball, and forcefully pushing out a shot.

Crack!

The white ball seemed slapped, reluctantly rolling twice, brushing past the nearby red ball without looking sideways, clicking flatly into the pocket.

Zero points.

Suppressed laughter rippled around.

“This Chinese Miss doesn’t know how to play billiards but insists on trying.”

Lin Yuchan was also somewhat stunned, her face slightly flushed.

Although she hadn’t played many games in the twenty-first century either, this nineteenth-century billiards felt completely different!

Not to mention anything else, just the marble cue tip striking the ivory ball was incredibly slippery. She’d used too much force and the cue went completely off direction, turning her stroke into Yang family spear technique.

The Sassoon manager smiled and nodded, looking at her tolerantly.

“Beautiful, Miss, billiards should be played like this.”

He bent over, casually took a shot—yellow ball hit white ball, then red ball, rolling slowly twice.

“Canon! Two points!”

Lin Yuchan felt some regret. The table’s friction was also peculiar…

Su Minguan pushed through the crowd to rescue her: “The dragon boat race is over. Want to see the awards ceremony?”

Lin Yuchan was silent for a moment, then smiled and shook her head at him.

“I need a drink.”

Rags and towels were randomly stacked on the small bar. Lin Yuchan found a torn chamois handkerchief, asked the bartender for scissors to trim it into small pieces, and tied it firmly to the cue tip with thin string. Looking around, she saw a small blackboard with wine signs standing on the floor. The box contained several rough chalk sticks.

She bent to pick up a piece of chalk and held it in her palm.

The Chinese bartender asked curiously: “What are you doing?”

Lin Yuchan ordered a glass of dry red for cover and quickly returned to the billiard table.

The Sassoon manager looked at her like watching a little magpie, smiling: “Still playing?”

Lin Yuchan smiled slightly, gripping the cue tip and gently rubbing it with her fingers.

Playing billiards without cube-shaped chalk always felt like something was missing.

Even just a piece of chalk, after rubbing it twice, immediately gave her the psychological suggestion “I’m very good,” refocusing her attention on that table of ivory balls.

She put her hands behind her back, pinned up her braid, then bent over, concentrated, aimed—

Crack! A crisp sound as the cue tip struck the white ball’s lower part squarely, the red ball dropped into the pocket with a muffled thud.

“Wow, three points!”

Applause erupted around them.

Not a very beautiful shot. But pretty girls had lower standards—in people’s eyes, this was already an exceptional performance.

Most eyes in the hall focused on her. Someone suddenly recognized her: “Ah, you’re that lady from the consulate court…”

“Legal representative,” Lin Yuchan was also surprised that a foreigner wasn’t face-blind and still remembered her after nearly a year. She turned to ask, “How is Lawyer Taylor? I remember he’s legal advisor to many trading houses…”

“Already fired!”

Several people shouted simultaneously, then laughed heartily.

Someone eagerly brought her freshly grilled vegetables and meat slices. Lin Yuchan smiled and shook her head, steadying herself to calculate the next route.

Lin Yuchan still couldn’t quite understand the scoring rules. Fortunately, someone else handled it. Su Minguan helped her calculate points, repositioned pocketed balls to specific spots, and softly reminded her of various combined scoring methods.

The Sassoon manager gave her an extra look, puzzled for a moment, then imitated her by rubbing the cue tip with his palm, thinking it was some lucky ritual.

Then, with one shot, the yellow ball hit the white ball, and he also scored. He looked around proudly and winked at Miss Louise.

Lin Yuchan gradually found her rhythm. Her shots became slower and slower, rubbing the cue tip for at least twenty seconds before each strike. Spectators whispered in amazement.

“She’s calculating angles!”

Indeed, the chamois-wrapped cue tip rubbed with chalk powder felt rough with just the right friction, similar to modern billiard cues.

Even when not hitting the white ball’s center but slightly above, below, left, or right, she could strike various beautiful arcs, making many tricky angles possible.

Chalk powder was truly a great epoch-making invention!

Although Lin Yuchan’s skill level was poor, her equipment was advanced!

Her opponent wasn’t professional level either—a big belly pressed against the table edge greatly limiting his movements. Moreover, he could only use marble to strike ivory, every shot slipping without grip, only able to aim at the yellow ball’s center for straight shots. Even with months of billiard experience, this wasn’t much of an advantage.

When two novices meet, one must be stronger. Lin Yuchan played more smoothly. Soon, the score had her taking the lead. 30 points, 50 points, 80 points…

The audience excitedly shouted: “Baulkline Warning!”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

What was that?

Su Minguan was about to explain when the Sassoon manager frowned and stopped him.

“This is a singles match, isn’t it, Mr. Su?”

Someone softly booed.

“Can’t a lady have a coach?” Miss Louise squinted, holding a cigar and puffing smoke, commenting in a sweet voice, “Don’t be a sore loser!”

The Sassoon manager’s face flushed red as he turned away amid snickers.

Ladies first, respect for women… Westerners had invented a bunch of civilized, progressive surface courtesies, now trapped by their cocoon.

Everyone felt that for someone of the Sassoon manager’s status and age to prevent a beginner lady from seeking sideline guidance was truly ungraceful behavior.

Su Minguan, hearing that sweet voice, only now noticed there was a familiar acquaintance he’d once kidnapped mixed into the club. His ears reddened slightly.

Coincidentally, Miss Louise, seeing Lin Yuchan playing billiards and stealing her spotlight, had her old habit flare up and publicly threw a flirtatious glance at that handsome young Chinese man.

Su Minguan: “…”

A’Mei didn’t see. Didn’t see.

Contrary to his wishes, Lin Yuchan deliberately asked: “Who’s that?”

Su Minguan looked righteously stern, pointing at the billiard table: “Before reaching one hundred points, your white ball must pass through this position…”

Lin Yuchan smiled and didn’t tease him, listening seriously and planning her shot route.

…

At some point, someone had set up a Voigtländer metal camera on the balcony. Originally meant to capture dragon boat race images, it now turned curiously toward this focused and graceful Chinese girl.

A beam of sunlight shone in from the balcony, evenly divided into small blocks by the railings, falling on the flat billiard table and illuminating that delicate face above it.

Click!

Lin Yuchan looked up in surprise. The young foreign man behind the camera blew her a kiss, indicating this photograph was a gift for her.

The last ball dropped into the pocket, and half the club’s spectators excitedly clapped and whistled.

“The Chinese beauty won! The Chinese beauty won!”

Buzzing voices rose and fell as foreigners asked each other who this beautiful Chinese lady was and whether they could approach her.

Lin Yuchan rubbed her aching arm, tiredly wiping sweat.

She still hadn’t calculated those final points…

But since everyone said she won, then she won.

Su Minguan made no effort to hide his delight, secretly hooking fingers with her in the crowded room and whispering: “Teach me when we get back.”

The foreign merchants who’d queued to invite her to dance now stared dumbfounded, looking at the cue in her hand, then at her face, showing newfound respect.

The Sassoon manager was well-traveled and not a sore loser. After an awkward moment, he came over grinning to shake Lin Yuchan’s hand.

“I’ve never seen such a talented lady. Today opened my eyes…”

“Not talent, but tools.” Lin Yuchan smiled, generously revealing the chalk in her hand. “Modify your cue slightly and you’ll beat me next time.”

Several knowledgeable foreigners immediately gathered around, quickly deducing the principle and exclaiming in wonder.

Chinese people were indeed cunning! This worked!

The Sassoon manager stood stunned for a while. His slightly wounded pride returned to its proper place, making him want to laugh involuntarily.

Damn! If this were a Chinese young man, he’d clap him hard on the shoulder, then pay big money to poach him for his own trading house!

“Alright. Now let’s talk business.” Lin Yuchan dropped the cue, returned to the foreign merchants’ area, reintroduced herself. “Boya Company General Manager. Our business…”

Now facing her, the foreign merchants finally entered business mode. Dent manager suddenly remembered: “Ah, this lady’s company has supplied us with tea and cotton. A comprador surnamed Zheng is quite familiar with her—where’s little Zheng? Ah, pity, he never participates in such social activities…”

Hearing “cotton,” the foreign merchants understood.

This young, beautiful, seemingly innocent female businessperson was also one of the speculators riding the wave.

And Su Minguan’s “employer”? And a Lady? Good heavens.

“…have several cotton fields in Ningbo,” Lin Yuchan continued eloquently. “Thanks to everyone’s favor, sales have been good recently. Since you’re Minguan’s friends, I can offer discounts in future dealings.”

This time, no one interrupted, quietly listening to her business introduction.

Su Minguan, as “General Sales Agent,” dutifully stood beside her, occasionally adding supportive comments.

Several foreign merchants’ eyes lit up.

Everyone knew Chinese people were modest by nature—whether praising others or being humble, everything had to be understood magnified a hundredfold.

Her mention of “several cotton fields” transformed in the foreign merchants’ minds into endless stretches of white, fertile plains.

“Really? Hahaha… If all Chinese cotton merchants could be as knowledgeable as Miss Lin, with such good English, we wouldn’t need to rely on compradors… They’re very cunning, God knows how much profit margin they’ve skimmed from us, and there’s no way to ask…”

Su Minguan affectionately patted the Sassoon manager’s shoulder, deliberately arguing: “Come on, stop painting rosy pictures for Miss Lin. Didn’t you already make a fortune in cotton in the first half of the year? I heard your warehouses can’t even hold it all? Don’t get her hopes up for nothing.”

“Exactly, hehe…” The dent manager came over, stroking his sideburns and laughing loudly. “Look, Chinese still help Chinese. No matter how much you treat him to drinks, he’ll still undermine you…”

Another foreign merchant, Lin Yuchan, didn’t recognize approached, eagerly offering a business card: “Miss Lin, do you own extensive cotton fields?”

“Welcome to visit ‘Meng Cotton Shop’ in Ningbo.” She smiled in reply. “We’re not buying now, but we can wait until after harvest season. No chance this year, but we can cooperate next year. Since you’re Minguan’s friends, you’re Boya’s friends. Dealing with compradors is too tiring—you’re the ones who make decisions. Meeting you all today is my honor.”

Such a straightforward Chinese woman—not shy, not coy, talking business like a man with every word. The foreigners had never seen such a thing before.

Foreigners had their scales. If a British woman were so bold, they might frown and curse her as some country bumpkin. If an ordinary Chinese girl were so unconventional, foreigners would think her somewhat arrogant. But since she had a title, everyone looked at her differently. Many thought of the legendary Colombian businesswoman Mary Ingles, wondering: Am I dealing with China’s Mary Ingles?

“Unfortunate, as Minguan knows, our warehouses truly can’t hold any more.” The Sassoon trading house manager sincerely apologized. “But if there’s space at year’s end…”

Although he’d promised Lin Yuchan to sign a deal if she won, foreign merchants couldn’t just give money away mindlessly. The Sassoon manager observed this young Chinese merchant pair, pondering their competitive advantages.

“Indeed.” Su Minguan suddenly smiled. “Storage fees aren’t cheap, are they? As I understand, those compradors don’t know careful budgeting—they always sign warehouse rental contracts with their eyes closed.”

The foreigners nodded, feeling deeply sympathetic. Though they hadn’t personally handled the specific work, every time they checked account books submitted by compradors, they were shocked: to hoard cotton, these wealthy compradors rented warehouses on a grand scale, almost driving Shanghai’s land prices up again.

The relationship between foreign bosses and compradors was subtle, like hiring a capable steward. On one hand, they couldn’t do without him; on the other, they constantly worried about being marginalized, worried this steward would use his position for personal gain, squandering public funds while creating his insider trading…

Recently there were rumors that compradors were opening their own businesses—compradors having their own enterprises was fine, but those businesses were purely profit transfers, siphoning trading house money into their own pockets, earning not just commissions but also profit margins!

Many petty-minded foreigners were quite displeased: We hired you to screen markets and exploit Chinese people, getting us the cheapest, best goods. In the end, you don’t exploit anyone, just left hand to right hand, placing orders with yourself?

Chinese people were excessively cunning.

So Su Minguan’s casual remark stirred up many foreigners’ grievances against compradors.

But they still had to maintain mutual support on the surface. The Sassoon manager “hummed,” smiling without humor: “Good plots of land are competitive. Expensive is expensive—no choice.”

Lin Yuchan glanced meaningfully at Su Minguan. He smiled quietly.

Doing bad things required two-person cooperation. Su Minguan had relationships with foreigners but meager assets without collateral. She had Boya Company’s strength behind her, but couldn’t bring herself to be shameless.

“European textile factory orders haven’t reached peak season yet, have they?” She chose her words carefully, asking the Sassoon manager. “How long must you store the cotton you’ve bought in advance? Months? A year? I don’t understand why you don’t wait to buy when needed instead of advance purchasing so early and wasting storage fees.”

A beautiful lady resting her chin in her hand with questioning, blinking eyes. Several people rushed to enlighten her: “At the current trend, who knows how high prices will rise in a few months! Rather than buying at high prices then, paying storage fees now still saves money!”

“Boya Company does have spare warehouses.” Su Minguan brought her a drink, calmly interjecting. “No choice—too much cargo, we need to keep land ready. But they’re empty now, which is indeed wasteful.”

Lin Yuchan looked at her newly appointed “General Sales Agent,” smiling and nodding, playing straight man for him.

“Minguan,” she said with feigned displeasure, whispering, “don’t go around talking about such things.”

Though spoken as a whisper, many foreign merchants had already heard. The Sassoon manager immediately called his comprador: “Wang, come here!”

The comprador surnamed Wang dropped his tea, scurried over, and pulled a pen from behind his ear.

Social occasions were business occasions. Compradors dared not neglect anything, always ready for business.

But today’s business partner was a woman—normally, Old Wang wouldn’t give her a proper look. Today, with the foreign boss’s order, he could only respectfully bow, though his eyes looked at Su Minguan beside her, guessing he was the real decision-maker.

“I hear you have spare warehouse land?”

Manager Wang tugged Su Minguan’s sleeve.

“Since it’s mentioned, Su cannot be secretive.” Su Minguan found a quiet corner with few people and began performing. “For your company boss’s sake, I can rent to you at low prices. But there are conditions.”

“Please speak.”

“We do business with planning. You can’t just take goods whenever you want—there must be a time limit. For example… hmm, one year. Sassoon’s cotton stored at Boya for one year, returned in full this time next year. This way, storage fees can be charged at twenty percent below market price.”

The comprador was somewhat troubled. He’d never signed such a contract.

But with the foreign boss watching nearby, he still had to perform well.

“One year is a bit too long… fifty percent off would be about right…”

“Isn’t your boss hoarding goods for higher prices? Why not ask him?”

“Then, after one year, what about damage or spoilage?”

Su Minguan answered without hesitation: “Replace with new goods of the same grade in full quantity. Need I say more?”

“Then… payment upon collection next year?”

“Manager Wang,” Su Minguan patted his shoulder like an old friend, laughing lightly, “You’ve got to let me earn some eating money first, right?”

…

Lin Yuchan folded her arms, listening with a smile, occasionally adding a few words.

Su Minguan had been idle for months but hadn’t lost his touch. A few words here and there had Old Wang beaming with joy.

In the past when Su Minguan ran Yixing, she’d rarely seen him negotiate with others. Today she could observe his sharp edge and quietly learn.

…Though learning might not be useful. She couldn’t replicate the conversation patterns between men.

After a few exchanges, Su Minguan and Manager Wang had preliminarily agreed on a rental contract. Sassoon Trading House’s newly acquired four thousand dan of cotton would be stored by Boya Company, returned in full after one year, storage fees at forty percent below market price, half the deposit paid first, five hundred taels of silver in hand.

Manager Wang returned to report with a smile.

Other trading houses, seeing he’d negotiated such cheap storage, couldn’t quite believe it.

The Sassoon manager lost a game of billiards but still got a bargain!

Such good fortune—compradors usually kept it for themselves. If not for today’s direct interface with Chinese merchants, they’d never encounter it.

Everyone had the psychology of getting bargains. Even wealthy foreign merchants weren’t immune.

“Minguan, ask Miss Lin if she has more spare land and warehouses?”

…

Jardine Matheson also joined the negotiations. Chief comprador Tang Tingshu was called from another club. After understanding the situation, he cautiously asked: “Minguan, what’s the meaning?”

Su Minguan was his longtime competitor, with a devious style—not to be trusted lightly.

“Black and white contract.” Su Minguan smiled. “If I can’t provide cotton after one year, feel free to sue for compensation. Though my assets are currently limited, I have Boya Company as a guarantor.”

He gestured toward the girl beside him.

Tang Tingshu had long heard of Boya’s female boss. Out of politeness, he dared not look closely, quickly bowing, vaguely wondering if he’d seen this girl before.

But he was highly nearsighted, seeing everyone as a blur. Such questions arose two or three times daily, and he paid no attention.

Tang Tingshu still dared not advance rashly. He drafted a contract and said, “Tomorrow, take me to see your warehouses before deciding.”

Lin Yuchan smiled and agreed, providing several general addresses.

Boya Company indeed rented many warehouses. With the suspension of raw cotton business, these warehouses were indeed vacant. She wasn’t lying and wasn’t afraid of inspection.

The foreign merchants called for red wine, spiritedly toasting with Lin and Su.

But Baoshun Trading House wasn’t so easily convinced. Dent manager, half-drunk, slurred his words, saying they’d anticipated cotton price spikes last year and made large land purchases early. Storage space was sufficient, so they wouldn’t trouble Boya.

“Not to hide it from you, the money for buying land is still tied up, haha, embarrassing… It’s all Xu Run being too greedy for profit, though I don’t blame him. He used his own money to speculate in land and also lost miserably, quite pathetic… This person is at least consistent…”

Su Minguan smiled and raised his glass, showing no disappointment in his eyes.

His Luna was in Baoshun Trading House’s hands. Baoshun had been riding high in recent years, favored by major banks. The dent manager had wide connections—no weaknesses to exploit could be found.