Lin Yuchan emerged from the main entrance of the Chartered Bank. Manager McGarry personally escorted her out.

“Dear Miss, we’re still waiting for your guardian’s signature,” the blonde foreign manager remembered her vividly, smiling obsequiously. “Perhaps you lost last time’s form – this is a new one. Just fill it out and return it, we guarantee your account opening procedures will be completed within half an hour.”

Lin Yuchan turned back with a cold smile: “Sorry, I’m hysterical by nature, my guardian won’t let me handle money.”

She now carried eighteen hundred pounds of cash hidden on her person, tightly bound around her waist and chest.

A thick stack of banknotes pulsed with her heartbeat.

Actually, pounds from this era differed considerably from banknotes a hundred years later – single-sided, single-color printed large white paper, backs completely blank, the only anti-counterfeiting measure being front watermarks. To Lin Yuchan, they seemed full of loopholes; any twenty-first-century small workshop could forge them.

However, for mid-nineteenth-century technology standards, anti-counterfeiting methods were already quite advanced.

By comparison, the Qing Dynasty’s newly issued silver dollars had anti-counterfeiting measures full of holes, leading to various private illegal coining, completely losing monetary credibility – nobody liked using them, truly hopeless.

Eighteen hundred pounds equaled seven thousand two hundred silver dollars, enough to buy a luxurious mansion with multiple courtyards.

Even in contemporary Europe, this was a fortune. Could buy over three hundred dairy cows, representing twenty years of hard wages for a British craftsman.

By Boss Chu’s extortion standards, he could ransom three Su Minguans.

Of course, most of this money wasn’t hers. Boya Hongkou’s tea order balance, due to early withdrawal, had been discounted to ninety percent. Most would go toward repaying Rong Hong’s raw tea purchasing loans; the remainder, after deducting costs and splitting fifty-fifty with Rong Hong, was her actual profit.

However, all this was premised on Rong Hong’s safe release.

Now, she decided to emergency requisition usage rights to this money – no objections allowed.

The carriage still waited on the road. The driver didn’t know what a little girl could do at a bank, thinking she was just visiting acquaintances.

Lin Yuchan, carrying a fortune, tried to maintain normal expression as she boarded the carriage, returning to Yixing.

“Brother Peng,” she first handed Shi Peng one hundred pounds, “please send someone to the yamen…”

Shi Peng understood without her finishing, but rarely handling pounds, he didn’t take the money, first going to the counter to check exchange rates.

“Miss Lin, too much,” he returned smiling. “Don’t worry, step by step. If we throw so much money at once, corrupt officials will think they’ve caught a big fish.”

Lin Yuchan knew she was a complete amateur in this matter, best to completely delegate. She still generously stuffed the banknotes into his hands: “Use these first, here’s also everyone’s hard work fees – can’t let you help for nothing. If there’s leftover, I’ll come collect later.”

Shi Peng happily accepted. With the boss away, everyone could earn some side money.

“Good. With this money, at least when Mr. Rong reaches prison, he can avoid whips, torture, rotten food, and foul water. If he gets sick, we can hire a doctor. Don’t worry.”

The money hadn’t warmed in his hands when he saw Lin Yuchan putting on clothes to go out again.

“Hey, Miss Lin, where are you going now?”

The clerks had never seen such an energetic little girl. Today, facing trouble, she neither panicked nor made a fuss, but was unusually excited.

Lin Yuchan turned back: “American Consulate!”

Shi Peng quickly said: “Foreign offices close early. It’s four o’clock now, probably already closed. Go home and rest. If there’s progress, we’ll naturally notify you.”

This reminder made the excited little girl suddenly realize how late it was. She plopped down like a deflating ball, tiredness immediately showing in her eyes.

Exhausting…

“Oh right,” she finally remembered something, wearily pulling out a cotton order form from her bag with Su Minguan’s signature and notes. “Please settle this.”

Lin Yuchan returned to Boya Hongkou, spending half the day with Aunt Zhou organizing the shop, ensuring no trace of evidence related to the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, rebellion, or Heaven and Earth Society remained.

Aunt Zhou sensed trouble but, due to professional limitations, didn’t dare ask details, only hinting: “Madam, just us two women here – how do we handle official police? Where’s that Mr. Su? Invite him over for moral support.”

Lin Yuchan smiled bitterly: “I wish I could.”

No retreat now. Two women had to clean the entire courtyard overnight.

Too many business correspondence letters with Rong Hong, too complex to sort – they had to stay. She and Aunt Zhou coordinated their stories: if officers came questioning, she was just an independent tea processing shop knowing nothing about Rong Hong’s lifestyle.

That night, she tried closing her eyes to rest but couldn’t sleep. Only in the latter half of the night did exhaustion finally bring deep slumber.

Since arriving in the Qing Dynasty, this was her first real experience of the empire’s iron fist striking her – merely a glancing blow, yet the taste was truly unforgettable.

With one ambiguous seal, a perfectly law-abiding living person could be locked up and taken away on command. Not even a case filing notice.

Worst case scenario: Rong Hong executed, she implicated, all property confiscated. With Yixing’s protection, her head would probably be safe.

Not a complete disaster. Just back to square one.

But it already kept her awake at night, countless tragic scenes flashing through her mind.

Lin Yuchan couldn’t help thinking: organizations like the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, Heaven and Earth Society, and countless peasant uprising groups that dared confront this still-mighty empire head-on, with iron fists ready to punch through hearts, required how much courage?

Even if they were conservative, had problematic approaches, corruption, internal strife, various limitations…

This courage alone deserved deep remembrance by posterity.

Early next morning, someone banged on the door.

Lin Yuchan was mentally prepared. Opening the door, several gun-carrying Chinese police surrounded her, all showing fierce expressions.

“Any men here? Just you two women? What business do women do? What do you sell? Licenses and certificates?”

Lin Yuchan and Aunt Zhou looked at each other, both seeing panic in the other’s eyes.

They’d spent half the night coaching each other and cleaning the shop. But being women, suddenly faced with so many aggressive big men with knives and guns intimidating them, they couldn’t stay completely calm.

She politely introduced herself. After a few sentences, a police officer thrust a search warrant before her eyes.

“Sorry, routine business.”

Then they scattered, beginning inspection.

The police were just “joint enforcement” – catching rebels to hand over to the Qing brought them no bonuses, so they needn’t search too carefully; but a purely woman-run shop was inherently suspicious – what if it was a brothel?

The Municipal Council was recently cracking down hard on prostitution. Catching one would be good police performance, so they searched more thoroughly.

Lin Yuchan heard the tea jar overturning sounds from the shop, about to worry when Aunt Zhou restrained her.

“Madam, we can clean up later.”

Crash, crash – drawers opened, then her wardrobe.

Lin Yuchan was pulled into the kitchen by Aunt Zhou, pacing irritably.

Suddenly, someone spotted the safe in the bedroom, eyes brightening, calling Lin Yuchan over.

“You’re a small business person, a widow – why did you buy this?”

Lin Yuchan said calmly, “Originally bought it cheap, for storing jewelry. Later got cheated out of money, sold jewelry to pay debts.”

Without waiting for police prompting, she voluntarily opened the lock.

The safe was empty except for some old papers.

The policeman snorted dismissively and left.

Lin Yuchan locked Su Minguan’s IOUs back in the safe, secretly relieved.

If there were cash or banknotes inside, she’d have to pull out a stack to “honor” the police – hard to explain otherwise.

…

Half an hour later, the police returned empty-handed.

Saying “empty-handed” wasn’t accurate, because everyone departed fully loaded, carrying her tea while chatting and laughing.

Someone had picked flowers from the garden and taken several of her beautiful tea sets.

“Alright, nothing wrong. Little widow, you should properly sell your tea; don’t do other businesses! Haha!”

Lin Yuchan gritted her teeth, signed the search notification, and fake-smiled farewell to the police.

Roughly checking, about one hundred taels of silver in goods lost. Acceptable.

Good thing she didn’t run a gold shop.

Doing business in the Qing Dynasty, these counted as “normal expenses” – just record them in accounts later.

At least this small hurdle was passed. Boya Hongkou was temporarily preserved. She also shouldn’t be executed as Rong Hong’s “accomplice.”

She had Aunt Zhou clean up the mess while going to check on Boya headquarters, still worried.

Turning the street corner, a figure flashed.

She recognized Yuan Daming from Yixing.

Lin Yuchan’s heart warmed as she made a “safe” gesture to him. The clerk quickly retreated into the alley.

That money was well spent.

But Boya headquarters wasn’t so lucky. Just turning the corner, Lin Yuchan saw police tape around the garden entrance. In the courtyard, Chang Baoluo was surrounded by several police officers under questioning.

Chang Baoluo usually spoke slowly, blushing and getting flustered when slightly rushed. Now facing “scholars meeting soldiers,” his pale round face swelled red as a moon, hands gesturing for emphasis.

Other accountants and clerks drooped dejectedly in a line.

There was also an unfamiliar Chinese man negotiating with police. Around twenty years old, wearing silk shirt, somewhat frail build, but with broad forehead and large eyes, looking very clever.

He handed the police captain a handwritten letter, then signed several documents.

Ten minutes later, the police dispersed. Only then did Lin Yuchan walk quickly over.

Half the flowers and plants in Boya Trading’s garden were trampled, suffering more damage than when Chu Nanyun brought thugs to extort money.

The main door was wide open, shelves inside in disarray, all valuable goods vanished. Many footprints on the stairs too. Clerks hung their heads dejectedly, finding brooms and dustpans to slowly clean up.

Chang Baoluo bowed to her, saying miserably, “Miss Lin, was your place also searched?”

Lin Yuchan startled, feeling something was wrong.

Then remembered: previously, regardless of visitors, Chang Baoluo always waited inside the shop to receive them. Today, actively coming out to greet was a first.

She smiled: “Breaking money to avoid disaster – didn’t find anything incriminating, right?”

Chang Baoluo said with lingering fear, lowering his voice: “Good thing we reacted quickly, collecting things in advance. Otherwise I might not be standing here talking to you now.”

Lin Yuchan momentarily wanted to cover Brother Baoluo’s mouth. She looked warily at the strange young man nearby.

Couldn’t this “collecting things in advance” be discussed behind closed doors, dear?

The gentle young man remained calm, looking Lin Yuchan over and saying just two words: “No matter.”

Chang Baoluo quickly introduced: “Mr. Zheng Guanying, apprentice comprador at Baoshun Trading, worked with our boss for a while and they’re fellow townsmen. Yesterday in my desperation, I contacted many of his acquaintances. Only Mr. Zheng reacted quickly, bringing a guarantee letter from Baoshun’s manager. When he arrived, police were openly enriching themselves. Thanks to his letter stopping them, we lost much less money today.”

Zheng Guanying nodded, confirming this account.

Lin Yuchan was stunned for two seconds, holding her breath and giving a light bow, briefly introducing herself: “Mr. Rong’s business partner.”

Her voice trembled slightly.

Zheng Guanying!

She never would have imagined that this late Qing period’s one of four great compradors, author of “Words of Warning in Prosperous Times,” first advocate of constitutional monarchy and reformist politician… was a gentle scholarly type, the same age as Su Minguan.

Misled by that white-bearded old gentleman photo in history books!

Other compradors, to get close to foreigners, either carried Bibles or wore crosses; Zheng Guanying had neither. He only wore a prayer pouch at his waist with protection talismans against all illnesses, embroidered with black and white taiji fish.

A characteristic master.

However, having yesterday’s Li Shanlan, Xu Shou, and Hua Hengfang as foundation, Lin Yuchan today suddenly met a new master, and could maintain composure, surprising herself.

Unfortunately, the master was still in dormancy, hadn’t grown thick thighs to embrace. Today’s help was also very limited.

Zheng Guanying gave her two words: “Pleasure meeting.”

Then turning to Chang Baoluo, slowly saying: “I can only help this much. You handle relationships yourselves. Farewell.”

He straightened his thin shoulders, politely bowing to all clerks, then left.

Lin Yuchan watched his retreating figure, standing solemnly for a long time before saying: “Truly extraordinary…”

Chang Baoluo was puzzled: “What’s wrong?”

Chang Baoluo felt: wasn’t he just a young apprentice comprador? In work experience, not even as much as he. Today’s help was just enthusiasm.

Lin Yuchan said excitedly: “Of course, extraordinary! Look at him – economical with words, calm and collected, unmoved by Mount Tai collapsing before him. Others, seeing a woman doing business, ask extra questions, but he finds nothing strange, tolerant, and peaceful – not an ordinary person!”

Chang Baoluo chuckled: “What economy with words? He said he ate too many preserved plums yesterday and got heaty.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

Ten days later, Lin Yuchan and Boya Trading’s clerks had exhausted all usable connections.

Chang Baoluo postponed his wedding, personally rushing to Guangdong Xiangshan, getting ahead of officers to notify Rong Hong’s hometown relatives – they’d long lost contact with Rong Hong, but for safety’s sake, they had to be repeatedly instructed what to say and not say if officers questioned them.

Lin Yuchan, fluent in spoken English, naturally took on the American Consulate. Got turned away three times. Persisting, on the fourth attempt she finally met a second secretary, delivering a letter explaining “Chinese-American citizen detained without cause by Qing government.”

Then the letter sank without a trace. Later, Lin Yuchan learned that American Consul Whitney was on vacation.

She also wrote a private letter to Hede, asking customs messengers to deliver it urgently. But Hede was inspecting various customs offices – without phones or telegraphs, his whereabouts were unknown. When this letter might arrive depended on fate.

She even sent a letter to Wenxiang’s wife in Beijing. The letter included a sleeping photo of little Lin Feilun wearing the gold bracelet Mrs. Pan had given, nominally reporting the abandoned baby’s status, briefly mentioning at the end that one of Shanghai Guangfangyan Academy’s textbook compilers had recently disappeared suddenly, a great loss to Tongwen Academy’s work.

Additionally, using the address Lin Yuchan had obtained, several Boya clerks visited Li Shanlan, asking him to contact Western learning circle friends to jointly guarantee Rong Hong.

Finally, Lin Yuchan had a flash of inspiration, finding the “North China Herald” newspaper office, wanting them to write a “concession Chinese resident mysteriously disappeared” news story, trying to pressure them through public opinion. After all, Rong Hong was also the newspaper’s longtime subscriber, occasionally helping with translations – a passing acquaintance.

But perhaps she lacked influence, perhaps this matter had little news value – she waited a week without seeing it reported.

Maybe scheduled for next week?

Not knowing which connection might truly work, they could only use “saturation rescue,” sparing no cost for the sole goal.

…

On the fifteenth day, Yixing Shipping sent someone with a message, asking her to come discuss.

“Miss Lin,” Shi Peng scratched his head somewhat embarrassedly, “your Boya’s Mr. Rong signed long-term cargo transport agreements with us for inland tea transport – according to contract, next month we should depart again. Our fleet and personnel are all arranged…”

Lin Yuchan’s heart sank. After calculating briefly, she said decisively: “Can’t proceed. We’ll pay breach of contract fees. Put it on account first.”

Fortunately this contract was negotiated between her and Su Minguan, every clause carefully scrutinized – breach fees weren’t astronomical, bearable.

Shi Peng nodded, again apologizing, having someone cancel the contract.

“How is Mr. Rong?” Lin Yuchan asked.

“Miss Lin can temporarily relax,” Shi Peng told her. “Mr. Rong is now detained in the county seat. Your money was well spent – guards haven’t mistreated him, gave him a single cell, two decent meals daily.”

Lin Yuchan was overjoyed: “Will he soon go to court for trial?”

But since Shi Peng asked about transport contracts, it probably meant Rong Hong wouldn’t be out short term.

Shi Peng shook his head: “Miss forgot – March is the Longevity Festival, the emperor’s birthday. Government offices don’t handle criminal cases for a month, and even urgent cases must be temporarily shelved. So Mr. Rong will have to suffer in jail somewhat longer.”

Lin Yuchan startled, remembering this matter, nodding angrily.

Qing royalty especially loved celebrating birthdays. Emperor Tongzhi’s birthday meant nationwide government offices took a month’s vacation, all business suspended – quite restrained. Later, when Empress Dowager Cixi celebrated birthdays, the extravagance…

Nearly bankrupted the nation.

Shi Peng smiled again: “Miss was generous, so I didn’t economize for you – spending money, the yamen allowed him to send out one letter. I thought you might need to coordinate stories.”

Lin Yuchan quickly thanked him: “Right, right, we do need to discuss.”

She received Rong Hong’s handwritten letter. English, scrawled handwriting, seemingly hastily written, with many corrections and erasures on the paper.

No pleasantries, just three paragraphs.

First, Rong Hong expressed his firm refusal to accept this baseless charge, vowing to fight corrupt justice to the end.

Lin Yuchan smiled bitterly, translating this for Shi Peng, then stuffing another hundred pounds into his hands.

To fight, how could he do without silver?

Second, Rong Hong mentioned over ten names, asking Lin Yuchan to notify Chang Baoluo to visit each one, requesting that they intercede for his acquittal.

Lin Yuchan glanced through – among these ten-plus people were Li Shanlan, Zheng Guanying, Hede, American Consul Whitney… half they’d already proactively contacted. The other half could be notified by Boya’s people.

Third…

Lin Yuchan finished reading this third point, her expression slightly changing.

“Mr. Rong said in his letter, thanking us for our efforts to help him during this time,” at Boya headquarters, Lin Yuchan sat on her dedicated green leather small sofa, and other clerks also sat in a circle, holding a briefing meeting. “He knows we must have spent considerably outside, and he’s very worried about Boya Trading’s current financial situation.”

Rong Hong’s handwritten letter lay on the small table. Lin Yuchan’s expression was grave as she slowly read the letter’s contents.

All Boya headquarters staff, from manager Chang Baoluo and accountant Zhao Huaisheng to street runners Old Liu and Old Li, also looked grave. Chang Baoluo shook his head slightly.

During Rong Hong’s detention, besides running connections, everyone still tried to maintain normal shop operations. Headquarters had originally light business, so losses weren’t great; Lin Yuchan’s Hongkou branch had always been thriving. Since Rong Hong’s incident, she’d only stopped retail but hadn’t delayed any existing orders. While running relationships, she also ran workshops. Tea came out basket by basket, delivered punctually to customers large and small.

Everyone noticed Miss Lin recently lacked sleep, eyes showing red streaks, dark circles under her eyes. A beautiful young woman now looked like a foolish scholar cramming all night.

Chang Baoluo said with difficulty, “Though we can temporarily support things here, many contracts, orders, and loans need the boss’s signature and permission. With him in prison now, these contracts face interruption, requiring huge breach fees.”

Lin Yuchan nodded.

“Mr. Rong also anticipated this.” Her tone was somewhat bitter as she slowly said, “He expressed in his letter that regardless of whether he’s convicted, Boya’s business will probably be difficult to continue. He asks me to quickly liquidate his shop, using the cash obtained to compensate our previous litigation expenses.”

As soon as she finished speaking, everyone’s expressions became heavy.

All knew Rong Hong’s worry wasn’t unfounded.

Our great Qing had its national conditions. “Human rights” was nonsense, nonexistent.

Officials could arbitrarily deal with civilians – summon, detain, imprison, even forget you in jail when magistrates changed… Sometimes wrongful imprisonment lasted decades. Coming out to find all relatives and friends dead, life completely wasted, you could only accept bad luck.

Previously there were many similar cases. An ordinary merchant encountering criminal litigation usually immediately had sons take over. If he had no capable heirs, his property would either be quickly swallowed by competitors, transferred to clan members for division, or if he was lucky enough, have a devoted wife skilled in financial management support the situation during hardship, waiting for his safe return.

Rong Hong was single, clan members all far away in Guangdong. His decision to “liquidate the shop” was also a helpless choice after deep consideration.

But clerks immediately noticed one phrasing in the letter –

“Miss Lin,” Chang Baoluo said in surprise, “the boss said, asking you to help sell the shop?”

The word “you” was emphasized heavily.

Lin Yuchan slightly pressed down the corners of her mouth, expression gentle but firm.

“This is indeed his handwriting.”

In that scrawled, messy handwritten letter, Rong Hong had revised the choice of who would handle the shop several times. You could see he initially wrote “please my family”; then, probably feeling that time didn’t allow, he crossed it out, changing to “Baoluo”; after the ink dried, he again changed his mind, crossing out “Baoluo” and writing three words in the margin:

“Miss Lin.”