A dim oil lamp hung at the bedside, illuminating the dilapidated wooden walls of the room. An old mouse hole gaped in the wall, long since abandoned – even the mice had probably fled during famines, leaving only spider webs at the entrance.

The entire room was bare with nothing but four walls, poor in the same way as Lin Guangfu’s home outside Guangzhou City.

Lin Yuchan observed the room’s furnishings without showing emotion, seeing no signs of opium smoking or gambling paraphernalia.

She relaxed eighty percent of her worries.

The old man on the bed stirred his shoulders – actually, he wasn’t very old, but the upper part of his queue was already grizzled, his face full of weathered wrinkles, and his eyes were wrapped in a circle of gauze.

“Unwrap it.”

Lin Yuchan sat on a three-legged stool, saying somewhat nervously.

Beside the old man, a freckled little girl under ten, also wearing thick patched clothes, looked timidly at Lin Yuchan, then began unwrapping the gauze from her grandfather’s face, circle by circle.

Beneath the gauze, a pair of cloudy, bloodshot eyes emerged, the pupils turning about in confusion.

Old Huang instinctively wanted to rub his eyes. Lin Yuchan moved quickly, taking out a pair of tortoiseshell-framed reading glasses with copper chains and straight legs, placing them on his face.

She held up her hand: “How many is this?”

Old Huang answered in bewilderment: “Three…”

The freckled little girl let out a cheer, dropping to her knees with a thud and kowtowing repeatedly to Lin Yuchan.

“My grandfather is well! Grandfather isn’t blind anymore! Lady Bodhisattva, may you live a hundred years, may you have many sons and much fortune! Thank you, Lady Bodhisattva…”

Lin Yuchan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, quickly pulling the little girl to her feet.

“Don’t thank me. Thank the doctor from the other day.”

The old man on the bed had only now realized what had happened. Staring with bulging eyes, he looked left and right, suddenly bursting into tears, tumbling off the bed, and also wanting to kneel.

“Benefactor, benefactor! Miss, you are truly an immortal…”

Lin Yuchan quickly had little Huang help support her grandfather.

“Your eyes just had cataracts, you weren’t blind. Western doctors are very experienced with this surgery.”

Unfortunately, when the surgery was performed, Old Huang was still blind and didn’t see the Western doctor’s skillful operation. Otherwise, he probably would have run to Renji Hospital to kowtow to Dr. Owen as well.

Following the guidance of the secret map, Lin Yuchan had sought out former members of the Huayi Guild Hall – five in total. Two had joined the Small Swords Society and been beheaded by officials early on; two had died of illness and starvation; only one remained, an old gentleman surnamed Huang who had formerly been a cotton merchant and senior director of the Huayi Guild Hall. But under the legal pitfall of “unlimited joint liability,” he had long since gone bankrupt, served two years in prison, and moved twice. When she finally found him after great effort, the old man had gone blind.

Common people in the Qing Dynasty had no life security, and falling into poverty due to illness was common. This Old Huang had contracted eye disease, initially still taking medicine and acupuncture, but later had no money for treatment and could only live blind. Now his son and daughter-in-law had both died, with only a granddaughter to care for him, eating irregularly, making his temper extremely irritable.

When Lin Yuchan asked about cotton, the old man sat up in bed, lifted his smelly foot, and nearly kicked her out.

“Where did this crazy girl come from! I can’t even tell if cotton is black or white, what are you asking! If you’re so capable, make me see again!”

Lin Yuchan was shut outside the broken door, but didn’t lose heart. After pondering for ten minutes, she ran to Renji Hospital, paid the consultation fee, and brought Dr. Owen over. With just one look, he diagnosed it.

“Cataracts. At this stage, a small surgery will cure it. Sigh, due to ignorance, I’ve seen many Chinese people go blind unnecessarily these past few years. Only modern medicine can save the Chinese people…”

Western medicine wasn’t specialized in those days. Doctors who traveled across oceans to help the poor in China, being few, developed comprehensively, mastering eighteen martial arts. Like this, Dr. Owen could not only perform surgery to remove shrapnel, but also cut tumors, remove stones, and even pull teeth and deliver babies – he had done a bit of everything.

Cataract surgery was child’s play, not even requiring a hospital visit. He sent an assistant to bring equipment. Ether had just arrived at port, so they coaxed and tricked the little granddaughter into compliance, knocked her out in one go, and performed the surgery on the spot.

Then, following the doctor’s orders, he rested for two days. When the gauze was unwrapped, heaven and earth were instantly transformed.

Of course, his vision was still very blurry. Lin Yuchan asked the doctor again, got reading glasses fitted, and presented them together.

Old Huang’s hands trembled as he touched the cotton samples Lin Yuchan had brought, already ginned, his facial muscles twitching.

How many years had it been since he’d seen that clean, full white color again, like smiling faces bringing him back to days gone by?

“This is from local Shanghai farmers,” he distinguished without hesitation. “This is Shanxi seed, grown using Songjiang Prefecture methods – they’ve always followed Huang Daopo’s techniques, though they’re outdated now… Ah, this one, Indian cotton, how did it get mixed in… but it’s over three generations old, can’t use it… This one I wouldn’t take even if you paid me, hmph…”

Lin Yuchan excitedly rubbed her hands together.

In old age, the hero’s heart remains strong. When scheming merchants retire, their brains stay sharp.

“Old sir,” she asked, suppressing the tremor in her voice, “in the past, did exported raw cotton from Shanghai port have standard industry quality standards?”

“We tried,” Old Huang said, like a child supporting himself with his cane and looking around everywhere, recalling sourly, “We formed a committee, collected some money, appraised samples. Quite busy too. But later, with war and internal strife, the Huayi Guild Hall was destroyed by foreign cannons. Those competing merchants who were once at each other’s throats… hehe, only I remain. Too bad my eyes went blind, otherwise I’d probably still be running a shop now, busy every day, letting them watch from heaven and die of anger, hahaha…”

For some people, the secret of success is longevity. Outlive others and you become number one in the industry.

Lin Yuchan had no one else to ask now, so she humbly sought instruction: “Would you try evaluating my samples according to the old standards?”

The little Huang girl beside them hesitated, enduring for a long time before timidly offering her opinion: “My grandfather needs rest…”

But Old Huang shouted at her: “Rest later! I’m not tired! I’m working for my benefactor! Go away!”

He hadn’t seen the world clearly in a long time and walked somewhat unsteadily, swaying as he sat down, stroking the bed of cotton samples, burying his face in them, then grabbing a handful, tearing it open with his hands, folding it left and right, pulling hard.

Excited as if he’d just signed a million-dollar contract yesterday.

Lin Yuchan patted the little girl’s shoulder, telling her to stay calm. She took a fresh pomegranate from her bag and gave it to her to eat.

“These, by my standards, are first-grade.” Old Huang immediately entered work mode, as if trying to make up for years of blindness all at once, even his speech quickening by three beats. “These are Grade 1A, these 1B, these are second-grade, these third-grade, 3A, 3B…”

“Wait,” Lin Yuchan tried to follow his logic, “slow down, why… I understand color – white is definitely better than yellow. This pile has fewer impurities but shorter fibers… so what are the standards for fiber length and thickness? Huh? By feel?”

The Huayi Guild Hall of long ago hired senior experts to appraise raw cotton, and it was all by feel…

This wouldn’t work. She definitely couldn’t outargue Zheng Guanying.

Moreover, a thought flashed through her mind. Such purely subjective appraisal methods might start fair, but over time would inevitably breed corruption and insider trading.

Perhaps the decline of the Huayi Guild Hall wasn’t entirely due to warfare.

However, Lin Yuchan had come prepared. She opened her small bag and took out calipers, a small scale, and a notebook.

She arranged the piles of cotton Old Huang had categorized and began measuring.

“…So for fiber length, if eighty percent is under one inch, it definitely can’t rate first-grade… half an inch is the lowest grade… fiber strength… You test this by hand pulling, but it can be measured with weights… moisture content? You test by hand-squeezing? Well, I’ll think about that when I get back…”

Actually, Chinese domestic cotton had short fibers, unsuitable for mechanical textile production. Before the American Civil War, America dominated world cotton exports. Lin Yuchan was quite certain that across the ocean, the industrial and agricultural sectors definitely already had mature quantitative quality standards for various raw cottons.

But American cotton standards didn’t apply to domestic cotton. Foreigners wouldn’t bother designing standards for Chinese domestic cotton. And those Chinese experts working for foreign firms wouldn’t give her free lessons.

She could only start from scratch, using indigenous methods to slowly construct her system.

Old Huang rambled on for over an hour. Lin Yuchan felt she had grasped mainstream Chinese cotton merchants’ appraisal standards, filling over ten pages of notes.

Next, she’d find ways to quantify these standards herself.

When black-and-white measurement data came out, first it would help her select goods, second she could present it to Baoshun Trading House and leave Zheng Guanying speechless.

The freckled little Huang girl poked her and handed over a broken ceramic bowl filled with carefully peeled pomegranate seeds. The crimson flesh was like rubies, making one’s mouth water even in that dirty, chipped bowl.

Lin Yuchan was surprised. Children were always greedy for sweets, yet she hadn’t eaten a single one.

She quickly waved her hand: “It’s for you.”

Little Huang’s girl offered the bowl to her grandfather. Old Huang casually grabbed a handful and put it in his mouth.

It had probably been over ten years since he’d last eaten fruit. Old Huang, full of weathered experience, sighed, then, seeing the pile of precision instruments Lin Yuchan had spread out, chuckled.

“Useless, little miss,” Old Huang said. With his sight restored, he immediately reverted to the wealthy merchant demeanor of someone holding forth at banquet tables, pointing at her. “Let me tell you, experienced people go by touch. Back then, I came to Shanghai with fifty silver dollars and built up a big shop – I relied on this touch! Someone like you, needing rulers to feel cotton, is very amateurish! Benefactor, is your family actually in the cotton business or not?”

Lin Yuchan smiled, not planning to argue with the old expert.

Each era had its characteristics. This was the steam age, with the First Industrial Revolution nearly over. Traditional “moderation” and “vagueness” would sooner or later be eliminated.

Old Huang licked his fingers and grabbed another bundle of cotton. Unfortunately his hands still had pomegranate juice, immediately staining the white cotton bolls half red.

Old Huang irritably flung his hand: “Why give me pomegranates for no reason! Can’t you see I’m inspecting goods!”

His little granddaughter habitually ducked her head, explaining in a small voice: “I…”

With a tap, Lin Yuchan raised her calipers, blocking Old Huang’s palm.

Old Huang’s eyebrows shot up, “You…”

“Old sir,” Lin Yuchan restrained her emotions, smiling coldly, “I came today hoping you’d participate in restarting the Huayi Guild Hall. I’ll arrange for people to assist with various matters. If you agree, you’ll be the first director of the new Huayi Guild Hall, and I can provide monthly discretionary subsidies. With this money, you can start your own business again, with no restrictions on dealings. Here’s a deposit – ten silver dollars, please accept them first.”

Gleaming silver dollars were counted out and placed beside the empty ceramic bowl.

Traditional industry guild halls in the Qing Dynasty were all organized spontaneously by merchants, registered with officials. As long as they didn’t break the law, they could organize activities. Of course they couldn’t make too big a fuss – for instance, normally sharing commercial intelligence, mediating when someone had conflicts, arranging gatherings during holidays, hiring opera troupes for entertainment – all this was within legal bounds.

Of course, there were maintenance costs. Generally shared among guild hall members.

Lin Yuchan planned to restart the Huayi Guild Hall, with initial costs naturally all donated by Boya. But during the guild hall’s opening period, with sparse membership, like her “Natural Feet Mutual Aid Society,” maintenance costs wouldn’t be too high either. Spending a little money to rent a storefront would suffice.

Then, using Yixing’s network, gradually expanding, attracting quality merchants, striving to make the Huayi Guild Hall self-sufficient, and accomplish real things.

This was her plan.

But relevant legal regulations required registering industry guild halls through a joint application by at least five merchant households. Following the map, among the old men on the Small Swords Society list, Lin Yuchan had found only one out of five.

For the other four, she had to find her solutions: Boya counted as one; Yixing Shipping carried cotton from multiple inland provinces, barely qualifying as one, with Su Minguan agreeing to show face when needed, making up numbers as a favor; additionally, Lin Yuchan had visited throughout Huayi Street, knocking on doors to ask almost all cotton merchants, but seeing her as a young girl talking about reviving the long-dead “Huayi Guild Hall,” some politely declined, others simply shut their doors.

After much persuasion, she’d only recruited two half-dead small shops.

The fifth was Old Huang. Before going bankrupt, the old man had been a notable cotton merchant on Huayi Street and a former Huayi Guild Hall, completely qualified to become a founding member of the new Huayi Guild Hall.

Moreover, Old Huang’s career had only deteriorated due to blindness. Now that he’d recovered his health, he shouldn’t mind finding himself something to do.

Indeed, she saw Old Huang using his restored eyes to carefully examine the patterns on those silver dollars, his facial muscles trembling.

Due to eye disease, he couldn’t even distinguish money. With the family cleaned out to the last penny, naturally, he couldn’t trade again, only living day by day – at first relying on his daughter-in-law spinning and weaving, then after she died, relying on his granddaughter going out to beg, selling flowers, fruits, and matches, barely getting by.

Three days ago, in complete darkness, he’d heard the door creak open and a girl with a clear voice enter. He’d even slapped his granddaughter, scolding her for letting strangers in.

Then… as if in a dream, after sleeping once, his eyes could see tables, beds, and stoves again, as if returning to ten years ago.

His ambitions, buried by illness, seemed like wildfire in mountains and forests, suddenly all rekindled.

Old Huang pondered for a moment and said, “Miss, you are my rebirth benefactor. I should work like an ox or horse for you, but… since I still have a family to support, please show mercy and grant some meal money. I… I don’t want subsidies, I want commission.”

Lin Yuchan: “Cotton markets are now controlled by foreign merchants. The Huayi Guild Hall may not be profitable – it’s just giving Chinese merchants a place to seek fairness.”

Old Huang showed a dismissive expression. In this era of business, success depended on scheming, on backing power – what fairness was there to speak of?

But this Miss Lin was a sucker. She was willing to fund the Huayi Guild Hall, providing him with an opportunity for a comeback.

Each was taking what they needed.

Little Huang girl listened blankly to their conversation, understanding not a word. Suddenly, she looked outside at the sky, turned back to grab the bamboo basket from the floor, about to go out.

Lin Yuchan immediately asked: “Wait, where’s a child like you going?”

Old Huang impatiently waved for his granddaughter to leave: “Picking vegetables at the market! What else would we eat for lunch? Miss, don’t mind her!”

Lin Yuchan pulled the little girl back and got up to close the door.

“With income from the Huayi Guild Hall, your granddaughter won’t need to pick leftover vegetables at the market daily, suffering bullying and cold looks. Tomorrow I’ll send a manager surnamed Zhao to take you to complete county registration. This is the contract – if you don’t sign, I’ll find someone else.”

Though the old expert had solid skills, his attitude toward his own granddaughter who cared for him was truly unacceptable. Even treating her as a caregiver, you couldn’t just hit at will.

The scene of an old man bedridden and a young girl laboring should have been heartstring-tugging. But having persisted this far, Lin Yuchan had grown somewhat impatient, her tone pressing.

Old Huang wasn’t quite used to wearing reading glasses. He removed them and found everything blurry, so put them back on, examining this presumptuous teenage girl from behind the lenses.

This was his first time seeing a girl doing business. In the past, he wouldn’t have spoken a word to such rule-breaking, strange girls. If she’d approached him, he’d have assumed it was a scam and given her a severe scolding.

But now it was different. This strange girl had cured his eye disease, becoming his rebirth benefactor.

Though Old Huang still felt she seemed somewhat improper, his heart had softened, thinking he should give her face.

While hesitating, the completed contract was already presented before him.

Old Huang carefully made out the words on it. Fortunately, despite years of blindness, he hadn’t forgotten how to read and write.

He tremblingly picked up the pen, testing it with two strokes on the table.

“Boya…”

Never heard of it. Probably a rising star.

Besides the contract, perhaps due to the girl’s hasty movements, another business card had accidentally fallen.

“Yixing Shipping…”

Old Huang’s pupils suddenly contracted, his facial wrinkles freezing.

Yixing Shipping, with the double copper coin trademark. Even before he went blind, this logo had almost vanished from Shanghai.

Lin Yuchan delivered the secret signal with a smile, then collected Yixing’s business card.

“Old sir?”

Old Huang was momentarily dazed, forgetting what day it was.

Once upon a time, he’d sold cotton by day and secretly donated to the Small Swords Society by night, also a hot-blooded fool.

This girl was no simple matter – she knew his background.

Old Huang sighed, picked up the pen, and signed the “Huayi Guild Hall General Manager Employment Agreement.”

Then he tucked away the ten silver dollars in his sleeve, grinning: “Let’s settle the first month’s subsidy too. I lectured you all morning today – can’t waste my breath for nothing. Benefactor?”

Lin Yuchan was speechless, secretly shaking her head.

How did other scheming merchants encounter suckers daily, while the people she found, even when reduced to beggars, remained so sharp?

She thought for a moment and said seriously, “Wait until procedures are completed and the Huayi Guild Hall officially opens, then I’ll settle accounts with you. Provided – don’t let your little granddaughter go out alone seeking food and drink, and don’t hit her anymore. If I find one slap mark next time I come, subsidies will be halved – the contract only mentions discretionary subsidies, with specific amounts determined by me.”

Old Huang was stunned, glaring at her resentfully.

Lin Yuchan gazed back calmly.

Wasn’t hitting children so difficult?

Old Huang fingered his glasses frames, unwillingly grunting “hmph.”

“I only hit her when she doesn’t listen. It’s not like I want to.”

Lin Yuchan: “So you’re promising?”

Old Huang grunted “mm.”

Then, probably feeling somewhat perfunctory, he looked at this arrogant young girl before him and condescended to cup his hands.

“Fine. But my eyes still aren’t quite comfortable. Come back in three days. Respectfully seeing off the benefactor.”

Lin Yuchan left Old Huang’s broken door with an indifferent smile.

“Old Zhao, let’s go.”

Zhao Huaisheng responded “Ai” and quickly put away his pipe, following.

Walking alone through Shanghai county town, especially to mixed personnel, high-crime poverty areas, Lin Yuchan as a young girl didn’t try to be heroic. During these two days of visits, she’d brought along Boya Company’s only male employee to boost security.

Since Old Huang’s house had only one old man and one child, it wasn’t appropriate to let a strange man enter, so Zhao Huaisheng waited outside.

Seeing her unclear expression, Old Zhao asked: “Miss Lin, all settled?”

Lin Yuchan smiled and nodded: “Thank you for making this trip. I’ll treat you to lunch too, don’t be polite.”

A good deputy manager also had to guest as bodyguard. Today following her through alleys, his polished shoes had gotten muddy. Lin Yuchan believed in repaying kindness.

She could sense that Old Huang didn’t like her. After all, this was the Qing Dynasty. Traditional old men of advanced age, seeing her as a young girl showing her face in public, calling herself some merchant, noisily competing with men for profit – it would be strange if they had good expressions.

Though he kept saying “benefactor,” these two words lacked sincerity, not as dear as “silver dollars.”

However, owing her the favor of treating his eyes, and for the sake of those life-saving silver dollars, Old Huang ultimately bowed his head and changed his tune, agreeing to help her.

Having struggled in business so long, Lin Yuchan finally experienced the pleasure of “hitting people with money.”

Unfortunately, the target was a destitute blind old man with bare walls, whose eating and clothing standards were comparable to beggars. Being able to buy him off with money didn’t provide much sense of achievement.

Turning through two lanes, outside an open-air eatery, bamboo pole-hung curtains fluttered in the breeze.

Other tables had various crispy fried items, sweet sticky fat buns, with diners eating until oil flowed from their mouths. Only this table had a healthy sesame paste bowl. A delicate, small spoon stirred the steaming contents.

A servant stood aside, saying quietly, “Master, she seems to be creating a Huayi Guild Hall! What will you do then?”

“Never mind her.” Zheng Guanying was characteristically brief, glancing at Miss Lin’s bustling figure, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Little girls playing around can’t accomplish anything.”

He lowered his head to eat his sesame paste.