“This… this… we can’t afford to support them!” Sister Teresa spread her hands wide, speaking with righteous indignation. “Unless Madam can persuade His Lordship the Bishop to allocate additional funds, otherwise these little girls must all be sent away!”
Outside the orphanage gates, three little girls stood in a row.
All surnamed Huang. All were aged between eight and ten years old. All with original family addresses in Shanghai’s Nanxian district.
Within just five short days, three poor girls meeting the criteria had been sold to the market.
Master Hu Er, eager to recover his money, letters, and possessions, had actively worked to find all three girls. He had transported them on a creaking wheelbarrow and deposited them like packages at the orphanage entrance.
One of them, covered in freckles, was indeed Old Man Huang’s granddaughter. Ever since getting off the cart, she had remained silent, only earnestly trying to please everyone she encountered: massaging Sister Teresa’s legs, sweeping floors for the orphanage cook, and making way for the older and younger children in the orphanage. Upon seeing Lin Yuchan, she crouched down and used her hand to wipe the mud from her shoes.
Suddenly, her face lit up as she offered Lin Yuchan a timid smile. From her dirty little hands emerged an oil paper-wrapped glutinous rice ball that had been pressed against her chest all morning, turning it into a flattened rice cake. It oozed beyond the oil paper edges, drooping from her fingertips like a soft mud creature.
Lin Yuchan was both surprised and amused: “Where did this come from?”
Sister Teresa answered for her: “I gave it to her when she first arrived. She wouldn’t eat it, stubbornly keeping it tucked away all morning. I don’t know what she was planning! Oh, little one, this food is already spoiled. You’re still giving it to others—how embarrassing! Just eat it yourself!”
Lin Yuchan’s nose suddenly stung with emotion. She thanked the girl and accepted the thoroughly mangled glutinous rice ball, finding a clean portion to gently bite with her teeth.
She had originally wanted to ask about the circumstances when her grandfather sold her, hoping to deduce the despicable old man’s subsequent whereabouts.
But after thinking it over, she decided not to make the little girl relive those memories.
Instead, she asked: “What’s your name?”
The little girl mumbled for a long time before shaking her head and saying quietly: “Burden.”
Lin Yuchan was baffled.
Sister Teresa answered for her again: “Her parents gave her a name when she was little, but she’s forgotten it! That grandfather of hers, tsk tsk, called her Little Burden!”
Sister Teresa was truly overqualified to be a nun. The child had only just arrived, yet she had already figured out all the family gossip.
Lin Yuchan was both angry and amused. That despicable grandfather of hers—blind, lying in bed, completely dependent on her care—still dared to call her a burden?
“I’ll give you a name: Huang Hu.” Lin Yuchan decisively made the decision. “The people at the orphanage might give you a Western name. Just remember this one from now on.”
For girls sold and resold, changing names was commonplace. Huang Hu nodded vigorously.
The latest issue of the North China Herald reported that Chinese craftsmen Xu Shou and Hua Hengfang, after months of study and development, had recently built China’s first wooden paddle steamer at the Anqing Arsenal. The maiden voyage was successful, and Zeng Guofan named it the “Huang Hu.”
Many years later, this girl would finally understand the historical significance of her name.
The other two girls remembered their names: Huang Dajiao and Huang Yaomei, respectively. Lin Yuchan felt these names weren’t pleasant either, but since they were already accustomed to them, she didn’t arbitrarily change them.
Fortunately, none of the three poor girls had undergone proper foot binding. When Huang Yaomei was brought in, her feet had already been preliminarily bound by human traffickers, tightly sewn like dumplings and seeping blood. Luckily, it hadn’t been long, and no bones were broken. After unwrapping them, they would heal within a month or so.
“In the future, when you learn to read and write, you can give yourselves new names,” Lin Yuchan instructed. “Listen to the sisters here, take good baths, and eat more from now on.”
Huang Dajiao and Huang Yaomei meekly agreed. Both were extremely introverted and not very bright, unaware of why they were here.
Of course, Lin Yuchan had conveniently bought them as a package deal…
Among the three girls, rescuing only the one she had previous connections with while pushing the other two back into the fire pit would weigh heavily on her conscience.
Although the old society still lingered on in its last breath, there were countless such girls. But Lin Yuchan thought: Who told me I encountered them?
Just like Lin Feilun. It was fate. Besides, she could afford the money now.
Last night, when they parted, Lin Yuchan had still been fantasizing, her mind clouded by avarice, as she consulted Su Minguan: “We hold all of Master Hu Er’s financial leverage. If we don’t give him money and make him deliver these children for free, presumably, he can only accept his bad luck.”
Su Minguan only reminded her with one sentence: “That Western missionary you know, Miss Aldesey—how did the female servants around her come to be?”
Lin Yuchan was startled, thinking he knew about this.
“She bought them as concubines, seeing their pitiful situation…”
Then she had an epiphany.
Human trafficking was a high-profit business involving various criminal forces.
Even foreigners, precious as they were, had to pay money to rescue girls from fire pits.
Miss Aldesey, after all, didn’t have naval gunfire backing her up. If she dared to rely on her foreign face to snatch prey from traffickers’ jaws, once or twice might succeed by luck, but if she did it too often, sooner or later someone would bash her head in with a club, creating yet another unsolved missionary case.
Lin Yuchan sighed.
Since she lacked the power to smash the old society, she’d better obediently pay up.
She had Sister Teresa transfer the money, avoiding appearing in person to prevent Master Hu Er from targeting her.
However, sixty silver dollars for three girls. This time it exceeded her budget.
Moreover, Sister Teresa kept chattering beside her: “One or two would be fine, but Miss Lin, you’ve suddenly thrust three upon me. I can’t arrange enough beds here… His Lordship the Bishop will come to audit the accounts…”
Lin Yuchan, growing irritated by the complaints, suddenly turned and said: “When will the Bishop come for inspection? Please arrange an introduction.”
Bishop Lang Huairen was born in France. In his youth, he was moved by the Way and resolved to spread the scriptures. Initially a missionary, he had been in China for twenty years, traveled across half the Chinese landscape, developed several albums of photographs, been imprisoned, encountered bandits, and argued face-to-face with Li Hongzhang—truly a distinguished record of service.
He had recently received a papal decree from the Vatican, appointing him Bishop of the Jiangnan Vicariate. He was eager to roll up his sleeves and accomplish great things.
Starting with adopting abandoned infants.
Consequently, several foundling homes and orphanages had opened in succession in Shanghai, taking in hundreds of people within a few months—equivalent to the total number of orphans adopted by all other Chinese dioceses combined. When news reached the Vatican, everyone praised his capability.
The only flaw was that the money was somewhat insufficient.
In the director’s office of the Tushanwan Orphanage, the roof was already leaking. Bishop Lang Huairen pulled his cassock tighter around himself and wanted to make himself a cup of tea, only to discover the teacup was cracked. He quickly put the teacup back in the cabinet, using a bit too much force—crack!—The teacup shattered.
The cook hurried in to clean up, bowing her head.
“Voilà , dear child. You see, charity is not limitless either.”
Lang Huairen stroked his beard and sighed, looking at the young Chinese girl sitting across from him—she dressed plainly in common clothes, not adorned with gold, silver, and silk like Chinese noble ladies. Yet her name was inscribed on the Tushanwan Orphanage’s donor list, ranking among the top contributors.
Many middle-class Chinese families, though converted to Catholicism, still harbored deep-seated beliefs in karmic retribution. When the Church called for donations of money and goods, they gave generously, hoping those donated silver coins would buy tickets to heaven a hundred years hence.
Lang Huairen found this thinking quite wrong and had tried to dissuade them many times with little success. He had come to tacitly accept it.
After all, what came in was real gold and silver, urgently needed by the Church.
But this Miss Lin was completely different. Lang Huairen had asked Sister Teresa—she donated generously every month without fail, purely to help the children here.
Then why not support the Qing government’s official charitable institutions? Her answer was also simple: “My money would be embezzled down to the last penny there.”
Thinking of this, Lang Huairen still offered her a friendly smile.
“Thank you for your trust. If you could persuade more wealthy families to donate to the diocese…”
“Your Lordship, your time is limited, so I won’t delay you long.” Lin Yuchan gazed at Lang Huairen’s bearded face, pondering thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “I’ve come to discuss the orphanage’s financial situation with you.”
Lang Huairen was somewhat puzzled, thinking she wasn’t even a believer.
But considering her kind-hearted donations, he nodded patiently: “I’m all ears.”
Lin Yuchan smiled: “This room is drafty, as cold as outside. Since you’ve come to inspect the orphanage today, why don’t we walk outside and talk as we go?”
The orphanage’s small building was maintained clean and tidy. With insufficient staff, the children took turns on duty. The older and younger children, seeing the stern Bishop, shyly bowed in greeting before running off with their mops.
Lin Yuchan pointed at these children and said, “I heard from Sister Teresa that the orphanage faces budget shortfalls and is now considering distributing children to believer families for fostering. The schooling period is also being compressed—after age eight, they’ll start working. Those over ten with adequate physical strength can operate cotton gins. Those over twelve who’ve learned basic grammar and arithmetic can perform quality assessments. The large amounts of vacant land and buildings the Church has purchased, not yet expanded into orphanages, could temporarily serve as workshops. They could work half days and attend classes for the other half. Or work three days a week and attend classes three days. I’ll pay according to adult male worker rates. I’ve calculated that these wages should suffice to cover Chinese instructors’ salaries.”
Having children under ten work part-time while studying, employing child labor herself, in the twenty-first century, Lin Yuchan felt she should confess honestly and immediately find the nearest police station to turn herself in.
But… in the wicked old society, this was the only method she could think of to prevent the orphanage children from dropping out of school.
Though the children’s wage income wouldn’t fully cover the orphanage’s operating costs, starting this precedent might attract more related charitable donations.
Moreover, Boya’s tea canisters could legitimately be labeled: “Hand-painted by orphanage children.” No need for her to fabricate names like the Natural Feet Mutual Aid Society.
Dreams were beautiful.
Bishop Lang Huairen only glanced briefly at her plan before still stroking his beard and smiling as he shook his head.
“Dear child, at such a young age, managing such a large business—quite remarkable among Chinese people. You’ve made a deep impression on me today.”
Lin Yuchan nodded, her expression tense.
Hearing that tone, it was the classic build-up before a letdown, with a “but” surely following.
“…But,” Bishop Lang Huairen said seriously, “after all, you don’t believe in God, do you? If you were one of our believers, we’d be happy to discuss your funding plan according to proper procedures…”
Lin Yuchan’s lips curled in a cold smile: “I have to pay to help and still need to be baptized?”
Lang Huairen stroked his great beard and smiled with satisfaction: “You understand perfectly. I’d be delighted to accept you as our sister.”
Lin Yuchan: “…”
Learn from the Heaven and Earth Society. Seven-day money-back guarantee, attracting recruits through merit, never chasing after people to join.
At this moment, they had walked to the orphanage’s library—actually just some miscellaneous books donated by believers, along with simple textbooks for daily reading and classes, various biblical texts and hymns, not even filling one bookshelf.
The library also stored much miscellaneous items. The nuns and caregivers at the orphanage would earn extra income in their spare time—doing embroidery, pasting paper boxes, binding missionary booklets, etc. These half-finished products were also piled in boxes, occupying half the room.
A small child was crawling on the floor. Lin Feilun held a ball of thread in his left hand and scissors in his right, toddling around exploring the clutter.
“Oh my! Isn’t anyone watching him?”
Lin Yuchan rushed over in panic, snatching the scissors from Lin Feilun’s hands and placing them up high.
Lin Feilun wailed, glaring with angry eyes and clawing at Lin Yuchan as if saying: You villain!
Lin Yuchan was utterly helpless. Watching the nanny carry him away, she mentally chanted: I found him. I found him. I found him.
Bishop Lang Huairen, seeing the lively child, was benevolent and smiled cheerfully. This was all the Church’s good work, and he didn’t have to care for them himself anyway.
Suddenly, he frowned slightly, picking up several photo albums from the clutter and muttering: “My things—they don’t even put them away properly.”
Lin Yuchan’s eyes lit up seeing the albums.
“These are your photographs from China?”
She changed the subject, no longer discussing baptism.
Lang Huairen nodded proudly. He was skilled in photography, and one of his proudest achievements was leaving precious photographic records in many Chinese cities, towns, and villages. He planned to compile and publish these later as authentic portraits of the ancient Orient for European colleagues and believers.
Lin Yuchan carefully leafed through, seriously examining the people and scenery in the photographs.
“The dates and locations are written in the corners of the photos,” Lang Huairen had a good impression of this generous young lady and smiled as he pointed out: “This is Baoding… this is the cathedral in Xianxian, Hebei, not yet completed… this is the Forbidden City, the image is a bit blurry. Beijing’s streets are full of dust—it’s not a problem with my technique…”
“And the photographs from this past year,” Lin Yuchan suddenly looked up, her smile sincere, “look, everyone’s faces are very relaxed. No one was forced or coerced into being photographed. Your Lordship, you’re truly good. You humbly accept criticism from a stranger, even though she’s not a believer in God.”
Lang Huairen’s smile froze, his beard trembling slightly as he stammered.
“You… what do you mean… have you seen me before?…”
Lin Yuchan straightened her chest and said softly in English: “Miss Marguerite Gautier was also a woman of the streets. Humanists of liberty, equality, and fraternity would grant basic dignity to every person.”
…
From the first moment she saw Bishop Lang Huairen, Lin Yuchan immediately recognized him—wasn’t he the French priest who had made a fuss about photographing Miss Ziyu’s bound feet during last year’s Lantern Festival?
Oh ho, he’d been promoted. Become a bishop. Look at that dignified cassock.
Lin Yuchan clearly remembered the situation then. Two French priests, one aggressive and quite contemptuous of Chinese people, treat Chinese prostitutes even more like decorative objects, suggesting between the lines that Miss Ziyu should “come to her senses” and voluntarily sacrifice herself for science. Completely lacking any respectful attitude.
Lang Huairen had been more courteous, constantly mediating, but he’d also kept his camera ready throughout.
However, Lin Yuchan had been righteously indignant then, arguing without a script, scolding both men together.
Actually, her eloquence that time had been merely average, but the French priests, having photographed countless people in China, had probably never encountered anyone who dared speak out against them. Caught off guard by her, they had slunk away admitting defeat.
Now it seemed Lang Huairen had indeed absorbed the lesson. In his photographic works from 1862 onward, there were more landscapes and fewer portraits, and those few models no longer showed expressions of humiliation and unwillingness on their faces.
Recognizing mistakes and correcting them—what virtue could be greater? Lin Yuchan thought, No wonder he could become a bishop.
As for Lang Huairen, that evening had been dark to begin with, and given his face-blindness regarding Chinese people, he only remembered a rough outline of that outspoken Chinese girl, completely forgetting what she looked like.
Hearing Lin Yuchan mention it now, he slowly recalled, his already ruddy face turning even redder, instinctively feeling somewhat ashamed.
“You… you didn’t tell me earlier…”
“I only remembered after seeing the photo albums.” Lin Yuchan smiled radiantly and sincerely bowed to Lang Huairen. “Well then, today I apologize. Making you lose face that day—I’m truly sorry.”
So much time had passed since then. Afterward, Lang Huairen and his companion had reflected within the Church and added new behavioral guidelines to reduce conflicts with Chinese people. Looking back now, it had served as a warning bell for colleagues, preventing similar incidents in the future.
After all, they had been lucky enough to encounter a Chinese girl who was powerless but sharp-tongued. Some less fortunate priests, drunk on privilege and carried away by success, had provoked fatal disasters—there were countless shocking precedents.
Moreover, Lang Huairen was now a bishop, accustomed to treating people with magnanimity.
His impression of this girl improved once again as he smiled amiably: “It must be God’s will that I meet you again today.”
Lin Yuchan immediately seized the opportunity, her smile dazzling: “So then, my soul is equal to yours. Please, sit down. Let’s continue discussing the half-work, half-study plan for the orphans.”