Lin Yuchan paid no attention to this provocation, shouldering her bag and saying lazily: “I don’t know how to dance. Not interested.”
Social receptions organized by foreigners generally had nothing to do with Chinese people, especially Chinese women. Sometimes they’d symbolically invite a few Chinese officials to show their goodwill toward Chinese-foreign harmony and local integration, but rarely would Chinese ladies appear.
Even if she were an exceptional invitee, mixing among a group of noble “superiors” and enduring their orientalist curious gazes—just thinking about it was tiresome.
Her only mistaken entry into a foreign ball, where Hede had pulled her to dance two dances, she’d felt the gazes of surrounding gentlemen and ladies—how to put it, mostly friendly and appreciative, but the taste of that scrutiny was obvious, like looking at a rare little peacock that could speak human language in a greenhouse.
For a Great Qing girl from an enlightened family, suddenly pulled into such a lively, high-level occasion, after overcoming initial shyness, she might feel flattered, or if she had strong self-respect, might perform exceptionally to enhance the Chinese people’s image in foreign eyes.
But Lin Yuchan lacked this enthusiasm for self-display. Let the foreigners play by themselves.
So earlier, when Hede had also mentioned inviting her to a reception, she’d hesitated without agreeing.
Victor thought she was just shy, quickly saying: “Today’s different—you won’t be the only Chinese girl! Ever-Victorious Army officer Mr. Macartney, his newlywed wife is an extremely lovely Hubei girl. Today’s reception is being held at his home, specifically to introduce this Chinese lady to society! If other Chinese girls attend, I believe Mrs. Macartney would be very happy…”
Now Lin Yuchan was surprised: “Really? Not a Hong Kong Chinese, Southeast Asian Chinese… but a native Chinese girl?”
Victor nodded proudly.
This was indeed quite fresh. Lin Yuchan thought, no wonder Hede had immediately extended an invitation upon seeing her—he must have known there would be Chinese women of her language and ethnicity at the reception to chat with.
If she ignored the unpleasantness of dealing with certain snobby foreigners, today’s reception would probably gather many big-shot officials and merchants, mixing men and women with casual etiquette (by Chinese standards). Whether for exploring market trends or probing the latest customs policies, it was a rare opportunity.
If she could also strike up a conversation with that Mrs. Macartney…
A bright prospect appeared in her eyes, quietly shifting the scales in her heart.
Lin Yuchan smiled and stood up.
“What a coincidence—Mr. Hede also invited me. You’re a step too late.”
Victor clenched his fists in frustration. His superior had intercepted—he could only endure it.
“Then, Miss Lin,” his eyebrows drooped, looking pitiful, “there are still two hours. Shall I accompany you to get proper attire? Your travel-worn appearance isn’t suitable for dancing…”
“Oh my, you’re right. Thanks for the reminder.” Lin Yuchan smiled as she responded, “My boyfriend is best at this sort of thing. I’ll find him—can’t go wrong.”
Victor: “…”
Just when he felt their chat was getting somewhere, she suddenly threw dog food in his face, making his big nose crooked with anger.
“No, no,” he quickly showed concern, running in front of her, “Chinese men are very petty, especially your sinister, cunning, barbaric boat merchant. You absolutely can’t let him know you’re drinking and dancing with foreigners, or he’ll beat you! Let me give you advice—go secretly without telling him, just say something held you up. Miss Lin isn’t married yet—where you socialize is your freedom. No need to report to unrelated men… I can find some Chinese subordinates to help cover for you…”
“Victor, you’re so thoughtful.” Lin Yuchan beamed at him. “I don’t plan to hide it from him. If my boyfriend beats me for this, I trust you’ll seek justice for me and give him a good thrashing, right?”
Victor froze. For an instant, chaotic phrases flashed through his mind: “strong dragons can’t overpower local snakes,” “bagged,” “club,” “mafia”…
Thus, slight hesitation and retreat appeared on his handsome face.
Lin Yuchan shrugged, walked around this all-talk-no-action pretty boy, and strode out of Shunfeng Tea Factory’s gates.
Just after putting on her hat, a shadow flashed beside her, a strong hand taking her arm and domineeringly pulling her aside.
Lin Yuchan nearly stumbled in fright, struggled once, looked up, and wiped cold sweat from her forehead.
“You… how long have you been here…”
Su Minguan kept a straight face, but couldn’t suppress the growing smile in his eyes: “Someone taking my silver to wander around, hiring charlatans for tricks, and wanting to secretly drink and dance with foreigners—I’m here to arrest and bring you to justice.”
It seemed the charlatan had been dutiful—the message was delivered.
Lin Yuchan lightly pinched his palm, feigning displeasure, openly glancing toward the factory building: “Not going in to help me beat someone up?”
“Tsk, too cowardly, no justification.”
They mocked Victor together.
Outside the factory was still foreign territory. Su Minguan walked slowly, openly embracing the young girl’s waist, lowering his head to whisper intimately with her—let whoever wanted to look, look.
He suddenly asked quietly: “Paramour—what does it mean?”
Lin Yuchan stopped walking, her cheeks warming slightly. “Um…”
It meant “boyfriend.”
When bantering with Victor earlier, when she mentioned “my boyfriend,” she had used this word.
In nineteenth-century English, there were no boyfriend/girlfriend terms yet. Corresponding phrases had very innocent meanings—boyfriend meant buddy, girlfriend meant female friend.
Because Europeans of this era, though much more open than the Great Qing, rarely had what later generations called “dating” phases.
Marriage was still arranged by parents. The engaged couple could be affectionate for a while. After marriage, they occasionally found lovers. This lover was a paramour.
It was a word Lin Yuchan had learned from “The Count of Monte Cristo.” She’d been reading this book frequently lately and used it offhandedly.
So she quietly explained: “Um, just like us, with a very good relationship…”
Su Minguan pondered briefly, humbly asking: “Not just that, right?”
Indeed, in the contemporary English context, paramour had strong implications of adultery, desire, and immorality, not as shallow as holding hands and kissing.
Lin Yuchan rolled her eyes at him: “You already know, why ask?”
She couldn’t find a more appropriate word!
Su Minguan chuckled.
In front of others, the little girl was unrestrained and free-spirited, defining him as a paramour.
Yet she was so shy with him.
Leaving Levinov’s tea factory, they walked separately. Su Minguan casually bought oil-paper-wrapped sweet potato flour rings from a cart vendor and stuffed them in her hands.
Fill your stomach. Try not to drink alcohol later, and eat less cold food.”
Lin Yuchan was stunned for a moment.
Victor’s earlier instigation had caused small ripples in her heart. Many Chinese men were harsh with their women—even if she laughed and chatted a bit more with other men, they’d turn hostile, let alone contact foreigners. Though Young Master Su seemed unrestricted about everything, would he allow her to dance with foreigners?
She bit into a sweet potato ring, testing: “Actually, you could go too—find some connections, someone would invite you.”
“I won’t join that excitement.” Su Minguan smiled and shook his head. “Tonight, two Hankou shipyards and warehouses will change hands—the process might be more interesting than drinking foreign wine.”
Lin Yuchan’s heart skipped slightly. She tried to look disdainful, snorting.
She was a woman who’d played acquisition games and seen the big world—she wouldn’t be easily awed by a domineering CEO.
Then she thought—her Yixing shares were about to appreciate again!
“Congratulations, Boss Su,” she smiled. “So, I’m going to play alone—you don’t mind?”
Su Minguan thought briefly, then magnanimously shook his head.
Even big-nosed Victor understood this principle. Miss Lin wasn’t married—where she socialized was her freedom.
It was also laughable to think that if he were truly her husband, any invitation to her would be delivered to his hands for him to choose and decide—this place okay, that place not…
He couldn’t picture that scene. The little, delicate wife would get angry and seek an immediate divorce.
Besides, Hede was fairly reliable. Since he’d invited her, he’d naturally ensure his guest’s safety and dignity, not let her fall into danger.
Su Minguan sighed quietly, suddenly wondering—did she like dancing with strangers?
Business requires networking. She treasured herself as a young woman, unable to hold her nose and drink with greasy business partners like men, she could only go to foreigners to speak English and meet high-end connections. Otherwise, how could she continue her business?
Moreover, she was completely open about it, not planning to hide anything from him. He should naturally reciprocate, giving her full trust.
Su Minguan understood the grand principles, but instinctive possessiveness still jumped rebelliously in his heart. Imagining foreigners holding drinks, flirting everywhere, he pinched her little chin, seriously warning: “Don’t let anyone take advantage of you.”
Though he knew Lin Yuchan had this awareness—this warning was as redundant as “be safe”—he still had to say it explicitly, letting her know how petty he was.
Lin Yuchan saw his fierce expression, suppressed laughter, and deliberately teased him, also putting on a fierce look, saying softly: “You too. I’ll inspect when you return!”
“Miss Lin, you’re finally here—this way!”
Hede, holding foreign wine, smiled as he welcomed Lin Yuchan into the parlor.
Today’s family banquet at Macartney’s—originally, he was also a guest. However, Hede waited in the corridor, acting as host, almost greeting every guest personally.
Meticulous in the office, dominating social occasions too. Everyone knew this Customs Inspector General was ambitious with unlimited prospects.
Lin Yuchan smiled slightly, removing her warming cloak and handing it to a Chinese maid nearby.
Hede was still leisurely socializing in Hankou. She felt somewhat anxious—when exactly could martial law be lifted?
Victor was exchanging pleasantries with Levinov and several Russian merchants. Seeing her, he couldn’t break away to bother her, only calling across the room: “Miss Lin looks quite distinguished today—truly radiant!”
Lin Yuchan looked down at herself. Tsk, such a sweet talker.
For a spontaneous reception, she wouldn’t search the world for high-end custom clothing again. The psychological scars from “Lotus Pond Moonlight” hadn’t healed yet. Before earning a thousand taels of silver, she resolutely wouldn’t waste money on clothes.
But as a lady, dressing too plainly would show disrespect to the hosts. So Lin Yuchan had a flash of inspiration—asking Su Minguan to accompany her to a ready-made clothing shop to rent a fitted men’s silk gown, borrowing his jade-buttoned hat and belt. With a slight adjustment, she became the most fashionable Shanghai-style foreign young woman of the Tongzhi era.
After all, men’s status and position were internalized, requiring no complex jewelry or embroidery to elevate their worth. Therefore, compared to equivalent women’s clothing, men’s attire was much simpler and easier to coordinate. This was a universal East-West rule.
Anyway, most people at this reception wore Western dress—only very few wore Chinese clothing. No one would nitpick about etiquette.
Lin Yuchan quickly glanced around. This Macartney residence was quite interesting—looking like an English mansion from outside, but inside was sandalwood-scented with Chinese layout, gentle maids waiting at the entrance. Shrines with fruits hung on walls, various red wood antique furniture of unknown origin scattered throughout—from Ming style to contemporary, four generations coexisting, casually placed like retired cadres chatting in a sanatorium.
This Mr. Macartney seemed strongly willing to integrate into Chinese culture.
Wait, Mr. Macartney…
Lin Yuchan now realized this surname was familiar! She’d seen it in textbooks!
“Exactly.” Hede saw her surprise, quietly introducing: “Seventy years ago, the British envoy who once had an audience with Emperor Qianlong and firmly refused to kneel and kowtow—today’s Mr. Macartney comes from the same family. Also, if you speak Chinese with him later—though his isn’t very authentic—and use his Chinese name, he’ll be very happy.”
Lin Yuchan was curious: “He has a Chinese name? What is it?”
Hede’s mouth corners lifted, concealing slight mockery and disdain, writing two sloppy Chinese characters on the fogged dressing mirror:
“Qingchen.”
Lin Yuchan: “…”
This Mr. Ma disgraced his ancestors.
Suddenly, someone at the entrance greeted with laughter: “Greetings to Lord Hede!—Ah, who might this be? Forgive my poor eyesight, Tang, someone offers respects here—”
Tang Tingshu squinted his nearsighted eyes, handing his coat to an attendant, speaking fluent English, smoothly greeting Hede from all sides.
The chief comprador of Jardine Matheson & Co., a money-gathering king bridging Chinese and foreign worlds—wherever he appeared, people competed to invite him.
In Hede’s eyes, Tang Tingshu was a walking massive tax payment. Hede’s eyes curved with genuinely happy smiles as he went to shake hands with Tang Tingshu.
Incidentally introducing: “You might know this, Miss Lin…”
Turning his head, the space beside him was empty. Miss Lin had probably shyly hidden somewhere.
Hede shook his head with a smile, chatting with Tang Tingshu.
Lin Yuchan hid in the corridor, feeling somewhat caught in a dilemma.
She absolutely couldn’t let Tang Tingshu recognize her.
Though she still wore men’s clothing today, if Tang Tingshu asked how a small Yixing boat worker appeared at a high-end reception…
She couldn’t say Boss Su knew you were attending, so she specially sent me to serve again, could she?
She had a flash of inspiration, following voices to a parlor with ladies.
Tang Tingshu was still a traditional Chinese man after all—he wouldn’t specifically socialize with the wives.
A well-trained maid approached with lowered head, politely guiding Miss Lin.
Thus Lin Yuchan met the first transnational couple she’d encountered since arriving in the Great Qing—Mr. Macartney, also known as Ma Qingchen, in his thirties, in his prime, with delicate skin and quite handsome features. Only following Victorian aesthetics, he kept two extremely bushy golden whiskers under his chin—from behind, it looked like two fat white radishes growing from his chin.
His newlywed wife, introduced as Gao Dewen, was about twenty, taller than average Western women, with distinct black and white eyes and heroic bearing between her brows. She wore Chinese-style jacket and skirt, natural feet in oversized embroidered shoes under her trouser legs. Those shoe tips also had fluffy flowers, making her feet appear three sizes larger.
Lin Yuchan’s eyes lit up. Since arriving in the Great Qing, she’d rarely seen women dressed so unrestrainedly.
But Gao Dewen, first entering Western social occasions, still seemed somewhat constrained, politely smiling at the foreign guests coming and going.
The atmosphere hadn’t fully warmed up yet. The invited small indoor orchestra was still warming up, a few gentleman-lady pairs had danced ceremonially twice, then went to drink and eat refreshments.
Suddenly, with clattering sounds, people raised their glasses with cheers and laughter.
“To Mrs. Macartney! Congratulations on your marriage! Don’t be shy—give us a demonstration!”
“Your husband has already agreed—let us broaden our horizons, won’t you?”
“We haven’t seen Chinese kung fu yet. Such a beautiful lady practicing martial arts would surely be magnificent. Mrs. Macartney, let us feast our eyes!”
…
Taking advantage of their wine-induced boldness, a group of young foreign men loudly cheered.
Gao Dewen—Mrs. Macartney—restrained her thick eyebrows and large eyes, looking constrained and shy.
Several older gentlemen nearby shook their heads slightly, probably finding this suggestion too undignified. But they said nothing.
Ma Qingchen probably wanted to show off marrying a Chinese woman with martial arts skills, taking his newlywed wife’s hand, pleading in simple Chinese: “Just perform a little bit… I’m your husband, you should give me face…”
Suddenly, someone saw a Chinese woman among the guests, quickly greeting warmly: “Ah, there’s a Chinese lady here! Who might this be? Miss Lin? Hey, hey, Miss Lin, come quickly—help persuade Mrs. Macartney. She can’t understand what we’re saying! Today isn’t a formal occasion—tell her not to be too shy! We just want to see Chinese kung fu—no malice! She needs to adapt to British etiquette!”
Before Lin Yuchan could react, several people surrounded her next to Gao Dewen, chattering and asking her to “encourage” participation.
Lin Yuchan: “…”
She knew Hede had invited her as a tool! He anticipated this scene!
Her mind also flashed quickly. Ma Qingchen as husband didn’t even know to invite a few Chinese ladies to accompany his wife—had to rely on Hede’s last-minute idea…
Gao Dewen, surrounded by a group of foreigners chattering in languages she didn’t understand, was already nervous enough to sweat, soaking her high-collared cotton jacket.
For politeness, for her husband’s face, she dared not turn hostile, left at a loss by a pile of complimentary words she couldn’t understand.
Suddenly seeing a kind-faced Chinese girl, Gao Dewen’s expression finally relaxed somewhat, casting a plea for help toward her.
“Girl, you speak a foreign language?” Gao Dewen urgently asked quietly, “Tell them I don’t want to…”
Lin Yuchan couldn’t stand watching anymore, glancing dissatisfiedly at Ma Qingchen beside her.
Just standing there watching. Did he think he’d married a monkey?
Though performing kung fu might be a fun party activity in modern times, everyone having fun, it should be based on voluntary participation.
Not to mention, under Great Qing customs and ethics, performing in public equaled street performing—very disrespectful. Even asking household servants to perform, those with dignity would refuse.
Lin Yuchan was still considerate enough to greet Ma Qingchen politely. About to speak English, remembering Hede’s reminder, she switched to Chinese.
“She says she doesn’t want to…”
Ma Qingchen was somewhat impatient. “I understand what she means! Miss, you persuade her—no one here will treat her like a performing dancing girl. Please consider my face.”
Indeed, as Hede said, Ma Qingchen’s Chinese was extremely forced—you’d be lucky to understand one word out of ten. Fortunately, Lin Yuchan had extensive experience dealing with foreigners and was accustomed to their intonation, so he could barely decipher his meaning.
She said: “But she’s unwilling…”
“Chinese people say ‘marry a rooster, follow the rooster’—she should listen to her husband.” Ma Qingchen was polite but cold, obviously treating her as a tool. “Miss, you’re also Chinese—you should understand this principle.”
This Englishman’s backwardness rivaled the Great Qing’s. Wanting to host receptions to show off while expecting his wife to observe women’s virtues—wanting the best of both worlds.
Several gorgeously dressed Western ladies watched the excitement, using fans to cover their faces, discussing at just the right volume: “Aren’t Chinese women very obedient? Don’t they treat husbands like heaven, obeying them in everything? Being able to marry our British men is already very fortunate—how can she disobey her husband right after marriage?”
Gao Dewen, facing her foreign husband, had no capital for a protest. Her face darkened, probably grumbling complaints. But she was disadvantaged by not speaking English, and her husband wouldn’t translate her curses either.
She endured and endured, finally standing up, about to storm off.
Lin Yuchan gently reached out to stop her.
“Madam,” she asked quietly, “do you know martial arts?”
Gao Dewen didn’t know what level of guest she was and couldn’t casually show displeasure, saying blandly: “All killing techniques—not for performance.”
Lin Yuchan held her breath excitedly. First time seeing a living female warrior!
This girl was no ordinary person.
How did she end up benefiting Qingchen Macartney?
She decided to be a good tool, leaning close to Gao Dewen, whispering: “Don’t move, look fierce.”
Then, pretending to communicate with her for a while, she coughed once and told the crowd of instigators in the parlor: “Mrs. Ma says performing martial arts is fine. But she learned killing techniques. Her blade, once drawn, must drink human blood before returning to its sheath, or it’s inauspicious. Please select a brave warrior to fight her, then she can fully display her skills…”
Lin Yuchan ransacked martial arts movie dialogue from her mind, translating freely with complete seriousness.
The guests’ faces changed slightly.
Only Gao Dewen couldn’t understand what she was saying, sitting there stone-faced, which gave her a parts master’s bearing.
Someone said quietly: “Really?”
Lin Yuchan, enjoying the drama, replied: “I don’t know either. Why doesn’t someone try fighting her?”
The parlor fell silent for a moment.