At the entrance of the tailor shop, Lin Yuchan straightened her clothes and hair, thanking each of the enthusiastic “fellow townspeople” one by one.
Everyone was polite: “Mutual assistance and helping those in distress—it’s what we should do. Next time something happens, as long as you know the secret code, we’ll all come back to you up anytime.”
Shi Peng took Lin Yuchan to Yixing’s main office to have some tea to calm her nerves. He also prepared some pastries and tea for Christmas, while a group of dock workers and clerks poked their heads over to see the excitement.
Yixing now had offices at several docks, so the main office wasn’t as crowded. The wooden benches had been replaced with Guangdong-style sofas inlaid with cloud stone, and a Western chiming clock had been added to the reception room. Thin carpets were also laid on the floor to block out the winter chill.
Shi Peng folded the two identical copies of the “guarantee letter,” handed one to Lin Yuchan, and said to her in a low voice: “This man won’t dare spy on you again from now on. But if you want to eliminate him, I’m afraid this old brother can’t comply. We’re now a law-abiding ‘hometown association,’ and the helmsman forbids us from using certain underhanded methods that can’t see the light of day, otherwise…”
Lin Yuchan quickly said: “No need, no need. We don’t want to cause trouble for ourselves.”
Sometimes the difference between a righteous organization and criminal forces lies in a thin line. Now that Su Minguan hadn’t returned yet, this “line” was particularly blurred. She couldn’t bring trouble to Yixing.
Wang Quan knew some details about her and Su Minguan after all. If they beat him severely, smashed his shop, and pushed him to desperation, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t jump over the wall like a cornered dog and fight to mutual destruction.
Better to give him a warning first, let him know that Miss Lin now had many friends and wasn’t to be trifled with, so he’d better give up any thoughts of settling old scores early.
Lin Yuchan thought for a moment, then said: “Wang Quan is now in the tea business like me. I’ll try to see if I can squeeze him out and make him leave Shanghai.”
Shi Peng was delighted: “Miss has ambition. If you truly have this intention, I’ll have my subordinates keep an eye on his business movements and notify you if anything comes up.”
Lin Yuchan thanked him, then suddenly remembered something and immediately said: “Actually, there’s something I need your help with right now…”
She briefly explained to Shi Peng the origin of today’s farce—how Defeng Trading had defeated Boya by taking the customs tea order with a bid below cost, clearly operating at a loss for publicity.
“He must be looking for other profitable ventures. Defeng Trading had a bad record in Guangzhou before, using profits from human trafficking to maintain the luxurious lifestyle of the household. This time he used low-priced tea to defeat Boya’s bid, operating at a loss for publicity—it doesn’t look like someone carrying huge debts. I’m worried he’ll repeat his old tricks and engage in some illegal activities again…”
Shi Peng was visibly pleased and immediately took on this task.
“I’ll send people to investigate! If he dares to do illegal business, then he’s seeking his destruction—I can make him leave Shanghai tomorrow!”
The next day, a Yixing clerk visited Boya, bringing a message from Shi Peng.
“We secretly followed that Shopkeeper Wang and found he indeed found another way to make money. But Miss Lin, unfortunately, his actions this time are reasonable and legal, with no flaws.”
Lin Yuchan found it hard to believe, taking a foreign company’s business card from the clerk’s hand.
“…British United Real Estate Company?”
“Wang Quan went in with a scruffy old man and stayed in this storefront for half an hour. Miss Lin, I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That’s right, we mainly deal in real estate loans and stock trading, and of course, we can also directly buy and sell properties. Madam, you’ve come to the right place today. In all of Shanghai, our business makes money the fastest now.”
“British United Real Estate Company” was located in the British-American concession. The storefront wasn’t large, but the walls were densely covered with information about properties and land for sale, quite resembling the prototype of later real estate agencies.
Quite a few customers were waiting outside the counter, and there weren’t enough bamboo stools, so some people simply stood.
Lin Yuchan disguised herself as a wealthy young widow, wearing a plain silk cotton jacket, with two pieces of mutton-fat jade gourds hanging from her earlobes, bright and eye-catching.
Clothes make the person—immediately, someone came out to welcome her.
The Chinese salesperson smiled obsequiously, bowing and gesturing, inviting her into the inner reception room.
“My surname is Zhang. Last year, I closed real estate deals worth a million taels of silver, and my colleagues honored me with the nickname Zhang Million, haha. Please, Madam.”
Zhang Million had a greasy face and was covered in expensive trinkets: snuff bottles, water pipes, jade thumb rings, rosewood prayer beads… Obviously, as a real estate agent, his salary was quite comfortable.
Lin Yuchan had a vague realization that her business acumen still needed improvement. In her two years in Shanghai, she hadn’t noticed the booming development of the real estate industry.
Of course, she knew that the rent for her leased residences and warehouses increased every year, but the concession didn’t allow Chinese people to purchase land, fundamentally eliminating her thoughts of “getting rich through real estate speculation.”
Even though she now owned a small Western-style house, her wealth had only multiplied several times on paper—she had no plans to convert the house into cash. After all, how she acquired the house wasn’t entirely conventional, and once sold, she couldn’t buy it back.
Based on these reasons, Lin Yuchan had underestimated Shanghai’s real estate speculation prospects.
“Land prices in Shanghai’s concessions are being speculated wildly now… Madam, you must have witnessed this yourself. Look at this scrapbook in my hands—when Shanghai first opened its ports, foreigners buying land at Huangpu Beach paid only fifteen taels of silver per mu for rent. Ten years ago, concession land prices were 180 taels per mu. Two years ago, 900 taels! And now the latest price…”
Salesperson Zhang Million spoke eloquently, bending over to rummage through boxes and cabinets, producing a contract.
“Yesterday’s transaction by your humble servant,” Zhang Million smiled radiantly, saying in a seductively low voice, “land near the racecourse sold for the high price of 1,300 taels per mu! Madam, calculate this doubling speed…”
Lin Yuchan became interested, taking the contract to examine it carefully.
It was real. It had seals and fingerprints, a string of witness signatures, and tax documents with official stamps…
Zhang Million waited for her to finish reading, then quickly retrieved the contract and locked it back in the drawer with great care.
In other words, in just twenty years, Shanghai land prices had increased nearly a hundredfold.
Lin Yuchan suddenly remembered that when Rong Hong had transferred the small Western-style house to her, he had mentioned: “…occupying three mu, I bought and renovated it for 2,100 silver dollars in the ninth year of Xianfeng, and it should have appreciated slightly in value now…”
Her heart suddenly began racing. In her vision, countless “land for sale” announcements transformed into white butterflies, fluttering into her heart.
She had been too trusting of Rong Hong, accepting his phrase “slightly appreciated” at face value!
Now it seemed it was far more than “slight”!
Lin Yuchan, in modern times, had been just an ordinary high school student with no urgent need to buy property, and had always been somewhat slow to respond to various discussions about skyrocketing housing prices in the media and online.
She had brought this slowness with her to the Qing Dynasty. Until today, the salesperson’s mention of “land price increases” was like a basin of ice water, opening a new window before her eyes.
The Small Swords Society uprising and the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom movement had created massive numbers of refugees. The concessions had no military disasters, and their living facilities were advanced and complete, making them everyone’s preferred refuge.
Thus, Shanghai’s concession population surged dramatically, from a small village at the opening of the ports to the current population of over 500,000. All these people crowded into the concessions and needed houses to live in.
Foreigners crudely seized land and developed it into crowded but cheap shikumen housing. Lin Yuchan had more than once marveled at the speed of construction within the concessions: last month it was empty land, today buildings were being erected, and next month they were full of residents.
Supply and demand imbalance would naturally be reflected in prices.
Seeing the “young widow’s” expression waver slightly, the salesperson became even more energetic, circling her and piling various documents and figures beside her hands.
“Madam, you are a person of wealth with spare money that serves no purpose sitting at home. Bank interest is pitiful, lending to others is high-risk—if you encounter someone who runs away, you’ll come up empty-handed. Better to invest in land and real estate, guaranteed high returns! The tide of our times favors speculators—as long as you have money to buy land, there are huge profits. Whoever dares take risks gets rich…”
Lin Yuchan pretended to be very interested, smiling: “But aren’t Chinese people forbidden from buying and selling concession land? Even if you have connections, I don’t have money to buy large Western-style houses of three or five mu.”
The salesperson had been waiting for her to ask this, smiling so broadly his face bloomed, constantly rubbing his thumb ring: “Of course you’re not the one buying! When foreigners want to build houses and raise capital, borrowing from foreign trading companies is inconvenient after all, and the amounts are limited; they can only borrow from Chinese people. Our company specializes in selling real estate company stocks to foreigners. Face value is fifty taels of silver per share, but now they’ve risen to one hundred taels—you can subscribe with a minimum of one hundred taels. There are monthly dividends. Last month’s dividend was as high as half a percent—half a percent!…”
Lin Yuchan was extremely surprised: “Half a percent? Five percent? Five percent per month?”
Back when she had partnered with Rong Hong, she had mortgaged and borrowed from Su Minguan, begging and pleading to negotiate a “monthly interest of two percent”—that is, two percent—and she had felt she was getting a bad deal.
Now it seemed that Boss Su had money but didn’t speculate in real estate, instead lending it to her for emergencies—he was practically a bodhisattva saving the world.
Zhang Million proudly nodded: “Half a percent, you heard correctly!—Of course, depending on the real estate location, investment land yields also vary. For example, the Bund has the highest land prices and the highest interest; next is Nanjing Road, then Huaihai Road. But our company will unite with other foreign real estate companies to package and combine these different tiers of locations, minimizing risk! Buy one hundred taels of stock, and every month you get five taels in dividends, plus stock appreciation. At most one year, guaranteed to double your principal! You don’t have to do anything, just collect money! Ask around anywhere in the International Settlement—which business shop doesn’t work hard from dawn to dusk, and how many can make this kind of profit?”
Lin Yuchan had a complex expression, feeling her knees ache.
However, she now understood how crazy Shanghai’s real estate industry currently was.
Major real estate companies issued stocks, equivalent to crowdfunding capital to lend money to foreigners for buying land and building houses. Then, in the form of dividends, they shared in the profits from rising land prices.
Thus, when concession land prices rose, Chinese people could also get a piece of the pie.
And the threshold was only one hundred taels—basically, any family with some spare money could participate.
Traditional Chinese people tended to be conservative by nature and had no habit of investing and financial management. After working hard to save money, they would either convert it to gold bars to bury in the ground or go to the countryside to buy farmland—few would think of investing in urban real estate.
In traditional agricultural values, if someone dared to throw real gold and silver into some foreign “stocks,” delusionally trying to profit from invisible, intangible “appreciation” and “dividends,” they would be considered unsteady and disruptive, subject to ostracism.
Even in a modern and fashionable place like Shanghai, small-farmer mentality still prevailed. Although Shanghai concession land prices rose like rockets, there was little discussion among the people. The honest people Lin Yuchan worked with might have noticed some “real estate companies,” but had never paid attention to their “crowdfunded real estate speculation” business.
Zhang Million produced stocks to show her—thick parchment paper with exquisite printing, bordered with decorative edges, looking like a small certificate. It had Chinese-English bilingual text and the foreign boss’s handwritten signature, which appeared very professional.
Lin Yuchan asked nonchalantly: “Who all buys your stocks?”
“All kinds of people! The bigger the guts, the higher the returns!” Zhang Million smiled and opened another ledger, counting the customer names inside: “Clerks, compradors, postal workers, servants, small bosses, local officials, and wealthy ladies like yourself… Look, this colonel’s wife sold her jewelry and hair ornaments, then asked her husband for more money, scraping together six hundred taels to buy ten shares from me—originally sixty taels per share—and sold them six months later, netting 480 taels!…”
Lin Yuchan was about to look more closely when Zhang Million, concerned about customer privacy, smilingly closed the ledger.
“Madam needn’t look at those,” Zhang Million grinned and pulled out a thick stack of papers from his pocket: “Look at this—I’m investing myself, our whole family’s fortune is staked on this. When we make money this time, we’ll return home to build an ancestral hall and hold our heads high…”
Not only did he encourage others to invest, but he was investing himself, too. Nineteenth-century salespeople were dedicated enough.
Lin Yuchan smiled: “I have an uncle who sells tea, named Wang Quan. He’s the one who told me to come ask. I want to know whether he really made money here or is just bragging to us younger generation.”
Zhang Million was eager to make sales, and seeing her speak with such specificity, didn’t bother to maintain customer privacy, nodding: “That Guangdong Boss Wang, ah, tsk tsk, truly a person of vision and courage. The first time he came, he put down real gold and silver to buy fifteen shares worth one thousand taels, now all returned to principal with a net profit of thirty percent dividends—yesterday he just carried home gleaming silver! Madam, your uncle was being generous in telling you this inside information. Many customers who invest in stocks at our company, after getting rich, desperately hide their wealth to avoid harassment from relatives and friends, refusing to tell anyone!”
Of course, there were some details Zhang Million wouldn’t tell her. For instance, that Boss Wang had initially been brought in by Old Huang. For every stock share Boss Wang bought, Old Huang would get a corresponding commission cut. Their real estate company could attract so many Chinese customers thanks largely to part-time middlemen like Old Huang.
Of course, Old Huang got his commission, Zhang Million got his salary, and Wang Quan received high interest returns—in Zhang Million’s view, this was a win-win-win situation where foreigners were giving them money, completely without bad conscience.
Lin Yuchan nodded, remaining silent for a long time.
Wang Quan, Shopkeeper Wang, truly made her see him in a new light.
Guangzhou land prices had always been low and had declined further since the Opium War. For ordinary well-off families, a year’s savings could buy a large courtyard house—there was no room for real estate speculation.
But Wang Quan, upon arriving in Shanghai, whether through his perception or someone else’s introduction, had immediately and keenly realized the profits from land appreciation, then acted decisively against all opposition…
Lin Yuchan knew there were still many things she could learn from this greasy, detestable Shopkeeper Wang.
However, if he hadn’t been teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, Wang Quan probably wouldn’t have gambled everything on using real estate stocks to get rich quick.
Thus, through a fortunate coincidence, he had embarked on a path of real estate speculation that transcended his era.
Salesperson Zhang Million smiled obsequiously at her: “Madam, I can see you’re also a sharp-minded person. Why not buy one share today to try it out? My name and address are written on this business card—you can come check on me anytime. We absolutely won’t do anything dishonest or harmful…”
Lin Yuchan smiled and politely declined: “I still need to discuss this with my family.”
Lin Yuchan suppressed the temptation to get rich through real estate speculation and reluctantly left “British United Real Estate Company.”
Although she hadn’t yet figured out this industry, modern absurd and bizarre social news stories told her that high returns inevitably came with high risks. There were no good deals where money fell randomly from the sky.
Cotton was also currently a high-yield industry, yet didn’t some people still lose everything? Lin Yuchan herself had nearly suffered losses.
She couldn’t let momentary impulses dominate her decisions. Besides, she wasn’t in urgent need of money now.
She suddenly remembered that when Rong Hong had transferred the small Western-style house to her, he had mentioned: “…occupying three mu, I spent 2,100 silver dollars buying and renovating it in the ninth year of Xianfeng, and it should have appreciated slightly in value now…”
Her heart suddenly began racing again. In her vision, countless “land for sale” announcements transformed into white butterflies, fluttering into her heart.
She had been too trusting of Rong Hong, accepting his phrase “slightly appreciated” at face value!
Now it seemed it was far more than “slight”!
Lin Yuchan tucked the “British United Real Estate Company” business card into the bottom of a drawer, out of sight and out of mind. Then she focused on another matter.
After another week, someone knocked at the Western-style house’s courtyard gate.
Su Minguan was in high spirits, wearing new clothes, freshly shaved, dropping his bundle upon entering and pushing her into the garden to claim a long kiss.
There were still employees and customers in the Western-style house who could see outside through the windows. Su Minguan very carefully selected a luxuriantly branched and leafed crape myrtle tree that happened to block the view from inside the windows.
The more dangerous, the more exciting.
Lin Yuchan’s heart pounded, and she could only pray that the people inside wouldn’t come out. Her senses became extraordinarily acute, and she instinctively gripped his shoulders, melting into the atmosphere of their brief reunion.
His body seemed to still carry the river mist from the Yangtze, his lips were slightly cool, and his hands bore the ink fragrance left from signing customs documents.
Thin sunlight filtered through the vine leaves, falling in fine fragments into his eyes. When he closed his eyes, the light lingered beneath his eyebrows, spreading a layer of faint, flowing light across his face.
She placed one hand behind his head, feeling the vigorous blood flow beneath the skin of his neck.
Su Minguan suddenly released her, lowering his voice with a smile: “Did you get used to sleeping alone?”
Lin Yuchan: “…”
The first thing he asked was this?!
She bit his lip and gently ground against it, feeling a suppressed intake of breath. The hand on her back loosened, and he pushed her back three inches.
She smiled wickedly: “Who says I slept alone?”
Su Minguan’s eyes darkened, his gaze lightly scraping over her as he asked with mock seriousness:
“With whom?”
She answered righteously: “The Count of Monte Cristo.”
“The British one or the French one?”
Lin Yuchan: “…”
Asking so seriously! Making her blush!
She deflected, laughing: “Congratulations.”
Seeing Su Minguan looking so spirited and dashing, she knew Smith’s lawsuit in Hankou had probably ended well.
Su Minguan deliberately lowered his eyebrows and asked her: “What’s there to congratulate? You weren’t in Hankou—do you know how Smith’s case was finally decided?”
This time, he couldn’t frighten her. Lin Yuchan ran to the counter, took a copy of the North China Herald, and waved it at him triumphantly.
The newspaper had arrived yesterday, reaching Shanghai a day before Su Minguan. Western journalists certainly moved fast.
“The winds of freedom spanning ten thousand li,” Lin Yuchan read the newspaper text with a smile, “the American consul in Hankou read the Emancipation Proclamation to the slaves and immediately granted them free citizenship… this emerging nation holding high the banner of abolitionism…”
Americans were indeed good at propaganda—the heroic deed of “liberating slaves” occupied half a page, and they had indeed included a moving illustration. The artist used a low angle, making Consul Burlingame appear extraordinarily tall. He extended one hand, passing citizenship papers marked with the Stars and Stripes to a raggedly dressed, bowing black woman. The background showed heavy snow rivaling northern landscapes. A group of similarly-faced Chinese with rat-tail braids watched in awe.
Lin Yuchan expressed gratitude: “Thank goodness they didn’t draw us in.”
She was certain that Consul Burlingame would buy a copy of this newspaper to collect.
Then, only in the very last small paragraph, Smith’s lawsuit was mentioned.
“Hankou’s first case since opening the port… hmm, Chinese merchant sues American citizen J. Smith for damaging business… ordered to compensate Yixing Shipping 800 dollars in damages. Smith to leave China immediately after his business contract ends, not permitted to stay…”
Lin Yuchan pondered for a moment.
“Smith didn’t reveal who was behind it?” she asked. “It couldn’t have been his mischief…”
Su Minguan shook his head helplessly.
“In a foreign court, you can’t expect them to try very hard. Besides, even if he had implicated Jardine Matheson, what then? The foreign judge wouldn’t sentence them to leave China, either.”
That was true. Lin Yuchan put down the newspaper and smiled: “Congratulations on your wealth.”
Under normal legal judgment, destroying others’ property, threatening others’ safety, plus various charges of causing trouble should have resulted in at least a year and a half in prison. But since Smith was a foreigner, this 800-dollar fine was already the maximum penalty Su Minguan had fought for with his eloquent arguments.
You have to understand that some of Smith’s compatriots who killed poor Chinese people in the streets were ultimately only sentenced to pay a few hundred dollars or pounds in compensation. The victims had nowhere to seek justice.
From this perspective, Smith was truly unlucky, hitting the muzzle of the gun and encountering a ruthless person.
At that time, the exchange rate between American dollars and Qing silver taels was close to one-to-one. Paying out these 800 dollars meant Smith’s Far East gold-seeking trip was essentially several months of working for nothing.
And he had also lost a capable slave, truly losing both the lady and the soldiers.
Imagining further, when he returned to his domestic plantation, it would be empty with all the slaves having run away…
Lin Yuchan giggled quietly, full of schadenfreude.
Su Minguan had originally been somewhat travel-weary, but her laughter gently soothed him for a moment, his spirits lifted again, and he cupped her face to kiss her earlobe.
Suddenly, his gaze paused for a moment beside her cheek.
“French flower water,” he said in surprise, lowering his voice.
Lin Yuchan exclaimed with delight, thinking what a sharp nose!
Using Marseille soap to wash her face daily, paired with American Pond’s cold cream, plus genuine French lavender essential oil, Lin Yuchan considered herself the Qing Dynasty’s top skincare expert.
Of course she was reluctant to use much—calculating carefully with each drop of essential oil, first mixing it into the cold cream, then applying it to face, neck, and hands equally, the fresh fragrance lasting all day and keeping her energetic.
She looked up, smiling: “How do you know?”
Su Minguan leaned down again, taking a deep breath at her neck before answering: “As a child I used it for bathing, pouring a whole bottle into the hot water tub—very fragrant, slept very well all night.”
Lin Yuchan: “…”
Pouring a whole bottle into the hot water tub.
A whole bottle!
Just to smell the fragrance!
She wanted to revolt against him right now.
She stepped three paces away from him, put on a serious face, and said solemnly: “Boss Su, let me ask you something.”
Su Minguan lingered in the lavender fragrance for a while before casually responding: “Mm?”