Chairman “Mrs. Su’s” words had just ended when everyone was stirred to indignation, and voices immediately began to boil over.

“Of course, we can’t let ourselves be slaughtered! Since we’ve formed a business association, we’re all willing to fight them! Mrs. Su, you’re no ordinary woman. Since you’ve already figured out the foreign trading houses’ methods, we can barely claim to know ourselves and our enemy. We’ve all paid our membership fees—use that money as you see fit, but please suppress the foreigners’ arrogance and don’t let them get too smug!”

Lin Yuchan smiled, hearing the urging tone in these words.

“Sir, let me speak upfront—just because you’ve paid money doesn’t mean you can sit back and wait for fortune to come knocking. Otherwise, you might as well take that money and speculate in real estate. To fight foreign merchants and trading houses requires our joint efforts, eliminating internal corruption and investigating external conditions. I boldly ask everyone to achieve three points. First, Yixing Business Association members may compete with each other, but conspiracy and sabotage are forbidden—Chinese people cannot harm other Chinese people. If I receive complaints and discover someone maliciously suppressing fellow merchants, they will be immediately expelled from the association with no refund of membership fees. Second, internal intelligence sharing within the association—there will be a speedboat traveling back and forth along the Yangtze coast, bringing the latest intelligence from various ports every two weeks—prices, policies, foreign trading house movements, and purchasing quotas for major commodities. If any of you have exclusive information sources, this speedboat will also carry them to other ports. As long as we abandon the concept of ‘keeping secrets,’ we Chinese will have already succeeded halfway in fighting foreign merchants. Third, association intelligence is strictly forbidden from being leaked to outsiders—violators will be expelled with no refund of membership fees. I needn’t elaborate on the reasons.”

These items had all been written in the notification when joining, and everyone had signed. She reminded them again to show their importance.

This time, no shills were needed to create atmosphere—everyone responded with a roar.

“Understood! Let’s try it anyway! Foreigners also have one nose and two eyes—I don’t believe they can suppress us forever!”

Lin Yuchan bowed to everyone, drained another cup, and closed her speech draft.

Her first time speaking publicly to mobilize people—as a woman, she hadn’t been rejected or dropped the ball.

A good start.

She took a deep breath, the aroma of wine and food from the banquet floating into her chest.

She hadn’t eaten yet, and being tempted by this aroma, her whole person suddenly developed a hunger—not just physiological, but psychological. It was as if her entire being became urgently impatient, facing that bright horizon ahead and unable to wait to charge forward.

Outside at the wharf, a long steam whistle sounded. Lin Yuchan’s eyes lit up.

“It’s here!”

The small steam speedboat “Liberal” was skillfully docked. The dock workers threw down the mooring ropes.

The newly hired captain ran over carrying paper and a pen.

This steamship was the Yixing Business Association’s most core asset. Purchase price of nineteen thousand taels of silver, maximum speed sixteen knots, requiring only four people to operate—truly a barracuda in the Yangtze River.

The steamship was fully managed by Yixing Shipping, with captain and crew provided by Yixing. As usual it flew the British flag, allowing unobstructed passage on the river.

Lin Yuchan looked at the small propeller at the ship’s stern, loving it more with each glance.

Though it didn’t match Luna’s size and tonnage, this was her steamship!

How had she gotten so stuck in a rut initially, thinking the ship purchase was exploitation by Su Minguan?

She took the thick stack of notes, dove into the office, and organized them at lightning speed.

Unnoticed, someone sat beside her, sharpened a pencil, and handed it to her.

Su Minguan still preferred using brushes himself. He browsed those scrawled notes with her, circling and marking important information.

Though Lin Yuchan was currently in full charge of the Yixing Business Association, she didn’t drive him away, tacitly allowing him to observe.

Su Minguan was also curious about what kind of splash this bi-weekly intelligence gathering would create in Shanghai Port.

The banquet outside had already dispersed. Unfinished dishes were packed and sold at low prices to nearby cheap restaurants—this was standard practice in the Qing catering industry. Ordinary people couldn’t afford rich meat and fish, so they purchased leftovers from wealthy households at low prices, making both sides happy.

The curious guests left with sighs of appreciation. The official Yixing Business Association members, after verifying their badges and registering, all waited together on long benches in the meeting room. Someone served hot tea.

These were the first brave souls to try something new. No one could say how much assistance the “business association” could provide for their businesses.

There was no movement from the office. Everyone whispered among themselves.

Some lacked confidence, muttering quietly: “Just think of it as broadening our horizons… It’s only a hundred taels anyway, just think of it as making some friends…”

Click—the door opened.

The association chairman, that young but composed Mrs. Su, walked directly to the small blackboard in the center of the room, wrapped her fingers in cloth, and picked up a piece of chalk.

“Shanghai Port’s opening prices for bulk local goods today… raw cotton, tea, raw silk, raw lacquer, sesame, soybeans… foreign trading house purchase quotas are respectively…”

As she wrote, she skillfully drew neat, straight tables.

“…Ningbo Port, yesterday’s prices… raw cotton, tea, raw silk…”

“…Three days ago, Zhenjiang, Jiujiang… Hankou…”

Dozens of pairs of eyes followed the chalk in her hand. These local goods merchants who shuttled between wharfs, warehouses, and shops in a three-point line were, for the first time in their lives, overloaded in their minds with business opportunities spanning half the Qing empire’s map.

A roomful of merchants, old and young alike, normally dignified small bosses in their daily lives, today resembled newly enlightened schoolchildren, craning their necks, pulling out eyeglasses, not daring to breathe loudly, focusing on every stroke of their “teacher’s” writing.

Those with quick minds soon spotted problems:

“How can silk prices in Shanghai and Ningbo differ by half?”

“When I went to Hankou last month, brick tea purchase volume wasn’t this high!—No wait, tea merchants should all be celebrating New Year!”

“Mrs. Su, the price difference between Zhenjiang and Jiujiang from three days ago should be gone by now, right?”

…

Lin Yuchan ignored them. She was only responsible for providing intelligence, not analysis and clarification.

Otherwise, if her analysis was wrong and caused others to lose big money, she couldn’t bear that responsibility.

After finishing the numbers, next came business trends.

“Hankou: Russian merchants have entered the concession, using machines to press tea. Brick tea production has doubled, local brick tea prices have plummeted, and export volume to Russia has doubled. Standard Chartered Bank has entered, making financing easier for local foreign trading houses, so purchase quotas for all commodities will increase accordingly…”

“Zhenjiang: Affected by warfare in Suzhou and Wuxi, local government troops have set up checkpoints to collect taxes for military expenses, making it difficult for foreign merchants to pass…”

“Ningbo: Baoshun Trading House is importing large quantities of opium. The government has ordered local salt merchants to pay supplementary taxes. Combined, this has created a money shortage locally with tight liquidity…”

“Guangzhou: Although our ships can’t reach that far, we received news from Jiujiang that three foreign trading houses plan to withdraw from Guangzhou and move their headquarters to Shanghai. They are respectively…”

“Hong Kong: Major foreign trading houses are preparing to pool funds to establish a new bank with headquarters in China…”

The tea on the table had long grown cold. No one had time to taste tea, even their breathing became quiet, fearing to miss every softly spoken word.

For many people, though they couldn’t immediately analyze how this intelligence could be converted to silver, merchants’ intuition told them that this small blackboard hid unlimited business opportunities.

Every shop had its supply base. Some were near Ningbo, some near Jiujiang. This intelligence from other places wasn’t redundant for them either. Next time they traveled to and from the interior, they wouldn’t need to spend time understanding the situation anew.

Someone pulled out a paper and a pen.

But was quickly stopped by Lin Yuchan: “Sorry, looking only, no copying.”

Lin Yuchan finished the last stroke as the clock struck twelve.

The first “member benefits” of the Yixing Business Association had thus been distributed.

Lin Yuchan wiped the chalk dust from her hands with a handkerchief and smiled: “Thank you for your support. The intelligence on the blackboard will remain for one hour. Now, please make yourselves comfortable. It’s cold—you can rest here a while longer. Tea and snacks are available freely.”

After she finished speaking, the hall was quiet for a moment, then erupted with a buzz.

In almost seconds, the fellow merchants quickly formed clusters, factioning off into small meetings.

“See that? Foreign merchants are still manipulating cotton prices. We won’t sell, won’t sell…”

“Jardine Matheson & Co. is planning something big in Zhenjiang. Brothers, should we transport our soybeans there to test the waters?”

“Let’s wait until this year’s silk harvest. The British don’t have many orders this year…”

“Mrs. Su, the steamship hasn’t left yet, has it? I boldly request—help me ask about tobacco purchase prices in Jiangyin!”

…

In the past, merchants with good relationships would also gather to speculate about business opportunities. Businessmen from the same hometown or province would also band together for action. But never like today had someone integrated cross-regional, cross-industry information together, making them feel as if they’d entered a treasure trove.

Of course, some had no time for discussion—seeing certain data related to their businesses, they immediately rushed out to seize the initiative.

Lin Yuchan wasn’t idle either, calling over her two managers to begin formulating post-New Year plans based on the fresh intelligence.

Chang Baoluo: “Cotton can be transported to Ningbo for sale.”

The “Liberal” had brought reliable intelligence. A Prussian trading house had entered Ningbo, refusing to sign fixed-price contracts and immediately making large purchases, pulling Ningbo cotton prices up thirty percent.

Chang Baoluo was grinning from ear to ear. When his in-laws got rich, he was happy too.

Lin Yuchan smiled: “Our ultimate goal isn’t speculation, but to smooth out regional price differences through information flow, letting Chinese merchants suffer fewer losses. Besides, with the association’s speedboat reporting, this high price in Ningbo won’t last long either. Send a letter telling your in-laws to quickly clear their local inventory. Boya won’t join this excitement. Wait a week—Shanghai cotton prices will rise.”

After finishing that last sentence, she felt somewhat doubtful, her chest surging with emotion for a moment.

Last year, when she was desperately selling cotton, waiting daily for foreign trading houses to set prices, her heart pounding with anxiety, she felt like a novice at a gambling table.

This time, she finally had some confidence, feeling she could somewhat predict cotton price trends.

Other merchants felt the same. Unnoticed, several cotton merchant allies gathered around her, saying: “Mrs. Su, we calculated the foreign trading house purchase volumes in various places and discussed it. This time, if foreigners offer below two and a half taels, none of the shops on Flower Clothes Street will sell.”

Lin Yuchan immediately agreed, joining this temporary price alliance.

The “pricing power” that had been held in foreign merchants’ hands for over a decade, finally, today, had its fingertips touched by Chinese people.

As for tea, being a Chinese specialty with a long export history, it had already formed unique game rules, and prices wouldn’t fluctuate wildly. The only somewhat threatening competitor, India, had been hurt by last year’s floods, so Chinese tea merchants’ days were still comfortable now—they didn’t need to ride roller coasters daily like cotton merchants.

But Boya’s tea business seemed to have reached a bottleneck. Old Zhao, responsible for tea, analyzed data from various places and said with some concern: “British merchants’ overall purchase volume is contracting. Our refined tea and Defeng Trading House’s signature refined tea have similar characteristics, and Defeng is cutting prices regardless of cost. This year, our refined tea sales outlook isn’t optimistic. The black tea specifically for Russia has also had much market share stolen by that coward Li in Hankou…”

There was no help for this. Lin Yuchan, synthesizing tea sales data from various places, could only decide to reduce production first and maintain brand survival.

Last year she used tea profits to subsidize cotton; this year it was cotton’s turn to subsidize tea. Risk diversification at its finest.

An hour passed quickly. The small blackboard with intelligence had been traced over by countless fingers until it was white and blurred. The first batch of Yixing Business Association members were all fighting spirit high, feeling this fee was excellent value for money.

Lin Yuchan asked her two managers to return to work, waited a while longer herself, then, timing it precisely, had someone clean the blackboard.

Naturally, some people wouldn’t allow it, blocking her and pleading to look a while longer. Lin Yuchan risked being complained about but insisted on having the blackboard erased.

Everyone reluctantly departed.

“Mrs. Su, farewell!”

Lin Yuchan was polite: “Feel free to visit often when you’re free. Share new intelligence!”

She carefully took the organized original notes with her, planning to lock them in the safe immediately upon return.

In the Qing Dynasty, with no copyright protection awareness whatsoever, the only way to protect exclusive intelligence was through such backward methods.

After seeing off the last fellow merchant, Lin Yuchan randomly found a stool to sit on, spread open her notebook and wrote rapidly, recording today’s association opening situation, making a brief summary of what went well, what needed improvement, what to pay attention to when they gathered again in two weeks…

After a moment, she couldn’t write anymore. She found a table to lie on, closed her eyes, and zoned out for a moment.

Nearly a hundred members brought nearly ten thousand taels of silver in initial capital to the association. After the split, she would take seven thousand taels.

The steamship purchase price was nineteen thousand taels. Three years to pay it off.

Then, her “Yixing Business Association” could begin accumulating profits and have resources to realize her other ideas.

The prerequisite was that the intelligence she provided continued to produce value. Everyone stayed on board and kept renewing their fees.

So difficult…

But the sense of achievement was enormous.

Especially when those seasoned merchants twice her age listened eagerly to her intelligence briefings, smiling and asking this and that—that feeling was more satisfying than selling cotton at five taels per load!

Feeling one’s way across the river by touching stones. Truly exciting, but also truly exhausting.

Several workers came and went, cleaning up. The rhythmic sweeping sounds were very hypnotic.

Lin Yuchan dragged her feet back to the rear office, sinking into her exclusive green little sofa.

Boya Company was now busy with business, and the foreign-style building had many visiting clients of varying quality. Lin Yuchan loved this sofa most, feeling sorry for it being carelessly sat on by others, so she simply moved it to the association to satisfy her small possessive desire.

Behind the desk, across from her, someone looked up and smiled at her.

Lin Yuchan couldn’t help smiling too, though she complained: “I talked until my voice was hoarse, and you didn’t come out to help me handle things.”

“No way,” Su Minguan crossed his legs, saying lazily, “I prefer watching Mrs. Su steal the show.”

It wasn’t that he intentionally wanted to “promote” Lin Yuchan as a star. He had a mischievous, dark thought—watching those wealthy merchants who normally spouted hierarchical ethics now, for the sake of a few strings of numbers and pieces of news, put on enthusiastic, smiling faces toward the woman they normally looked down upon, calling her “Mrs.” with every breath. His inner, dark, rebellious nature was greatly satisfied.

He had asked Lin Yuchan for the association’s naming rights and truly only wanted the nominal honor, not interfering in specific management affairs at all, only enjoying association benefits.

He didn’t even need to squeeze into the crowd to look at the blackboard. Lin Yuchan took out the organized original notes, waved them at him, then tossed them across the desk.

Su Minguan caught them in one motion, slowly flipping through, grabbing paper to make brief notes.

Though Yixing Shipping didn’t specialize in any particular bulk commodity business, during transport, when ships had empty cargo space, they would purchase local products nearby and transport them to other ports for sale, earning small price differences to offset costs.

He had no time to study each commodity’s market characteristics in detail. Previously, he’d let captains on duty choose cheap goods themselves. His subordinates had limited vision, so these empty cargo profits were also limited.

So the intelligence provided by the association was very useful to him, too.

But before he could start grinding ink, the association chairman across from him righteously reminded: “Internal materials, please do not copy.”

Su Minguan was stunned, dropped his pen, and looked up laughing heartily.

Too serious. Such a strictly clean association—if it didn’t succeed, there’d be no justice.

Su Minguan memorized these numbers and, looking up, saw the young woman leaning on the sofa, braids hanging over her shoulders, already half asleep.

He smiled slightly, closed the notebook, walked over to her, crouched down, and smoothed her hair behind her ear.

“Call it a day, go home and rest,” he said softly in her ear. “From now on, there’ll be one of these every two weeks. You need to prepare yourself.”

Lin Yuchan’s forehead pressed against his palm as she softly hummed in acknowledgment.

But she didn’t move.

Su Minguan asked: “What’s wrong?”

She was a bit embarrassed.

“Need to… rest a while.”

The association’s first day of opening coincided with her period. She’d forced herself to complete all procedures, chatted and laughed with a hundred old gentlemen, until perfectly concluding and seeing off the last fellow merchant—only then did she have time to rub her belly.

This body was somewhat constitutionally weak after all. Each time, though not enough to make her feel like dying, was sufficient to cost her an afternoon’s fighting capacity.

Especially today, with fellow merchants dining and drinking while exchanging intelligence, Lin Yuchan had gone hungry herself, making her vision blur.

Su Minguan reached to touch her forehead—cold and clammy with slight perspiration, a few newly grown fine hairs sticking to her temples.

“Feeling unwell again?” he asked gently.

In this regard Lin Yuchan had long given up caring, not being shy with him about it. After all, her first period had been endured with him nearby…

Compared to his half-knowledge back then, his knowledge base seemed slightly improved now. Lin Yuchan didn’t ask where he’d learned it—most likely, he’d consulted with Aunt Hong.

She hummed acknowledgment, sliding down into the sofa, acting a bit coquettish: “I want to drink strong black tea.”

At the beginning of spring, the air was still cold, seizing any chance to drill into people’s bones. Su Minguan took off his cloak and covered her with it first, then went to brew tea.

Lin Yuchan soon drank authentic handmade black tea from a true Thirteen Factories descendant. Growing bolder with success, she smiled: “It would be even better with a slice of ginger.”

Su Minguan couldn’t help but laugh. Looking at that pale little face, not knowing exactly how it hurt, but unpleasant. If it were him, he’d dive under the covers and sleep, not wanting anyone to disturb him.

Yet she had the mood and mind for fancy tea brewing?

But considering she was the association chairman, wanting a slice of ginger at her association wasn’t some extravagant sin.

He smiled: “I’ll have someone go buy some. You haven’t eaten, have you? Think of anything else you want quickly.”

Lin Yuchan, therefore, was seriously considered. Usually, when her stomach hurt, she had no appetite. Today she was oddly hungry too…

She suddenly leaned forward slightly, looking at Su Minguan with longing eyes, saying word by word: “I want to eat ginger milk pudding.”

Today was the association’s opening success, and her many days of hard work needed a small reward. Rewarding herself with a bowl of ginger milk pudding was incredibly modest.

Su Minguan looked at her and laughed, gently pinching her cheek.

“That’s a Shunde snack—I’ve never seen it sold in Shanghai. Choose something else.”

She disappointedly lowered her eyelashes, her voice hoarse and weak.

“Right. I forgot.”

This wasn’t the beautiful new society—where could one get desserts on demand?

Unable to bear it, he changed his mind: “I’ll have someone search carefully. You wait.”

Then he got up and called over Liu Wu, the tea server, giving him some instructions.

The association hall was just starting up and didn’t need many people to manage it. A gatekeeper, a tea server, and a part-time accountant were sufficient. With fellow merchants gone, the main hall seemed very quiet.

The Heaven and Earth Society now “went among the masses,” with one major business being introducing work to unemployed members, so Lin Yuchan didn’t need to spend time finding these people—the organization provided them all complete.

If the association could grow in the future, it would need more directors, supervisors, and various functional departments. But that was a future concern.

Lin Yuchan thought about ginger milk pudding for a while, shifted to a comfortable position on the sofa, then couldn’t help beginning to consider the association’s prospects.

“Today’s opening went well,” she discussed with Su Minguan. “Ningbo, Zhenjiang, Jiujiang, Hankou, and other treaty ports could follow this script—borrowing local Yixing warehouse space to also establish Yixing business associations. When speedboats stop by, they’d deliver the latest commercial intelligence for fellow merchants to reference and utilize…”

Of course, Lin Yuchan couldn’t be everywhere at once—recruiting members, organizing openings, and such, she couldn’t handle everything personally. She planned to hire a reliable clerk to maintain the operations of the branches in various places.

She tentatively asked: “Do you have reliable acquaintances who could be responsible for branches elsewhere… um, that Li Fugui from the shipyard is pretty good, being one of our own and good at managing relationships…”

Su Minguan smiled: “He makes high wages as a comprador—you can’t poach him.”

Lin Yuchan was disappointed: “Oh, we’ll discuss later… first get Shanghai headquarters operating successfully…”

Su Minguan watched her shake her head, then suddenly placed a hand over her stomach.

“Still hurting?”

“It hurts.” She wrinkled her brow, continuing to speak. “Oh right, Yixing Shipping’s other Yangtze routes could also be adjusted according to association needs, collecting intelligence along the way and compiling it all at the association when reaching port, as a supplement to the ‘Liberal’…”

Su Minguan was truly impressed with her—she didn’t care about her life when working.

Fortunately, the tea server returned then, carrying a basket of items.

Lin Yuchan finally forgot about work, saying happily, “The ginger milk pudding is here!”

Thinking of that warm milk custard with its smooth, tender, sweet yet slightly spicy mellow flavor, her stomach seemed to warm already, saliva gathering under her tongue.

But Liu Wu kept apologizing: “This humble one searched and asked around, but there are no Shunde snack shops nearby. This humble one dared not delay too much—truly sorry.”

The basket didn’t contain steaming ginger milk pudding. Only a jar of fresh milk, a piece of ginger with skin and soil, and a package of rock sugar.

Lin Yuchan: “…”

Liu Wu carefully glanced at Su Minguan: “The boss instructed that if ready-made couldn’t be found, this humble one should buy ingredients… but speaking upfront, this humble one is local and doesn’t know how to make it…”

“No need for you to make it.” Su Minguan took the basket. “You may go.”

Lin Yuchan’s eyes gradually widened, disbelieving yet delighted, watching Su Minguan stride toward the kitchen.

“I had no idea you could…”

Surely he hadn’t learned as a child…

“It’s sold all over Guangzhou’s streets—you learn just by watching,” Su Minguan smiled confidently. “Wait here.”