Lin Yuchan felt the high fever in her body gradually subsiding. She had retrieved her life from the gates of death.

She lay on a simple, small bed, with a bowl of clear water and a small glass jar containing half a jar of white medicinal powder placed on the bedside table.

The room was furnished with a chiming clock and a set of Western table and chairs. An old tennis racket hung on the wall. At the foot of the table lay an opened letter that had fallen, with flowery English script she couldn’t read clearly, only able to make out the date on the paper.

July 21, 1861.

A string of high school exam points floated through Lin Yuchan’s mind: the last year of Emperor Xianfeng’s reign, just after the end of the Second Opium War, the Anglo-French forces burning the Old Summer Palace, signing the Treaty of Peking…

Very good, she thought. National humiliation in progress.

For high school students, knowledge also had its hierarchy. The humiliating modern Chinese history was the most unpopular, requiring rote memorization to master.

She remembered now. It was the summer vacation after the college entrance exam, and she had been working at a supermarket in Zhujiang New Town, wanting to save money to reward herself with a graduation trip.

While handing out discount coupons on the roadside, a drunk driver had sent her here.

Fortunately, she had been an orphan since childhood, so no one would be heartbroken over this. But this restart point was also unique, as if Heaven thought her previous life hadn’t been difficult enough.

Church bells rang outside. Someone was conversing in English.

“I believe that as the gospel spreads, barriers will gradually be eliminated… By the way, did you see that reply letter Sir Mactier sent me? The one with Jardine Matheson & Co.’s emblem on the envelope? I remember casually placing it on the tea table by the door, but it disappeared in a flash—”

“You should change your habit of misplacing things, Reverend Morrison,” another male voice said with amusement. “I think you lost Prince Gong’s gifted poetry fan the same way last time.”

Reverend Morrison laughed self-deprecatingly: “Tennis on Saturday?”

“I must decline. You know I detest sports.”

The English accent and vocabulary differed somewhat from modern times, but for Lin Yuchan, who had just battled through the college entrance exam, it wasn’t difficult to understand.

She struggled to sit up and looked through the small window to the next room, seeing the Reverend Morrison who had been distributing porridge sitting relaxed at a round table, still wearing his good-natured smile. Across from him sat a Western man in his twenties. He had very pale skin, a thin, elongated face, and hair with an orange-red tint, quite resembling the appearance of English gentlemen from Jane Eyre.

The weather was hot, and both men wore shirts and trousers. The pastor probably practiced the philosophy that a calm mind naturally cools the body, slowly puffing on his pipe and occasionally wiping sweat with a handkerchief. The orange-haired young man was rather impatient, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, fanning vigorously with a folding fan, constantly shifting his seat to catch that faint, elusive cross breeze.

On the round table were black tea and pastries, along with a small jar of white sugar. A Chinese servant stood waiting in the corner.

Lin Yuchan supported herself against the bedhead, feeling dizzy and lightheaded for a moment, then pushed open the door.

“Ah, the devout child has awakened.” Reverend Morrison smiled with relief. “You should thank God. I had run out of quinine, and if Robert hadn’t happened to visit and fortunately brought some with him, I’m afraid even God’s power couldn’t have saved you—these past few days, the sisters from the church have been caring for you. How do you feel now, dear?”

Lin Yuchan recalled the pile of treaties from history books, her feelings complicated.

A life-saving favor should still be thanked. She pressed her lips together and bowed to each of the two Englishmen.

“Thank you both… sirs.”

Not knowing how to address them properly, she temporarily used “sirs” according to period drama conventions.

Reverend Morrison turned his head and chuckled softly in English to the young gentleman called Robert beside him: “How interesting, I thought she would kneel and kowtow. It seems I still lack further understanding of Chinese etiquette.”

Lin Yuchan maintained a wooden expression. Out of caution, she didn’t reveal that she understood English.

There was a mirror on the wall of the tea room. Lin Yuchan caught a glimpse of her appearance: not unattractive really, even quite delicate by local standards, but with a sallow complexion and sparse, disheveled hair, wearing an ill-fitting jacket, looking as slovenly as possible.

Compared to the two tall, imposing Westerners, she appeared even more dark, thinner, and smaller, like a lost little monkey.

“Excuse me,” Lin Yuchan withdrew her gaze and asked politely, “The young man who brought me here… where is he?”

She remembered favors and decided to thank him when she had the chance.

“That child,” Reverend Morrison said regretfully, “was taken away by government officials just after leaving. Truly unfortunate.”

Lin Yuchan was greatly alarmed and couldn’t help asking: “Is it a crime to have contact with foreigners?”

“How could that be? I’ve been preaching the gospel in Guangzhou City for twenty years, and not one believer has been arrested for it,” the pastor laughed. “Perhaps he violated some other ordinance. You know, it’s inconvenient for me to interfere with Chinese officials’ law enforcement. If he’s innocent, I believe he’ll receive a fair trial.”

Lin Yuchan became restless. She remembered that when the young man mentioned the church, his eyes had been hostile.

Could she trust the pastor’s words?

The pastor seemed like a good man, and besides, he had no reason to lie to her.

“Ah, by the way, you must be hungry, right?” Reverend Morrison smiled and pointed to the round table set with afternoon tea, shooing away a circling fly. “Please, eat freely.”

This afternoon tea had been going on for quite some time. A small half-pot of tea with milk remained, with sediment settled at the bottom. On the delicate silver plate remained several cream biscuits, a scone with one bite taken out, and several slices of white bread spread with jam. Two empty small plates and forks were both stained with cream.

The body Lin Yuchan occupied had probably never eaten a full meal in its lifetime. Seeing this spread of leftovers, she instinctively brightened up, her stomach churning.

The pastor smiled kindly: “Eat, don’t be afraid. We’ve already finished.”

Lin Yuchan was certain of his good intentions. He had worn the same benevolent expression when distributing porridge to poor children on the street.

However, this body had changed its core, developing some self-respect not quite fitting for this era.

Though she was still dizzy with hunger…

She swallowed and smiled: “Thank you for the hospitality.”

She took the liberty of opening the cupboard beside her and got herself a clean cup and plate. She pushed the dirty dishes to one side, picked out several clean biscuits and devoured them. She didn’t drink the remaining tea, but poured out fresh milk from the jar, added two large spoonfuls of sugar, stirred it well, and drank it down in one gulp.

The pastor instinctively frowned, then smiled awkwardly.

He had expected this poor girl to devour everything like a whirlwind, hunching over to clean the table completely—all the poor Chinese children he encountered did this, regardless of the food’s quality, like a pack of hungry little dogs making ridiculous sounds while wolfing down food, giving him as the benefactor immense satisfaction—but instead she sat down, as if having afternoon tea on equal terms with them…

The pastor couldn’t help thinking: Could this be a fallen young lady from a good family?

The younger Robert looked at her thoughtfully but said nothing.

Lin Yuchan replenished her calories, belched, and, finding no clean napkin, wiped the milk stain from her upper lip with the back of her hand, smiling genuinely with joy: “The food was delicious, thank you.”

Since she had eaten their food, following her modern habits, she stood up and began clearing the table.

The pastor hurriedly said, “Let the servant do it.”

The Chinese servant immediately trotted over, glanced at Lin Yuchan with considerable hostility, then, as if no one else existed, stuffed the remaining pieces of pastry into his sleeves and efficiently cleared the cups and plates and wiped the table.

The pastor glanced over without surprise and refocused his attention on Lin Yuchan.

“What’s your name?” He continued with his curious triple questioning of Lin Yuchan. “Why do you know that quinine can treat malaria? You should know that the people of Guangzhou City completely distrust modern medicine. They would rather die drinking thick soups made from grass roots and insects than try the chemical medicines we provide… Do you believe in the Lord? In which parish were you baptized? Do your family members also serve God?…”

Robert finally couldn’t contain himself and politely interrupted the pastor’s chattering.

“You’re asking too much, Reverend Morrison,” he said quietly in English. “This poor girl is still very wary of us.”

The pastor embarrassedly stroked his beard and nodded.

“I have one last question, dear child.” He enthusiastically bent down, bringing his gaze level with Lin Yuchan’s. “You appear homeless. Would you like to join my church and become one of God’s children? You could preach to the respectable ladies of Guangzhou, telling them how God cured your illness… Believe me, there’s much exciting work to be done here. I can provide for your room and board, plus ten pence monthly for pocket money… Let me calculate… that’s, that’s…”

Lin Yuchan was slightly surprised. Reverend Morrison’s gray eyes sparkled with light.

It was clear he genuinely wanted to spread the gospel to every corner of Guangzhou.

He was also genuinely short-staffed.

The pastor struggled, counting on his fingers. Robert couldn’t bear to watch and interjected: “That’s approximately three hundred and fifty copper coins.”

Lin Yuchan’s heart stirred.

For her, a little beggar who had just crawled out of a pile of corpses, penniless and homeless, trying to survive in this hell-mode world, was simply too difficult.

The living standards of Westerners were incomparable to those poor common people outside. Even the servant who served tea and water was well-dressed and showed no signs of hardship.

She could even scavenge leftover pastries from the British daily.

Ordinary Chinese people kept their distance from them, even harboring considerable prejudice. They had large missionary budgets but couldn’t attract locals to participate in missionary activities.

And now, Reverend Morrison was extending a thick olive branch, inviting her to board the old imperial power’s convenient vehicle…

Lin Yuchan bowed: “Please forgive me, I… fear I cannot be competent for the work of serving God.”

The pastor smiled: “I understand. Abandoning false beliefs is not an easy thing, and learning modern civilization cannot be achieved overnight. It’s fine, I can arrange an auditing seat for you at St. Francis College to supplement your Bible and English studies. During this period, you can first do some odd jobs…”

Lin Yuchan thought for a moment and said politely: “I can do odd jobs for you, without compensation, until I repay the medicine costs and care expenses.”

As for other things like preaching and studying, she had no interest.

More importantly, there was always a barrier in her heart that she couldn’t overcome. Although the pastor and Robert both seemed like good people, looking around this beautifully decorated church, she always felt that every brick and tile here was built from opium.

She didn’t consider herself a nationalist, but at least she couldn’t start by defecting to the great powers’ camp.

Hearing her say this, the pastor’s face darkened with disappointment.

“I heal and save people to follow God’s teachings, not to find myself a free servant.” He turned his back on her. “Since you insist on living a heretical life, I have nothing to retain you with.”

He thought for a moment and took out a small piece of silver from the small box on the table.

“Farewell, may our paths cross again in the future.”

Lin Yuchan touched the heavy silver for the first time, about two taels or more. She looked up in surprise at this English pastor. He still smiled benevolently, as if merely performing a daily good deed.

She weighed her situation and bowed to the pastor again.

“Then, farewell.”

She left the church. Walking out of the stone building, heat waves hit her face, mixed with the smell of baked dust. The bricks and tiles before her eyes became dull and colorless again, and crude language filled the alleys and streets.

Suddenly, someone called her from behind.

“Wait.”

Lin Yuchan involuntarily turned around, then her face flushed with color.

Oh no…

Robert walked out of the church gate, fanning himself. He had a very high nose bridge, and sunlight streaming through the colored glass cast colorful patterns on his face, dyeing his high nose bridge in colors.

“Understands English but pretends not to.” He wasn’t as good-tempered as the pastor, with a clear sneer hanging at the corner of his mouth. “The silver the pastor just gave you? Return it, little fraud.”

Lin Yuchan was somewhat confused. What Westerner coming to the Qing Dynasty at this time wasn’t a superior person above others? Where did this petty miser come from?

If it were someone else, it might be different; Lin Yuchan herself had just arrived, penniless, and didn’t want to starve to death the next day.

Besides, this silver—you want to give it when you want to give it, and take it back when you want to take it back?

She simply acted shamelessly, lifting her head and saying: “We’ve already compensated tens of millions of taels of silver. Consider these few tales as paying back some loose change. Thank you!”

After speaking, she strode away under Robert’s bewildered gaze.