“Peanuts, sunflower seeds, tea soup, rose dew…”

A group of idle Chinese people couldn’t bear to leave the consulate, automatically gathering to sit on the roadside outside the embassy, pricking up their ears to catch sounds from inside and guess the trial proceedings.

Street vendors took the opportunity to hawk tea and drinks.

“Give me a bowl of fermented rice soup.”

A young man in a gray silk shirt handed over a few coins, took back a bowl of sugar water, and sat a bit away from the crowd. Mimicking the others’ expression of loving excitement without fearing complications, he occasionally glanced toward the embassy gates.

He pulled a handwritten note from his sleeve – one Lin Yuchan had just thrown out the window, clearly stating today’s trial schedule and list of attendees.

He looked again at the large clock on the distant customs tower – it was still early.

—

The spacious consulate lobby was packed with people, steam rising from body heat, making it feel extremely cramped.

The clerk opened the door, announcing that everyone could take their seats.

The foreign residents rushed in en masse, each finding their position and identifying the nameplates among the seats.

“Chief Justice Sir Hong Bei… clerk… Mr. Macartney and his lawyer…”

Ma Qingchen wore a well-tailored Western suit, his mustache groomed to a mirror shine, entering the courtroom surrounded by several attendants. Mrs. Ma – Gao Dewen – walked beside him.

Ma Qingchen extended his arm for her to take, but she completely ignored it.

While walking, Ma Qingchen continued speaking in low tones.

“Darling, must we make such a scene? Though I did some things wrong before, but… look, so many people will witness your beautiful face – it’s so embarrassing for me! Isn’t it your Chinese custom that women shouldn’t easily be seen by others? Come, listen to me, sweetheart, let’s withdraw the lawsuit now – don’t think I don’t know that Bennett must be someone you instructed, I don’t care how much you’ve schemed in secret – let’s go home! I still love you. When I get promoted and earn more money, I promise to return those thousands of taels to you, with interest… I really can’t come up with that much right now…”

His Chinese was already limited, and Gao Dewen only understood two or three tenths of these words. She was too lazy to bother deciphering them. Looking at that handsome, eloquent foreign face, she suddenly felt it somewhat strange.

She remembered the deer-like nervousness in her heart when they first married. The foreign groom came from noble birth, wearing Chinese ceremonial robes, looking incomparably dashing, making her heart flutter. He could also speak sweet words – those tender sentiments so cloying they’d be embarrassing even in the most private romance novels, he delivered effortlessly, completely bewitching Gao Dewen, a maiden first tasting love.

Mixed Chinese-foreign marriages were extremely rare, but the guests were all very gracious, praising her for “not fearing worldly conventions” and “daring to be first under heaven.” Some even compared her to Wang Zhaojun, saying she brought friendship and peace between two nations through marriage.

While nervous, Gao Dewen also felt completely elated, thinking she had chosen an extraordinary path and wouldn’t become an ordinary woman even after marriage.

Now it seemed that so-called “love” had been built on these illusory honors. When all the halos were stripped away, when she recognized the ugly flaws beneath the man’s handsome exterior, she only felt that her past self, along with those relatives and friends who thought she’d found a good match, had all been thoroughly foolish.

Ma Qingchen continued rambling, and Gao Dewen suddenly felt disgusted, coldly interrupting: “Even if you returned the money now, it’s too late. Save those words for the judge. I’m tired.”

She calmly took her seat.

Since Gao Dewen couldn’t appear in court independently, the court had set aside a comfortable seat for her at the end of the gallery, even preparing tea and a paper fan, showing respect for the official’s wife.

Ma Qingchen said angrily in low tones: “Fine! Then let’s lose face together! I won’t have my lawyer show mercy!”

He turned to Lawyer Taylor beside him, instructing in low tones: “Proceed according to the original plan.”

This naive E.C. Bennett – did he think playing protector was so easy?

Lawyer Taylor was the high-paid legal advisor he’d hired from a trading house. His features were sharp, his suit tailored sharply, even the pen pinned to his chest was sharper than ordinary pens. He was skilled in legal rhetoric, having fought hundreds of lawsuits across various British colonies.

They had prepared thoroughly. Once Bennett appeared, they would directly question whether Mr. Bennett had improper intentions toward Mrs. Macartney. Destroy the man and his reputation, make this Bennett fall in disgrace, and see which side the jury favored!

Ma Qingchen confidently looked toward the plaintiff’s table and was somewhat bewildered.

The crowd was also whispering: “Where is that protector, Mr. Bennett? Why isn’t there a seat for him?”

Though Mr. E.C. Bennett hadn’t appeared in person, no one doubted his authenticity. In this era, without advanced communications or networked household registrations, some British residents who traveled long distances even had misspelled names on their passports. Upon settling, they didn’t need identity verification – just registering casually could make them legal residents.

Since E.C. Bennett was a veteran freelance journalist who had genuinely received payment from newspapers, judging by his published writing, he was an authentic Englishman. That was enough.

His articles had some reputation, and today’s lawsuit had quite a medieval knightly air. Many came to observe specifically for him.

“Mr. Bennett just sent word yesterday that he’s contracted typhoid and is currently recuperating in Hong Kong.” The dutiful clerk replied, holding up a letter. “He hasn’t hired a lawyer but has appointed a Chinese merchant to be his litigation representative, Lin—”

The clerk’s tongue got tied, not knowing how to pronounce the last two syllables, so he simply skipped them. Chinese names weren’t important anyway.

“…According to the above provisions, this is completely reasonable and legal. So today, this Lin… Lin…”

The clerk stared wide-eyed, searching the crowd for a Chinese face.

“Yuchan.” A breathless female voice drifted to the doorway. “Thank you for the introduction. I am the representative appointed by Mr. Bennett.”

Lin Yuchan wiped the sweat from her eyes. Having climbed through two windows with her skirt torn in one place, borrowing a hairpin from Miss Compton to hastily pin it up, she’d run over with sparks flying and lightning crackling, finally arriving on time.

The room buzzed with voices. The clerk initially didn’t take the female voice seriously. Only after she finished half her sentence did he suddenly realize.

“…Wait?”

Not only Chinese, but female too??

Lam Yuk-Sim – when Lin Yuchan submitted materials, she deliberately abandoned her English name Luna, using instead this Cantonese romanization that was extremely awkward for foreigners and revealed no gender. All office staff assumed this person was male.

Only at the trial’s opening did she reveal her gender, avoiding extraneous gossip.

The clerk looked at this Chinese girl who’d barged in. Her hair was smooth and styled in a clam-shell bun, wearing traditional Chinese jacket and skirt. The light fabric clung to her shoulders and waist – even with the broad, loose flat-pattern tailoring, her graceful figure could still be glimpsed. Undoubtedly female.

The rice was already cooked – they couldn’t throw her out now. The clerk stammered for a long time before stuttering: “Well, well… please sit. What a surprise, heh heh.”

The gallery was also dumbfounded, asking each other: “How can a woman serve as a representative? Is this proper?”

Someone knowledgeable about law then answered: “Legally, there seems to be no problem. This Chinese woman says she’s a ‘looking-for-door widow’ – by Qing custom, that means a widow, and by our standards, still single. Women of both statuses can appear in court as legal entities.”

Mr. Taylor was somewhat caught off guard. His belly full of “heart-destroying arguments” died in the womb. He slapped the table and stood up: “But she’s Chinese!”

Hearing this, Lin Yuchan rolled her eyes internally.

What about being Chinese – didn’t that qualify her to speak?

She smiled sweetly: “I am the representative appointed by Mr. Bennett. I only faithfully convey his meaning.”

Su Minguan and those Hankou merchants had advised her from their own experience that in the foreigners’ home court, she shouldn’t expect equal dialogue – getting them to listen to her statements would be victory enough.

So Lin Yuchan prepared herself mentally, not expecting to promote equality and civil rights today. Playing the tool person well and getting the money back would be a perfect success.

The clerk also had to speak for her: “The British Consulate… eh, has not issued any regulation prohibiting female Qing nationals from representing British litigation.”

More than twenty years after the Treaty of Nanjing was signed, the Qing had granted foreigners extraterritorial rights and consular jurisdiction. Various regulations were patched and amended – usually foreigners proposed as needed, the court considered and agreed, then other countries’ foreigners demanded equal treatment…

This led to chaotic and deformed laws in the settlement, far from complete.

Through certain inconspicuous operations, “Qing women can serve as representatives in British courts” had actually become an obvious but unnoticed loophole that was never closed.

Even so, a Chinese woman entering a British court was unprecedented. Though reasonable, it wasn’t fitting – many still couldn’t accept it, sighing: “Couldn’t that Mr. Bennett find someone else? Reliable men are everywhere.”

A small hammer sounded as Sir Hong Bei announced the court was in session.

—

There wasn’t the solemn atmosphere of movies. The small settlement’s small court was like doing religious services in a snail shell – though it had all the proper seats with witnesses and jury sitting in several rows, most people knew each other and exchanged greetings upon meeting. This court wasn’t serious at all, as if just holding a class meeting.

After ten-plus seconds, the half-finished pleasantries finally wound down, and the room truly quieted.

British courts were much like Chinese government offices – opening a court involved tons of red tape. First, remotely wishing the Queen good health, then introducing everyone present, introducing the plaintiff and the defendant, introducing today’s trial procedure… this took half an hour.

Lin Yuchan followed directions, perfunctorily greeting God during the oath while repeatedly rehearsing her upcoming speech.

Anglo-American law was case law – judgments relied mainly on accumulated precedent rather than written legal codes. Legal amendments regarding dowries could only serve as reference, not definitively influence the verdict.

This dowry law only gave the plaintiff’s side the qualification to litigate, preventing them from being unable to even file suit.

What influenced the verdict was the jury; today, she needed to use her tongue to win these people’s sympathy and support.

Outside the window, gunboats moored quietly. Street sounds could still faintly be heard, with people pressed against the gate asking the consulate’s servants for inside information.

“Did anyone kneel? Were boards used?… Will the foreign official divorce his wife?…”

Lin Yuchan took a stack of papers from her document bag and began her statement.

She was just Mr. Bennett’s mouthpiece. These letters were ready-made statements “Mr. Bennett” had sent from Hong Kong – she just needed to read them verbatim.

Newspaper editor Mr. Compton had also verified the handwriting, confirming the letter’s author was indeed Mr. Bennett – Miss Compton had long ago secretly practiced several different scripts to avoid suspicion when submitting articles.

“…This poor Mrs. Macartney suffered family misfortune, and the only inheritance her father left her – five thousand taels of silver dowry – is her only way to remember her family. Mr. E.C. Bennett believes husbands should cherish and protect their wives. Depriving her of ownership of this dowry is an extremely crude and heartless act… Moreover, Parliament has already passed laws…”

Ma Qingchen sat in the defendant’s chair with folded arms, looking grave, occasionally whispering with Lawyer Taylor.

In the gallery, Miss Compton occasionally nodded secretly, unconsciously mouthing along with Lin Yuchan’s words.

After all, most of these elegant phrases had been polished by her. Looking left and right, whether the listening public or her father in the jury box, all listened with rapt attention. Even her father, that picky and strict newspaper editor, occasionally repeated wonderful phrases from Lin Yuchan’s speech. Miss Compton couldn’t help but smile.

The strategy devised by two female conspirators, from the initial public opinion campaign, was to play the sympathy card, using public sympathy for an unfortunate woman to get more people on Gao Dewen’s side.

They couldn’t start by citing the law and promoting women’s rights. After all, some residents in the settlement, having lived in China long time, didn’t understand their home country’s latest legal amendments. Moreover, the settlement’s gender ratio was severely skewed – eighty percent of residents were male, and wealthy, powerful upper-class men at that. To brainwash them into contemporary feminist pioneers in just a few hours…

Lin Yuchan would rather discuss the Treaty of Nanjing with them.

So better to show weakness and arouse public sympathy. Save legal matters for last.

Gao Dewen was very cooperative. She deliberately wore a dull-colored jacket and skirt, suppressed her anger, kept her head down, occasionally pretending to wipe tears, contorting herself into a kind, resentful little daughter-in-law who suffered daily bullying.

This strategy has been successful so far. Lin Yuchan occasionally looked up to see several foreign women in the gallery wearing sorrowful expressions, with some young men also showing indignant looks.

“Wait, Miss Lin,” someone suddenly interrupted. Chartered Bank Manager Macaulay looked at her arrogantly. “Why does Mr. Bennett know Mrs. Macartney’s marital details so clearly? Or are there creative additions in these statements…”

By regulation, statements couldn’t be interrupted, nor could such questioning be done by observers. Manager Macaulay bullied her for being a young woman and Chinese, casually interrupting without anyone stopping him.

Lin Yuchan turned toward Sir Hong Bei, reminding him neither humbly nor arrogantly: “British gentleman Mr. Bennett is speaking here. I don’t believe he would introduce a Q&A session at this time.”

Only then did Chief Justice Sir Hong Bei realize something, nodding: “Please continue.”

Manager Macaulay sneered and turned away.

The judge asked the plaintiff’s side to present evidence: “When did the Macartneys marry? Was their marriage forced or voluntary?…”

Lin Yuchan was well-prepared, producing another stack of documents.

The court had already conducted simple preliminary hearings. Both plaintiff and defendant had submitted some materials – regarding Gao Dewen’s family situation and wedding details, some provided by Gao Dewen herself, others brought back by merchant guild fast boats dispatched to Suzhou to question several surviving wedding participants and write testimony. Since Suzhou had just experienced war, many witnesses and physical evidence were difficult to obtain, so Lin Yuchan had also applied to the court for exemptions on behalf of “Mr. Bennett.”

The testimony and physical evidence were flawless. Mrs. Ma’s huge dowry was indeed prepared entirely by her once-wealthy family. It had nothing to do with Ma Qingchen.

“Unfortunately, Mrs. Macartney’s father, uncle, and two brothers – all native Chinese Christians – have already chosen bloodshed and sacrifice for their lofty ideals. Though they cannot accompany her to court today, I believe that even from distant heaven, they would gently hope for her to live a free and prosperous life.”

Due to religious reasons, many foreigners who stayed away from politics held sympathetic respect for the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom. Lin Yuchan deliberately played up emotions at the statement’s end. Sure enough, several elderly foreign ladies’ eyes reddened as they used handkerchiefs to wipe tears, probably thinking of their fathers and brothers already in heaven.

With this, the plaintiff’s statement concluded, and Lin Yuchan could finally sit down.

Gao Dewen smiled at her.

Unable to understand Miss Lin’s long speech, Gao Dewen only wondered: How long must I study foreign writing to speak as she does?

Lin Yuchan also felt tongue-tied. Fortunately, this was an “open-book exam” with ready scripts on hand, so her brain cells still survived.

Parched and wanting water, she found no one poured for her.

A Chinese servant stood with folded arms, watching the excitement by the door, occasionally adding tea for the foreigners.

Lin Yuchan openly waved to the servant: “Give me some tea too. Thank you.”

The servant pretended not to hear. Lin Yuchan raised her voice and repeated. The servant curled his lip but still didn’t move.

Someone in the back couldn’t stand it and called out: “Pour for her!”

With Victor’s Chinese level, these three words were his limit. Fortunately, they were concise and clear. The servant startled and hurriedly bowed toward where the voice came from.

Sir Hong Bei: “Quiet!”

The servant trotted off to pour tea. The judge didn’t stop him.

So Lin Yuchan got her hot tea.

“Your Honor,” Ma Qingchen’s lawyer, Mr. Taylor, eagerly stood up. “Please allow me to speak for my client.”

His voice carried barely concealed anger. This cunning Bennett had perhaps anticipated his strategy and hid today, appointing some inexplicable Chinese girl as mouthpiece, using female-specific weakness and pitifulness to gain public sympathy…

This completely invalidated his original questioning strategy. Mr. Taylor was full of anger.

But as a veteran lawyer, he quickly adjusted his mindset. While that Chinese girl played up emotions, he formulated a new attack plan.

In terms of debating crowds, she was just one Chinese person; however good her English, could she battle him, a well-educated British lawyer?

That Bennett was far away in Hong Kong, beyond reach and unable to fly to the rescue. As long as he defeated this Chinese girl, today would be secure!

He raised his narrow, sharp face, glanced contemptuously at Lin Yuchan, and deliberately flipped through his notes.

“According to British Empire common law, after a man and woman contract sacred marriage, the husband becomes the wife’s guardian. He must supervise her, protect her, guard her property, and shield her from the complex outside world’s storms…”

All commonplace topics. Some elderly observers nodded approvingly.

Lin Yuchan listened expressionlessly.

But gradually, Lin Yuchan’s composure began to crack.

Mr. Taylor spoke increasingly profoundly, spouting more and more complex and archaic long words. Each sentence contained at least three layers of subordinate clauses. Heard suddenly, his dramatic cadence had quite a Shakespearean air.

Lin Yuchan was confused.

She thought she was already familiar with nineteenth-century old-style English, but…

Predilection – what did this mean?

Accoutrements – what did this mean?

Discombobulate – was this even English?

Quid pro quo – this should be Latin?

Honorificabilitudinitatibus… did this bastard not need to breathe?!

The clerk’s pen tip froze, his expression indescribable.

The respectable gentlemen and ladies in the gallery stiffened, feeling like they’d become Chinese.

Sir Hong Bei showed understanding, nodding forcibly.

No one would be the first to show a “what the hell is this” expression.

“…The way of yin and yang is like sunflowers turning toward the sun. I deeply believe that the common sense of British citizens enables all present to understand these bone-deep principles,” Mr. Taylor glanced at Lin Yuchan with a meaningful smile, “isn’t that right, lovely Chinese miss?”

Lin Yuchan remembered the scene when foreign teachers first came to her school. The high-spirited foreign young man spoke eloquently while a group of middle schoolers collectively stared blankly, understanding not a word. When questioned, they only knew how to mindlessly agree with “yes.”

Facing Mr. Taylor’s sinister smile, she suppressed the instinct to nod mindlessly, only smiling noncommittally.

Mr. Taylor’s expression didn’t change, still smiling as he continued his speech: “Since everyone agrees this is most appropriate and unchangeable…”

Lin Yuchan drained the tea before her and, watching Miss Compton in the gallery, decisively made a gesture.

“Emma!” Mr. Compton rose urgently from the jury box, rushing down anxiously. “What’s wrong!”

The weather was too stuffy, too many people in the room – a beautiful, delicate young lady had fainted on the floor.

People around quickly stood up, working together to carry her to the sofa while someone produced smelling salts.

The small commotion lasted quite a while. Dr. Owen crossed through layers of people, volunteering to help, but to no avail. Miss Compton’s eyes remained tightly closed.

Gao Dewen took the opportunity to raise her hand, indicating she needed to change clothes.

Sir Hong Bei had no choice but to bang his gavel: “Court adjourned for one hour.”