Hongmen brothers struggled to make a living, especially those scraping by in Tianjin. This tea house owner surnamed Feng was skilled at solo comic dialogue, nicknamed Feng Yikan.

Originally, he was an advance scout planted by the Hongmen organization in the north, preparing to coordinate with future battles to overthrow the Qing. Who knew the Qing remained undefeated while southern brothers lost contact hall by hall. Feng Yikan “looked south for the royal army year after year,” but the royal army was reduced to just Yixing’s few ships.

“Our Tianjin is a place where dragons and snakes mix, where business is done through hard confrontation. Those with special skills eat meat and stand on the main street; those without ability eat vegetables and stay to the side.” Feng Yikan welcomed today’s first customer to the tea house, exchanging pleasantries before pouring out his troubles. “Ever since this opera troupe came to stake territory, my apprentices and I have had no rice to eat. Sister, are you heading to Beijing? Need a bodyguard? Carrying luggage works too—I don’t charge much, eight jiao a day, and I can tell you a couple of comic routines in my spare time.”

Lin Yuchan nearly spat out her tea, remembering Su Minguan’s original instructions:

“…When you go, don’t expect free tea—at most they’ll let you hear free comic dialogue…”

Feng Yikan truly had ambition despite poverty. She’d give him face by seriously bargaining.

“We’re fellow disciples, give me an insider price.”

Feng Yikan pointed at the small flag reading “Bajiao Tea House” at the entrance, saying roughly, “Rules can’t be changed.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

Though meeting for the first time, this big brother gave her a good impression. A bit scruffy, but efficient without nonsense.

She figured that both she and Miss Ordansey were unfamiliar with the area. Beijing and Tianjin were places where hidden dragons and crouching tigers dwelt—they couldn’t be overconfident. Finding a “local guide” was important.

Traditional Hongmen rules included dozens of detailed regulations about “not molesting women,” with correspondingly bloody punishments. Feng Yikan was from the underworld and understood these rules better than she did. No worries about propriety.

She smiled: “You say you’ll leave with me just like that—don’t you need to mind the business here?”

“I have apprentices watching, no problem.” Feng Yikan said. “I’ll be frank—Old Feng traveled the jianghu in his early years and received kindness from Hongmen big brothers. After over ten years with no way to repay, I wanted to quit, but my conscience wouldn’t let me. Today, you happened to come, giving me a chance to contribute some heat. Otherwise, all these years my heart’s been hanging, always feeling I owed something.”

Lin Yuchan smiled sweetly, pulled out eight silver dollars from her bag: “Good, I’ll hire you for ten days first. Pack up.”

A day later, Lin Yuchan stepped through Beijing’s city gate, her first impression being: big.

In Shanghai and Guangzhou’s old quarters, streets were narrow, unable to accommodate a single carriage; but here, roads were wide as plazas where tennis matches could be organized in the middle.

Looking around, except for a few graying Buddhist pagodas, no tall buildings could be found. The entire city seemed spread out two-dimensionally, with no visible boundaries.

Streets were filled with sedan chairs—sometimes ladies’ small lilac sedans, occasionally high officials’ chairs moving slowly with front and rear escorts. Path-clearing soldiers wielded black leather whips, cracking loud sounds on the ground to remind pedestrians to make way.

Lin Yuchan thought: This must be the capital’s grandeur…

Unfortunately, these streets were all covered with dirt, not paved with bricks or stones. Some road sections, worn by years of use, had been walked into small pits and grooves.

People, horses, donkeys, and camels on the roads crowded together bustling. Due to cold weather, people wore excessively thick cotton clothing, some even covering heads and faces with rags. Those clothes were all dirty, showing threads and cotton stuffing, wrapping the people inside into smelly balls slowly shuffling forward.

Guangzhou had early Western influence, and Shanghai was even more of a prosperous foreign settlement. Citizens with a bit of money would have Western clothes tailored into clothing with narrow cuffs, imported rubber shoes on feet, and imported odds and ends: foreign handkerchiefs, umbrellas, watches, leather bags…

Accustomed to coastal southern residents’ dress, seeing pedestrians in this thousand-year imperial capital was like going back several centuries.

No Westerners were visible on the streets, but there were groups rarely seen in the south: lamas, Mongolians, Tibetans, Muslims…

Feng Yikan carried luggage, dressed in worn cloth robes with a scarf over his head, blending perfectly on the street without looking scruffy.

Humming tunes, he casually asked: “How’s the capital?”

Lin Yuchan whispered honestly: “A bit dusty…”

“Sister,” Feng Yikan panicked, “knowing there’s dust, why don’t you cover up…”

No sooner said than done. Suddenly, a demon wind blew head-on. Lin Yuchan saw the broad dirt road ahead instantly lift, rolling yellow sand baring fangs and claws, directly hitting her face!

“Cough, cough, cough…”

She bent over, embarrassedly shaking sand from her hair.

Miss Ordansey, beside her, wasn’t spared either, covering her mouth while pulling handfuls of yellow sand from her high collar.

Feng Yikan pulled down his face-covering scarf, shaking his head: “Filthy.”

Lin Yuchan received her first humbling lesson since arriving in Beijing, obediently pulling out scarves and handkerchiefs to wrap herself into a ball, too.

The group stayed at lodgings affiliated with Xuanwumen Catholic Church. Pushing open the door, they patted themselves off, instantly dropping a layer of sand on the floor.

Miss Ordansey complained to her maid: “Next time we go out, hire a sedan chair.”

Lin Yuchan finally understood why Beijing’s main streets had so many slow-moving sedan chairs. It wasn’t just for show—they blocked wind and sand.

Following Miss Ordansey, she went to a nearby cemetery to pay respects—several predecessors of Chinese Catholicism, Matteo Ricci, Johann Adam Schall von Bell, and Ferdinand Verbiest were all laid to rest here. Though Lin Yuchan had no affinity with God, facing those ancient cross tombstones, she couldn’t help sincerely praying: “You several please bless your disciples and followers in Shanghai to quickly overcome difficulties and avoid trouble!”

The next day, Lin Yuchan and Miss Ordansey rose early, passing through Zhengyang Gate northward to first deliver calling cards at Wenxiang’s residence.

Lady Wenxiang expressed delight at Lin Yuchan’s visit, instructing her to come pay respects tomorrow morning.

Then the two hired sedan chairs and went directly to the Zongli Yamen office at Dongtangzi Alley seeking an audience.

But the Zongli Yamen gave them the cold shoulder. The Beijing government offices’ official authority was completely different from remote places like Shanghai. Miss Ordansey brought out all Western identity privileges, with Lin Yuchan translating beside her and a comic dialogue performer chiming in, only to receive the reply:

“This lady, though the Zongli Yamen handles foreign affairs, we only communicate with consulates and churches. Please return to Shanghai to obtain consulate documents, then I’ll receive you—oh right, you’re British, correct? Currently, Jiangnan missionary work is managed by the French, so you need documents from both consulates, plus a signed proxy letter from the consul, then through official postal stations…”

The yamen gatekeeper was no ordinary person. Without ten years of official experience, one couldn’t navigate these complex relationships and channels.

After hearing Lin Yuchan’s translation, Miss Ordansey sweated in the cold weather, scolding: “Your official postal stations take months to deliver a single letter! Consulates only act when someone’s dead!”

The gatekeeper stopped rotating his walnuts, asking somewhat nervously: “Dead Westerners or dead Chinese?”

“Those poor Chinese orphans…”

“Oh, hehe, that’s nothing. The Qing had a huge population—didn’t people die every day? Don’t worry, be careful not to upset yourself.”

Miss Ordansey’s hands trembled with anger: “Those children are also believers! They’re also under our care! If you’re not afraid of trouble, just wait!”

The gatekeeper remained good-tempered, smiling leisurely: “Even if there’s trouble, that’s the officials’ trouble, the court’s trouble, nothing to do with me. If I casually let you in today and offend the officials, I’d lose my rice bowl—that would be my trouble. Take care, no need to see you out.”

Ineffective governance, everyone for themselves, just muddling through, seeking no faults. This was the efficiency of the imperial capital’s administrative departments.

Lin Yuchan wondered puzzledly: How could such a Qing Dynasty persist for several more decades?

Miss Ordansey had exhausted fifty years’ worth of temper, finally having to admit: “If I’d come alone, I’d probably have died of anger on the street. Luna, it seems we must rely on your connections.”

The next day, Lin Yuchan, dressed neatly in Western gift goods, went to visit Lady Wenxiang.

She could now afford high-end clothing. To avoid being blown into a sand ball, she also extravagantly hired a sedan chair. The eight-jiao-a-day local guide provided premium service, temporarily teaching her many social customs of northern official circles.

“…Face is crucial as heaven. What can be said, what can’t be said to someone’s face, what should be said when, what shouldn’t be said when—all must be thought through beforehand. Sister, you’re clever as a scholar, but meeting officials, you can’t be too sharp, of course you can’t react too slowly either, can’t be too distinctive, but also can’t just agree with everything others say…”

Lin Yuchan laughed through the sedan chair: “Enough, if you keep talking I’ll get nervous.”

Wenxiang’s residence was quite modest. Currently Beijing officials mostly rented housing. With cheap Beijing real estate, Lin Yuchan estimated this small courtyard near Yonghe Temple cost no more than five dollars monthly.

Entering the siheyuan through the side door, circling the spirit wall into the back garden. The old servant put on no airs, politely having her sit in the corridor to wait.

She waited two hours. She’d heard Yonghe Temple’s bells several times.

The old servant slowly smoked: “Guests from far-off Shanghai were told to come at the appointed time. Today, the lady has business—family relatives who can’t be turned away.”

Lin Yuchan quickly expressed understanding: “Of course, of course.”

After another half hour, even Lin Yuchan heard people arguing in the courtyard: “…Sister, have mercy, help brother this once! You married an official, but for decades, our hometown people haven’t benefited. This time, your brother’s entire fortune is staked on that restaurant. Can you bear watching me sleep on the streets?—Don’t talk about clean sleeves and honest governance. You can fool others, but not me. Which official today has clean hands?…”

Lin Yuchan thought: “Family relatives came for the autumn harvest.”

Being an official’s wife wasn’t easy either.

Suddenly, the old servant appeared, urging Lin Yuchan: “Go, go.”

Then loudly announced: “Madam, Mrs. Su Lin has arrived!”

This was issuing an eviction order. The family relative in the courtyard could no longer stay shamelessly, dejectedly withdrawing.

Lin Yuchan glimpsed a man around fifty, with the same prosperous face as Lady Wenxiang, wearing respectable silk robes and a flowered vest with prayer beads, just pouting as if everyone owed him three hundred dollars.

The man muttered angry curses as he passed her.

Lin Yuchan, already somewhat numb from waiting, quickly went forward to pay respects.

Lady Wenxiang had just argued with her brother and was also drooping her face. Seeing Lin Yuchan, she forced a smile, blandly inquiring about travel hardships before having a maid serve tea.

“Look, something that could be settled with a letter, yet you, a woman, came all this way. I should have advised against it in my letter—ah, but you’re young and energetic, it’s truly hard work. It reminds me—I just got several bolts of silver-red satin, rewards distributed from palace relatives for the Empress Dowager’s birthday. This old woman can’t wear such bright colors, so you can pick a pattern.”

Smiling, she had someone fetch them.

Lin Yuchan: “…”

She was also being treated as someone coming for the autumn harvest…

Feng Yikan’s instructions were deeply remembered. She couldn’t refuse, or it would seem like looking down on the household’s things.

She could only lower her head in thanks. Fortunately, she had a package of Western goods worth far more than a bolt of cloth. She quickly brought it out.

Lady Wenxiang immediately declined: “My husband’s household has always been incorruptible, take it back.”

Lin Yuchan patiently smiled: “This is for you, not for your husband. They’re all small trinkets—though fun and useful, even if you sold them, you wouldn’t get much money. If anyone made an issue of these things to criticize Master Wen, that would be too undignified. If word got out, they’d only be laughed at.”

Lady Wenxiang thought this made sense. Refusing others’ gifts was discourteous after all. After much politeness, she accepted them, curiously asking what they all were.

Finally reaching the main topic, speaking about her Shanghai business, then mentioning Lin Feilun—

“Ah, that little girl. Do you have photographs? I’ll show my sister.”

Lin Yuchan took a deep breath: “Replying to Madam, the photograph wasn’t taken because…”

Just as she was about to explain the orphanage’s troubles in one breath, Lady Wenxiang suddenly yawned.

“Just a casual mention, doesn’t matter. No photograph, no problem. I should prepare lunch now—my husband is eating at home today. Excuse me.”

Lin Yuchan choked on her words, watching Lady Wenxiang rise to leave, could only stammer: “Fare… farewell…”

She could see that Lady Wenxiang, upset by her brother, had forced herself to chat briefly and had no interest in deep conversation.

The old servant escorted her out, still laughing: “Madam is truly blessed. That satin was rewarded from the palace—the lady never bore to give it to anyone. Your face is quite significant.”

Lin Yuchan held a bolt of cloth: “…”

She had traveled thousands of li to Beijing, not to take palace satin back for bragging!

If this were at customs or any modern yamen in Shanghai, she would turn back and shamelessly fight for a chance to speak.

But Feng Yikan’s dire warnings rang in her ears: Don’t think climbing up to an official’s wife means your tail goes to the sky. In Beijing, angering anyone with “official” in their title, even if they don’t blame you at the time, would pull up radishes with mud, implicating a string of people. From then on she’d be blacklisted in the capital with no one willing to deal with her.

Lin Yuchan hesitated for ages, ultimately not daring to take that risky step.

She left the residence with heavy thoughts as Feng Yikan approached.

“Didn’t work out?” He saw at a glance, casually comforting: “No problem, how can anything succeed immediately? Just wait for another opportunity…”

“But the orphanage has been sealed for a week!”

Lin Yuchan couldn’t hide her anxiety.

Looking up, she suddenly saw that prayer-bead man still reluctantly hanging around, standing under gray walls, muttering complaints.

“This sister became a first-rank lady, flying high with good food and drink, while we family members are considered too rustic and looked down upon… Just think about this life—might as well dig ginseng randomly back home beyond the pass. Beijing has many rules, but which rule says family can’t help family?…”

Passersby in the alley turned to look.

The old servant chased out, coaxing while secretly handing over silver, meaning: please don’t broadcast family scandals here.

The man waved it away: “Treating me like a beggar! I didn’t come begging for money! I’ll say what I want!”

Though talking tough, he still took the silver, walking with splayed steps toward the alley entrance, muttering.

Lin Yuchan had an idea, ran over, and curtsied.

“Master Pan…”

Lady Wenxiang’s maiden name was Pan. This man was probably also a Manchu military banner, the face-conscious type. Calling him “master” was correct.

Master Pan looked at her sideways.

He’d also seen this girl at the residence earlier. Though not knowing who she was, since she was also Lady Wenxiang’s guest, her status couldn’t be low.

So he didn’t dare slight her, bowing back: “What can I do for you?”

Lin Yuchan asked with a smile: “Earlier, you mentioned running a restaurant?”

…………………

Feng Yikan carried luggage, watching from afar as Lin Yuchan chatted happily with Master Pan, feeling his half-life wandering the docks was wasted.

Were girls from foreign settlements all this open? Directly approaching strange older men?

And successfully, too?

He quickly caught up.

Master Pan also had a belly full of troubles. Finally having someone lend an ear, he couldn’t care about dignity anymore. Though the thought flashed through his mind that this strange girl might be a swindler, he reconsidered—he was nearly unable to make ends meet, what was there to swindle?

Within a few words, Lin Yuchan invited him to a roadside eatery for tripe.

“Add some sesame sauce.” Master Pan sighed as he picked up chopsticks. “It’s just a matter of my brother-in-law saying one word, but he puts on airs, plays noble, deliberately making things difficult for me!”

Master Pan didn’t spare Wenxiang’s face, beginning to pour out complaints eloquently.

He was Lady Wenxiang’s blood brother who had traded fur goods beyond the pass in his youth, accumulating some silver. Now old, he wanted steady days. With his sister enjoying fortune in Beijing, he brought family to move to Beijing too, thinking to find some business.

Chinese people emphasized food as heaven, so his first thought was opening a restaurant. He took over a roast duck shop outside Zhengyang Gate. Being a busy area, business was decent enough for him to play with birds and chess daily.

Who knew last month another restaurant opened across the street—good heavens, selling at a loss for publicity, offering discounts and advertisements, even hiring a calligrapher for the signboard. People loved novelty, so Master Pan’s restaurant immediately became deserted, losing money daily, which made his liver tremble.

Master Pan thought it over—could a living person be choked to death by urine? He had a brother-in-law who was a first-rank official! He should be able to gain some benefit from this connection, right?

Not asking for much else, just have Wenxiang bring colleagues to eat at his restaurant a few times. Or give him a signboard, or simply hint to subordinates to find fault with competitors—like tax evasion or unclean food… All effortless tasks for Wenxiang.

But who knew he was blocked by his sister. Lady Wenxiang was united with her husband, determined to be honest and upright, unable to abuse power for personal gain.

But to Master Pan, this was targeting him: When others became officials, all relatives rose with them. Zeng Guofan promoted his brothers to official and military positions, and Li Hongzhang’s family had countless pawn shops. Why couldn’t he enjoy these conveniences?

So he came to complain to his sister every few days, but Lady Wenxiang only spoke lightly, suggesting he work diligently with honest management, or go back home if necessary… all useless talk.

“She just looks down on me as an embarrassing relative!” Master Pan spat coriander bits, concluding indignantly. “I brought her to see lanterns, walk dogs, hear opera, and visit temple fairs when she was small. Now she’s surnamed Guaerjia, elbowing outward, treating her brother like a beggar!”

Deliberately speaking loudly so several waiters in the tripe shop heard, whispering among themselves.

Lin Yuchan was silent briefly, then asked: “Could you take me to see your restaurant?”

“Sister, though eight jiao a day is a bit expensive, you can’t use me like this!”

Feng Yikan followed the sedan chair from Dongtangzi Alley to Qianmen Xianyukou, sweating profusely from exhaustion.

Lin Yuchan, in the sedan chair, also felt bad. She hadn’t expected Beijing to be so big…

Outside was gray and hazy. Several times she stuck her head out to see scenery, only to be blown back by gusts of sand.

The sedan chair stopped at a bustling market. Master Pan, not trusting this outsider girl who appeared halfway, bit his cigarette and casually pointed: “There, that’s it. What do you say you can do for me?”

Lin Yuchan looked at the signboard, finding it somewhat familiar.

“Bianyifang.”

She was delighted: “Selling roast duck!”

Bianyifang, at this time, indeed looked like it was about to close down. Several chefs in clean clothes with oiled and slicked braids were chatting listlessly. Seeing Master Pan arrive, they quickly straightened their clothes and pretended to handle some roast ducks.

Looking closely, those roast ducks had wilted skin, hanging heads dejectedly with drooping wings and necks. Only their beaks remained hard—they didn’t look fresh from the oven but fresh from the grave.

Master Pan was about to scold when the chef said aggrievedly: “The ducks won’t sell. This one is from this morning.”

“See, that’s how it is.” Master Pan picked his teeth, desperately trying Lin Yuchan as a last resort: “If you could persuade my sister to help even a little… Ah, forget it, I’ve already annoyed people, don’t want to spoil your sisterly friendship.”

He took her for Lady Wenxiang’s close friend. Lin Yuchan smiled bitterly inside but didn’t clarify.

She looked at the clean, orderly shop and the chefs’ professional knife skills, feeling Master Pan had good judgment taking over such a place.

Bianyifang was a later famous brand—no reason it couldn’t operate now.

Looking across the street diagonally, a magnificently decorated, newly opened establishment was piled with flower baskets and colored strips, with crowds of diners queuing.

A waiter with an extraordinarily loud voice cheerfully called: “Look and see! Newly opened roast duck shop with imperial kitchen master chefs! Duck, wine, fruits all half price! Everyone honor us, don’t go across the street, come try our ‘Quanjude’!”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

My goodness. Gods are fighting each other.