“I’ve secretly sent people to investigate. Now the cotton industry is reaping massive profits, and the merchants entering the market have doubled compared to last year. They only want to make quick money. I don’t know when it started, but among cotton merchants, a technique of mixing water into cotton bales has begun circulating. The most skilled can turn seventy pounds of cotton into a hundred pounds for sale.”

At Boya’s regular meeting, Lin Yuchan spoke to the veteran employees with no small concern.

Boya Company had benefited greatly from the yearly rising cotton prices, and Chang Baoluo’s subordinates had all become cotton experts. Upon hearing Lin Yuchan’s words, they immediately clicked their tongues.

“Good heavens, that’s more thrilling than printing money!”

This spring, cotton prices continued to climb, reaching seven pence per pound. When Lin Yuchan first entered the cotton industry, she remembered clearly that the price was one pence per pound, and Zheng Guanying, that “conscientious comprador,” still charged her a ten percent commission.

Now, two years later, the unit price had increased sevenfold.

Driven by profit, it was only natural for cotton merchants to brazenly add weight and adulterate their goods.

Everyone naturally understood Lin Yuchan’s intention in bringing this up and solemnly declared: “The cotton we collect, let alone mixing with water, we carefully pick out even broken leaves. According to the Manual’s standards, every bale is first-class grade A. When customers don’t believe it, Miss Lin can have them come inspect at any time…”

Lin Yuchan immediately waved her hand.

“Boya’s product quality rarely receives customer complaints, so of course I trust everyone. However…”

She paused and boldly said, “There’s a saying from my hometown. When you see one cockroach, it means there are already thousands hiding in the shadows.”

The Boya staff all showed expressions of disgust: “Ugh—”

Only Su Minguan frowned and argued: “Where did you hear that? Guangdong doesn’t have that saying.”

Although the chief accountant only worked two hours a day, he was still a member of Boya and had to attend regular meetings. He wasn’t arrogant or impatient, listened carefully, and rarely expressed opinions.

Suddenly arguing like this meant he had reached his limit of tolerance.

In any case, this vivid metaphor explained the principle well—even the foreigners couldn’t stand it and came to the merchant association. The practice of mixing water into cotton had probably already become widespread among Shanghai’s small and medium cotton merchants.

“Moreover, according to merchant association intelligence,” Lin Yuchan continued, “ports like Hankou and Jiujiang also have cases of cotton adulteration. I’ve investigated the merchant association, and most cotton merchants are evasive and unclear, indicating their goods have problems to some degree.”

This was not good news. Chang Baoluo tentatively said: “Then, should we organize a cotton quality association or something…”

They couldn’t let a few bad apples spoil the whole barrel. However, everyone felt pessimistic. Cotton wasn’t like tea—it wasn’t a luxury consumer product that could be graded and branded. Foreigners couldn’t distinguish Chinese faces either; regardless of which shop or where you’re from, once cheated by one Chinese cotton merchant, they would inevitably become wary of all cotton sellers.

Merely distancing themselves and claiming “we’re different from other dishonest merchants”—how much weight would that carry in foreign merchants’ hearts?

Su Minguan suddenly asked: “When Mr. Rong returned this time, did he mention anything about the American war situation?”

The others were puzzled, not understanding why he suddenly dragged the topic four thousand miles away.

But Lin Yuchan’s heart suddenly brightened, and she sprang up from the sofa.

“Right! He did mention it!”

In her mind, “the end of the American Civil War” was a matter-of-course historical event. But she almost forgot that for people of that time, everything was still unknown.

She ran upstairs, unlocked the guest room door with her key, and half a minute later, brought down a stack of printed papers of various sizes.

All were printed in English, with some French. Several executives who understood foreign languages quickly gathered around to test their reading comprehension.

These were all newspaper clippings about Civil War news that Rong Hong had brought from America:

“Federal President Lincoln Announces the Emancipation Proclamation, Full Text as Follows…”

“The Bloody Battle of Gettysburg: The Army of the Potomac Fought a Beautiful Battle on Home Soil”

“Northern Army in Disarray, ‘Tiger’ General Grant Has Already Controlled the Entire Mississippi River Basin”

“Freed Slaves Make Contributions? Third Battle of Winchester Stages Miraculous Reversal”

“Slave Escapes, Plantation Economy on the Verge of Collapse, Richmond Internally Divided”

…

Additionally, there were many war propaganda booklets, recruitment manuals, handwritten copies of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, and small pamphlets urging Confederate surrender…

Arranging these chronologically, from these dense black and white letters and pictures, they reconstructed a vivid and complete timeline of the American Civil War.

Through simple translation, even the illiterate Aunt Hong figured it out—

“Hey, the American rebels’ days are numbered.”

“Mr. Rong departed from America last winter to return home, and it’s been five months now,” Lin Yuchan analyzed this pile of materials with apparent expertise. “I believe that given the progress of the war situation, the Southern rebels won’t last another six months.”

Of course, she hadn’t memorized the exact date when the American Civil War ended, and it might not occur precisely in this world either. But as long as the direction of history’s great tide remained unchanged, it should be this summer.

“So…”

Other merchants were merely following the current. But Boya’s staff had long ago taken international trade courses with Lin Yuchan and reached a consensus: Chinese cotton’s popularity in international markets was closely related to the American Civil War.

Since the European Industrial Revolution, textile factories had sprung up in large numbers in cities, desperately needing quality cotton. America was originally a major cotton-producing country, but since the war’s smoke arose, Southern ports were under trade blockade, and cotton from vast plantations couldn’t find markets. This forced Europeans to come to China seeking cheap alternative textile materials.

Now, it seemed the flames of war across the ocean were about to be extinguished. How long could the trade blockade continue? How long before Southern plantations restarted? Without black slaves on the plantations, replaced by hired workers, would there still be the same high productivity as before?

These were all unknowns.

“We only know,” Lin Yuchan said decisively, “once American cotton returns to the market, Chinese native cotton is no match at all.”

Because the varieties were different. American cotton had long fibers suitable for machine spinning; Chinese native cotton hadn’t undergone improved breeding yet, with short fibers and coarse texture suitable for hand spinning, only able to weave rough homespun cloth. To adapt to machines, it had to be mixed with other cotton varieties in proper proportions.

Given a choice, European textile factories would prioritize ordering American cotton.

After everyone finished sorting through this information, they unanimously looked at Lin Yuchan, all with three words in their eyes: What to do?

Su Minguan smiled slightly, lowered his eyes, and played with a leaf he’d picked up outside.

Lin Yuchan took a deep breath and said carefully: “Since Chinese cotton’s reputation has declined, I suggest that from now on, Boya Company cease all cotton business. We’ll process received cotton seeds as usual and sell existing inventory as usual, clearing it out when prices are high. But we won’t process new cotton or accept new orders anymore, to avoid the risk of American cotton re-entering the market.”

After she finished, there was silence. No one voiced opposition.

Boya wasn’t a speculative company. Miss Lin was cautious by nature. Last year, when Shanghai’s real estate turmoil shook Jiangnan, under her strict orders, no one got rich from property speculation, and no one went bankrupt because of it either. Everyone remembered this incident vividly.

But…

Chang Baoluo said weakly: “Currently, cotton prices are seven pence per pound, equivalent to twelve taels of silver per dan. Goods transported to the docks sell out within half a day. Foreign merchants don’t even sign price agreements anymore—whoever has money gets the goods. They’ve gone completely crazy, and some have already pre-ordered next year’s field harvests…”

While cotton procurement and processing costs had climbed nearly twofold, they still didn’t exceed two taels per dan. The rest was all gross profit.

Anyone would feel it was a pity to abandon such a highly profitable business.

Lin Yuchan glanced at Chang Baoluo and understood his concerns.

“If we suspend the cotton business, your ‘Meng Cotton Shop’ branch will naturally have to close temporarily. However, the market never lacks opportunities. I believe we’ll quickly find other businesses to replace cotton. If the branch shuts down, I won’t leave you and your subordinates idle—I’ll still pay salaries until we find other profitable business. Is that alright?”

Chang Baoluo was now a general manager himself, with over a dozen people under him, managing a family enterprise with considerable scholarly general demeanor of “laughing and chatting while enemy ships and oars turn to ash.” Only when facing General Manager Miss Lin did he remain very Buddhist—as long as she spoke, he was too lazy to think, defaulting to Miss Lin being able to arrange everything clearly.

Moreover, no matter how she arranged things, no matter how forceful and decisive her tone, she never forgot to gently ask in her song-like Southern accent at the end: “Is that alright?”

Chang Baoluo nodded and accepted: “Fine, but my in-laws…”

I’ll suggest you persuade your in-laws that after harvesting this crop from the rural cotton fields, they should switch to growing rice, mulberry hemp, and other crops. Of course, they don’t have to change—they can sell the cotton to other merchants and still make money. It’s just that Boya won’t buy it.”

After everyone voted, they unanimously decided that Boya Company would withdraw from the cotton business, not renewing contracts with familiar rural farmers and not participating in this year’s raw cotton procurement.

Lin Yuchan turned to Su Minguan: “Please inventory all cotton in stock, regardless of what processing stage it’s at.”

For Su Minguan, this was a simple task. He casually agreed, then suddenly looked up and said softly: “Miss Lin, I have a suggestion… regarding Boya stopping cotton collection, could we… not make it public in the industry for now?”

“A’Mei, how certain are you that cotton will collapse?”

During the Dragon Boat Festival, dragon boat races were held on the Huangpu River. The Bund and various docks were packed with spectators, gongs and drums thundering, while patrol officers worked hard to maintain order.

Shanghai was slowly recovering from the real estate turmoil, and the Municipal Council finally had spare money to hold some public entertainment activities to boost the economy. The dragon boat races offered substantial prize money, attracting dozens of teams from within a ten li radius. The city was unprecedentedly lively this day, already resembling the golden period from two years ago.

Many foreigners also came out to watch the excitement. Of course, they didn’t have to squeeze together with ordinary citizens, but instead sat in groups of three or five in waterside teahouses and restaurants, laughingly placing bets on each dragon boat.

Su Minguan had said early on that he wanted to watch the dragon boats. Today, braving the scorching sun, he came to a small tavern located on a decommissioned sailing ship and reserved a private room.

Lin Yuchan kindly reminded: “This doesn’t count as ‘room and board included,’ you know.”

Su Minguan gave her a light glance and felt around in his pocket.

Twelve dollars a month, with contraceptives alone taking up the bulk and consuming rapidly—was it easy for him to save a few coins?

Lin Yuchan giggled and quickly pulled out a silver dollar, slapping it on the table.

Then she sat down, looking at the colorful flags on the dragon boats, casually answering his question.

“Completely certain.”

“Just based on the little war intelligence Rong Hong brought back?” Su Minguan questioned softly. “The Confederate Army could still turn defeat into victory, who knows; even if the Union Army barely wins, America could split into multiple parts with warlord warfare—that’s also possible.”

“Mm, and also…” Lin Yuchan hesitated, “a bit of intuition.”

Su Minguan pressed further: “Like the kind of ‘intuition’ you had last year about the real estate collapse?”

The tea server brought tea and hot water, smiling: “Today being Dragon Boat Festival, our shop offers complimentary realgar wine.”

Both lowered their heads and tacitly washed their utensils. Lin Yuchan suddenly thought of White Snake and Fahai, and couldn’t help giggling.

After a while, she laughed and said, “I’ve always had good intuition about crashes.”

Even if she directly revealed historical spoilers, no one would believe her. It was better to say “I observed the stars and cast divination” for more credibility. So she maintained some mystery.

Su Minguan nodded without speaking, poured tea, and filled the small cup in front of her. Lin Yuchan tapped her fingers in acknowledgment.

A gong sounded, and the dragon boat race began. Cheers rose from the shore in waves.

Lin Yuchan’s attention was drawn to the river surface, excitedly watching two dragon boats refusing to yield, entangled together.

She suddenly discovered: “These dragon boats have sponsors!”

Colorful flags fluttered at the dragon boats’ bows. Most were embroidered with team names and emblems—”Fierce Tiger,” “Mighty Lion,” “Aquatic Red Hare,” and such prestige names, very imposing and mighty.

Only one red and white dragon boat had a flag with a very commercial name—two characters: “HSBC.”

Both sides of the boat were painted with large red English letters: “The Hongkong and Shanghai Banking Corporation.”

A flood of 21st-century current events and hot news surged in Lin Yuchan’s mind. Looking at that dragon boat again, she was so surprised she rubbed her eyes: “HSBC—Bank?”

“Established by fifteen foreign trading houses in Hong Kong,” Su Minguan served as her Qing Dynasty encyclopedia. “Headquarters in Hong Kong, just opened this year, renting a floor in Central Hotel for offices. I passed by once—inside it was all French cologne scent.”

Indeed. Lin Yuchan looked carefully and saw seven or eight dragon boats bearing HSBC livery, either sporting “HSBC” caps, clearly showing deep pockets.

After the Opium Wars, the Qing government’s foreign debt surged, yet it lacked a complete banking system. Traditional foreign banks entering China had headquarters in Britain or India, making exchange and payments inconvenient. Therefore, the powers urgently needed to establish a bank headquartered in China to “help” the Qing government repay foreign debts and indemnities, as well as store customs duties.

Jardine Matheson, Baoshun, Qiongji, Sassoon, and over ten other foreign trading houses, having made big money in recent years from China trade, especially cotton speculation, through careful planning, finally pooled resources in 1865 to establish “HSBC” as the front-line representative of foreign powers’ interests in China.

One dragon boat race along the Huangpu River, advertising—HSBC made its江湖 debut, known to all.

Su Minguan withdrew his gaze from the HSBC dragon boat and sipped the warm realgar wine.

“Do you know how crazy foreigners are about collecting cotton now?”

“Of course.” Lin Yuchan answered without thinking. “You didn’t see what Zheng Guanying was like last month. He’s responsible for cotton procurement at Baoshun Trading House, busy until dark every day, with dark circles this big, drinking strong tea every ten minutes. I worried he’d nod off mid-conversation. His private cotton business has already hired dozens of people and opened three branches…”

Su Minguan chuckled.

“What you saw were all compradors. Do you know their foreign bosses above them…”

Before finishing his sentence, the private room curtain suddenly lifted, and several people poured in.

“Hahaha, Minguan, Mr. Su, you’re also here watching the dragon boat races?”

Speak of the devil—they were all foreigners, half-drunk. Lin Yuchan recognized several: Baoshun Trading House’s Dent manager, Qichang Trading House’s Aspinall manager, Sassoon Trading House’s Jewish manager…

And many more unfamiliar faces. Behind them followed several attendants and compradors, all cheerfully holding realgar wine, following local customs while greeting each other.

“Minguan, hiding here drinking alone behind closed doors, isn’t that too lonely?—Ah, this beautiful young lady is… have we met before…”

Su Minguan stood up, politely shaking hands with each foreigner, then openly took Lin Yuchan’s hand.

“My employer.”

“Boya Trading Co., Ltd. General Manager.” Lin Yuchan immediately stood up to supplement, “Pleased to meet you.”

Immediately, another wave of praise and compliments arose.

While distributing business cards, Lin Yuchan glanced at Su Minguan in surprise. When had these foreign gentlemen become so familiar with him?

Last time, hadn’t they tied him up in a little black room, gun muzzle pressed against his waist, threatening to forcibly acquire Yixing, or else make him suffer?

Then came the shipping companies’ joint price war, determined to crush him to death.

And now, these former enemies and opponents of Su Minguan looked at him like seeing an old friend, a lifelong acquaintance. Holding delicate blue-and-white porcelain wine cups, they elegantly clinked glasses with Su Minguan.

Su Minguan drank, suddenly glancing at Lin Yuchan from the corner of his eye, a mocking expression flashing by.

She understood. Now this bankrupt, debt-ridden, empty-handed Su Minguan posed no threat to foreign merchants.

Dead Chinese merchants were good Chinese merchants. So overnight, they “suddenly” discovered his personal charm and outstanding abilities, all making up with him, letting bygones be bygones, and treating each other as brothers.

Su Minguan was also very magnanimous, smiling brilliantly, joking with the Dent manager: “Looks like you still can’t forget my steak, tracking me down here.”

Several foreign merchants laughed heartily.

One said breathlessly: “You don’t know, this Chinese magician, last month he nearly single-handedly created the Shanghai business world’s biggest loss in history—do you know how tough his steak was? Oh my God, my stomach still aches now… hahaha… And that pot of cream mushroom soup, he’d taste it, add salt, taste it, add salt. Later, our whole table nearly died of dehydration before realizing the soup spoon he used for tasting never changed the soup inside…”

Aspinall manager, patted Su Minguan’s shoulder, laughing:

“Let’s go to the billiards club! There’s a barbecue party there, you can practice your skills, and there’s a spacious balcony for watching dragon boat races. Today being a Chinese holiday, the club is open to Chinese gentlemen… oh, and ladies. Come on!”

Su Minguan readily accepted, still wearing that gentle, courteous smile.

“Thank you for the invitation.”

“So you burned down my kitchen three or four times just to show off your skills to the foreigners?”

Lin Yuchan was both amused and exasperated, unable to resist asking as soon as they got in the carriage.

Talent was just too mysterious. Su Minguan was so obsessed with steak-making, practicing for months, yet still achieved supernatural results, nearly taking down a whole table of foreigners.

Su Minguan smiled embarrassedly.

“Originally, I wanted to amaze them.” He told the truth. “But later I discovered that when I bumbled around making a complete mess, they enjoyed watching even more.”

Nothing could better arouse foreigners’ arrogance and vanity than watching a Chinese person earnestly trying to learn Western culinary culture yet falling short and repeatedly failing.

But he immediately pledged loyalty, adding: “But I genuinely wanted to cook delicious food for you.”

Lin Yuchan whispered: “So you haven’t been idle either.”

Su Minguan’s lips curved up, tacitly agreeing.

At Boya, after finishing his assigned work, he’d skip out, and Lin Yuchan never cared where he went.

Of course, he wouldn’t waste time. Besides running the charity ferry and “managing the water crossing,” during these few months of being idle and harmless, he repaired relationships with former competitors, becoming a beloved international settlement social butterfly.

“Want to change careers?” Lin Yuchan half-joked. “Friendly reminder—compradors are popular now, but becoming a comprador requires financial entry barriers and security deposits. You’d need to pay off your debts first.”

Su Minguan laughed, taking advantage of the carriage’s jolting to embrace her neck and kiss her.

“Despise me?” His voice was low, hiding some dangerous emotions. “Do you feel bad about me taking money for nothing…”

“In your dreams.” Lin Yuchan was tickled by his breath, turning her head with a smile: “Otherwise, I’d have to deal with Comprador Su in the future, and I’m afraid he’d swindle me to death.”

“Tsk, truly a dilemma, better not do it then.”

Amid laughter and conversation, the carriage stopped at the Bund billiards club.

The racing dragon boats had also reached the Bund, with cheers thundering from shore, an HSBC boat taking the lead.

The real estate turmoil had been swept away by the tide of the times. The current billiards club had been renovated again, golden and splendid outside, showing no trace of depression. Occupying three floors and desperately needing customers, it introduced new regulations: once a week, with a foreign invitation, respectable Chinese customers could be admitted for entertainment.

Today, the club was packed, all borrowing the balcony to watch dragon boat races. Both men and women were present, some accompanied by gentle indoor music in quiet conversation, others barbecuing on the terrace for entertainment.

With foreigners leading the way, both entered the main door smoothly. Su Minguan expertly took two glasses of honey water from a server, handed one to Lin Yuchan, then bypassed the first-floor changing room, grabbed a copy of the North China Herald from a rack, and walked up the spiral staircase.

The billiards club had reopened less than six months ago. Lin Yuchan realized this wasn’t his first time here.

Great, taking her monthly salary to do this!

Su Minguan turned around, pulling her upstairs, smiling: “Want to learn billiards?”