“How embarrassing,” in the lounge, the manager of Lifu Trading House swirled a glass of foreign liquor while complaining to those around him. “The West has already entered the electrical age. The telegraph can instantly connect lands thousands of miles apart—what a great innovation! But can you believe it? In all of vast China, there isn’t a single electrical wire… Last month, we erected several telegraph poles in Pudong, wanting to test short-distance telegraphy. But before we could put it into use, they were all pulled down the next day! I thought it was troublemakers causing damage, so I sent people to report it, only to learn that the order came from the foolish Shanghai local officials…”

The men and women nearby sighed sympathetically, with someone commiserating: “Our joint foreign trading house venture, the Songhu Railway Company, had all the funding in place, but the damned Shanghai Circuit Intendant stubbornly refused approval, sending people daily to harass us, reciting their outdated Confucian classics, trying to convince the public we’re Satan. And what happened? Five thousand pounds down the drain…”

Everyone imagined that embarrassing situation and shook their heads, laughing.

“Jacques, how’s your gas lamp company’s preparation going? If you succeed this time, I’ll lend you my champion racehorse to ride.”

…

The adventurous Western speculators, having money in hand again, began ambitiously transforming what they saw as their Far Eastern playground.

Unfortunately, while the future was bright, the road was tortuous. All epoch-making innovations were either destroyed or banned. Except for “saving the nation through a roundabout way” by establishing HSBC bank in Hong Kong, nothing else bore fruit.

But they weren’t discouraged. Thanks to cotton’s massive profits, they had endless money to squander.

“More capital increase and stock expansion?… Why not? Agra Bank’s stock issued at the beginning of the year has already doubled in book value.”

“…Land prices will rise again soon. While it’s cheap, let’s buy a few more buildings…”

“…Loans, of course, we need loans! All the cotton in the warehouse can be mortgaged…”

The professional speculators, half-drunk, boasted wildly about their wealth as if they’d forgotten the real estate lesson, believing cotton was the world’s future.

Three or five HSBC shareholders were raising glasses in celebration, along with compradors and assistant compradors, all toasting together to a bright future.

Several completely Westernized Chinese smiled and called to Su Minguan: “Boss Su, come play billiards!”

Su Minguan glanced inquiringly at his companion. Lin Yuchan smiled and pushed his back.

“Others are treating.”

For propriety’s sake, the club wasn’t completely mixed-gender. At least those playing billiards were all men. A corner of the small bar was a special ladies’ rest area. Lin Yuchan found a small sofa, ordered tea, and focused on watching Su Minguan play billiards.

Billiards had just been introduced to China then, with only a few venues in the foreign settlements. The Chinese called it “marble ball.” The balls, cues, and table materials differed slightly from modern ones, requiring great force to strike.

But Su Minguan remained elegant as always. Even as a beginner with no technique, making the balls bounce around like Brownian motion, he maintained an upright posture without appearing awkward or flustered.

Someone immediately noticed Lin Yuchan. A blonde woman giggled with her companion: “Oh look, there’s a Chinese girl here.”

Male Chinese guests weren’t surprising—compradors, clerks, collaborators, and fake foreigners could all mix in. But looking around, Lin Yuchan seemed to be the only yellow-skinned, black-eyed woman among the female guests.

The blonde had a doll face with a frivolous expression. Her Western dress had an extremely low neckline, she was covered in jewels, and her every gesture was full of charm.

Not knowing Lin Yuchan understood English, she was still whispering to her female companion: “I bet her feet are bound…”

“Pleased to meet you.” Lin Yuchan smiled politely and said in English, “Your hairpin is also very pretty.”

She was already skilled at handling such situations: let the other party know she understood English while pretending not to have heard that first unintentionally offensive remark. Any foreigner with manners would shut up to avoid further embarrassment.

The blonde blushed, then became somewhat angry from embarrassment.

“Thank you.” She replied lazily, glancing at the handsome Chinese young man holding a billiard cue not far away, whispering, “This is a gift that lovely Chinese gentleman gave me just yesterday.”

Saying this, she opened her fan to cover a sweet, provocative smile.

Lin Yuchan was stunned, then choked on her tea and couldn’t stop laughing.

The blonde had tried to randomly create trouble, but she’d picked the wrong person. She didn’t know Su Minguan was currently strapped for cash, with his few respectable outfits all gifts from his benefactor, and daily pocket money only enough for one basket of steamed dumplings!

Lin Yuchan laughed until tears came, seriously replying: “What a coincidence, he gave me an identical one the day before yesterday.”

The blonde was slightly stunned, then lowered her head and smiled.

“Call me Louise.” She extended her lace-gloved right hand. “Forgive my earlier joke. It’s a bad habit, but hard to break…”

Lin Yuchan roughly guessed Miss Louise’s profession. This kind of social butterfly, who lived by her looks, would face endless hostility from respectable wives and ladies wherever she went. She was probably used to treating nearby women as enemies, provoking, secretly fighting, and taking opportunities to draw hatred and flaunting her charm.

However, Lin Yuchan was big-hearted and didn’t feel particularly offended. Instead, she thought Miss Louise had sharp eyes, immediately seeing she was with Su Minguan and their relationship was unusual. This insight wasn’t gained in a day.

She asked: “You know him?”

Miss Louise smiled with worldly weariness and lit a cigarette.

“It’s a long story.”

…

Ten minutes later, Lin Yuchan sat in place, dumbfounded, mouth agape.

“Holy shit…”

Last spring, when Su Minguan was kidnapped at gunpoint and finally counter-killed and escaped amid gunfire, he hadn’t elaborated on the details, probably not wanting Lin Yuchan to worry unnecessarily.

Today, she finally filled in the gaps of this action blockbuster. Although Miss Louise said she fainted later, the remaining details still made her heart race with fear.

“I must confess, those cunning European managers promised to pay me to give this shy Chinese boy a ‘beauty trap,'” Miss Louise smoked openly, smiling contentedly. “It didn’t work, but I didn’t return the money…”

Lin Yuchan’s expression darkened as she asked quietly: “Those who schemed against Minguan back then—do you remember who they were?”

Then she beckoned a waiter to bring Miss Louise a cigar, “Put it on my tab.”

Miss Louise was slightly surprised and looked at her.

Could Su Minguan have been telling the truth about her being his sister? Why wasn’t she angry at all? And her focus was completely off…

Miss Louise sighed with a smile, her cigarette-holding fingers lightly pointing toward the lively billiard hall.

“Oh, how strange… Those who schemed against him back then have all made peace with him now.”

Following Miss Louise’s indication, Lin Yuchan discovered that indeed, the ones most friendly with Su Minguan, except for Jin Nengheng, who was already out, were all representatives from the foreign trading houses that had once schemed to “divide up Yixing.”

She suddenly remembered Su Minguan’s casual confession to her:

“Luna goes to Baoshun Trading House, two docks to Sassoon, the small steamship to Qichang, the inland warehouses to Jardine Matheson, the Pudong land…”

Like a small door creaking open before her, a sharp wind rushed in, making her sneeze slightly.

This man…

He revealed nothing to her, seeming like just a disheartened bankrupt small merchant, a washed-up small fry from the underworld, living aimlessly in her Tongfu Inn.

He was merely hibernating, accumulating strength in winter sleep, step by step approaching that dangerous and exciting arena again.

She stared hard at that straight back, unsure whether she felt relieved or dissatisfied.

Several foreign gentlemen approached with drinks, grinning as they invited Miss Louise: “Care to have a drink?”

Miss Louise extinguished her cigar, smiled apologetically at Lin Yuchan, pointed at her chest jewelry, then put on her professional smile and rose gracefully.

Lin Yuchan watched Miss Louise deploy her tactics, quickly enticing several foreign men, young and old, to circle around her, their loud conversations merely competitive boasting about how much money they’d made last year, how much they’d make this year, how many shares they’d increased, how many houses they’d bought…

Women were different from women. Lin Yuchan sadly realized that when she contacted male clients, they’d most likely cry poverty to her before brutally bargaining down prices. Where would she get a chance to hear people flaunt wealth?

A shadow fell beside her. Su Minguan wiped sweat with a handkerchief, smiling as he brought her fresh tea.

“Miss Lin, could I advance ten silver dollars?” He opened his hand, saying softly, “Lost at billiards.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

Speak of the devil. Here was another big spender crying poverty.

She tossed money into his hand. When he returned from paying, she looked at him with scrutinizing eyes, smiling as she examined him from head to toe.

Su Minguan felt slightly uncomfortable under her gaze and smiled: “If you’re bored, let’s leave.”

Lin Yuchan pulled him to sit beside her.

“Whatever you’ve been up to these past months,” she whispered in his ear, “don’t do anything illegal. Don’t implicate Boya.”

Su Minguan was initially puzzled, then following her gaze, he saw several foreign trading house managers around the billiard table.

He lowered his head and smiled, frankly admitting: “Yixing’s flesh and blood are currently in their hands. I can’t rest easy.”

Lin Yuchan picked up a teacup, looking at him meaningfully, her gaze carrying small thorns.

Su Minguan could only admit further: “I didn’t tell you because otherwise you’d constantly think about returning me a Yixing, pointlessly delaying your own business.”

She deliberately sneered: “If you don’t mention it, I won’t think about it?”

Su Minguan said shamelessly, “At least you can think about it less.”

Lin Yuchan didn’t bother arguing with his nonsense and observed those high-spirited foreign merchants.

“What do you plan to do?”

Taking a sip of tea, she added: “I have about nine thousand taels in dividend savings, with about three thousand immediately available in cash.”

Su Minguan smiled and shook his head.

“I said I don’t want your…”

Halfway through, he received her eye roll.

She ultimately refused to accept the hundred thousand tael gift with peace of mind.

Su Minguan quietly stopped talking, accepting her participation by default.

“I’ve already found out they’ve all speculated heavily in cotton,” Su Minguan quietly told her. “Some even borrowed money to hoard goods, with cross-shareholdings—very risky. If your prediction proves true… by this time next year, they’ll all lose badly.”

A flash of coldness and aggression crossed his eyes before returning to a natural, relaxed state.

Su Minguan wasn’t satisfied with merely watching his enemies “lose badly.”

“Friendly reminder,” Lin Yuchan also entered business mode, smiling, “your few thousand taels in temporary shareholdings aren’t enough to acquire a ‘badly losing’ foreign trading house. Even if possible, the law wouldn’t allow it. Boya’s finances are limited and won’t participate in such castle-in-the-air adventures.”

She was thinking of how she’d taken advantage of last year’s real estate collapse and Defeng Trading House’s bankruptcy losses to spend seven thousand silver taels and acquire that old tea house valued at least twenty thousand taels in one stroke—such things required perfect timing, location, and people. Moreover, compared to those giant foreign trading houses, the repeatedly stripped Defeng was just a small business she could afford.

So many powerful foreign trading houses—toppling any one would probably be impossible even with the entire Qing government’s power.

Besides, even if they were toppled, what then? Yixing couldn’t come back.

The wheel of fortune had turned for her to pour cold water on the great schemer Su.

“I know.” Su Minguan said briefly, then pursed his lips, saying coldly: “But… I can at least give them a push, right?”

Lin Yuchan thought along with him. Her only current advantage was knowing the American Civil War’s outcome and that cotton prices would most likely fall.

News of the American Civil War’s end and Northern victory would eventually be carried beyond the American continent. Without a transatlantic submarine cable yet, news would need to travel by ship to Europe, then journey eastward all the way, with true and false information contaminating each other. It might take months to verify, but it would eventually reach the front page of the North China Herald.

Then, like the Indian flood incident, the market would react sluggishly for a while until the delicate balance was broken by some random event, triggering an unexpected yet reasonable avalanche…

How to utilize these precious months of foresight?

If cotton prices were going to rise, it would be simple. Hoard goods in advance, borrow money to hoard, then sell at high prices when the time comes.

But if cotton prices were going to fall…

A term popped into Lin Yuchan’s mind as she murmured: “Short selling?”

No, no, the 19th century didn’t have such advanced financial operations yet.

“Short selling?”

Su Minguan also immediately caught this unfamiliar term.

Lin Yuchan had to search her limited economics knowledge and explain with difficulty: “Um, it’s using commodity price drops to make money in reverse… For example, if Liru Bank’s stock price is currently 25 pounds, and I predict it will fall, I borrow stocks from a Liru shareholder with an agreed time and interest, selling at 25 pounds… Then, when the stock price falls, say to 10 pounds, I buy back stocks from the market and return them to that shareholder. In the whole process, I net 15 pounds per share, minus the interest for borrowing stocks.”

If it involved commodities instead of stocks, that would be “futures.” However, in all her years dealing with foreign merchants, Lin Yuchan had never heard this term, suggesting history’s wheel hadn’t rolled there yet.

Thank goodness, otherwise with her modern high school diploma, rashly playing futures with ancient shrewd people, who knew how many episodes she’d survive.

But Su Minguan understood this “short selling” concept immediately, smiling: “Inland grain warehouses and grain markets often have such operations to stabilize prices. But dispatched officials don’t understand market laws, often making a mess, with official-merchant collusion lining their own pockets. Now private merchants aren’t allowed to do such things at all… Mm, foreign merchants do lend out stocks, but at extremely high interest. Unless those stocks plummet dramatically, there’s simply no money to be made.”

So “short selling” could only be wishful thinking. Even knowing cotton would fall in price, where would she find a sucker to convince him to “lend” her cotton? Everyone knew cotton was hot property, eager to sell as soon as ginning was complete.

Billiard collision sounds rose and fell. Lin Yuchan muttered to herself, wildly brainstorming.

“Buy low, sell high.” She suddenly remembered a long-ago experience summary. “Regardless of the money-making method, essentially it’s all buy low, sell high.”

Su Minguan softly continued: “At current market rates, what we consider ‘selling high’ is still ‘buying low’ in many people’s eyes.”

“So the key is expectations.” Lin Yuchan said without thinking. “We need to bet against their expectations.”

Su Minguan pondered for a long time, eyes gleaming, saying softly: “Boss Lin, I’d like to request a position from you.”

Lin Yuchan: “Oh?”

“Boya Company General Sales Agent.” He said quickly. “Duration… six months. I’ll still work part-time as an accountant without a salary. The condition is that after six months, all sales revenue I negotiate during this period belongs to me.”

Lin Yuchan looked at him suspiciously: “Won’t cause trouble for Boya?”

Su Minguan’s eyes curved as he corrected: “Ninety percent of sales revenue belongs to me.”

“What about debts?”

“Deduct from my shareholdings. When they’re exhausted, kick me out.”

Lin Yuchan lowered her eyes, calculating for a moment.

“Verbal agreement. No written contract. No evidence left behind.”

“Good.”

Su Minguan gently squeezed her hand, then asked strangely: “Not asking what I plan to do?”

“It won’t be shooting at foreigners’ concerts.” Lin Yuchan calmly sipped her tea. “Won’t be burning down pig pens. Won’t be charging into the capital with a sword. Won’t be hijacking ships at sea…”

She counted Su Minguan’s various misdeeds one by one, feeling her psychological endurance was quite strong, and she could indulge him in another risk.

He lowered his head and smiled, suddenly capturing her hand and quickly kissing her fingertip.

“Let’s get to work.”

Several foreign merchants approached with wine glasses, smiling as they invited: “May we invite this beautiful Chinese lady to dance?”

“No.” Su Minguan took over, laughing cheerfully. “She’s a court-honored Lady, what you’d call… Baronetess? If you want to invite her, you must be more polite—at least add ‘Dame’ to her title.”

The foreign merchants looked at each other in surprise.

Boya Company’s large-scale trade with foreign houses mainly went through compradors. These senior managers and taipans rarely saw Lin Yuchan’s face.

They weren’t clear about what “Lady” meant, but foreigners often heard about “court honors.” Many Chinese merchants dealing with them somehow obtained various grades of court honors, proudly wearing their colorful hat buttons. These people had many connections, moved like fish in water in business, didn’t need to kneel when entering government offices, and everyone respected them.

Moreover, Chinese people never dared joke about such things. Falsely claiming scholarly degrees or court honors, once exposed in fraud, could result in fines and beatings at best, exile and military service at worst—there were precedents.

Women could also have…?

Right. The West also had baronesses and countesses, just extremely rare.

Lin Yuchan was amused by Su Minguan’s groundless elevation of her status.

Foreigners also acknowledged official authority.

She stood up, putting on airs, shaking hands with the foreign merchants.

A shower of sweet talk descended around her. Some complimented her beauty, others praised her elegance…

For the first time, Lin Yuchan was surrounded by so many foreigners asking questions, with various cologne scents drilling into her nose. Despite Su Minguan beside her blocking some ill-intentioned arms and legs, she still felt somewhat uncomfortable.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Miss Louise leaning against the billiard table, fingers curling her hair, holding a drink, being made to lean forward and back with laughter by a joke, amber liquid spilling onto her snow-white chest.

Several men surrounded her, eagerly sharing funnier jokes with her, like monkeys around a banana.

Lin Yuchan found her groove. Staying in the Qing Dynasty too long, she’d forgotten how to socialize normally.

She smiled in response to everyone. The Sassoon Trading House manager bowed exaggeratedly, his Jewish cap revealing a slightly bald, shining crown as he smiled: “Then, beautiful and noble Lady, may I ask you for a dance?”

“Sorry, I don’t know how.” Lin Yuchan said politely. “Since you’re Minguan’s friends, you’re also Boya’s friends. Our company…”

“Not knowing how to dance doesn’t matter; you can learn! We have many young men here happy to teach you…”

No matter what, they wouldn’t pick up her business conversation.

Su Minguan was also somewhat surprised. He’d spent months infiltrating foreign social circles, waiting for the chance to introduce Boya Company. Who knew foreigners wouldn’t play by normal rules—or rather, foreigners were too rule-bound. Seeing Lin Yuchan as a “Lady,” their first reaction was to follow Western etiquette: court her, praise her beauty, bow and scrape to her, queuing up to invite her to dance—in foreigners’ view, this was “socializing,” the highest level of recognition for her.

Not talking business with her—that was vulgar men’s affairs, unsuitable for bothering a beauty.

Su Minguan’s face darkened slightly as he blocked several random cats and dogs queuing to invite Lin Yuchan to dance.

“Chinese girls don’t dance.” He said coldly but politely, pushing away several overly attentive hands. “Mm, she also doesn’t smoke, she just wants to…”

“Play billiards?” Lin Yuchan suddenly spoke, smiling as she looked at the Sassoon manager who was leading the courtship, “How about a game? We can chat while playing.”

The Sassoon manager was stunned. “No, no, billiards is a man’s sport…”

“Women can too.” Lin Yuchan stood up, pulling a cue from the rack, smiling as she reclaimed initiative. “Just as women can do business like you. Will you play a game with me? If I win, we’ll sign a deal today?”

Whether it was an illusion or not, when she said this, she felt the surroundings suddenly quiet for a moment.

The bald Sassoon manager she’d challenged was stunned for a long while, then laughed loudly, taking a cue handed by someone nearby.

“You know how to play billiards?”

“I’ll need you to explain the rules, though.”