Lin Yuchan quickly searched through her mental inventory. The college entrance exam was over ten years ago, so she couldn’t rely on that, but as a promising young intellectual educated in a socialist country, some things were unforgettable…

“Like this, let’s have a democratic vote. Those in favor of the strike, raise your hands.”

The female workers didn’t pay much attention to this procedure, saying urgently: “We all agree, we all agree, quickly tell us the specifics!”

Lin Yuchan insisted: “This isn’t my business, but everyone’s business. I’m just someone waving flags to help. If we strike, from now on, all actions need to be passed by a collective vote. It absolutely cannot be decided by just me alone, or just a few people.”

This time, everyone understood. With a rustle, over a hundred hands shot up throughout the hall.

“We all agree! We’re united! Just tell us what to do!”

Lin Yuchan nodded: “First step, unity above all. If any sisters present have personal grudges, whoever doesn’t get along with whom, for my sake, I’ll help mediate today. To fight the foreigners, we must be united internally like an iron plate, and cannot let them divide and provoke us.”

Not just personal grudges. The female workers came from various backgrounds – hometown, age, origin, seniority… all could form chains of contempt. Now, with emotions running high, these rifts weren’t obvious. But it was conceivable that during the struggle, various disagreements would inevitably emerge.

Lin Yuchan had deep friendships with the female workers and had long been familiar with the situation in the textile factory. There were small cliques among the female workers, and people who couldn’t get along with each other.

Once internal strife broke out, everything would be lost.

Hearing Lin Yuchan’s words, the female workers were a bit surprised and a bit embarrassed. Who would want to publicly admit those trivial conflicts?

Lin Yuchan suddenly sneezed, feeling strangely uneasy. Scanning around, she discovered that although the chamber of commerce’s main door was closed, in an office inside, a small door was half-open with someone sitting there.

Su Minguan was flipping through a stack of documents. He turned his head and openly cupped his hands toward her, his gaze apologetic.

Lin Yuchan’s face flushed instantly. The clearing wasn’t thorough – she’d forgotten to chase out the people in the office…

Fortunately, he was on the same side. He didn’t come out to throw cold water on her, but had been listening seriously the whole time.

Lin Yuchan had a flash of inspiration and said to the female workers: “Like this. Let’s use tea instead of wine and swear an oath first. We sisters of Dafeng Textile Factory are fighting for the same goal today. Regardless of hometown or origin, we must help each other, advance and retreat together, temporarily set aside personal grudges, and together deal with our common enemy – Mr. Fonan and his lackeys! With the Buddha watching above, if anyone has second thoughts… may they have bad luck next year!”

In her urgency, she couldn’t think of any proper words, so she made a harmless little oath, creating a ceremonial atmosphere while not placing too much psychological burden on people.

She remembered long ago, Su Minguan’s battle to seize the Yixing Shipping Company. He single-handedly faced dozens, without full confidence. In the end, he brought out the statue of Lord Guan, using the remaining brotherhood loyalty of the Hong Men to suppress the villains’ last bit of courage to resist.

Today, she couldn’t be accused of copying others’ ideas – this was surpassing the master.

These words indeed worked. The female workers solemnly stood up and repeated Lin Yuchan’s words.

When they sat down again, you could see that some people’s eyes had a luster that wasn’t there before.

Lin Yuchan: “Second, I’ve organized everyone’s demands. Besides severely punishing Kong the Skin-Scraper and modifying the body search system, there are seventy or eighty other suggestions. For example, some suggested doubling wages, some want three days off per week…”

She spoke seriously, and the female workers laughed: “Who suggested those?”

Lin Yuchan smiled: “The purpose of our struggle is to solve urgent needs. Once our goals are achieved, we immediately end the strike and continue happily earning money. So, please temporarily forget some unrealistic demands or those unrelated to the main issue. I hope we can streamline the demands for this struggle to within four items. Everyone votes.”

The female workers felt enlightened and all expressed agreement. Soon, they voted on the four most urgent demands:

First, give Wu Juemei a proper burial, with the foreign boss Mr. Fonan, the comprador, and the supervisor all kowtowing before her spirit tablet and paying compensation of one hundred taels of silver; Second, dismiss Kong the Skin-Scraper and hand him over to the Municipal Council for prosecution on charges of insulting women; Third, from now on, body searches must be conducted by women. If there’s no female searcher, female workers can refuse to undress. Fourth, if there are work injuries, the factory must compensate for medical expenses and cannot dismiss workers during sick leave.

In Lin Yuchan’s view, some of these demands were quite modest. For instance, in modern enterprises, body searches would be forbidden. For instance, if work injuries had no leave or pay, employees could directly sue the labor bureau and would surely win.

But in nineteenth-century Qing Dynasty, even these protections were like flowers in a mirror, moon in water. She weighed the current situation and could only tentatively start from zero. If the steps were too big, it would anger the capitalists.

Of course, when discussing the last few items, the female workers’ opinions were still very inconsistent. For instance, some hoped for moderate wage increases, some hoped to advance their wages, some hoped for half an hour more lunch break…

Lin Yuchan suggested: “We can’t become fat in one bite. If we succeed this time, we can take it step by step and solve other problems next time.”

So the female workers made these four demands into a jingle and memorized them. There was still a third matter.

Lin Yuchan: “This is a mass movement, we need organization and leadership…”

Sister Jing laughed: “You have experience, we’ll all follow your leadership!”

“That won’t do.” Lin Yuchan smiled. “It’s not that I’m timid or afraid of trouble. Boya Company has no business dealings with Dafeng Textile Factory, so even if they hate me to death, they can’t do anything to me; but after all, I don’t work in the factory, haven’t suffered your hardships, and am not qualified to lead hundreds of people. And if something happens, I can’t communicate with everyone in time…”

She thought for a moment and asked: “How many workshops does the textile factory have? How many groups are there?”

The female workers told her there were three workshops, usually working two shifts, six shifts total. Each had a shift leader, and all were experienced older workers.

Lin Yuchan called over the six shift leaders. Among them, Zhaodi and Sister Jing were Lin Yuchan’s acquaintances. She didn’t know the other four.

“Six of you, do you have the confidence to lead this struggle?”

Three immediately nodded. The other three hesitated, declining that they had no ideas and would just follow Mrs. Lin’s lead. Being the leader was out of the question.

Lin Yuchan immediately ordered them to recommend three others as group leaders to lead the strike struggle, to be approved by a vote of each shift’s female workers.

This move was truly novel. The female workers immediately huddled in groups and soon elected three warm-hearted elder sisters.

Lin Yuchan confirmed: “Do you accept these group leaders?”

To organize a mass movement, first you must unify thinking – no one can drag their feet.

The female workers chattered and laughed: “Accept, of course we accept! Last time when the supervisor wanted to target me, it was Sister Gui who helped speak for me. Whatever she says, I’ll listen!”

So-called heroes emerge from the grassroots. Even among the most oppressed illiterates, there are natural leaders.

Everyone had also just sworn the oath, the collective spirit was at an all-time high, and the group leaders had maximum popularity.

Lin Yuchan recorded the names and hometowns of the six group leaders, then looked at the energetic faces of over a hundred female workers. Her whole body seemed injected with extra strength, and she saw hope of success on the horizon…

Bah. Hope of success was in the distance. Not on the horizon.

She led the sisters in shouting a few more slogans, then looked down at the meeting outline: “Thank you! Everyone can take your millet and go later. We’ll meet again next Sunday, and there will still be millet to take. The six group leaders stay behind, we’ll discuss in more detail.”

………………………

The first mass meeting ended successfully. Lin Yuchan took out her handkerchief to wipe her sweat.

A cup of cool tea appeared before her. Lin Yuchan closed her eyes and drank it all in one gulp, finally moistening her parched throat.

A drop of tea slid from the corner of her mouth down to her chin. She reached up to wipe it away.

Su Minguan watched her intently, feeling this girl was truly changing every day, and he could discover new beauty in her each day.

“Is it worth it?” he suddenly asked.

Lin Yuchan took a long time to come back to herself, meeting a pair of probing and deep eyes.

She examined herself. Was it worth it to meddle in these affairs?

She knew her abilities were limited. Perhaps she could never become one of those thunderous great figures in history books, couldn’t lead all of China’s poor masses. These textile factory female workers were part of the lowest of the low, the nameless “four hundred million people.” Even if she helped them this time, even if she helped them for life, none of them would become Qiu Jin, Lü Bicheng, Song Qingling, He Xiangning…

They were destined to be nameless and voiceless in history. The destined suffering of the Chinese land wouldn’t be shortened by even a minute or second because their circumstances improved.

But… they were living people after all, changed because of her. Just thinking of this made her scalp tingle and filled her with energy.

This was her character, perhaps also her weakness.

Lin Yuchan’s eyes suddenly moistened slightly, and she firmly grasped Su Minguan’s outstretched hand.

“I also have a question to ask you,” she said softly. “When you pulled me from the pile of corpses, saw I wasn’t dead, were terrified, but didn’t just throw me away on the spot – instead took a detour to send me to the church – did you think about risks and benefits?”

Su Minguan’s eyelashes trembled, and he smiled.

“I must have been addled by the sun.”

Although he’d decided to cut ties with this absurd world, although he considered himself coldly indifferent to worldly calculations, some things were still hidden in his heart. Ten thousand hardships couldn’t wash them away – these were the instincts of being human.

She also poured him a cup of cool tea, smiling as she watched him.

“If someone else asked me the reason, first,” Lin Yuchan said grandly, “Aunt Hong was accidentally injured by them. I can’t swallow this anger. Second, Boya also has tea factories and silk reeling factories under it, with decent worker benefits. If other factories continue exploiting workers and reducing costs without limit, it will inevitably be disadvantageous to me in competition. If all Shanghai factories could be a bit more lenient with workers, my labor costs wouldn’t be so harshly undercut by others.”

Su Minguan said nothing, obviously feeling neither of these reasons was very convincing.

“Third, I have enough money,” Lin Yuchan said without hesitation. “I spend time making money so that one day I can avoid wasting time just to make money. So I can do more meaningful things.”

“For instance, stealing the Heaven and Earth Society’s business?”

Lin Yuchan was startled.

Su Minguan laughed, his gaze pointing outside.

“The Hong Men have many brothers in the Hunan Army, very experienced in demanding wages and pay, but at most, they just cause various troubles. Your speech today is much more sophisticated than theirs… where did you learn it?”

He spoke lightly, deliberately putting on a tone of “you have good stuff and didn’t tell me,” but his heart was extremely uncomfortable. The longer he knew her, the more this girl could make him look at her with new eyes, bringing various surprising novelties.

Lin Yuchan sighed, pretending to be dejected: “I wish I could have learned it. With so many worker movements in Europe, no one wrote a handbook introducing their experiences.”

Actually there definitely were some, just not accessible to her. Lin Yuchan remembered several years ago, when she had whimsically asked Hede to bring back some of Marx’s works when he returned to England to visit family. At the time it was just curiosity and pilgrimage mentality, wanting to see what the great ideological trend that would sweep the globe in the 20th century looked like in its infancy.

A few years later, when Hede returned to China and came to Shanghai for inspection, he invited her for afternoon tea and spent half an hour complaining bitterly. He said that just by inquiring about Karl Marx for two days, military police detectives from both Britain and Prussia came to his door, insisting he admit to being an accomplice of some “foreign force’s” subversion.” Hede, despite his third-rank position in the Qing court, was just a commoner in Britain and nearly got dragged to Scotland Yard. He barely proved his innocence after wearing out his tongue.

“Miss Lin,” Hede huffily concluded, “I’d rather believe I misheard the pronunciation back then and that your idol was someone else, though I don’t want to know who he is now. Please cause me less trouble in the future, that would be the greatest thanks to me.”

Lin Yuchan, disappointed, retorted: “When have I ever caused you trouble?”

Hede thought about it and realized that indeed, from beginning to end, Miss Lin had brought him far more opportunities than troubles. This was rather unfair to say. So Hede generously paid the bill and even gave her a complete set of illustrated catalogs from the 1867 Paris World’s Fair.

But which those Marx’s works would be famous after the 20th century? The secret handbook for worker movements? Sorry, not a chance.

Lin Yuchan could only shake her pitiful inventory and explore on her own.

Su Minguan pulled her hand and stood up.

“Today we’re ‘holding water mouth,’ let’s go together.”

“Holding water mouth” was handling Hong Men affairs. According to the complex regulations from hundreds of years ago, as the White Fan, she should attend at least a dozen times a year. But she was a young maiden who would find it too difficult to blend in with the rough brothers. So Su Minguan didn’t force it, letting her skip every time, making her arguably the laziest White Fan in history.

She politely declined: “I can’t help much.”

“Going to see a sick brother. You know him, too.”

She was startled. “Who is it?”

In a wealthy household’s mansion in Pudong, a patient with a prosperous face lay in bed. He was hunched over, back bent. When Lin Yuchan entered, he was hugging his arms and groaning.

“Ouch… Grand Master… ouch, Miss Lin… please sit, ouch ouch…”

Lin Yuchan was both surprised and amused: “Li Fugui, did someone beat you up?”

The star comprador of Yason Shipyard, Pudong’s little golden face-changing king. For livelihood, a good Heaven and Earth Society righteous man had transformed into a drama king, showing one face to foreigners and another to workers, thus winning the foreign masters’ favor with yearly salary increases. This year when the court searched for remaining Hong soldiers with great momentum, investigating several times, no one ever suspected him.

But today, the drama king has overturned. Li Fugui’s facial muscles were stiff as he complained to Su Minguan: “These workers… ouch, they hit hard… I, I often protected them… ungrateful dogs… if you hadn’t come to see me, my heart would be cold and desolate, chilled to the bone…”

Su Minguan sincerely consoled him a few words, left several pounds of cooked meat and preserved fruit, then said to Lin Yuchan with suppressed laughter: “You know Wells Bridge collapsed, right? Yason Shipyard is contracted to build the new bridge. Workers worked hard for months and haven’t received a penny, all delayed, and several people were fired. I heard the shipyard owner took their wages to speculate on foreign exchange.”

Lin Yuchan was torn between laughter and tears: “So the workers beat up the comprador?”

This Yason Shipyard had martial virtue, worthy of being the shipyard that cooperated with Su Minguan.

“The one who led the beating is currently locked up.” Su Minguan said helplessly, “The shipyard workers include some society members, but they couldn’t stop it. Brother Li usually…”

“Indeed, very deserving of a beating. But this has nothing to do with me.” Li Fugui sighed along, continuing: “Master, young master, if this humble one can’t make it in Shanghai, may I boldly ask for a boat ticket to Hong Kong?”

Su Minguan smiled, suddenly leaning close to ask Lin Yuchan: “Do you know who the largest shareholder of Yason Shipyard is?”

Lin Yuchan shook her head.

“British merchant Mr. Fonan.”

She drew in a sharp breath, as if hearing celestial music.

Su Minguan bowed to her formally: “Miss White Fan, could you please come out of retirement and contribute to the organization?”

A month later, at Dafeng Textile Factory.

The monotonous machine sounds hummed, choking cotton fluff floated in the workshops, female workers mechanically wound thread onto spindles, and supervisor “Kong the Skin-Scraper” patrolled back and forth with his whip.

Wu Juemei’s death had passed silently. Just like countless times before when female workers faced injustice, they’d make a fuss, vent emotions, take some money to settle things, and couldn’t stir up big waves.

The female workers stayed at their posts of less than one square meter all day, unable to move around freely. Even going to the toilet required getting a token, and chatting was forbidden.

Only the sweepers and machine repairers could move freely. This day, they walked through the workshops as usual, working while quietly conveying some instructions.

Lunch break was five minutes. The female workers hurriedly swallowed cold rice.

The supervisor rang the bell. But they didn’t hear the familiar humming sound.

All machines stopped.

The female workers had strange expressions on their faces, standing at their stations but not working, like soulless statues.

The cotton fluff floating in the air gradually settled, and the scalding steam gradually cooled, allowing a clear sight of distant workers’ faces – their eyes met each other’s, showing encouraging light.

Kong the Skin-Scraper was dumbfounded. For a moment, he thought the machines were broken, and his first reaction was to run to other workshops to check.

The entire factory building was silent. Bundles of raw cotton and thread piled up like small mountains. Several evil supervisors looked at each other blankly, feeling they’d encountered ghosts.

“Are you all stupid? All dead? Move!”

Kong the Skin-Scraper cracked his whip – snap!

It hit a young Hakka female worker on the back.

The Hakka girl convulsed once.

She remembered the several pounds of millet received this past month, that hall full of passionate sisterhood in the chamber of commerce. A month ago she was still a timid, numb little female worker, but after participating in several strange “collective activities,” she had been reborn.

She remembered the sweepers and machine repairers as liaisons repeatedly bringing her hope and instructions: “If you want to struggle, you can’t fear bleeding. But we also can’t be stupidly taken corporal punishment. On strike day, don’t fear the heat, wear thick clothes, and pad cotton behind your back. Whips won’t kill you, at most hurt you for a little while. If someone wants to hurt you, the sisters won’t just watch.”

Kong the Skin-Scraper intended to warn them and didn’t dare disable the female workers, as it would affect efficiency. This whip wasn’t too vicious. The Hakka sister had cotton padding on her back, so when the whip came down, it indeed didn’t hurt much and was completely bearable.

She couldn’t help but smile, making eye contact with nearby sisters.

Kong the Skin-Scraper exploded with rage and whipped several more female workers, but still no one moved.

The supervisor and the fat, oily comprador soon came upon hearing the news. Facing the silent female workers, they demanded: “What’s going on? Who will come out and explain?”

No one responded. In the silent workshop, wind suddenly arose, blowing over a paper with writing.

The comprador had someone pick it up and look. It was an article ghostwritten by some sour scholar, with no proper structure, but boiled down to four unreasonable demands.

The comprador’s mind worked quickly, and he immediately flew into rage: “Good! A strike! The factory doesn’t owe wages! Which factory doesn’t do body searches, and which factory doesn’t have deaths? You’ve rebelled! Speak! Who’s the ringleader? Come out!”

Still, no one answered.

The comprador sneered coldly, called several security guards to follow behind him, and walked row by row, staring at each female worker with sinister eyes.

The female workers usually feared him like a tiger and couldn’t help but lower their heads one by one.

The comprador had a poisonous eye and immediately targeted Yao Zhaodi. She was the workshop troublemaker with the fiercest temper, and couldn’t hide things in her heart.

“You! Come out! Come to the office with me!”

He signaled the security guards to take her away, one on each side.

Yao Zhaodi was a “sisterhood” group leader, but this was completely secret. The female workers’ hearts trembled.

But after several “millet collection” sessions, everyone had fully rehearsed various scenarios. Someone suddenly called out: “The foreman is arresting people! Private punishment! Everyone, come help!”

With that, they surged forward, instead surrounding the comprador and security guards in the middle. The sweeper quietly went out, and soon female workers from other workshops also poured in, their footsteps raising dust everywhere, creating complete chaos.

“Right, no one’s organizing, if we talk, we all talk together!”

The fat comprador was surrounded by hundreds of women. Strangely, these women, individually, he wasn’t afraid of them, and could kick them anytime. Facing three or five, he could still arrogantly point at their noses and curse, but suddenly, hundreds surrounded him, and his fat, droopy face turned ashen. He vaguely sensed an unfamiliar force pushing at his heart and organs, making him unable to breathe.

“Wait, let’s talk reasonably…”

The supervisors and managers also went soft. These female workers weren’t delicate boudoir ladies – many had muscles on their arms. If fists started flying chaotically, they probably wouldn’t live to collect next month’s wages.

The comprador decided not to wade into this muddy water, hid back in the office, and quietly ordered his servant: “Quickly invite Mr. Fonan here.”

Once the foreign boss comes, preferably with a security team, then you’ll see what’s what!

But after waiting a long time, while the female workers outside had already started talking and laughing loudly, Mr. Fonan still didn’t appear.

The servant came back panting, looking troubled.

“Mr. Fonan has no time. Says he’s at… Yason Shipyard. There’s trouble there, too.”