“Good, good, then whichever of you is eloquent, please come to the office to talk. This kind of commotion isn’t proper!”

With the foreign boss still not coming to the rescue, the fat comprador’s tone softened, actually using the word “please.”

Sister Jing looked at the sisters around her and volunteered to step out from the crowd.

To negotiate, they needed representatives, which meant appropriately exposing the organization. However, they couldn’t expose everyone.

According to the plan, the quick-tongued Sister Jing would lead the charge.

…

“After we finished eating and returned to the workshop, seeing that no one was working, we were also puzzled.” In the office, Sister Jing spoke eloquently, seriously spouting nonsense. “We don’t know who proposed those four conditions, but our sister died unjustly, and we’ve been grieving, with no heart to work. Everyone feels the factory should meet these conditions. Once they’re met, we’ll have the energy to work.”

Several pot-bellied executives looked at each other. This shrewd woman!

She kept repeating the same few sentences. They knew someone was behind her, but just couldn’t get it out of her.

With hundreds of female workers blocking the door outside, they didn’t dare use violence against her.

What to do now!

Mr. Fonan paced in circles, smoking his cigar, like an ant on a hot pan.

In one day, Dafeng Textile Factory and Yason Shipyard were both on strike simultaneously, with managers from both sides calling for help. It was as if Satan himself had come to trouble him.

He decided to put out the fire at Yason Shipyard first. Women couldn’t cause much trouble. The shipyard was full of hot-blooded young men – if they smashed his machines or destroyed his warehouses, he wouldn’t even have insurance to cover it.

“Li Fugui!” He called for the comprador. “Have you found out who’s behind this?”

Li Fugui, with his arm in a sling and black eyes from the workers’ beating still not faded, said with a bitter face: “No, sir… they’re tight-lipped and won’t say… they just handed over this.”

A paper with crooked writing, Chinese and English side by side, had only two demands.

First, immediately pay the overdue wages with interest; Second, immediately release the detained workers without pursuing responsibility.

Otherwise, an indefinite work stoppage.

Mr. Fonan angrily threw his pen, splattering blue ink all over Li Fugui.

He was one hundred percent certain these workers had expert guidance behind them. According to management reports, they were just sitting on the ground smoking and chatting, lying in chairs napping, not smashing machines to vent anger – which would have been better, because if workers had destroyed even one screw of his, he could immediately report them for “property destruction,” send them all to prison, and default on all wages.

But the workers were law-abiding, just not working – precisely speaking, working at one percent of normal speed, slow as snails. They’d wipe one wrench ten times, take ten minutes to walk two flights of stairs, and fill out one inspection form by writing, erasing, erasing, writing for a whole hour, all illegible scribbles.

Yason Shipyard’s contract specified workers’ daily tasks, but didn’t specify the quality and time limits for completing these tasks.

So strictly speaking, the workers’ extreme dawdling somehow didn’t violate the contract either.

The head supervisor angrily whipped people. The young men were thick-skinned and treated it like scratching an itch. After taking a few hits, they seized the whip instead, chased the management far away, occupied their office, and even brewed coffee beans as tea!

Mr. Fonan angrily ordered Li Fugui: “Report this to me! I’m a Municipal Council director, and I have connections with Inspector Crawford. Lend me a squad of constables – I don’t believe there’s any way to deal with these cunning Chinese!”

Li Fugui took the order and left. After leaving the shipyard, instead of going to the constabulary, he found a teahouse and spent two hours chatting with someone, reminiscing about old times.

When he came out, his hands and body mysteriously had several more bandages, and he walked with a limp, as if his injuries had suddenly worsened several times over.

“Mr. Fonan, this humble one deserves death, truly sorry…” Li Fugui prostrated himself abjectly, sobbing apologies. “When this humble one went out, unknown persons put a sack over my head and beat me thoroughly… When I struggled to the constabulary, they had already closed and wouldn’t… wouldn’t receive visitors… This humble one will go again tomorrow!…”

Li Fugui usually displayed a fawning, foreign-worshipping face, making the foreign boss comfortable every day. Mr. Fonan didn’t suspect his words. Disappointed, he quickly helped him up and consoled him.

Then he had another headache. Both the textile factory and the shipyard were enterprises that couldn’t afford to stop production. Large orders were piling up – not completing them on time meant paying breach of contract penalties!

The sun set in the west. Mr. Fonan seemed to see the gleaming silver dollars in his account also flowing away like a broken dam.

“Women are easier to deal with than men.” He clenched his fist and decided. “Call the textile factory manager for a meeting! I don’t believe those small-footed Chinese women are united like an iron plate!”

Ding-a-ling, the end-of-work bell rang. The female workers scattered in a rush, filing out through Dafeng Textile Factory’s main gate.

They returned home in groups of three or five, faces full of incredible joy.

For the first time, there were no body search women, no humiliating undressing.

Since they were going to struggle, they had to prepare for a long-term deadlock. Lin Yuchan’s suggestions had long been conveyed to and remembered by everyone.

There was no turning back once the bow was drawn. Continue the strike until they achieve their goals.

No one noticed that from the shadows, several shifty-eyed figures quietly darted out.

“Regarding that worker surnamed Wu dying unjustly, we’re also very regretful,” in a private room, the fat comprador smoked and smiled with squinted eyes. “But she was Cantonese. Those Cantonese women are making trouble out of grief for their kind – why are you Fujian girls joining the commotion? Aren’t you just being used as tools? Don’t you usually argue with them? I remember once they laughed at you for being barefoot, and you almost came to blows. What benefit is there in making trouble with them this time?”

Several Hakka female workers were “invited” to a grand restaurant. Facing a table full of oily fish and meat they’d never seen before, they twisted their hands, not knowing what to do.

“Don’t be polite, eat freely.” The comprador had servants hand chopsticks to each person. “I’m treating. Everyone works hard, I know that too. You’re much more diligent than them. Actually Mr. Fonan is considering raising wages for Fujian female workers, two dollars per person – yes, per person, every month, two extra shiny silver foreign coins! If you work normally tomorrow…”

The Hakka female workers looked at each other warily, saying in low voices in dialect: “He’s trying to divide us.”

Lin Yuchan had long predicted that capitalists would divide workers internally, create splits, and cultivate wall-undermining “scabs.” In previous team building, they had also rehearsed countermeasures many times.

Everyone had also shouted slogans and made resolutions to firmly guard against enemy division and not drag down the collective.

But… saying was one thing. When it came to themselves, looking at the delicacies before them that they couldn’t eat in several lifetimes, hearing the promise of “wage increases,” several female workers still couldn’t help but be tempted.

Increasing by two dollars a month, twenty-four dollars a year. In three years, that would be…

The comprador remembered Mr. Fonan’s instructions, looked at the female workers’ expressions, and smiled confidently: “Oh my, don’t be so shy. Just tell me, who exactly taught you these things… Work normally tomorrow, get your regular wages, and make those Cantonese women envious to death! Don’t be polite, eat!”

After an awkward silence, finally, one female worker said timidly, “Someone told us to collect millet…”

“Miss Lin, did you receive the clothes Third Lady sent you? Are they comfortable?” In the raw silk warehouse, Chang Baoluo beamed with joy, introducing: “That’s fabric sent by a relative of hers from Hong Kong, made by American silk reeling machines, not available in China! Since you’re going to America, if you could bring back a set of those machines, our ‘Meng’s Silk Company’ guarantees at least thirty percent dividends next year…”

Chang Baoluo was now the father of two children, his character increasingly gentle, mentioning his wife and children in every three sentences. Lin Yuchan estimated this “silk reeling machine” idea was mostly Third Lady Meng’s instigation.

She regularly inspected Boya’s various branches, striving to arrange all second-half-year work before going to America.

Currently, Chinese merchants are competing to establish industries. Expanding silk factories and introducing new silk reeling machines seemed like a good idea.

Lin Yuchan asked about the new machines’ characteristics and approximate prices, planning to research further when she returned.

Stepping out of the warehouse, just turning a corner, suddenly dark clouds rose from the level ground as several big men surrounded her from all directions.

“Mrs. Lin of Boya?” someone said in low tones. “Someone wants to see you.”

Lin Yuchan shrank back, instinctively feeling chills down her spine, shouting: “Baoluo!”

The warehouse was isolated, not within Heaven and Earth Society territory. The several big men looked vaguely familiar, like those who had wielded clubs that day.

Chang Baoluo rushed over with several clerks, even more frightened than Lin Yuchan: “My God, what’s happening? – Hey, we run a legal business, who are you people?”

Still outnumbered, they half-dragged, half-carried her to a small teahouse.

“Boya Company has no grudges with our Dafeng Textile Factory. Last time, when your female worker was injured, we proactively offered compensation.” A tattooed big hand slammed down a cup of tea with a clang, splashing out half the cup. “Who gave you the guts to scheme against our British textile factory? Hmph, I see your raw silk warehouse – recently it’s been dry, you’d better be careful about fire.”

Lin Yuchan calmed down. From this posture, there were probably “scabs.”

“Just distributing some millet – is doing charity wrong these days?” She sneered. “I’m just a woman who knows women working outside isn’t easy, so I organize sisters for regular gatherings, just cracking sunflower seeds and chatting. I can’t control what everyone chats about. Your textile factory’s poor management created worker unrest. Even if you’re desperately seeking doctors for your illness, don’t bite my head.”

She observed the expressions of several lackey thugs.

The “scabs” were probably ordinary small workers. She met with team and group leaders regularly and had great confidence in their character. If leadership had been turned, these thugs wouldn’t be vaguely threatening her like this.

The fat comprador had extracted Lin Yuchan’s name, and when it was passed down, these thugs saw she was a young woman and didn’t believe she could stir up such big waves.

Chang Baoluo also helped: “Mrs. Lin is a proper merchant, too busy making money every day to meddle in your textile factory affairs. Also, the largest shareholder of this silk factory is this humble one, not Mrs. Lin. Other investors include Manager Tang of Jardine Matheson & Co., Translator Xu from Jiangnan Arsenal, and Scholar Jiang Zhixiang… If you dare destroy even one bundle of silk here, I’ll sue you to death at the Municipal Council!”

Shanghainese moved their mouths, not their hands. These words were spoken harshly, accompanied by exaggerated gestures – this was Chang Baoluo’s limit for losing his temper.

The thugs were just bottom-level muscle who hadn’t heard any of these names, but felt they sounded very impressive, showing hesitant expressions.

“You must know Scholar Jiang, right? A Jiangsu-Zhejiang literati, famous in Shanghai.” Lin Yuchan smiled sweetly, adding: “A British merchant I have business dealings with is planning a Chinese newspaper called ‘Shenbao,’ with Scholar Jiang as chief editor. The inaugural issue is worried about having nothing to write – I think they wouldn’t mind publishing a few more lines of gossip.”

So-called commercial warfare wasn’t as full of grand strategies as in movies. When the map was unrolled and the dagger revealed, it was just playing dirty and competing in connections.

“Alright. I’m busy. Consider this your apology. Baoluo, let’s go.”

She stood up, picked up her bag, like a gust of wind. No one dared stop her.

Returning to the silk factory entrance, Chang Baoluo was still shaken.

“Miss Lin, boss, next time if they come with clubs, let me say this first – I have a wife and children, I must be responsible for them…”

Lin Yuchan laughed.

“That silk reeling machine you mentioned – I’ll bring it back by year’s end. Hire more workers. Let the capitalists see what worker welfare means.”

She called a carriage and headed straight to the self-combining women workers’ dormitory.

Just two more months before boarding ship for America. Heaven protect them – may this strike not cause any more complications.

Monday, the textile factory strike continued. Those several Hakka female workers who had been “treated to dinner” reproached each other as they entered the factory gates.

“It’s all your fault, insisting on saying something about collecting millet… Mrs. Lin was doing good for us, this is called ingratitude…”

“What’s the use of regretting now? Let’s go!”

Several people anxiously started their lathes, sorted raw cotton, and began working.

According to the fat comprador, as long as someone took the lead in resuming work, it would spread from one to ten, ten to a hundred, instantly undermining morale. Then everyone would resume work together, get paid together, the storm would dissipate invisibly, and who would care who started it?

“I won’t pursue it then, hehe, absolutely won’t pursue it…” They remembered the comprador’s solemn guarantees.

Who knew, before the thread was even wound properly, several female workers surrounded them.

“What are you doing?”

The Hakka girls blushed to their ears: “We’re quitting… hey, what are you doing?”

“Picket team.” The group leader smiled. “Everyone raised hands, voted, swore oaths before the Buddha. I should ask – what are you doing?”

“We, we…”

When Lin Yuchan learned of “scabs,” she urgently organized group leaders for a briefing meeting on Sunday, temporarily organizing a “picket team” to ensure no one returned to work.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell outsiders about this.” The group leader still smiled. “As long as the machines don’t run, everyone’s still sisters. Come on.”

The several Hakka girls were already conflicted. Someone blurted out: “You’ll keep it secret for us?”

The group leader snapped shut the main machine switch.

“Are sisters closer or foreign masters closer? Come! Let’s go have tea.”

A week later, the picket team scored another victory. The comprador and supervisors couldn’t deal with these stubborn women occupying the factory, and urgent to resume production, they hired dozens of people from the female labor market and borrowed several skilled workers from friendly textile factories, planning to get the machines running first.

Hundreds of female workers from Dafeng Textile Factory linked hands, blocking the entrance.

“Sisters!” The eloquent Sister Jing held a paper roll as a megaphone, shouting: “We’re all poor women trying to make a living, but we women also have dignity! Do you know to what degree this Dafeng Textile Factory humiliates female workers? Last month, right here, a sister’s blood stained the wall – we must settle this account!…”

…

When Mr. Fonan arrived, the street propaganda had been going on for an hour. Half the new temporary workers had left, muttering “bad luck”; the other half were still listening seriously and actually started agreeing.

“This Dafeng Textile Factory has no conscience! Our Yangshupu Textile Factory is just as bad. Would you believe, they only let us go to the toilet twice a day, and deduct money if we exceed that. It’s shameful to say, we all go to work wearing diapers, hahaha… If you succeed, someday we’ll also make trouble, fighting for toilet freedom!”

Female workers from different factories fraternized, talking until their mouths were dry. Vendors opportunely pushed carts over, selling perilla water for free.

“Someone already paid.” The vendor smiled broadly. “Sisters drink freely.”

The factory vicinity was already crowded with spectators, livelier than Sunday horse races.

Rarely was there an opportunity to see so many women gathered together!

Though few were graceful beauties among them, mostly being robust shrews, it was still a rare sight – how many bachelors had never seen so many women in their lifetime!

The female workers weren’t bashful boudoir ladies and weren’t afraid of being watched. Instead, they spontaneously formed public relations groups, repeatedly explaining their struggles’ causes to people, firmly winning sympathy from poor common folk.

Mr. Fonan sat in his carriage, listening to the surrounding chorus of “foreigners are all no good,” his carriage pushed back again and again by crowds, his beard bristling with anger, wishing he could launch the Third Opium War on the spot.

Yason Shipyard wasn’t giving him peace either. The male workers there obviously had tight organization, had taken up clubs to turn the tables, and now he couldn’t even enter that shipyard!

More than one client had already sent urgent letters asking whether their various contracted projects could be completed on schedule.

Mr. Fonan hadn’t intentionally delayed Yason Shipyard’s wages. It was just that recently the exchange rate market had fluctuated, and the workers’ wages he’d diverted for currency speculation were deeply trapped. He firmly believed that in just a few more days, at most a dozen days, when the results of the meeting between the Tsar and the German Kaiser came out, exchange rates would change dramatically…

Why wouldn’t these stupid workers just wait a little?

As for this textile factory…

If he could get regret medicine now, he’d rather spend a thousand taels of silver to shut the female workers’ mouths than let them make such a scene. Giving in a little would be fine, but if they got a taste of success and made trouble monthly, daily, dropping their tools whenever dissatisfied, he might as well close this textile factory!

“Call the foreigner out to negotiate!” the female workers shouted outside. “Accept the conditions, immediately resume work, absolutely no ambiguity! If you don’t accept, we have plenty of time to wear you down! At worst, we’ll eat chaff this month – it’s not like we haven’t eaten it before!”

Surrounding spectators joined the commotion: “Where’s the foreigner? Don’t be a coward, show yourself!”

Mr. Fonan thought, You’re not afraid of eating chaff, but my account is hemorrhaging money. You’ve never seen that much money in your lifetime!

He quietly called the comprador: “Go find the constabulary!”

The fat comprador ran like a flying pig. Soon, a row of constables came with imposing manner, carrying foreign guns, marching in step.

“All of you disperse!”

The female workers cowered momentarily, then encouraged each other, stuck out their chests, and stayed guarding the textile factory entrance.

They had already tasted unity. A dozen stinking men – how dare they deal with hundreds of them?

Moreover, most spectators also excitedly remained in place, only reluctantly making room when constables pushed and shoved.

Some even pushed forward: “Excuse me, excuse me… sorry, excuse me please…”

Mr. Fonan couldn’t help emerging from his carriage, glaring at that tactless bookworm: “Who are you?”

A middle-aged scholar in long robes held paper and pen, smiling apologetically: “This humble one is Jiang Zhixiang, chief editor of the newly founded ‘Shenbao.’ Someone told me there were injustices here… press freedom, foreign sir, please give face… Ah, you’re the textile factory owner? Then this humble one has several questions to ask…”

Fame brings trouble to people like fat brings trouble to pigs. Mr. Fonan still didn’t dare to become the signature villain of Shenbao’s inaugural issue. He quickly hid back in his carriage, refusing interviews.

That Jiang Zhixiang was still poking around: “I heard Yason Shipyard across the river is also on strike – are these two related?”

Mr. Fonan: “…Get lost!”

Surrounded, he could only swallow his anger and send back the constable team.

“Have the female workers select a few representatives – we’ll… We’ll talk. Right in my office.”

When news spread, the female workers cheered.

“The foreigner agrees to negotiate!”

Sister Jing stepped forward to volunteer. Others held her back, glancing across the street.

“…Right, we’ll talk tomorrow! Tomorrow morning at seven o’clock, we’ll come again!”

In a small tavern’s private room marked with a copper coin sign, curtains hung low, the table had no food or wine, only clear tea.

“From my experience dealing with those foreigners, they’ll put great pressure on you, try to drag out time, make you feel that brothers and sisters can’t work because it’s all the fault of you few negotiation representatives, thereby forcing you to compromise.” Lin Yuchan looked down at notes in her hands, saying methodically: “So you absolutely cannot agree to negotiate tonight, or they’ll drag it until two in the morning, wearing you down.”

A room full of restless anger was slowly extinguished by her composed manner. When she sat in the chair, she was like a house-protecting talisman, making people feel secure and stable.

“Also,” seeing everyone nod, Lin Yuchan glanced at her notes and continued, “negotiation is the final step of struggle. Capitalists understand the law and will dig traps for you. I’ve summarized some points to avoid…”

Su Minguan held the teapot, unhurriedly warming cups for everyone.

He suddenly, inexplicably remembered long ago that stinking pig pen in Guangzhou City.

The fifteen-year-old girl who sold herself, in a slightly childish voice, softly said:

“Can the remaining people also be released?”

“You go first. I’ll stay a while longer.”

“My conscience hurts.”

“First time organizing a mass movement, no experience.”

So many years… her nature hadn’t changed at all, couldn’t bear to see people suffer.

However, compared to that indiscriminate “opening cages to free people” back then, obviously in the skill of “organizing mass movements,” she had made great progress.

The notebook was densely covered with circles and dots, dripped with lamp oil and candle wax. Her few brief words today represented countless nights of burning the midnight oil in thought.

Su Minguan suddenly looked up, his gaze sweeping over Yason Shipyard’s head foreman.

“Don’t just stand there. Did you remember everything Miss Lin just said?”

The strike had already seen the dawn of victory. This final step absolutely couldn’t drop the chain.