This group of foreign sailors who had come to the customs as guests for business was precisely the same batch who had initially come ashore looking for trouble and harassing Aunt Hong!

Only one had caused trouble, while the rest had originally gone to back up their companion, only to be indiscriminately attacked by several “lowly Chinese thugs,” humiliated beyond any ability to fight back—a veritable disgrace to the British Navy.

The foreign sailors had been brooding over this for months, and remarkably still remembered the faces of these local men and women vividly—mind you, normally Chinese people looked like monkeys to them, all the same, completely indistinguishable.

Having suppressed this anger for several months, suddenly seeing Lin Yuchan walk into their trap, they didn’t care about treating women and children kindly, rolling up their sleeves to teach her a lesson.

The sailors’ arms were thick as masts; one person lifting Lin Yuchan was like an eagle catching a chick. Now with several surrounding her at once, Lin Yuchan felt she wasn’t even enough for them to tear apart.

She gave up trying to communicate, took a breath, and screamed desperately.

This was the customs, the efficient and civilized place that Hede had painstakingly managed—he definitely wouldn’t allow bloodshed here.

The customs building’s vaulted corridors were designed by a famous Western architect with excellent acoustic properties, now resonating in unison.

Sure enough, after just two screams, Hede strode in with a dark expression, sternly saying: “I told you no commotion…”

Upon entering and seeing the scene, he was also stunned.

But his reaction was quick, immediately shouting: “Everyone stop!”

The foreign sailors dropped Lin Yuchan and, talking over each other, quickly recounted the love-hate saga between Lin Yuchan and themselves, naturally adding their spin and describing her as worse than cockroaches and rats. Lin Yuchan’s English wasn’t her native language after all, so she couldn’t get a word in.

She silently took deep breaths, put on a pitiful appearance, calmed the smoke rising from her seven orifices, and told herself: endure. Don’t waste the safe day she had fought so hard to secure.

The Chinese servant woman was still outside, mopping the floor. She had a flash of inspiration, knelt, and began picking up porcelain shards bit by bit.

After hearing the sailors’ account, Hede’s first reaction was some doubt. He glanced toward Lin Yuchan but didn’t see her. Looking down, she was half-kneeling on the ground, her fingers wrapped in a cloth, skillfully wiping the floor—someone who had done plenty of this kind of work.

Hede’s eyes darkened as two labels floated in his mind—”little liar” and “poor girl”—fighting each other.

The gun-carrying sailor officer got excited and raised his big foot to kick Lin Yuchan’s back.

Hede suddenly extended his hand to block him.

“Spare this poor girl,” he said coolly. “This is my territory. Don’t bring your sailor habits onto land.”

The sailors grumbled dissatisfied, made a feint punch at her, then backed down.

Lin Yuchan secretly breathed a sigh of relief while being extremely surprised.

From the foreign sailors’ attitude, she could tell—

“Mr. Hede, these sailors, are they your subordinates?”

Otherwise, how would such unruly foreign trash listen to a Qing official?

“Gentlemen, please sit. Let me introduce—Miss Lin, this is Colonel Osborn of the British Navy.”

Hede finally managed to separate this group of inexplicably feuding enemies, seating the sailors on one side of the conference table, wishfully playing peacemaker.

This was his customs, his kingdom. What couldn’t be resolved peacefully?

After speaking, he smiled at Lin Yuchan, meaning for her to curtsy—the man had status.

Who knew Lin Yuchan would miss the point: “British Navy? May I ask what you were doing in 1840? What about 1858?”

Colonel Osborn proudly puffed out his chest, grinning crookedly: “Sowing the seeds of civilization, using technology to teach those ungrateful savages—little girl, without me, you’d never have the chance to deal with us British in your next life.”

Oh ho, a “veteran” of both Opium Wars, Lin Yuchan thought. I’d be a dog if I bowed to you.

But there was no need for any excessive reaction. Lin Yuchan’s emotions were very stable. She knew that in another hundred-plus years, when Chinese warships sailed into the Thames and 5G base stations were built under the Tower of London, their descendants would deeply understand what imperial twilight meant.

So under everyone’s gaze, not only did she not lower her head, she even pulled over a chair and sat down gracefully, casually wiping off the black tea stain on the armrest.

Colonel Osborn slammed the table and stood up: “Damn…”

Hede quickly gestured for him to calm down.

He thought: The poor girl is quite frightened, probably can’t stand.

“Hmph, impolite Asian monkey,” Colonel Osborn gave Hede no face whatsoever, repeatedly pounding the table until the teacups, papers, and ink bottles all started doing jumping exercises. “Soon you’ll be kowtowing to me! Because I’m about to become the first admiral of the Qing Navy! You’ll regret your disrespect today! Just wait! Once we leave this customs house…”

Lin Yuchan was startled: “Qing… Navy? You’re going to be the Qing Navy’s commander-in-chief?”

In her mind appeared the key points her history teacher had highlighted: The Qing government established China’s first modern navy in 1875. Before the 1894 Sino-Japanese War, it was once considered the strongest navy in East Asia…

Wait, that was more than ten years off…

Had the timeline shifted?

She looked at Hede suspiciously. Finding a British person to freeload off a Qing red hat seemed like his idea.

Who knew Hede’s face would darken as he, too, began pounding the table, his pale knuckles instantly reddening.

“Colonel, this is precisely why I asked you here today. The Qing Navy’s commander cannot possibly be you, please understand.”

Osborn flew into a rage, rolling up his sleeves and throwing a feint punch at Hede: “If not me, then some despicable Chinese? Robert, I think you’ve been addled by Qing opium smoke. Do you still remember why you came to China? Do you still remember your homeland in England?!”

“I’m Irish, thank you,” Hede was also quick-tempered, his face flushing red as he loosened his collar to breathe easier. “And don’t forget, yours and your subordinates’ salaries all come from my customs revenue—I can stop them anytime!”

Osborn shrieked, kicked over several chairs, and drew his gun to duel with Hede.

Lin Yuchan was left aside, completely stunned throughout.

Was this the legendary British Empire’s fine tradition—elegant mutual combat?

All that was missing was a wigged gentleman in the middle banging a gavel and shouting: “Order!”

Several customs workers rushed in and, with much persuasion, pulled apart these red-faced, thick-necked gentlemen, escorting Osborn’s group back to their hotel in the Shamian Concession.

Hede was a civilian official after all; he’d seen plenty of paper warfare but rarely got physical with anyone. After being threatened by Osborn’s gun-waving and fist-swinging, he was somewhat shaken, sitting dazed in the conference room.

“Mr. Hede,” Lin Yuchan cleaned up the broken teapot and asked with feigned casualness, “Why were you British fighting among yourselves? Those people were so rude—how did they offend you?”

Just a little instigation. With Hede’s mind in turmoil, he shouldn’t be able to detect it.

Hede glanced at her. The “poor girl’s” expression was innocent, seemingly just curious.

“It’s like this. Your court wants to establish a modern navy, purchasing advanced guns and cannons to suppress rebellion along the Yangtze River.” Since he wasn’t in the mood to work anyway, he organized his thoughts aloud. “I volunteered and provided 650,000 taels of customs silver to purchase warships from Britain.”

Lin Yuchan smiled: “You’re quite enthusiastic.”

Britain wasn’t the only power that could export warships. Hede’s eagerness to take on this task was probably aimed at creating revenue for Britain, too.

He might even be taking kickbacks, she thought with petty suspicion.

Hede raised an eyebrow and smiled frankly: “Yes, buying from anyone is buying. At least I’m more conscientious and responsible, and can guarantee after-sales service.”

Hede didn’t know why he, a deputy chief commissioner of customs, was chatting so pleasantly with a lowly Chinese servant girl. Perhaps it was because her attitude differed from other servants—in her eyes, there was neither fear nor disgust, but rather a calm confidence that made him feel no sense of superiority in her presence.

His compatriots all said Chinese people were ignorant and lacking logical training, unable to understand modern language. But Hede wasn’t so narrow-minded. He knew many intelligent Chinese people and vaguely recognized this ancient country’s potential.

Miss Lin was outstanding even among Chinese people. For a moment, he almost felt like he was facing a governess from Dublin or a freshman from a Belfast girls’ school—unguardedly intelligent and curious, making him very much want to open up in conversation.

“The one sent to Britain to purchase warships was my superior Li Taiguo—an arrogant and reckless country bumpkin from Kent who misinterpreted all my intentions. He kept demanding budget increases and finally brought back a fleet—yes, a modern, well-trained, highly capable fleet, commanded by Colonel Osborn. And they signed an agreement that the navy would only employ foreigners, be commanded entirely by British people, and any orders from the Chinese emperor must be transmitted through the British. Future naval deployments must also be reviewed by the British, plus an annual budget of two million taels of silver…”

Lin Yuchan struggled through this extremely long listening comprehension exercise and couldn’t help being dumbfounded, even becoming confused—this was too arrogant!

This was using Chinese money to support British troops! The mighty Qing Navy, with military authority in foreign hands—if China and Britain went to war again someday, this navy wouldn’t even need to mutiny; they could just turn around and bombard the Forbidden City’s outskirts!

Even the Treaty of Nanjing wasn’t this blatant.

Hede spread his hands: “Among the Chinese officials I’ve dealt with, half agree with this plan and are actively lobbying in court.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

If she were facing a modern Chinese history exam and read this material, she’d probably tear up the test paper.

“Useless trash,” she angrily cursed her compatriots in front of the foreigner. “Sons selling their father’s land without heartache—how hasn’t the Qing collapsed yet?”

Now it was Hede’s turn to be astonished, half-jokingly saying: “A little servant girl who’s committed a capital crime also has insights on this?”

Lin Yuchan shrugged, indicating she didn’t want to talk. The Qing was already half in the coffin—let it struggle however it wanted.

It would do plenty of other ridiculous things later anyway.

But truly, staying silent left her unwilling.

The conference room wall had large windows with thick velvet curtains blocking outside dust and filth, but couldn’t block the clamor.

Osborn’s group had just left and were picking fights with someone outside. An elderly voice kept apologizing: “This humble one deserves death, has angered the master, this humble one deserves death, I kowtow to you, master, please forgive—ah!”

Probably got kicked. After a long while, that voice emerged from the dirt, mumbling, “This humble one deserves death.”

Lin Yuchan suddenly wondered without reason: was this world’s historical trajectory really consistent with what she’d learned in textbooks?

Or was her arrival destined to become part of history?

The Qing’s collapse was inevitable—she felt no sympathy for this decaying regime. But it was precisely the people on this land who would nurture the new world a century later.

Just because the Qing was doomed to collapse, did that mean they deserved unlimited bullying?

A person, even if covered in wounds and barely breathing, would still feel pain from one more cut.

She turned around and said seriously to Hede: “If you want to hear my opinion, then please don’t be angry: I think this matter is highly inappropriate and a great trampling of Chinese sovereignty. You must already sense that the Qing government and officials place great importance on their dignity and authority. Even if some agree to this, they’re temporarily tempted by powerful ships and cannons—it’s not their true intention. Afterward, they’ll surely harbor resentment, which is harmful rather than beneficial to… to Britain’s long-term interests in China.”

Since he was British, she tried to find arguments from his perspective: “I believe the Chinese navy must be independently commanded by Chinese people, at most with British joint management to teach ship operation methods. China having independent defense forces is also good for Britain. After all, Britain isn’t the only country coveting profits in China. If other countries attack China, this navy full of British people needs only to be slightly involved—even passively—and it’s equivalent to dragging Britain itself into international disputes, which isn’t worth it.

“The Qing has already had its doors opened by war, and Britain doesn’t want to bear more war costs. Strengthening economic cooperation and sharing profits is the main theme of the second half of the nineteenth century. Britain already controls Qing customs—seizing military power additionally brings high risk with small returns. Moreover, if this precedent is set, if all Qing elite troops are replaced with British forces in the future, with military pay handled by customs, I’m afraid no matter how you reform, you can’t fill this bottomless pit.”

Just rambling, talking nonsense to get it all out, switching to her native language when English got difficult, treating it like a comprehensive exam question.

Anyway, she didn’t expect Hede to buy it. History’s torrent had its ideas—with just her weak hands, she couldn’t stop the incoming massive waves.

Hede was silent for a long time, his gaze turning to the map of China on the wall, slowly focusing, then giving a suppressed smile.

“Very good. Same as what I think.”

Lin Yuchan suspected her ears were malfunctioning.

Hede’s voice was light, but every word resolute: “China’s military should naturally be controlled by the Chinese people. This is the Qing Navy, not some British people’s private armed force. Over this matter, I’ve argued with Osborn for a week and been called a traitor at least a dozen times. But since I started this, I must see it through properly.”

Lin Yuchan felt somewhat dazed. Wait, how had this thick-browed, big-eyed foreigner also defected from imperialism?

Hede smiled at her: “I depart tomorrow for negotiations, striving to return command of this navy to the Chinese. I don’t know where you learned your oratory skills, but those arguments you just made were excellent. My Chinese writing ability is limited, and my Chinese secretary is rigid-minded, unable to accurately express those complex meanings…

“I think I need a second translator.”

Lin Yuchan’s heart shook as she looked at Hede’s expression—he didn’t seem to be joking.

“Where are you going? Who are you negotiating with?”

“Shanghai. The Chief Commissioner’s Office of Qing Maritime Customs.” He answered without hesitation, obviously having planned this for some time. “Li Taiguo works there. He just returned from Britain after leave.”

Lin Yuchan nodded, completely believing he wasn’t talking nonsense.

In this era, a foreigner coming from afar to China to contribute to the Chinese people’s liberation cause, practicing an internationalist spirit?

She dared not believe it.

But regardless of Hede’s motives, at least in this matter, he wasn’t one of those stabbing the Qing’s decaying body.

With aligned interests, they were temporary friends.

She smiled bashfully: “But I’m not married.”

Hede touched his nose, his mouth curling slyly.

Rules were dead, people were alive. If he was foolish enough to be bound by Qing regulations, he might as well return to Ireland to plant potatoes.

“Well… engaged works too. Do you have a fiancé?”

Lin Yuchan suddenly fell into an eerie silence, her ears growing hot as she recalled the complaint drum outside the yamen and the tobacco scent on the bailiff…

She couldn’t help wondering: was the rebel Su Minguan still alive? Where was he?

If he were alive, he probably wouldn’t authorize her to impersonate his fiancée again.

But he had said rather heartlessly, “Just consider me dead.”

She asked hopefully: “Would a widow work?”