In the afternoon, Lin Yuchan returned to her hotel room and simply washed her face.

The female workers and cooks she shared quarters with had all returned, each showing exhaustion but high spirits as they spread packages of foreign goods on their beds to unpack. Their expressions were similar to tourists returning from shopping sprees on Nanjing Road more than a century later.

Lin Yuchan had bought nothing and had thrown away a handful of money for nothing. But she had no time to think about such mundane matters—her mind was full of:

Yale…

She suddenly remembered that she had indeed seen in historical materials about “the first American prestigious university student,” a Yale graduate who returned home to serve his country…

Her heart jumped. It seemed to be him… because she didn’t recognize the character “闳” at the time, she had skipped through the entire material without remembering many details.

She only remembered that this person seemed to have lived quite long.

She asked herself honestly: as a 21st-century high school graduate with over a hundred years of advanced knowledge, if she applied to Yale today, could she even get an interview notice?

(Of course, Yale University in the 19th century didn’t admit women. But this couldn’t lessen her sense of shame much.)

Whenever she felt slightly contemptuous of this corrupt and declining era, “the ancients” would slap her face with various surprises.

Yale…

This name and the Qing Dynasty together seemed like reflections from two parallel universes.

Just like her current room, where old wooden walls emanated a slight moldy smell, several women with bound feet helped each other undo their hair buns, laughing about how their mothers-in-law at home were displeased with this business trip, only showing approval after seeing the salary amount—their expressions truly laughable. The mottled washbasin gave off the scent of hair oil and osmanthus, pointed embroidered shoes were neatly arranged under the bed, their openings almost as long and wide as their soles, like a row of hungry chicks.

Outside the window, foreign languages suddenly arose as a young Western man, apparently drunk, staggered while explaining to his female companion how to measure the speed of light in a vacuum. His companion wore a tight foreign dress, twisting her wasp waist bound to a handful, listening adoringly like a little bird, occasionally laughing sweetly.

Lin Yuchan wondered: in the gap between these two vastly different worlds, where would she ultimately slide to?

Knock knock knock—someone was at the door.

“Mrs. Su Lin?” The mixed-blood matron keeping night watch at the women’s hotel peeked in. “Someone’s looking for you.”

Lin Yuchan tucked the business card back into her chest and followed the matron downstairs to the entrance, where she saw Hede’s hat-carrying specialist.

Rarely, he wasn’t carrying a hat today and had straightened his back, saying arrogantly: “Mr. Hede summons you to his office.”

“This late?” Lin Yuchan was surprised. “Doesn’t Mr. Hede have official business tomorrow?”

The hat-carrier was impatient: “No rest—a whole group of us are attending to him. He suddenly wants to talk to you.”

By Chinese standards, a grown man seeking to meet a respectable young lady late at night was highly improper. Even the emperor had to flip tablets before seeing his consorts—that was basic respect.

However, everyone knew that foreigners weren’t subject to Chinese patriarchal rules; the Three Cardinal Guides and Five Constant Virtues had no binding force whatsoever. The Maritime Customs had to pay women employees fifty percent above the market rate to recruit anyone, precisely to buy out these properties. Otherwise, what respectable woman would work for foreigners?

Lin Yuchan naturally didn’t care. After all, as a boss, Hede was much more decent than Wang Quan.

Though both were exploitative, there was still a big difference between an enlightened landlord and Huang Shiren.

Hede was assigned an office overlooking the river at the Imperial Maritime Customs. This was the golden location of the future Bund—in the 21st century at this same spot, outside the small windows should be thousands of lights and rows of skyscrapers flashing neon, opening the window would be like possessing all of China.

But now, outside the window was pitch black, with occasional large steamers hooting as they cut through the night, their sides flickering as they sailed into points of starlight.

The office was crowded, with several secretaries and clerks rummaging through boxes and cabinets, servants busy cleaning leftover tea, snacks, and foreign liquor from the desk. Hede was pacing irritably, ink stains on his hands, suddenly grabbing his hair and creating a fluffy fringe ahead of its time by a hundred years.

Lin Yuchan didn’t dare laugh, seeing him like this, but rather felt admiration.

The dignified Deputy Chief Commissioner of Guangdong Maritime Customs, having just recovered from a shipwreck, immediately threw himself into work. Today, his subordinate workers and assistants all took collective leave to tour Shanghai for a day, while he worked overtime in the office until late at night.

“Miss Lin, I’m meeting a very important person tomorrow.” Hede didn’t bother with pleasantries and got straight to the point. “This concerns the ownership of those warships—this meeting absolutely cannot go wrong. I need to chat more with Chinese people to figure out what those high officials are thinking.”

Looking at this situation, Lin Yuchan immediately understood. He was nervous.

Just like modern people facing a difficult task or an impossible deadline, instead of throwing themselves wholeheartedly into work, they looked for excuses to procrastinate—playing with phones, eating snacks, scrolling through normally muted group chats, calling it seeking inspiration.

“Shouldn’t you ask those Chinese officials you know?” Lin Yuchan immediately got into character and asked back. “I don’t know any high officials.”

Hede said gloomily: “Chinese officials? Not one word of truth comes from their mouths. When they mention positions two ranks above their own, they have to pay respect through the air every other sentence. For anything taboo that might affect their career advancement, they’d rather knock out their teeth than say half a word. Staying in such deadly dull places for long, I feel like I’m celebrating my eightieth birthday every day.”

Was it that exaggerated? Lin Yuchan, having never mixed in Qing officialdom, just found it amusing.

“Went shopping today?” Hede suddenly noticed mud and dust on her shoes that she hadn’t had time to clean, casually pointing to a stool across from his desk. “Sit.”

Those who achieve great things can typically judge people. Though Hede only regarded Lin Yuchan as an ordinary maid, he sensitively realized that this young girl of humble status had a very peculiar way of thinking, and faintly possessed a rebellious spirit that others lacked.

Moreover, she had no interested backers, so even if he cursed the Chinese emperor in front of her, he had no worries.

“Seems to be a very high official.” Lin Yuchan indeed showed no particular taboos, thanked him, and sat down. After thinking with her head down, she suddenly remembered the brief news item she’d seen in the newspaper that morning, her eyes lighting up with excitement: “It’s Li Hongzhang! Li Hongzhang wants to see you!”

This time, Hede was genuinely shocked. “You… how do you know?”

He quickly scanned around. Fortunately, the several assistants were all far away, busy with their tasks, and hadn’t heard her small exclamation.

Li Hongzhang had just been promoted to Governor of Jiangsu, a second-rank frontier official. Even Hede himself didn’t dare call him by name directly, or his Chinese advisors would collectively resign in protest.

He thought this girl was truly a newborn calf, unafraid of tigers.

Lin Yuchan’s mind was full of the white-bearded Minister Li from textbook photos, forgetting that Li Hongzhang was currently only in his thirties, and asked excitedly: “Can you take me along? I could disguise myself as a page boy…”

Hede’s face darkened. “Miss Lin, I pay you a salary, not to hire a comedian to amuse me.”

What subordinate of his would be so presumptuous? Even the boldest English girls wouldn’t be so rude.

Lin Yuchan immediately realized her rashness. In this world, time-traveling women had no special privileges.

Fortunately, she was thick-skinned, pretended she hadn’t said that, and asked: “Then how do you plan to negotiate naval matters with Li Hongzhang?”

Hede naturally had his plan and had already rehearsed it with many people. He found that the more feedback he received, the clearer his thinking became. This was precisely why he had called Lin Yuchan.

“First, I must state my position—that a modern nation’s military must never fall under another country’s control. Even if that ‘other country’ is my homeland, Britain. He will naturally suspect my stance, but I’ll convince him that Li Taiguo’s attitude doesn’t represent Britain’s position. The British Empire’s China policy direction has changed—simple, crude military coercion is no longer mainstream in Parliament. I’ll ask him to explain this point to the powerful in the capital court and that beautiful Empress Dowager. Of course, I’ll also appropriately stimulate their nationalist sentiments to a suitable degree…”

Lin Yuchan listened to another super-long listening comprehension session, rubbing her temples with some difficulty.

“So complicated.” She finally couldn’t help yawning.

“Do you think the logic here is too complex for the listener?” Hede was stung by her comment but laughed defiantly. “Governor Li is a professional bureaucrat who passed the imperial examinations, and reportedly accepts Western concepts quickly.”

“I think your approach is wrong,” Lin Yuchan said bluntly for the sake of that one dollar and eighty cents of “recognition.” “It might even backfire.”

Hede became serious: “Why?”

“Because you’re lecturing. And Qing officials care about face—they hate being lectured most.”

Hede was stunned and continued asking unwillingly: “How do you know this again?”

Lin Yuchan was momentarily speechless, finally saying: “All Chinese people know this.”

Tracing it back, it was probably from exposure and influence, conclusions drawn from literature she’d read, historical novels, TV dramas she’d watched, popular science articles, and various history teachers’ lengthy discussions.

Lin Yuchan recalled Li Hongzhang as portrayed by Wang Bing in “Towards the Republic”—though not 100% authentic, scripts for late Qing and Republican themes certainly wouldn’t randomly alter history like palace intrigue, martial arts, or anti-Japanese fantasy dramas. The older generation of artists were all very dedicated, and from character personalities to historical details, there should be considerable authenticity.

Would Li Hongzhang sit quietly in a grand chair, listening attentively to a young, spirited barbarian give him lessons, then have an epiphany and exclaim that hearing his words was better than reading ten years of books? She couldn’t imagine such a scene.

The probability of directly showing him out was higher.

She suddenly asked: “The Li who took it upon himself to use customs funds to buy warships, complete with British troops—is he your superior?”

“Nelson Lay, Li Taiguo.” Hede nodded. “Chief Commissioner of Qing Maritime Customs, former British Consul in Shanghai. A hardline man. In all the Maritime Customs, only he dares point at my nose and scold me.”

Lin Yuchan suppressed a laugh. Daring to act tough with Mr. Hede—this man didn’t have the fate of a domineering CEO, but caught the disease of one.

Of course, on the surface, she remained politely supportive: “Those in high positions with great power are inevitably like this. But it seems Chinese people won’t like him either.”

“They dare be angry but not speak.” Hede nodded.

Lin Yuchan said unexpectedly: “Then he’d better not manage the Maritime Customs anymore.”

Hede: “What?”

Lin Yuchan: “In my opinion, all your diplomatic efforts just now focused on ‘the Qing Navy cannot obey British orders,’ trying to convince your stubborn superior to change his mind—but what if your superior gets swept out and loses his official hat? Wouldn’t the whole matter be resolved easily, without you even having to present your arguments?”

Sure enough, Hede’s expression became colorful like a scholar encountering a fox spirit in Strange Tales.

He was only in his twenties, too—beneath his mature and decisive exterior lay an unextinguished youthful spirit.

“But…” he blurted out, “but that’s impossible. Li Taiguo is a distinguished envoy to China, with much more seniority than I. I couldn’t possibly bring him down.”

“Li Hongzhang could. Why not ask him?”

Lin Yuchan didn’t know if the all-capable Minister Li had handled this matter historically, but she knew Li Hongzhang’s abilities didn’t match his current official position and status.

She also knew that in the subsequent long half-century, the domineering CEO managing China’s Maritime Customs wasn’t Li Taiguo, but the man with fluffy bangs before her.

No matter how arrogant Li Taiguo was now, for Hede, he was just a villain who would eventually be stepped on for advancement.

Could Hede not have thought of replacing him? His momentarily ambitious expression had already betrayed everything.

“I mentioned earlier that Chinese high officials care about face and don’t dare openly oppose foreign proposals. But they like playing power games—’ using barbarians to control barbarians,’ using foreigners against foreigners. Of course, sometimes they’re too clever for their own good and mess things up instead.” Lin Yuchan said. “Mr. Hede, are you willing to change your mindset and be that ‘barbarian’ who ‘controls barbarians’?”

Hede immediately expressed indignation: “Wouldn’t that be like being used by Chinese people?”

Lin Yuchan shrugged: “Then it depends whether you want to be a lone hero fighting a solitary war, or… for your career and ideals, willingly let yourself be used a little. But in my personal opinion, if you plan to mix in Qing officialdom, such mutual exploitation will be inevitable in the future—well, this is also something all Chinese people know.”

Anyway, she was talking without experiencing the consequences. The role of think tanks throughout history was precisely this—only responsible for brainstorming, with final decisions still up to the boss. If things unfortunately went wrong, it was also the boss’s own responsibility.

Mr. Hede’s limitless future had to be fought for by himself—she couldn’t organize cheats and force them on him.

Hede stopped talking, had someone bring brandy, slowly poured himself a glass, took a restrained sip, then looked straight at Lin Yuchan from head to toe, making her feel uncomfortable all over.

…Could Li Hongzhang be next door??

“Miss Lin,” he finally spoke cautiously, “are you… Are you sure you’re a maid from Guangzhou? And not… say, a princess from the capital who escaped from an arranged marriage?”

Lin Yuchan sighed in relief. His imagined backstory was quite detailed.

She didn’t mind him seeing that she was slightly different from others. She found that her initial small goal of “lying low” was truly difficult to achieve. Lying low in this deadly dull world suffocated her.

While ensuring her safety, she needed to appropriately show her edge until she broke through that layer of chaotic, numb barriers and lit up new paths that didn’t originally belong to her social class.

But she also couldn’t be too hasty.

She said half-truthfully: “There used to be a storyteller across from my house who told ‘Romance of the Three Kingdoms’ every day. Anyone listening for a year or so would have conspiracies and schemes rolling off their tongue.”

“I see,” Hede took another sip of wine and bowed slightly with a smile. “Then being literate, able to read accounts and speak English—was that also learned from listening to stories?”

Lin Yuchan was instantly embarrassed: “…The moonlight is really beautiful tonight.”

Hede drained his glass and beckoned someone over.

“Escort Miss Lin out. I need to retire—oh no, prepare a windbreaker, I’ll escort her personally.”

Lin Yuchan hurriedly waved her hands, saying it wasn’t necessary, but all the clerks in the office outranked her and only listened to Mr. Hede. The hat-carrying specialist immediately stood up.

She smiled bitterly: “Mr. Hede, I’m not a fallen princess. You don’t need to flatter me like this.”

Hede fastened his silk formal hat and opened the door for her.