Hede was dressed today as the typical Victorian upper-class gentleman—coat, waistcoat, and trousers in an impeccable three-piece suit, with a metal pocket watch pendant dangling from the waistcoat’s edge. A crisp silk top hat gave any gentleman wearing it a commanding presence. A pearl-studded pin-style tie clip adorned his chest, fixing his silk tie in elegant pleats. His slender hands wore gloves, extending toward her with refined grace.

Lin Yuchan looked at the clusters of twirling little parasols in the ballroom and shook her head apologetically: “I don’t know how.”

She truly didn’t. In her previous life, going from dormitory to classroom, she’d only learned the bunny hop.

“The customs office isn’t Qing territory—you must follow local customs,” Hede laughed heartily. “I’ve decided that the first order of business as the new official will be requiring all female employees to learn ballroom dancing.”

As he spoke, he had already circled her back, giving a gentle pull and spinning three to five steps in succession, merging into the musical rhythm.

“He’s drunk,” Lin Yuchan thought helplessly.

However, Hede was kind enough not to embarrass her, choosing the simplest dance steps. She just had to mindlessly follow along, and after two or three rounds, she glimpsed the basics and no longer felt flustered.

Seeing the new Inspector General dancing with a Chinese partner, the foreigners in the ballroom cheered and made a commotion. Someone shouted, “Cheers!” Then everyone returned to drinking and socializing.

In nineteenth-century Europe, high society had strict social etiquette as complex as ancient Chinese protocols. But those blue-blooded nobles with vast estates generally wouldn’t venture to the Far East. The foreigners gathered in this ballroom came from mixed backgrounds—from cobblers’ sons to barons’ bastards, high and low, refined and vulgar, all mingling together. The only thing they shared was their vigorous ambition to conquer the East.

They didn’t concern themselves with so many formalities—they could settle all troublesome matters with silver. On this wild stage of the Far East, they were the highest echelon of high society.

Outside the fogged glass windows, amazed noses pressed against the panes. Those were Chinese cooks and laborers, hungrily peeping at the ball’s splendor.

The white tablecloths were spotless. Countless wine glasses with remnants were casually abandoned, collected wave after wave by waiters. The ladies wore gorgeous Western gowns exposing snow-white shoulders and bosoms, their waists cinched to a hand’s span, making their appetites delicate—they barely tasted the thick soups, steaks, and desserts, leaving them on silver plates to be immediately dumped in trash bins.

“Director Hede,” Lin Yuchan finally felt uncomfortable and looked up to say softly, “Have you seen the refugees in the settlement? People starve to death every day.”

“Today is my celebration, yet that’s the first thing you say to me.” Hede mockingly glanced at the opposite wine and meat feast at the Chinese banquet. “Would you dare remonstrate with those queue-wearing officials? Admit it—you just think this official is easy to bully.”

“This is called reading people and adjusting accordingly,” Lin Yuchan said frankly. “After Director Hede’s training in the capital, you should understand this principle even better than I.”

Hede laughed, whiskey’s aroma between his lips and teeth: “Second order of business: organize charitable fundraising to win support and goodwill from both Chinese and foreign communities. Thanks for the reminder.”

The chamber music changed style, playing a cheerful, melodious minuet. Hede pushed her waist, indicating she should follow the ladies nearby.

“Also, I haven’t received your contract renewal application,” he leaned close to ask quietly. “Haven’t decided yet?”

Lin Yuchan remained silent, looking down at her feet, concentrating on not stumbling.

Hede was quiet for a long time before saying: “Alright, I apologize for my previous rashness. I thought making you British was the best reward and thanks I could offer, but you refused. I thought for a long time before understanding a simple truth: you simply don’t want to be British.”

Lin Yuchan looked up in surprise. Hede spoke clearly with a gentle tone, as if he were merely discussing the amazing cherry liqueur with his dance partner like everyone else around them.

“Then let me extend the invitation differently. You needn’t bother integrating into foreign circles. You can live freely in Shanghai. When documents and issues need your advisory input, you’ll provide your views, like Chinese officials’ advisors. During my recent trip to the capital, I read a poem: ‘Let talents be employed regardless of convention.’ Believe me, Miss Lin, you won’t encounter a more unconventional employer than me. Confucian culture looks down on women—under Chinese superiors, you could only be a humble maid, while I…”

“No need for such trouble,” Lin Yuchan suddenly said.

Her steps gradually fell out of rhythm, pulled along by Hede in the current, her head somewhat dizzy.

When she first arrived in this world, her spirits were high—she’d rather starve than betray national righteousness. But after more than half a year of “society’s beatings,” she discovered living with dignity was too difficult.

Now her bottom line was unprecedentedly low. Her mind was full of “two thousand taels of silver.”

“Director Hede,” she asked, “may I ask what your monthly salary is?”

Hede had been slightly tipsy with misty eyes, but hearing her discuss this immediately sobered him up. His eyes gleamed as he looked at her, laughing: “Double what it was before—eight hundred taels of silver, plus living allowances.”

If this were before, hearing such an astronomical figure, Lin Yuchan would have found it incredible: eight hundred taels a month?

Now? She thought indifferently, “Oh,”—only eight hundred.

Of course, she couldn’t borrow from him. Hede received Qing’s salary—if she asked him to fund rescuing a rebel, no matter how much he valued her, he’d have to reluctantly cut ties and personally send her to Shanghai County jail.

She asked: “What about your assistants, clerks, deputy officers, commercial commissioners…”

Hede interrupted: “Speak directly.”

While chasing dance steps, Lin Yuchan multitasked, calculating: her nodding acquaintance with Rong Hong made borrowing five hundred taels too presumptuous—three hundred at most, repaid over three years would be safer; customs regulations allowed salary advances of four months maximum; her savings of thirty-plus taels needed to reserve living expenses; oh right, the underworld should accept bargaining—she could plead poverty, try getting a discount…

After fierce calculations, she was still short fifteen hundred taels.

And all these fantasies were based on one premise—

“Director Hede,” she raised her head, crystal chandelier fragments reflecting in her eyes, showing urgent hope, “no need for such trouble, customizing some identity for me. I have only one requirement—I can start as a temporary interpreter, but I want the same promotion opportunities as men, and equal salary. If you’re concerned about propriety, I can dress as a man like I did at the tea shop—I think with my ability and diligence, in three years I should be able to reach a monthly salary of one hundred taels, right?”

By then, no matter how much debt, she could slowly repay it all.

Hede smiled somewhat surprisedly, looking down at her brand-new lace-trimmed skirt hem, suddenly remembering her blood-covered appearance not long ago.

“I said those jobs are too arduous, unsuitable for ladies…”

“Confucian culture looks down on women,” Lin Yuchan mimicked his tone, “let talents be employed regardless of convention…”

Hede’s face inexplicably ached. The string ensemble finished a piece, but he missed the ending note, standing out conspicuously among the pairs of little parasols.

A gray-haired Western gentleman approached with a smile, bowing slightly. He wore pleasant cologne.

“Robert, you’ve monopolized this beautiful Miss Long for three dance pieces. Could you lend her to me briefly? I’ve never danced with a Chinese girl.”

As host, Hede should warmly entertain guests, yet inexplicably lost his temper, saying curtly: “No time.”

He simply stopped dancing, holding her waist and walking to a quiet corner.

“Miss Lin, I’m very willing to make an exception for you, accepting your fantastical, dramatic suppositions, forgetting the charming gender you should be proud of.” He seemed agitated, grabbing a whiskey from a passing waiter and taking a sip. “I don’t know why you’re so eager to earn money. I completely believe you can perform as excellently as men. But you’ve forgotten one point. You can change clothing, hairstyle, walking posture, and speaking tone, but there’s one thing you can’t change. Even if you were truly male, you couldn’t conceal it.”

Lin Yuchan asked: “What?”

Hede didn’t speak, coldly observing her for a while before saying: “Playing dumb.”

“I truly don’t know. Please enlighten me.”

Hede sighed, slowly extending his right hand to gently touch her cheek, then sliding to her eye corner, finally lifting a strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear.

“I hate pointing this out, but… You must know that Qing customs were established to accommodate various nations’ interests. A monthly salary of one hundred taels is the standard for foreign employees. Chinese—Chinese male employees’ monthly salary tops out at twelve taels of silver.”

Lin Yuchan felt stifled, the music in her ears suddenly becoming unbearably noisy.

“Even doing the same work?”

“Even doing the same work.”

“I didn’t know…”

She had inquired about colleagues’ salaries, but those she could contact were either laborers or cooks—low pay was natural.

“I’m very sorry, but these are the rules. You know the government also doesn’t want Qing subjects earning unusually high salaries under foreigners…”

She blurted out: “But you make the rules!”

“These are international society’s rules,” Hede said gently. “Whoever dares break them becomes an enemy of the entire civilized world’s public order and morals. Miss Lin, please understand my position.”

Lin Yuchan laughed coldly: “Ah, the entire civilized world.”

A waiter passed by. She casually grabbed a wine glass, not caring what was inside, and downed a large gulp to suppress her emotions.

Her tongue burned, sweat covering her head. Hede watched her with concern.

Another dance round ended. She imitated the surrounding ladies, lifting her skirt to curtsy lightly to her male partner.

“Thank you for the hospitality. I’ll organize the handover work before year’s end.” Her voice was cheerful, but her expression was taut. “Oh, don’t forget the fundraising!”

The jacket and skirt restricted her stride. She quickly crossed the ballroom center and pushed through the door.

Hede chased after, somewhat regretting his slip of tongue, but still patiently explaining: “Twelve taels of silver is already wealthy by Chinese standards, isn’t it? Besides, I can allow you some side income opportunities… This is what you requested—you wouldn’t accept my previous offer…”

Lin Yuchan swallowed the alcohol, burning her tongue, and took a deep breath.

“Don’t get angry with ancient people,” she thought. “The Internationale’s realization is still far off.”

The corridor’s cold air helped her calm down considerably. She turned with a smile.

“Director Hede, if you haven’t decided how to light your third fire, I have a suggestion—Shanghai mixes Chinese and foreigners, with a much more complex commercial environment than Guangzhou, making illegal smuggling much easier. I’ve read the archives. During Li Taiguo’s tenure, he colluded with smugglers for considerable kickbacks. As you initially take charge of Jianghai Customs, you’d best target the transportation industry—investigate… well, for instance, there’s Yixing Shipping that’s very suspicious. These unruly people are accustomed to lawlessness. If you go, don’t forget to bring soldiers.”

Hede hadn’t expected her thoughts to jump so quickly. After pondering briefly, his face showed renewed amusement.

“How do I feel this official is about to be used by Chinese people again?”

Lin Yuchan bowed with a smile: “Entirely voluntary.”

Exiting through Jianghai Customs’ side door, Lin Yuchan spotted a familiar figure.

“Mr. Rong,” she found it somewhat amusing, approaching to greet him. “You also left early?”

Rong Hong secretly removed his fake queue to scratch his head, looking utterly hopeless.

“Chickens talking to ducks, chickens talking to ducks! I want to go back to America!”

Lin Yuchan: “Mr. Rong, I have a matter to request, I wonder…”

Rong Hong fastened his hat and said seriously: “Fine, but you’ll need to write an IOU and pay market-rate interest.”

Lin Yuchan laughed: “I’m not borrowing money. I’d like to ask another favor.”

Rong Hong asked curiously: “Shall we discuss this at my shop?”

“Good,” Lin Yuchan followed him. “Your hunting rifle—could you lend it to me for… a look?”