In the carriage, the female guests hadn’t sobered up yet and were still chattering away.

Su Minguan still stood upright under the red lanterns of the eaves, stepping on his own faint shadow. Lin Yuchan couldn’t see his face clearly, but felt his gaze continuously lingering on her until the carriage turned a corner and ginkgo trees blocked her view.

Lin Yuchan sat quietly with her head down, deep in thought.

From the first day she had dropped into the Qing Dynasty, she had faced all kinds of choices.

Whether to accept the old pastor’s seminary offer, whether to cut ties with her opium-addicted father, Young Master Qi’s white moonlight substitute, the tea farmer’s debt-paying little wife, Hede’s promise of exceptional promotion…

Some opportunities she had refused without hesitation; some she had let pass, occasionally regretting them.

But no matter what, at least stumbling along all the way, she was still alive now and could eat her fill and dress warmly – this already exceeded her initial expectations.

Only today’s invitation from Su Minguan left her unclear why she hadn’t immediately agreed.

She had thought before that in the current social culture, no Chinese boss would properly hire a woman as a helper. The only exception might be Rong Hong.

Was Su Minguan a second exception?

Or was he just temporarily short-handed? If a male accountant of her same level applied later, would she be swept out the door?

Given their current relationship, it shouldn’t be that bad. But Su Minguan had also reminded her not to think too well of others, including himself.

This reminder probably wasn’t without basis.

Furthermore, she had psychological trauma from those thugs and ruffians at Yixing Shipping. She didn’t dare replay yesterday’s bloody battle, sealing that hall of carnage deep in her memory. Though she believed Su Minguan could control the situation, if she had to be the lone red flower among all the green leaves, surviving in the cracks among a pack of wolves, only able to cling tightly to Young Master Su’s thigh alone, their employment relationship would inevitably change flavor over time.

Of course, Su Minguan wouldn’t think that far ahead – men wouldn’t encounter these problems. His invitation was well-intentioned.

But she had to be a bit selfish and plan more for herself.

If choosing under equal conditions, she’d rather work for herself. At least she’d have freedom to advance or retreat, with the rhythm in her own hands.

Even if starting would be much more difficult.

She thought she’d better wait for Rong Hong’s news first.

The carriage stopped. Lin Yuchan bid farewell to her fellow townspeople and followed the house numbers to find her new residence.

Before moving out of the customs dormitory, she had carefully looked for cheap rental housing in Shanghai. Fortunately, the customs had many connections, and soon someone recommended a stone gatehouse near the racecourse owned by their distant relative. The landlords were a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, both widows, renting out a small room of good quality and low price.

Generally speaking, Chinese rental housing within the concessions was a bit more expensive than outside. But with wars raging throughout Jiangsu and Zhejiang, Shanghai was like a small lake surrounded by mountain fires, suffering from smoke and scorching in its tranquility. Outside the concessions could be war zones. There were no intact residences in the suburbs, and tree branches were covered with knife marks and bullet holes – Lin Yuchan didn’t dare risk her little life and preferred to hunker down in this safe harbor.

She thought no wonder those Republican-era celebrities and intellectuals all liked living in concessions – the poor rented stairwells, the rich bought small foreign-style houses. It wasn’t that everyone worshipped foreigners, but rather that Chinese territory outside the concessions completely couldn’t guarantee Chinese citizens’ life and property safety.

Lin Yuchan took time to view the room – generally quite clean, though not comparable to the customs dormitory, it was much better than the servant girls’ communal beds at the Qi mansion. The surrounding security was also acceptable. The racecourse was a place for foreign entertainment that employed many nose-in-the-air bodyguards, so ruffians and thugs didn’t dare cause trouble at night.

Of course, places where foreigners gathered would occasionally see incidents of Chinese being bullied. But since Rong Hong’s beating of the police made the newspapers, the foreign masters had somewhat restrained themselves – after all, they prided themselves on being civilized and advanced and needed basic face.

The two landlords, Mrs. Wu-Li and Mrs. Wu-Yang, were both honest, traditional Jiangsu-Zhejiang women who usually made some embroidery to sell, maintaining subsistence.

The house’s only flaw was that two enormous memorial tablets were enshrined in the center of the entrance. The Wu family father and son had been dead over ten years but still presided like heads of household, one left and one right, looking down condescendingly at everything in the hall.

The middleman had kindly urged them to move the tablets to an inconspicuous place, but the two widows strictly observed propriety and refused to move them. So the rent dropped again and again with no one interested, until Lin Yuchan picked up the bargain at only 180 wen per month – the same price as the old city outside the concessions.

Though Shanghai was developing rapidly at this time, housing prices weren’t yet so insanely expensive and could even be considered quite cheap.

Of course, there were also twists in the process. Seeing she was a single woman and an outsider, the landlord’s mother-in-law and daughter-in-law initially shook their heads.

“Miss,” mother-in-law Mrs. Wu-Li asked, “where is your man? What does he do for a living?”

Lin Yuchan didn’t understand her meaning and was about to say “I don’t have a man” when she suddenly caught the old woman’s somewhat disdainful and wary look and understood.

Due to the warfare, huge numbers of Jiangsu-Zhejiang refugees had flooded into Shanghai. Many lower-class women without male protection had been forced into the flesh trade for survival. Red-light districts inside and outside the concessions had surged in recent years, and security in nearby areas had also deteriorated sharply.

The landlords naturally didn’t want a secret prostitute living in their house – their dead husbands were watching from heaven!

Though such prostitutes were pitiful and their character not necessarily bad, they were still a group rejected by all of society. Lin Yuchan had to draw clear boundaries and prove her innocence.

She smiled frankly: “My man died. I came to Shanghai to do small business to make ends meet.”

She’d forgotten to wear the small white flower today, but fortunately had wrapped a plain waistband. She quickly smoothed her clothes to show them.

The bothersome “Mrs. Su-Lin” on the customs document now played a huge role. Mrs. Wu-Li couldn’t read, so she had someone read the gist, and her brow relaxed.

“Ai ai, widowed at such a young age, how pitiful…” The old woman’s attitude suddenly became kind as she began chatting: “Are your father and brothers still around? Planning to remarry?”

Strangely, in this society, evaluating a woman’s moral character was often linked to men. For instance, a teenage girl like Lin Yuchan, if unmarried yet moving about outside, would have questionable conduct. But if she’d been married once-even if only for a few days, even if widowed before consummation-she immediately became a proper woman, as if stamped with a pork certification, designated honest, with understandable reasons for showing her face on the streets.

Lin Yuchan found this logic quite ridiculous. But since these were the game rules, she could only hold her nose and play along.

She put on a sorrowful expression and answered: “Father and brothers are all gone. I won’t remarry – I’ll keep faith with him.”

The two women sighed for a while and lectured her: “Young girl, it’s still not good to have no man to depend on at such a young age. We know you have feelings for him, but feelings can’t be eaten. Can you bear the gossip over time? – Don’t worry, Auntie will keep an eye out. If there’s a suitable local man, you should also consider meeting him. The rules here in Shanghai are loose – no one’s foolish enough to observe the full three years…”

Lin Yuchan: “??”

What logic was this?

What happened to priceless chastity arches and glorious widowhood?

She didn’t understand. Anyway, perhaps because she was also a widow with a shared fate, the landlords seemed to have a good impression of her. They also asked if she could cook and weave.

Lin Yuchan responded vaguely while secretly pulling down her trouser cuffs.

Mother-in-law Mrs. Wu-Li was chattering when she suddenly glimpsed a pair of enormous cloth shoes she’d never seen before and choked urgently. Mrs. Wu-Yang quickly patted her back.

The two women exchanged sympathetic glances, feeling their previous chatter had been wasted – with such deformed big feet, which man would be blind enough to want her?

At her age, they couldn’t be rebounded – her life was ruined.

No wonder she couldn’t forget her “deceased husband.” He didn’t even mind these feet – he must have owed her from a previous life.

Lin Yuchan took the opportunity to tell the middleman: “I won’t bargain – this rent is just right. Oh, if I add another 200 Wen for meals, could you include food?”

Since she’d gotten a bargain on rent, she might as well be generous with meal expenses. Sure enough, hearing this, the landlord mother-in-law and daughter-in-law were delighted, completely forgetting the topics of big feet and matchmaking, feeling this girl was really quite nice, and bustled about arranging the contract.

…

Lin Yuchan bid farewell to the two landlords and moved her luggage upstairs.

The Wu family father and son looked at her coldly from their portraits.

“Hello there, two master uncles,” socialist good youth Lin Yuchan cheerfully greeted the memorial tablets in her newly learned dialect. “If you know the underworld, tell your wives in dreams – never move from here in the future, just wait for this place to rise to 100,000 per square meter.”

She opened her luggage and changed into a newly bought Western nightgown – she still couldn’t get used to traditional undergarments. One of the countable few benefits of transmigrating to the late Qing was that in daily necessities, she could occasionally find substitutes that fit modern habits.

And she wouldn’t be taken for a demon. At most a freak.

Night deepened. Wild dogs barked under the eaves, and drunk police scolded people. In the distant racecourse, cheering never ceased, and saxophones played melodious folk songs.

Amidst all these chaotic sounds, Lin Yuchan slept soundly and arrived at the first year of the Tongzhi era.

The days after New Year were very busy. Chinese people visited relatives and held banquets, foreigners gambled on horses and held dance parties, and even beggars and refugees could go to Jing’an Temple for free porridge.

Lin Yuchan was using her feet to measure every lane in Shanghai.

Where would be suitable for opening a shop…

Like Guangzhou, Shanghai had no shortage of women who showed their faces to make a living. They conducted business in two ways: either owning their storefronts selling snacks, tea, and such, or being mobile vendors, sleeping rough under the stars – very hard work.

But regardless of which, one thing was common: they had to have a fierce soul.

Unreasonable customers, soldiers and police cadging benefits, ill-intentioned drunkards, ruffians who bullied the weak and feared the strong…

Additionally, most shops in bustling areas would inevitably fall within some gang’s sphere of influence. “Protection fees” were fixed monthly expenses.

Of course, they wouldn’t call it so bluntly – generally, it would be cloaked in legal garb.

For instance, in a fabric shop near St. Mark’s Church, Lin Yuchan heard the boss and his wife quietly discussing: “…We need to prepare Yixing’s shipping fees. Why haven’t they come this month – they’re not going to raise prices, are they…”

Lin Yuchan suddenly realized. She had to do business within “Yixing’s” sphere of influence!

Current Yixing was “reorganizing and suspending operations” – no more Boss Chu running around smashing shops and extorting money.

This wasn’t clinging to coattails – this was reasonably using intelligence.

But she had no idea which areas Yixing controlled.

On the fifteenth of the first month, Lin Yuchan dressed warmly and knocked on the door of Yixing Shipping.