The wind chimes rang as a brown-haired lady walked into the flower garden arm-in-arm with a middle-aged gentleman, chatting and laughing. The clerks quickly opened the door and greeted them in English.
Behind them followed a silent Chinese maidservant, bent over with a bundle of clothes in her arms and a basket of fruit hanging from her elbow, completely like a human shopping cart.
Lin Yuchan hurriedly stood up from the small sofa and moved to stand by the merchandise shelves, pretending to be an intern.
The lady held her tightly corseted waist and giggled coquettishly: “These people speak English quite fluently, making me feel a bit like I’m back home. Listening to that noisy, grating Chinese every day nearly makes my chest pains flare up again.”
The gentleman laughed: “Actually, you could try acupuncture – this miraculous Eastern art once freed me from the troubles of eczema.”
The lady was young and appeared to be dressed as an unmarried woman. This gentleman seemed to be a measured suitor.
“Oh no, thank you,” the lady said. “I would never let dirty Chinese hands touch me all over.”
All the clerks in the trading house had at least level-four listening comprehension and understood every word clearly.
Chang Baoluo’s face darkened slightly as he looked, signaling the clerks to attend to the customers.
It wasn’t the first time they’d heard foreigners speak rudely. Stay calm, stay calm.
If Rong Hong were here, with his vast knowledge and refinement, he could casually show off a few lines of Latin and easily make the foreigners submit; but now there were only a few small fries in the trading house – what else could they do but play the grandson role?
Chang Baoluo smiled sheepishly and personally welcomed the guests. Following the principle of ladies first, he pointed to the most luxurious small sofa and smiled: “Please have a seat, madam. Our shop has abundant merchandise, all of superior quality. Please allow me to introduce them to you slowly…”
But the lady wrinkled her nose. She had seen Lin Yuchan just get up from that sofa.
“Ugh, a sofa that a Chinese woman sat on…”
In her opinion, Chinese people were unhygienic, never bathed, had countless parasites on their bodies, and she dared not have much contact with them. She always wore gloves when going out, changing them twice a day.
The foreign gentleman, however, looked at Lin Yuchan and smiled: “This girl is clean and very polite – it’s fine.”
Lin Yuchan gave them an exaggerated fake smile for one second, then lowered her head to play with her braids.
The other clerks had originally planned to give enthusiastic introductions, but seeing the attitude of these two, they became slack one by one, pointing at the shelves and saying: “All our goods are here, please take your time looking.”
The brown-haired lady wrinkled her nose. The goods were indeed all quite good, but without anyone introducing them, she thought the clerks probably only knew a couple of ceremonial English phrases and couldn’t say more complex things.
She carefully put on gloves and toyed with a box of exquisite smelling salts, smiling at her companion: “Oh, what a surprise. This is the brand I often used when recuperating on the Isle of Wight.”
The Chinese maidservant said nothing, keeping her head down and chest in, following her mistress around.
…
Chang Baoluo quietly walked to Lin Yuchan’s side and, after hesitating for a long time, said softly: “Little miss, this tea-selling competition… should we postpone it to next time?”
Lin Yuchan didn’t look up and smiled: “Manager Chang doesn’t want to take on the challenge?”
Chang Baoluo’s face darkened as he squeezed out a voice of barely contained patience from his throat: “I want them to leave quickly.”
Lin Yuchan looked up at the literary youth Manager Chang. He wasn’t much older than Su Minguan, but his temperament was like that of an elderly person – mild and reserved. Even when angry enough to blush, his face habitually carried a peace-making smile. With the foreigners stirring up anger in his heart, he swallowed it all down, losing all fighting spirit and only hoping they would disappear quickly.
He entered the wrong profession… he should go to Xujiahui to preach.
However, Lin Yuchan suddenly understood why, despite Boya’s clerks collecting wages without working properly, she didn’t find them disagreeable.
Because they shared the same sensibilities as Rong Hong, they were all a bit “pretentious.”
Foreigners living in the concessions were used to being fawned over obsequiously, each treating themselves like emperors and empresses; but at Boya Trading House, everything was different – except for the few with good breeding and understanding, most foreigners inevitably felt greatly slighted, even though Boya’s clerks were just providing normal service.
Everyone has vanity – who doesn’t want to be treated like a master everywhere? When foreigners encountered those pigtailed slaves who ran around being attentive and thoughtful, their foreign hearts were greatly pleased, naturally making them more likely to spend money.
Boya Trading House’s dismal business had many causal chains, one factor being that the people here couldn’t quite kneel down.
Lin Yuchan lit candles for them in her heart.
She had long realized that when dealing with foreigners in the Qing Dynasty, you either maintained self-respect and dignity, standing firm; or admitted your inferiority and knelt to make money first.
Neither path was easy. Moreover, under the heavy pressure of survival, many small people as lowly as ants had no right to choose.
But the worst was being half-kneeling and unable to kneel completely – neither up nor down like doing horse stance, most uncomfortable.
…
The brown-haired lady was still chattering away, like a little girl picking mushrooms, taking down half the shelf of smelling salts to look at, then placing them randomly anywhere.
When walking, her dress was too long and swept several carpets and floor mats into disarray. She casually kicked them aside.
Boya’s clerks were doing horse stance in their hearts – neither flattering nor driving away was right, extremely torturous.
Lin Yuchan silently walked out, half-squatted on the ground, and efficiently collected the smelling salt boxes back onto the shelves one by one.
She decided to take on the challenge and see if she could make money while standing.
The lady quickly noticed her and laughed while covering her mouth: “Chinese men are all lazy, but the women are quite diligent.”
Lin Yuchan was pondering how to draw her attention to the tea when suddenly the lady cried out first.
“Look, look at her feet! God, she has normal feet! How rare!”
The gentleman couldn’t contain himself either, walked closer a few steps, then exclaimed in a low voice: “This must be a child from a missionary family. My God, to have the courage to oppose that disgusting old custom, her parents must have devout faith.”
Lin Yuchan: “…”
She couldn’t refute the phrase “old custom.” There were many things about Chinese people that foreigners looked down upon, most being arrogant prejudices, but this one point she had to agree with.
But to discuss her feet so unscrupulously in front of the person concerned – were they treating her like a little dog?
…She was starting to not want to make this money.
But this thought only flashed for a moment. She stood up and smiled openly at the brown-haired lady.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said in English. “Not submitting to the bad custom of foot-binding indeed requires withstanding much pressure.”
The lady giggled and commented to her companion: “Her English is quite good.”
And she went along with calling foot-binding a “bad custom.” The two foreigners were very happy, feeling they saw seeds of civilization and the brilliance of the times.
The lady’s curiosity was aroused, and she asked: “Do Chinese people ostracize girls like you?”
“Of course,” Lin Yuchan nodded, half-truthfully making things up, “For example, many wealthy families won’t marry girls with natural feet like me, nor will they hire us as weavers, maids, or nannies. We must be self-reliant and earn our own money…”
She casually pointed to the tea canisters on the shelves, “For instance, the patterns on these canisters were all hand-painted by girls like me, not by export painters. We rely on doing this physical labor to earn meager wages to support ourselves.”
The lady looked at a tea canister with surprise, examining the artwork on it, which indeed seemed different from the common export painting styles on the market.
“Painted by Chinese women? How much money can you earn painting this?”
Lin Yuchan lowered her head with a shy smile and said, “Not much. We just help and support each other.”
Of course, this was all nonsense. Inspiration came from Aunt Hong and their self-combing women’s association. She reinvented herself in one minute, improvising a “Natural Feet Girls Mutual Aid Society.”
To survive in the Qing Dynasty, lying was an essential skill. Although Lin Yuchan was only a beginner in this art, since English wasn’t her native language, occasionally stumbling or having odd intonation was normal and didn’t arouse suspicion.
She lay with peace of mind, feeling no psychological pressure. Who told the foreigners to think of themselves as masters? Harsh words hurt more than lies.
The lady believed it completely and praised: “What a group of ambitious girls! God, how can I help you? Seeing the streets full of small-footed Chinese women is truly disgusting.”
In the distance, Chang Baoluo coughed.
The other clerks also showed indignant expressions.
Their mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters all had small feet – this foreign woman was cursing entire families with one insult!
Lin Yuchan smiled slightly. No choice – when the knife doesn’t stab your own body, it doesn’t hurt.
She could also see that although the lady spoke without restraint and had many prejudices and discriminatory views, her basic humanity wasn’t bad.
Although foreigners generally belonged to the colonial oppressors, when it came to individual character, they couldn’t be judged uniformly.
Western men who came to China were mostly actively seeking gold, harboring ambitions and dreams in their chests, even carrying bloody malice. Many appeared refined and gentle on the surface but hid daggers behind smiles, finding every opportunity to quietly carve up the remaining flesh of this giant dragon.
As for Western women, they still had no right to participate in politics at this time, and generally wouldn’t do business alone. They were mostly naive little women in their teens or twenties, either coming with fathers stationed in the Far East, or newlyweds following husbands twice their age with eyes wide open to foreign lands, their activities limited to a few blocks in the concessions. Their various negative impressions of Chinese people mostly came from deliberate vilification in Western public opinion and exaggerated frightening by those around them.
Many noble ladies even enthusiastically did charity work – though it was all that kind of condescending charity show, at least the starting point was good.
Lin Yuchan judged that this brown-haired lady also belonged to the scatter-brained, naive type and could still be salvaged.
“Your help is welcome,” she thus smiled warmly. “For every canister of tea sold, we save a copper coin to help more girls avoid the tragic fate of foot-binding disability. Are you willing to help our ‘Natural Feet Mutual Aid Society’?”
The lady looked thoughtful as she opened a tea canister and gently sniffed.
Lin Yuchan took the opportunity to introduce it, saying the tea quality was also superior, all carefully roasted by conscientious craftsmen, and so on. Anyway, she wasn’t embarrassed to praise her goods.
The gentleman beside them was somewhat impatient and said quickly in a low voice: “This might be another Chinese trick. They can sell their mothers to cheat your money. Miss Compton, you have a kind nature – don’t let them take advantage of you.”
But Miss Compton said coquettishly: “Are this girl’s natural feet fake then? – Besides, this tea is quite good. My father needs large quantities of Chinese black tea for next month’s newspaper staff gathering.”
Miss Compton readily paid and bought five canisters of tea. Then she acted coquettishly and persuaded the gentleman beside her to also buy five canisters.
“Little girl, are you sure part of the money I pay will be donated to your… mutual aid society?”
“Of course.” Lin Yuchan efficiently packaged for them, tying several tea canisters together. “If you’re satisfied with our products, you can promote them more in your social circles. Bulk purchases get discounts. This is our business card.”
…
Miss Compton left with giggles. Lin Yuchan seriously counted the money.
Chang Baoluo frowned as he kept accounts, still having some criticism of her sales methods.
“Little miss, you… You can’t deceive people…”
Lin Yuchan gave him a pure smile.
Still doing horse stance.
“I didn’t cheat them,” she said. “The tea is high quality, the price is reasonable, and that lady even feels she did a good deed – doubly satisfied. What’s the problem?”
Chang Baoluo quickly lowered his head to glance at her trouser legs.
“But… but there’s no such thing as a Natural Feet Mutual Aid Society in Shanghai…”
“There is now.” Lin Yuchan counted out ten copper coins from the sales revenue and solemnly placed them in a small bowl. “The membership… is just me for now. If you know other suitable candidates, please introduce them.”