Lin Yuchan locked her little pistol in a cabinet and secured the key to her person.

Regarding being carried into the training ground by Young Master Su during this morning’s “military training,” she felt more embarrassed than anything else—like being caught dozing in class, making her seem insincere and unworthy of the precious time he’d squeezed out for her.

She decided she needed to maintain regular sleep schedules and not be a workaholic if she hoped to survive healthily in the Qing Dynasty for seventy years.

As for Su Minguan, regarding this latest “teaching incident,” he also chose to let it pass lightly, commenting matter-of-factly: “If only my boat could be like those foreign steamships with a steam engine. Those few li rowing against the current nearly killed me. How did I fall asleep?”

Lin Yuchan particularly wanted to ask: “What else?” But since she’d thrown out the “minor warning” herself, she could only lead by example in observing it and play dumb along with him.

Lin Yuchan smiled and commented: “Keep an eye on the market to see if anyone’s selling steamships.”

Su Minguan sighed deeply: “Even selling myself wouldn’t buy one.”

After saying this, he couldn’t help stealing glances at her expression, probably worried she might suddenly turn hostile.

Lin Yuchan didn’t mention it at all.

She didn’t need to pretend to be some paragon of chastity in front of him. Lin Yuchan recalled that since last year’s Little New Year’s Eve, after she’d declared to him “don’t worry about propriety, anything goes” and “but misbehavior must have my consent,” Su Minguan, as a qualified businessman who valued reputation, had indeed tried hard to observe these two principles.

Though sometimes consent was obtained after the fact. But…

For an ancient person, accommodating such an oddball like her was already quite considerate. Of course, she didn’t mind.

Besides, his little transgressions were nothing compared to the collisions she’d had with male classmates in the gymnasium during high school.

In this second lesson, Lin Yuchan only fired a few shots, spending most of the time maintaining the gun—the American Derringer pistol Su Minguan had found for her, manufactured in 1858, was light and portable with gentle recoil. At least during training, it wouldn’t dislocate her joints or cause her to accidentally throw the gun—but advantages came with disadvantages. This compact firearm, lacking a long barrel to refine bullet trajectory, had extremely limited accuracy, with long-range shots missing the target entirely.

It could only effectively wound within five or six zhang, suitable only for self-defense, not for battlefield use.

Moreover, loading ammunition in this model was very cumbersome—it required firing several caps beforehand to clear moisture from the barrel, strictly controlling the amount of gunpowder, and wrapping lead bullets in paper to isolate them from air, otherwise the barrel would explode…

Western firearms of this era were still in their adolescent period of rapid development. New technologies emerged constantly but lacked sufficient application feedback. Various bizarre and fantastic products from different countries and manufacturers operated on completely different principles, requiring long familiarization periods, not like games where you could pick one up and immediately start firing. Each model came with different bullets and gunpowder, with different personalities and weaknesses. Mastering one type didn’t necessarily mean understanding another.

Lin Yuchan carefully memorized all these details and fell in love with the Derringer 1858 at first sight. She thought even if it was troublesome to use, she wouldn’t change it for now.

While fiddling with the percussion caps, she casually asked: “Not cheap, I suppose?”

Su Minguan wouldn’t easily satisfy her curiosity, only smiling slightly: “Not too bad. But if you lose it, I won’t give you a second one.”

Lin Yuchan guessed: “Must be ten taels of silver.”

Didn’t he say it was “hastily prepared without time for preparation,” so it was probably just street merchandise?

Homemade bird guns only cost four or five taels and were much larger, wasting materials.

Su Minguan smiled at her and shook his head.

She stuck out the tip of her tongue and whispered: “Twenty taels.”

“Opening gift, promised to you,” Su Minguan said. “No need to repay.”

She drew a light breath: “Surely not over thirty taels?”

A wealthy farmer’s annual income to buy a small pistol—highway robbery!

Su Minguan: “Your grip is wrong again. Can you focus?”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

She didn’t expect to get an answer from him.

She’d already guessed correctly. Factory price was twenty US dollars each, equivalent to twenty-five silver dollars. But from ordering through contacts to shipping to port took two months, with freight costs generally matching the price. The original manual was water-damaged, so Su Minguan had to hire a knowledgeable technician from a trading house for personal instruction, costing thirty silver dollars in labor…

Who told the Qing Dynasty it couldn’t manufacture its munitions? It deserves to send money to foreigners.

Su Minguan, having spent the money, also found it inexplicable.

He’d haggle with her over a few taels’ difference, yet casually give away something worth nearly a hundred silver dollars. His business acumen needed improvement.

The morning passed amid live rounds, blanks, and dummy bullets. After several hours, Lin Yuchan had only gotten familiar with holding the Derringer and could celebrate successfully firing a single shot.

As for accuracy, non-existent.

Su Minguan arranged to practice again in half a month.

The morning quickly passed. The two sailed back, buying hot food and dishes from villages along the way for another business lunch on the boat, then returned to their respective homes as usual. As for the morning’s near-drift into the Pacific, both tacitly avoided mentioning it again.

Lin Yuchan arrived punctually at Xuhui Tea Shop to collect the newly processed batch of black tea for canning at the “Alley Auntie Packaging Workshop.”

“As a woman, it’s inconvenient for me to carry large amounts of money,” she told Shopkeeper Mau. “Please have someone go to my shop to settle accounts, and don’t forget the delivery receipt.”

Shopkeeper Mau readily agreed: “Of course, of course. Miss, be careful on the road.”

Shopkeeper Mau and his workers were busy and often delayed payment for ten to half a month, giving them ten to fifteen days of extra cash flow. Better than nothing.

Before leaving, behind the door curtain were the usual pair of eager big eyes. Mau Shunniang winked at her.

“Come, come,” Lin Yuchan smiled, “I’ll treat you to xiaolongbao.”

This was their routine. The Xiaolongbao shop’s servers all recognized these two girls. With few customers today, they got a free private room.

But this time, Mau Shunniang had no appetite to eat freely. Biting her chopstick tip, she hesitated for a long time before suddenly speaking.

“Sister Lin.”

Seeing her expression, Lin Yuchan knew there was a problem and asked gently: “Difficulties at work?”

“No.” Mau Shunniang had been developing rapidly lately, her clothes tight. She uncomfortably tugged at her front and whispered, “Could you tell my father… about something…”

“Mm?”

Lin Yuchan didn’t understand her meaning, but opened a xiaolongbao and waited for her to continue.

Mau Shunniang suddenly blushed, fidgeted for a long time, looked around to ensure no one was nearby, then whispered: “My wages for sifting tea for you… Could you tell my father to let me… keep a little? Just a little would be enough…”

Lin Yuchan was surprised: “Wasn’t it supposed to be for your dowry fund?”

The word “dowry” made Mau Shunniang blush again for a long time, repeatedly gesturing for her to speak quietly.

Lin Yuchan naturally knew that in hiring child labor around regulations, wages wouldn’t be 100% in the child’s hands—parents would typically take the lion’s share. Getting a small portion as spending money would already be quite ideal.

She hadn’t expected that when Mau Shunniang spoke up, she learned that all the wages she’d given were taken completely by Shopkeeper Mau!

“Don’t give it all to your father! Keep some for yourself!” She tried to teach the girl bad habits in frustration. “You’re grown up now, there are many places you need money—um, making clothes, buying rouge and jewelry, buying embroidery needles and thread, burning incense during festivals, and when your monthly comes you need clean cloth and sugar water—all these cost money. Just make up any excuse. Your father loves you, wouldn’t he give you a single wen?”

Hearing Lin Yuchan brazenly mention “monthly periods,” the girl thought this sister was simply a devil. Her face burned unbearably, nearly burying it in her knees, regretting asking her out to discuss this.

“It’s… not like that, I…” The girl’s voice was thin as a mosquito’s, mumbling, “My brother is getting engaged. His bride’s family is gentry, demanding high betrothal gifts. The family is pooling money, so my father took all my wages—tell me, could I stop my brother from marrying? I’m not entirely happy about it, but my brother’s marriage is the family’s big event. I can’t say anything. But I… I want to save some money myself, even just a little…”

Lin Yuchan’s mind flashed to Shopkeeper Mau’s clean, smooth, perpetually smiling head, and she snorted softly.

“Your father has shares in the tea business too; he doesn’t lack your few taels,” she said. “He won’t sell his shares but keeps a tight eye on your money. Besides, won’t the bride bring a dowry when she enters the family?”

Mau Shunniang couldn’t figure out the family’s exact financial situation, nodded blankly, and ate xiaolongbao without tasting it, accidentally dipping too much vinegar and souring her mouth.

But speaking of it, according to Qing customs, children themselves were parents’ private property, to be sold at will; if children saved money, parents could take it whenever they wanted without needing a reason.

Mau Shunniang had been earning money recently, inevitably boosting her confidence when facing her father, making her inevitably rebellious.

Shopkeeper Mau probably thought to confiscate her property to prevent the girl from becoming too presumptuous.

Lin Yuchan asked her: “What do you want to save money for?”

“Dowry.” The girl answered without hesitation. These words had been circling in her mind for a long time, and today she finally spoke them to a second person. Her face gradually reddened, her voice grew smaller, but her speech became clearer: “I was betrothed to Brother Ying since childhood—originally a good match. But his father became a secretary in Shanghai County last year, and I’ve been showing my face at the tea shop, so his mother hints that my family isn’t good enough. Sigh, my future mother-in-law is formidable—I’ve feared her since childhood. She says I’m young and have been arranging for Brother Ying to find a concubine recently. I don’t mind that, but if I marry into their family later without bringing an adequate dowry, I’ll be destined for bullying…”

Lin Yuchan looked in amazement at Mau Shunniang’s slightly thick little lips opening and closing, hardly believing it.

In her eyes, this was still just a fourteen-year-old girl who was too shy to ask for a bathroom, yet she spoke of marriage with such systematic understanding. Where had she learned these domestic intrigue concepts?

Ancient people matured early—truly no deception!

“Stop right there.” She asked coolly, “Must you marry? If the work here goes to waste, I’ll charge breach of contract fees.”

Mau Shunniang hurriedly said, “Sister, don’t be angry. Father loves me and won’t let me marry too early—at least wait until after sixteen. But now his heart is full of my brother’s wedding. When I occasionally mention dowry, he says it’s still early, the tea business is prospering, he’ll get rich eventually…”

The Xiaolongbao steamer in front of Lin Yuchan was already empty. She waved and ordered another.

“Little one, I don’t understand—what’s good about marriage? Why are you so anxious?”

Usually, this girl showed no signs of puppy love!

But she’d long recognized that for traditional Qing families, the primary purpose of taking a wife was bearing sons to continue the lineage, secondarily managing household affairs. “Love” was optional. Some great families’ rules even forbade husbands from being too intimate with their principal wives, considering it improper. For romance and passion, concubines and courtesans could completely satisfy those emotional needs.

Like her former employer Wang Quan, who had one wife and one concubine at home—his wife maintained respectful distance while managing the household together; the concubine provided bedroom pleasures and sometimes accompanied him to social functions. The wife and concubine had clear divisions of labor and got along well!

With Lin Yuchan’s values, she naturally couldn’t accept it, but from others’ casual discussion, such arrangements were commonplace.

Looking at the still-childish Mau Shunniang before her, then thinking of Mrs. Wang Quan she’d met a few times—wooden as a puppet—she really couldn’t imagine how the former would transform into the latter within a few years.

But Mau Shunniang had made up her mind, whispering: “How can an unmarried girl stay in her parents’ home forever? I learned this from you—always plan for everything…”

Lin Yuchan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: “I never taught you that!”

She couldn’t help remembering her middle school days. Painstakingly saving pocket money just to buy milk tea, albums, novels, and occasionally textbooks when conscience struck…

How “selfish.”

How carefree.

Mau Shunniang saved money for a future “dowry” that wouldn’t even belong to her.

Lin Yuchan rested her chin in thought for a long time while Mau Shunniang watched her nervously, the xiaolongbao before her growing cold.

“I won’t discuss this with your father,” Lin Yuchan finally said slowly. “We’re formal business partners. My principle is not interfering in others’ private affairs. Besides, your brother’s marriage is a major event—your father wouldn’t delay it because of a few words from an outsider like me, right?”

Mau Shunniang’s little face went pale, a tear hanging at the corner of her eye, about to fall.

She dared tell no one else about these matters. Only Sister Lin, shrewd and capable, seemed able to help her, yet she flatly refused.

Mau Shunniang couldn’t help crying out: “I even helped you when you were bargaining with my father! What’s wrong with saying a few good words to him! Father listens to you now!”

“I’m very sorry,” Lin Yuchan smiled. “Not only will I not mention your dowry matter to Shopkeeper Mau, I’ll also complain to him and dock your wages, because you’ve been absent-minded lately, both speed and quality of tea sifting have declined. I’m keeping track. Dock fifty percent, about right. Since hiring you isn’t in any formal contract, I can dock however much I want.”

Mau Shunniang burst into tears.

Lin Yuchan couldn’t help feeling her heart ache, too. This girl was too impatient.

She didn’t think she was being fierce. She’d seen Boss Su training subordinates—destroying hearts and minds without a single curse word. Listening from the side made her blood run cold.

She was only learning superficially. Without a mirror now, her expression should still be quite gentle, right?

But now she was the boss and couldn’t let employees lead her emotions.

She continued at her own pace: “Starting next month, I’ll deliver that fifty percent wage to your father as agreed. The remaining fifty percent I’ll withhold and keep for you. When you marry or have other legitimate needs for money, come find me. I’ll give you every when without deduction. No storage fees, no interest. You get exactly what you should. If you trust me, let’s pinky swear.”

Mau Shunniang cried while saying “I don’t want it, I don’t want it,” but when she realized Lin Yuchan’s words seemed different from what she’d expected, she’d already soaked the table. She quickly stopped, opened her teary eyes wide, and looked at her in disbelief.

“Sister Lin, you mean—you’ll still give me full wages, with only half going to father?”

“The condition is that father can’t know about this,” Lin Yuchan smiled. “If you can’t keep the secret and father comes to me, I’ll have to hand over all that money and blame everything on you, saying it was all your idea and I just soft-heartedly helped.”

Mau Shunniang broke into a smile through tears: “I can! I can! I won’t tell anyone! But…”

Having spent time with Lin Yuchan, she’d absorbed some basic risk awareness.

“But,” the girl said shyly, “if my sister could write me a note, so I can claim the money with it later…”

Lin Yuchan couldn’t help laughing: “Do you have your room at home? A locked cabinet or drawer that others can’t open?”

Mau Shunniang was startled and reluctantly shook her head.

Ancient children had no rights before parents—what private possessions could they hide?

“And you still want to keep secrets? Silly girl.”

Lin Yuchan thought for a moment, then took out a foreign cloth handkerchief and, recalling childhood games, folded it into a soft, chubby little rabbit.

“If you’re worried, this is the token. But it doesn’t matter if you lose it—I recognize your face.”

Mau Shunniang took it, delightedly examining it repeatedly, suddenly saying: “Sister, how did you fold this rabbit? Teach me!”

Lin Yuchan returned to the Hongkou branch.

Though autumn had arrived, Shanghai lay south of the Huai River with evergreen vegetation. The small garden was blooming luxuriantly, more charming than in spring and summer.

Of the five small rooms, Lin Yuchan chose the best-oriented one as her bedroom, leaving one storefront, one warehouse, one kitchen doubling as Aunt Zhou’s quarters, and one for storing miscellaneous items.

Her bedroom, judged by current middle-class young ladies’ standards, was as simple as a nunnery: no elaborate dressing tables, no boxes stuffed with jewelry and hairpieces, no baskets of fabric, needles, embroidered slippers…

Truly like a young widow whose heart had turned to ash.

The only bright decorative touch was a row of small pouches hanging on the bedroom wall.

Corresponding small paper notes were pasted on the wall: Natural Foot Women’s Mutual Aid Association, Leprosy Charity Fund, Refugee Settlement Fund, Self-Grooming Women’s Guild…

All inspired by her lady customers. She catered to their interests, with increasingly diverse “charitable” causes.

For every can of tea sold, one Wen went into her charity funds. Originally a temporary deception tactic, it had miraculously continued to this day.

The “leprosy” and “refugee” pouches were empty because Shanghai already had many temples, Taoist monasteries, and foreign missionaries conducting specialized charity work. Lin Yuchan regularly donated to them, obtained receipts, and kept them neatly organized.

Many foreign missionaries knew her now, probably thinking she had “spiritual roots.” They always prepared Bibles and urged her to believe in God. Lin Yuchan would leave her copper coins and bid farewell, too lazy to listen.

Temples and monasteries didn’t try to keep her. They didn’t accept women anyway.

In the morally collapsed, chaotic Qing Dynasty, random kindness didn’t necessarily yield good results. Leading any organization herself would more easily invite trouble. With her current strength, this was all she could manage.

As for associations like natural feet and self-grooming women, that money remained untouched, awaiting a useful application.

But even combined, it was only a few hundred copper coins—she didn’t need to embezzle such petty amounts.

Lin Yuchan took out a new pouch from the drawer, found the right spot, and nailed it to the wall. Mau Shunniang’s fifty percent wages would accumulate there from now on.

What to write in the note? After much thought, she wrote: “Jade Rabbit Fund.”

Ancient women who didn’t marry were anomalies after all. Since she couldn’t immediately change the situation, she could at least help the little girl have it easier.

Even if someone accidentally saw it, they probably couldn’t guess its purpose. Perfect.

After finishing this, darkness was falling. The autumn equinox had passed, and days grew shorter.

Lin Yuchan lit a lamp, had Aunt Zhou report the afternoon tea revenue, went through accounts, checked inventory, and finally ate dinner.

Busy until dark, sweaty again.

While bathing, she inwardly shouted: “I want a hot bath!”

This obsession had floated in her mind for months, but she lacked the conditions!

She could have Aunt Zhou heat and carry water for her, but after such a busy day, Aunt Zhou wouldn’t be able to work for half a day. She didn’t have a second housekeeper.

If someone strained their back or fell ill from exhaustion, how sorry she’d feel.

But tomorrow—

Tomorrow, she was going to discuss big business.

Lin Yuchan made up her mind. If it worked out, she’d reward herself with a hot bath.

The next day, Shanghai’s Bund.

Early-rising coolies carried heavy buckets, washing the wide roads on both sides. Hunched old women shouldered baskets of flowers, spreading rich fragrance along the way, selling whole strings for just one wen. Huangpu River water glittered coldly as small sampans sailed alongside large cargo ships, transporting China’s inland wealth to all corners of the world.

Thick sunlight struck the dome of the Maritime Customs building, refracting countless golden rays that dazzled the lookouts on passing vessels.

The steps leading to the main entrance were as tall as a building. A graceful young woman stood at the bottom of those steps, looking up at the portico ceiling like a miniature Thumbelina.

Lin Yuchan lifted her skirt and climbed the steps.

Halfway up, she was blocked. A guard with braided hair in a Western uniform climbed up the steps, gasping as he chased her away: “Are you a servant or delivering food? Use the back entrance! Don’t you know the rules—is someone sick and you’re a replacement?”

Lin Yuchan remained calm, waving a paper slip in her hand: “I have an appointment slip. Last Tuesday, scheduled for the ninth.”

The guard was startled, his first reaction being that she’d picked up this appointment slip somewhere. He leaned in for a look—

“Su Lin-shi, age seventeen, Nanhai, Guangdong native, tea supplier.”

Lin Yuchan smiled: “You brothers must be new? It doesn’t matter if you don’t recognize me. I know this central main entrance is for officials—I should use the side entrance. I won’t be wrong.”

The guards looked at each other, still half-doubting, muttering among themselves: “Where are there female suppliers… did Old Wang write wrong…”

Just then, the side door opened, revealing a blonde, blue-eyed foreign head. This young man was handsome with clear features; only his nose was too large, not quite matching his other facial features, but still quite dashing overall.

“Oh la la, isn’t this lovely, Miss Lin? Long time no see, you’re even more beautiful—I almost didn’t recognize you! It’s wonderful you’re back. Without you, I can’t get motivated for work… Want to try la bise? I’ve been looking forward to this for two months…”

Lin Yuchan smiled slightly and waved upward: “Victor.”

The guards’ jaws dropped as they watched Lin Yuchan climb the steps.

No choice—the Qing Dynasty had its own national conditions. To enter Maritime Customs normally, she still had to borrow foreigners’ influence like a fox exploiting a tiger’s might.