The court tribute receiver very sincerely examined the number tags on the clothes in Su Minguan’s hands, his face wreathed in smiles.

“Total comes to twenty-three taels and three qian. I’ll round it up for you—thirty taels, and you can take these gourd earrings and jade bracelet too. This jewelry came with the clothes. When they reach their new home, we won’t separate them, giving the young lady complete good fortune.”

The clerk’s eloquent words went unheard by Lin Yuchan, who only caught three characters from that pile of talk:

“Thirty taels?” Her eyes widened.

She’d thought this was just casually browsing second-hand goods, but this clerk was bullying customers with his big shop, opening with auction house prices!

One hundred jin of Boya brand Grade A tea!

Two Lin Bamei’s worth! Two years of the *North China Herald*!

Two widows’ stone gate house, low-rent housing—fifteen years’ rent!

Just one set of plain clothes! Not even including shoes!

More expensive than everything in her wardrobe combined!

The maroon water chestnut shell outfit she’d just made, brand new with double fabric, had only cost five taels for the whole set!

The “Lotus Pond Moonlight’s” attractiveness immediately halved in her eyes, and she felt the urge to bargain.

But not knowing pawnshop customs and habits, she looked inquiringly at Su Minguan, meaning: where to start bargaining? Cut in half or by twenty percent?

Who knew Su Minguan would collude with the clerk this time, not even looking up as he said: “Wrap it up.”

Then he turned his head, seeing her look of utter despair, his eyes showing slight amusement as he asked with restraint: “Not satisfied?”

Lin Yuchan was about to cry, looking at him pitifully with eyes more watery than ever before.

He watched the court tribute receiver remove the number tags, glancing imperceptibly and saying quietly: “The purchase prices are written in code on those tags. He only added a thirty percent markup—not much. Got to let people make some profit. This outfit is missing two carved jade mother-and-child hidden buttons, not making a pair; otherwise, the price would be fifty percent higher. You can buy small jade buttons to replace them when you get back—hidden buttons aren’t exposed anyway.”

Lin Yuchan asked with a worried frown: “Official families making clothes—is this the standard cost?”

Su Minguan was surprised: “How could that be? I told you we’re here to find bargains.”

Lin Yuchan: “…”

Revolution. Everything needed a revolution.

But people’s fat and blood molding in warehouses wasn’t useful either. Buying it back, rounded off, was also contributing to the national cause, playing the long game to catch big fish. Maybe she could even get Hede to reimburse her afterward.

Thinking this way, she gritted her teeth and stamped her foot, opening her small purse—

A few scattered silver coins. Who carried thirty taels of silver while strolling the streets?

Su Minguan calmly pulled out his money pouch, waiting for the court tribute receiver to weigh the silver on scales.

“I’ll lend it to you.”

Borrow away, Lin Yuchan thought with resignation. When you owe too much money, you become numb. Between mortgages and loans, she already owed him several hundred taels—thirty more didn’t matter.

Until leaving the pawnshop, she remained dazed. Outside, it was already getting dark, and she didn’t notice, nearly tripping into a ditch.

Thirty taels of silver!

Su Minguan pulled her back, sympathetically watching her space out. Finally, probably feeling somewhat sorry, he humanely offered: “That plump outfit you just made—I’ll buy it at the original price. At least get you some money back.”

Lin Yuchan was heartbroken but still considered his interests, saying weakly: “No need, don’t waste money…”

“As long as it’s used on the right occasion, nothing is worthless.” Su Minguan laughed heartily. “Brother Peng’s son is getting married next month, and I haven’t bought a congratulatory gift yet. His old mother is about your size.”

Lin Yuchan instantly revived, chased him for half a street, released her pent-up frustration, then hugged her “Lotus Pond Moonlight” and went home happily.

It was the Double Ninth Festival, and an autumn rain swept through Jiangzhe, delivering winter’s declaration of war.

Fallen leaves scattered on the ground, the number of washer-women in Suzhou Creek sharply decreased, stray dogs on the streets began huddling for warmth, and corpse carts in the settlements increased their frequency, entering the busiest season of the year.

Lin Yuchan rose early, no time to light the stove. Putting on this hard-won respectable outfit, she commanded: “Aunt Zhou, are things packed?”

Buttons sewn on, small leather shoes bought, clothes simply washed—not daring to put them in water, slowly wiping with a wet cloth dipped in soap powder, counting as dry cleaning.

Fortunately, a widow’s hairstyle could be arranged quite simply, not requiring her to struggle with styling, otherwise she’d waste another hour.

Wearing this outfit, she counted as proper middle class, or barely qualified as lowest-tier “upper class.”

Originally, she’d wanted to grit her teeth and subscribe to a year of newspapers for next year. Now that was gone—two years of newspapers lost…

Going out naturally required bringing a personal maid. Fortunately, there was one ready at home. But wealthy households had clear divisions of labor. Aunt Zhou was only from rough servant origins, so some behavioral details could only be copied superficially. But by Lin Yuchan’s standards, not too many flaws showed. Most people shouldn’t suspect anything.

At least she knew that hands helping Lin Yuchan up and down should wear gloves, preventing hand oils and dirt from ruining the fabric. Of course, in Aunt Zhou’s eyes, she only felt Lin Yuchan’s new clothes were “so beautiful,” but couldn’t specify how beautiful.

Halfway, they met up with Miss Aldrich’s carriage. The female missionary’s traveling entourage was much grander than Lin Yuchan’s: a dedicated driver and two female servants following, responsible for making tea and reading aloud to relieve boredom on the road.

The difference was that she spent her parents’ inheritance. Lin Yuchan’s “borrowing” debts were piling up.

They smoothly reached Songjiang Prefecture as the sun rose high.

Inside and outside Sheshan were bamboo groves everywhere, with a peaceful environment. Clusters of Buddhist temple roofs are scattered harmoniously among the green shade.

Foreigners had also taken a fancy to this treasured land. A small French chapel was built at the mountain’s foot, with little incense burning, only two cats sleeping under the Virgin Mary statue at the entrance.

Puzhao Buddhist Temple was located at the mountain top, already surrounded by a circle of family guards and servants, with curtains creating a dedicated passage for the master’s wife to walk up and burn incense.

Many commoners gathered to watch upon hearing the news. But they could only see some rough servant girls and old women, plus shadowy figures behind the curtains. The people were full of curiosity, guessing how beautiful the official’s wife was, how small her feet were, saying the accompanying maid looked graceful but too thin—clearly not good for childbearing, probably wouldn’t find a husband back in their hometown.

Lin Yuchan couldn’t help thinking of Grandmother Jia in *Dream of the Red Chamber* criticizing folk dramas and novels, saying those authors were limited by poverty in their imagination: “How could proper young ladies from wealthy households so easily encounter common boys, bringing only one personal maid?”

Cao Gong’s writing was indeed true in every word.

So although her clothing and accessories were qualified and she did look like some official family young master’s “widow,” she didn’t dare easily approach to strike up conversation. Instead she properly followed Miss Aldrich, helping her direct the female servants to move missionary materials from the carriage.

The “foreign nun’s” grand traveling spectacle had attracted onlookers, competing for attention with Little Mrs. Pan’s family nearby.

Lin Yuchan was quite certain Miss Aldrich had caught Little Mrs. Pan’s attention. Two servants dressed as family guards had squeezed into the crowd, apparently inquiring about where this Western nun came from.

Miss Aldrich rarely came to Songjiang Prefecture. Seeing so many people watching, she was delighted, repeatedly saying: “What a simple place! Lottie, look how these poor people thirst for God’s comfort!”

She chose a large tree’s shade and immediately began her missionary work, having female servants distribute self-printed Bible story picture books to the crowd, calling to children in the crowd, and beginning to speak with dramatic intonation.

It must be said that Miss Aldrich had quite a method. Sometimes without Lin Yuchan even translating, just through expressions and tone, she had those children mesmerized. More and more people gathered around, running over from Little Mrs. Pan’s side, their eyes following the picture book in her hands.

After a while, several more well-dressed lower-ranking maids appeared in the crowd. Obviously, from Mrs. Pan’s household, while their mistress entered the temple, they had nothing to do and came to see the foreign nun.

The signs were quite good.

But Lin Yuchan had drunk tea in the morning and now had some physiological needs.

Miss Aldrich’s female servant also needed to relieve herself, so several girls went together to ask the guest monk, learning that connected to the temple’s outer wall was a small wood storage house with a narrow toilet that could be used.

This latrine was specially for respectable female guests to solve their convenience. Today Little Mrs. Pan had booked the venue and it was already cordoned off, but seeing Lin Yuchan dressed respectably, they still let them temporarily go in and use it.

It wasn’t too dirty. There was even a clothes rack for hanging garments to prevent soiling, and water vats and basins on the floor for washing hands.

Just somewhat drafty—relieving oneself in the cold weather came with complimentary cold compress treatment to private parts, which wasn’t very comfortable.

…This was already quite good. Coming to ancient times brought many troubles—the most important thing was being content.

Lin Yuchan and the female servants finished their business and were arranging their clothes when suddenly they heard squeaking sounds from next to the narrow toilet, like small animals calling.

The accompanying female servant screamed about rats and ran out in two or three steps, laughing and calling: “Come out! The rats are nibbling feet!”

Lin Yuchan also wanted to hurry out, but unfortunately, the new jade buttons on “Lotus Pond Moonlight” were a bit tight, and her fingers were stiff in the cold weather, delaying her by half a minute.

In that half minute, she heard several more “squeak squeak” sounds. The voice was soft and thin, not really like rats making noise.

She put her left hand on the adjacent door, hesitated a moment, then gently pushed it open.

Years later, Lin Yuchan would occasionally remember this moment. She remembered the rough wood grain on that door panel, the small hole carved in the door with hemp rope threaded through. She remembered the black mud and ash caked on that hemp rope, cold and hard to the touch like a wooden stick. She remembered the latrine’s window opened high, mountain wind blowing in waves, the stench inside sometimes thick, sometimes thin, mixed with the clear fragrance of mountain bamboo leaves, combining into a strange, nauseating smell.

She pushed open the door and suddenly saw flies buzzing around. In the narrow pit slope connected to filth, something… alive was wriggling.

It was blocked by a section of rotting wooden board, half its body already submerged in filth. Originally, it had been wrapped in cloth, but that wrapping had come undone, falling into the nearby deep pit filled with waste. Left was that naked little creature, its belly bulging, body and legs also stained with filth, using the smallest hands and feet she’d ever seen to grasp the barbed edge of the wooden board, weakly struggling and swaying upward.

The rotten wood suddenly broke. Without even a “splash” sound, the infant silently slid into the waste pit, floating quietly for two seconds, then, with small hands waving, slowly sinking.

A fat white maggot wriggled toward its eye.