Chapter Sixty-Seven: A Fleeting Business Opportunity

Yang Xiaolin never expected that the young mistress of the Zhao family had been waiting for them all along. He knocked lightly on the door a few times, and it was immediately opened by the young mistress herself.

The Zhao family was not what it once was. The old servants had long departed; even if they were unwilling to leave, the young mistress no longer had the means to feed them, barely scraping by herself. If not to supplement her income, would she have rented her house to strangers?

Originally, Lu Mozong and the village head had suggested that all the brothers stay here, thinking more tenants could mean more rent, just as the Zhao family had always paid him a little extra when he worked for them in the past. But the young mistress was clear: not too many men, two at the most, and only one room for rent. The village head also felt that too many men would only provoke gossip among the neighbors. So now, only Biaozi and Yang Xiaolin could stay.

The young mistress waited for them by the small gate. She didn’t want their knocking to disturb the neighbors. After opening the door, she said only, “The side room is to the west. The bed linen and blankets are ready. Let me know when you leave.”

Was this how one rented out rooms? At the very least, she should have shown them the room and asked if they were satisfied. She ought to have asked where they came from, to guard against theft.

Yet the young mistress said nothing more. Yang Xiaolin wanted to exchange a few polite words, but she turned and walked away, holding a small child by the hand. The child looked back at Yang Xiaolin. Yang Xiaolin smiled kindly at the child and waved.

The child, innocent and unburdened, returned the smile.

After the young mistress left, Lu Mozong said, “Chief, let me take you to the side room. It’s not easy for a woman to live alone. Please be understanding.”

Yang Xiaolin laughed. “We’re not real tenants, after all. Just a few days, a month at most—it doesn’t matter.”

The bed was indeed soft, padded with two quilts, the covers a bright red, embroidered with a pair of mandarin ducks swimming in water—likely part of the young mistress’s dowry. Yang Xiaolin pulled the blanket over himself, mind busy with tomorrow’s plans to find a way into Dongjiaomin Lane, but as soon as he lay down, he fell asleep. In his dreams, he vaguely saw that sorrowful face again, stirring a sense of pity in his heart.

At dawn, before the sky had lightened, Yang Xiaolin and Biaozi were already up. When he’d been a policeman, he’d despised those ne’er-do-wells who were lazy and always scheming to profit without effort. But now Yang Xiaolin realized that even to be a proper villain, one had to rise early and toil late.

Because, after all, early hours meant more opportunities!

He and Biaozi spent the morning at a teahouse near a crossroads, observing. They found that it was not impossible for Chinese people to enter Dongjiaomin Lane. On the contrary, some Chinese did live inside—mostly those with status or those friendly with foreign diplomats.

Moreover, all the embassies were undergoing expansion, and their laborers were all Chinese.

“Young man, do you know what it takes to get hired as a laborer inside?” Yang Xiaolin put down his tea bowl and asked the tea master. They’d already drunk a dozen bowls of tea that morning, so they counted as good customers. The tea master hurried over when addressed. “Sir, one look at you and I know you’re here looking for work.”

Yang Xiaolin smiled. “Yes, I am.”

The tea master glanced toward the sentry post. “It’s both hard and easy! First, you need a skill the foreigners can use. Second, you need a guarantor—that’s the hard part. The foreigners must trust your guarantor.”

Yang Xiaolin nodded. “Understood. Go about your business.”

After the tea master left, Biaozi leaned in. “Big brother, where are we going to find a guarantor?”

They had agreed beforehand: outside, Yang Xiaolin forbade them from calling him ‘Chief,’ as that title attracted attention.

Yang Xiaolin shook his head. “How would I know?”

At that moment, two men dressed as scholars entered the teahouse. The tea master bustled over. “Ah, Mr. Yang, you’re here? Please, come in! Will you be seated in the main hall or the private room today?”

Yang Xiaolin barely glanced at them, then looked back toward the sentry post, pondering how to get past it.

“The main hall will do. Any good tea today?”

“Perfect timing, gentlemen. We’ve just received some Biluochun. If you’d come earlier, it wouldn’t have been ready yet.”

“Excellent, bring a pot at once. Brother Qibai, when it comes to drinking tea, nothing compares to old Beijing’s big-bowl tea. The other day, that French journalist Morel invited me for coffee. I couldn’t get used to it, no matter how I tried.”

The other man laughed. “Xi Zi, you don’t know how lucky you are. Being invited for coffee by a foreigner is a great honor these days! Others wish for the chance. I heard you left halfway in a huff?”

Yang Xiaolin’s attention was instantly drawn. Xi Zi? In the Republic era, there was a man named Yang Du, courtesy name Xi Zi. Could it be him?

The man seemed to sense a sudden glance in his direction. He looked Yang Xiaolin up and down, then quickly looked away. Yang Xiaolin looked every inch the laborer, nothing about him eye-catching—which was just as he intended. The less conspicuous, the better.

“Brother Qibai, let’s not talk like that. What’s so special about foreigners?”

The other man raised his hands in mock surrender. “No more! I know what you’re going to say next. Let’s just drink our tea.”

They took small sips, savoring the tea’s flavor, quite unlike the laborers, who drank simply to quench their thirst. Even with big-bowl tea, they only drank a little at a time.

After a sip, Mr. Yang said, “Brother Qibai, have you read Mr. Rengong’s ‘Young China’ yet?”

Qibai nodded. “Just recently. It’s truly stirring! I still can’t forget Mr. Rengong’s bold words. I believe our generation should take them to heart.”

Mr. Yang nodded. “You and I think alike. In a few days, when the French consulate’s expansion is complete, all the foreign envoys and some prominent people of the capital will be invited. I hear Mr. Rengong is among those invited. We’ll have the chance to see him in person again.”

Qibai suddenly looked at Yang Xi Zi. “Xi Zi, don’t tell me you’ve received an invitation too?”

Yang Xi Zi smiled. “No, but I have my ways of getting in.”

At this, Yang Xiaolin’s heart leapt for joy. All the foreign envoys gathered together—what a golden opportunity! Those were some big fish indeed! His eyes shone as he glanced at Biaozi, whose face had also turned red with excitement. As a professional bandit, Biaozi could already smell the “business opportunity.”

“No matter what it takes, we must get in!”