The Bund Chronicles: Chapter 17 - Matters Settled, A Debut in Western Attire

"This building represents the efficiency of Dent & Co.!" Mr. Dent stood before the newly completed frame, his voice booming loud enough to drown out the river breeze. A sliver of his white shirt cuff peeked out from his suit sleeve, gleaming confidently under the sun. "With so many capable employees, our firm’s other ventures will be just as efficient!"

He clutched his speech in his hand, the pages fluttering softly in the wind—a speech Chen Lin had stayed up all night writing, every word radiating shrewdness.

"Do not think that just having cement and iron rods is enough to replicate this!" Dent shifted his tone, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding foreign managers as he deliberately emphasized his words. "To build this structure, our assistant, Mr. Chen Lin, specially developed a coagulant! It makes the cement set faster and stronger—that is the key!"

A low murmur of astonishment rippled through the crowd, and some leaned forward, peering at Chen Lin with eyes full of curiosity.

"To recognize Chen Lin's contribution," Dent paused, creating a deliberate sense of suspense before announcing loudly, "our firm will assist him in filing a patent in London, and the patent rights will belong to him personally!"

Chen Lin stood in the crowd, his heart stirred slightly.

He knew Dent had promised him the patent, but he hadn't expected it to be announced in front of so many people.

Would the foreigners really be so generous? He wasn't that naive—perhaps Dent looked down on this minor patent, or perhaps he simply wanted to use this to showcase his own magnanimity.

Regardless, with this patent, from now on, anyone using this coagulant in British Empire territories would have to pay him. That was enough.

"At Dent & Co., every employee can utilize their talents and realize their value!" Dent's voice echoed along the riverbank, the sunlight glinting off his silver-gray hair.

When the speech concluded, applause erupted from the crowd. Chen Lin's position was also finalized—promoted from interpreter to assistant. While it was the most junior management role, it was still a monumental leap.

"Congratulations, Jack!" James walked over quickly, patting him on the shoulder, his bushy beard crinkling with a smile. "You really are a lucky charm!"

"I should be thanking you," Chen Lin replied with a smile, patting him back. "Getting into Dent & Co. was all your doing; I haven't forgotten that."

"Oh, I should thank you too," James said, exhaling with exaggerated relief. "Because of you, the boss hasn't scolded me for days!"

He leaned in closer and lowered his voice: "By the way, the boss invites you to the evening banquet. Make sure to change into something more formal later."

The crowd gradually dispersed. The craftsmen had been granted a half-day off, and Taylor had even advanced them a few days' wages. Each of them wore a smile, walking home with light steps.

Taking advantage of the gap, Chen Lin quickly caught a boat to Yangjing Town—he hadn't seen Miaomiao for several days and had been fretting over her. Plus, he needed to get a suit for the banquet.

Of course, what they were most grateful for was Chen Lin, because he was the one who had fought for all of this for them.

This young man seemed capable of creating miracles. The group of craftsmen had long been in absolute awe of him.

In the afternoon in Yangjing Town, sunlight filtered through the sycamore leaves along the street, casting golden, dappled spots onto the blue-stone road.

The faint scent of fabric drifted from the tailor shop, and the "snip-snip" of scissors cutting cloth could be heard from afar.

Chen Lin knew that at this hour, Miaomiao would surely be in the shop with Liu Lihua.

Finished garments hung outside the shop, and while the tailoring room inside was small, it was kept neat and tidy.

Various fabrics hung on the racks—red like sunset clouds, blue like the sea, the coarse texture of cotton and linen interweaving with the soft luster of silk in the sunlight.

Liu Lihua was sitting at the wooden table by the window, cutting fabric; the silver scissors flew in her hands, and the material was trimmed perfectly.

Miaomiao squatted beside her, her small hands holding a needle and thread, trying to thread it with focus. Her chubby face was smudged with a bit of stray thread, making her look exceptionally cute.

Life had been good these past few days; the little girl, once sallow and thin, now had round cheeks and clean clothes. Only her large eyes still held that touch of innocence, like a pampered little daughter from a landlord's family.

"Don't look so glum," Liu Lihua put down her scissors, reached out to pinch Miaomiao's cheek, and brushed the thread away, her tone soft. "Once I finish this, I'll take you to see your brother."

No sooner had she finished speaking than Sister Wang from the shop lifted the curtain and entered, teasing with a smile: "Lihua, a young man is here, and he asked for you by name."

"I'm coming!" Liu Lihua's eyes lit up. She quickly put away her scissors and took Miaomiao by the hand, heading outside. She knew full well it must be Chen Lin.

"Hee hee, little girl, in such a rush to see your sweetheart?" Sister Wang teased from behind, her voice full of mockery.

"Sister Wang, you're talking nonsense again!" Liu Lihua's cheeks flushed red, and she tightened her grip on Miaomiao's hand. "I'm still young!"

"Young? Where is it young?" Sister Wang gave her a meaningful look, unable to hide the smile in her eyes.

"Hmph, I'm not talking to you!" Liu Lihua blushed, pulling Miaomiao quickly out of the back room.

Chen Lin was standing in the main hall. His coarse cloth gown had been washed until it was faded, but it was pressed stiffly.

He hadn't seen them for a few days, and the food at the firm had filled him out a bit. The callowness in his brow had faded, replaced by a sense of composure.

"Brother!" Miaomiao spotted him at once. Her short legs scurried over, and she threw herself into his arms, rubbing her face against his shoulder like a spoiled kitten. "Miaomiao missed you so much!"

Chen Lin picked up his sister and weighed her, then looked at Liu Lihua with a smile: "Thank you for all your hard work these past few days. I won't say much, but I've kept it all in my heart."

"Hmph, so you remember you have a sister?" Liu Lihua pouted. Although she was speaking up for Miaomiao, her tone held a hint of coquettishness, and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "It's been so many days without a word; Miaomiao mentions you every single day."

Chen Lin felt a bit uneasy under her gaze and scratched his head: "Didn't I come now? I've been busy day and night these past few days, working like a horse."

"The foreigners' food must be delicious, right?" Liu Lihua's tone was sour, clearly holding no love for the foreigners.

"The food isn't great, but the silver dollars are nice." Chen Lin smiled and shook his pocket, the coins inside clinking crisply—the bonus the firm had advanced him.

"Hmph, I bet those foreign silver dollars are stained with blood." Liu Lihua curled her lip but didn't press the matter, asking instead, "What do you need me for?"

"Right, does your shop have Western-style suits?" Chen Lin got straight to the point. "I have to attend a banquet tonight and need to wear something formal."

"We do have some," Liu Lihua nodded, leading him toward the inner room. "I'm just not sure if we have your size."

That was how she was—she never beat around the bush when it came to business; the previous coquettishness seemed like an illusion.

Passing through the corridor hung with fabrics and garments, the light in the back room was dimmer, and the air was filled with a mix of camphor and cloth scents.

"Who opened this shop?" Chen Lin asked curiously, his gaze sweeping over the Western-style patterns hanging on the wall.

"Why do you ask?" Liu Lihua paused and looked back at him.

"Just curious," Chen Lin smiled. "You working here—it doesn't have anything to do with your gang, does it?"

"Don't guess blindly!" Liu Lihua shook her head, her tone becoming serious. "Our shopkeeper is an extraordinary person; you'll know when you meet them. I'm a tailor by skill; it has nothing to do with any gang."

Her words only made Chen Lin more curious.

In this era of the Great Qing, most people bought fabric to make their own clothes or hired tailors for custom-made outfits; in the countryside, people even wove and sewed for themselves. Ready-to-wear shops were rare, and one that sold Western-style suits was clearly targeting the foreign market after the ports opened—the foresight was quite advanced.

As they spoke, a woman in her thirties walked over.

She was wearing a moon-white qipao. Her figure was full, her skin was extremely well-maintained, and her eyes held a shrewdness hidden within the fine lines at the corners. It was Sister Wang from earlier.

"Lihua, is this young man looking to buy a suit?" Sister Wang smiled, her eyes darting over Chen Lin, making him feel a bit embarrassed. "I'll help him pick one out."

"The young man works for the foreigners, right?" Sister Wang picked up a measuring tape and skillfully moved behind Chen Lin to measure his shoulder width, her fingertips resting lightly on his shoulders as she spoke warmly. "No wonder you carry yourself so well."

As she measured, she introduced: "Our Western suits are designed by foreign tailors; even the foreigners themselves come to buy them." She rummaged through a shelf and pulled out a set. "A white linen shirt with a black tuxedo jacket—the most formal combination. Would you like to try it, young man?"

Chen Lin handed Miaomiao to Liu Lihua and took the clothes into the changing room. The wooden door creaked shut, and outside came the sound of Miaomiao’s giggling and Liu Lihua’s soft instructions.

...

Meanwhile, at Dent & Co.'s temporary office building, the banquet was being prepared in full swing.

On a long table five or six meters in length, silver platters were piled high with buttered bread, roast chicken, steak, and various fruits, the aroma wafting throughout the building.

Dent had specially brought out his prized wine; the labels on the bottles were slightly yellowed, clearly a fine vintage aged for many years.

James followed closely behind Dent.

Dent stood on the second-floor balcony, a pipe in his mouth, the smoke rings slowly dissipating in the air as the river breeze caught the hem of his coat.

"James, how did the investigation go regarding what I asked you?" Dent exhaled a smoke ring, his gaze fixed on the distant river.

"Boss, it's all clear," James quickly replied. "The boy has a clean background. His father was a fisherman who passed away recently, and it seems he had some connection to the local magistrate. His mother is missing, and now it's just him and his younger sister. He hasn't had any contact with anyone suspicious."

"What about his status as a convert?" Dent frowned and tapped his pipe against the railing. "His English is as fluent as a native speaker, and he can create things like this coagulant. Who would believe he's just a fisherman's son?"

In this era, knowledge was the exclusive domain of the wealthy.

How could a child so poor he only had three thatched huts have the ability to understand such things?

Dent did not believe in falling pies from the sky; he had to get to the bottom of this.

James lowered his head and said, "I checked. A few days ago, Consul Balfour and Reverend Hobson went to his home. They were originally there to force an eviction, but Reverend Hobson confirmed the boy's status as a Christian convert. Mr. Balfour then immediately issued him a land-use certificate, recognizing his ownership of that plot."

Dent fell silent, his fingers tapping the railing, making a rhythmic "thud-thud" sound. The mystery surrounding this boy was like the fog on the river—it kept him from seeing clearly, yet he vaguely felt that this might be a treasure.

At the very least, the fellow could help him make money.

As long as he could make money, did it matter that much?

"Did you send someone to follow him?" Dent asked, still appearing uneasy.

"Yes," James nodded. "I sent capable men. Don't worry, Boss."

Paranoia was also the nature of a businessman.

...

The door to the changing room opened, and Chen Lin stepped out wearing the black tuxedo.

The shirt collar was crisp, the trousers had clean lines, and they highlighted his upright posture. Miaomiao clapped and cheered: "Brother looks so handsome!"

Liu Lihua looked at him, her cheeks flushing again. She quickly turned her head away, pretending to organize the fabric.

Chen Lin adjusted his tie in the mirror, his mind on the evening banquet and the patent Dent had just announced.

In this unfamiliar era, he finally had his first stepping stone. He would have to walk the path ahead carefully, step by step.

Sister Wang, however, felt a sliver of suspicion. How was this young man so practiced at tying a tie?