Shen Qing drew up a financial statement on Xuan paper that the British could understand, showing the Gao family's current assets and liabilities.
By the time I finished, it was already past midnight.
She got up and stretched, poured herself a glass of water and was about to drink it when there was a knock on the door.
She wasn't sure if it was Cheng Zhiwen or those ill-intentioned foreign businessmen, so she didn't open the door. Instead, she pressed her ear against the door to listen for any sounds outside.
After a few knocks, Cheng Zhiwen's deep voice came through the door: "Are you resting?"
Shen Qing then opened the door.
Cheng Zhiwen was still wearing the same suit as during the day, but she had taken off her top hat and placed it in the crook of her arm, casually brushing her thick black hair to one side.
Hearing the door open, he immediately looked up, his thick eyebrows framed by clear, black and white eyes staring at Shen Qing.
"What's the matter?" Shen Qing leaned against the door, blocking the entrance, showing no intention of letting him in.
What are your plans next?
Shen Qing coughed lightly, her gaze drifting to the side: "Let's just head back home! What other plans could we have?"
After tonight's confrontation with the foreign merchant, she knew very well that he, a foreign comprador, could at most act as a middleman; whether the goods could be sold depended on the foreign merchant, and he could not play a decisive role.
As he said, unless the silk is sold at a low price, there is no hope of selling it, so let's just forget about it.
Shen Qing did not want to sell the Gao family's silk at a low price to obtain a mere ten or twenty thousand taels of silver that would not solve the problem.
It's not worth it; those silks will be useful later.
As for Cheng Zhiwen, once she left Shanghai, they probably wouldn't have any further contact in this lifetime.
Therefore, Shen Qing did not intend to tell him about his next plan.
"I'm resting now, goodbye!" Shen Qing closed the door.
She set off from Jiangzhou early in the morning, enduring a long and tiring journey. In the evening, she entertained those foreign businessmen and prepared reports overnight. By this time, she was so exhausted that her brain could no longer function.
I only intended to close my eyes and rest for an hour or two, but I was too tired and slept until 9 AM.
Shen Qing hurriedly took the documents and samples to HSBC Bank and was led to a desk at the back of the lobby.
The blond, fair-skinned man, who looked like a loan manager, asked in English, "Madam, would you like to apply for a loan?"
Shen Qing nodded and replied in English, "I need 50,000 taels of silver. What are the conditions for obtaining this loan?"
"Madam, do you have any collateral?"
Shen Qing opened the leather trunk, took out the silk samples, and displayed them to the other party: "I have 1,500 bolts of this kind of silk in Jiangzhou, worth more than 300,000 taels in total. Now I want to mortgage all of these silks to your bank for 50,000 taels of silver."
The loan amount is one-sixth of the collateral; the bank should be very happy to do this deal.
The other party didn't even touch the silk, and asked with a smile, "Madam, we only accept cultural relics and jewelry as collateral, not fabrics."
Shen Qing was taken aback: "Cultural relics and jewelry?"
I can't help but recall the descriptions in history books—HSBC was established to control the late Qing government and to leech off the Chinese people!
It demanded jewelry and artifacts as collateral, not for interest, but to plunder the treasures of this ancient Eastern country.
Anger surged within him, but Shen Qingqiang suppressed his emotions and asked in fluent English, "Besides cultural relics and jewelry, can your bank accept other collateral?"
The other party smiled and shook their head, indicating that they were powerless to help.
This is probably Shen Qing's last chance.
Forget about the local money shops in Jiangzhou; the land deeds have already been taken by Master Zhao, so there's no way to borrow money from them.
Without the capital to produce rayon, there is only one way out: death.
The thought of the stench-filled prison cell and the gleaming white executioner's blade sent a chill down Shen Qing's spine. With trembling hands, he picked up the silk from the table, spread it out, and placed it on the other person's hand.
"Please feel the texture of this silk. It's so soft and light, like nothing at all. Being embraced by it will feel like lying in your mother's arms..."
Shen Qing tried to persuade the other party: "This is silk made from the finest raw silk. If I can't repay the money, the bank can sell it for more than 50,000 taels of silver."
As she finished showing the silk and was about to pull her hands back, her hands were suddenly pressed down tightly by the other person's large hands.
She was startled and immediately struggled, managing to pull her hand back with some effort.
He put the back of his hand behind his back and rubbed it against himself in disgust.
“If you could personally demonstrate the texture of this silk,” the man chuckled in a low voice, his gaze lingering on her ample bosom, “and let me feel the sensation of lying in my mother’s arms, I would approve your loan.”
Shen Qing understood, and a feeling of nausea rose in her throat.
I feel very uncomfortable.
She held back her anger and made one last attempt: "I can send you a set of silk bedding of the same quality. You just need to put it on your bed and you will feel the kind of feeling I'm talking about."
The other person lowered their voice even further, and their silk-covered hands reached out again, attempting to caress her hands once more: "I think it would be even more effective if you, madam, demonstrated it yourself..."
At this point, Shen Qing already knew that the bank loan route was not an option.
Her expression changed, she forcefully pulled the silk, stuffed it into the suitcase, fastened it, and stood up.
He turned around angrily, only to see a familiar, tall figure standing not far away.
Cheng Zhiwen had appeared behind her without her noticing.
He was still wearing a three-piece British suit and a top hat, with his hands behind his back, and he was looking at her with a deep gaze.
It seems they've been standing there watching for quite some time.
A foreigner stood beside him, speaking to him with a fawning expression.
The door to an office behind them was open.
So he was talking to someone inside just now...
Shen Qing couldn't help but wonder if he also had connections with the bank. He stood there hesitantly, wondering whether he should ask him to put in a good word for him.
But she quickly dismissed the idea.
Just like last night, he acted as a go-between and a mediator, but when it came to the price, those foreign merchants revealed their true colors, and there was nothing he could do.
Today, she has no cultural relics or jewelry to pledge, so why would the bank lend her money?
Never mind, it's no use.
Thinking of this, Shen Qing took a deep breath, picked up his suitcase, and walked past him with an indifferent expression, exiting the bank.
She returned to the hotel, quickly packed her things, and prepared to go back to Jiangzhou.
She had come to Shanghai empty-handed and needed to hurry back to find another way.
As I came out of the restaurant, a horse-drawn carriage was waiting outside.
Shen Qing recognized it as Cheng Zhiwen's carriage and paused in his tracks.
She hesitated whether to ride in his carriage and return to Jiangzhou with him.
After his questioning and her accusations last night, she desperately wanted to avoid seeing him and even less to be in the same space with him.
He must still have doubts about her identity and will definitely find an opportunity to interrogate her again.
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