“Brother Wang! Brother Wang—!”
Editor Wang stood quickly, surprised to see the visitor— none other than Xiao Chen, a reporter from the rival paper, Xuezhi Bao.
“Xiao Chen? Why are you here in such a hurry? What’s the matter?”
Xiao Chen’s cheeks flushed as he slammed the newspaper onto Editor Wang’s desk, pointing to a striking article. His voice trembled, “Brother Wang! Is this true? The paper says there really is such an unheard-of language prodigy? Someone who remembers everything after hearing it once? Masters a foreign language in just hours? It’s… it’s like a literary star descended from the heavens!”
“Can it be false?!” Editor Wang puffed out his chest proudly. “I saw it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears yesterday! Do you think I would lie?”
He pulled over a chair for Xiao Chen, leaning in as he enthusiastically recounted every detail of what he had witnessed the day before, painting vivid images with each word.
“Because Jiang Mingchuan insists he never attended school, whereas that Huang Gongzi, a returnee from abroad fluent in six languages, they couldn’t be more different in knowledge. So how could they compare? Just when I was at a loss, guess what happened?”
Editor Wang paused dramatically, teasing Xiao Chen.
“Go on!” Xiao Chen urged.
“I remembered I had interviewed an Icelander! Yes, from far away, Iceland in the Arctic Circle!”
–
At the same time, in a small hut in Hongkou District, Jiang Mingxi was bent over her desk, carefully tallying recent accounts in the dim daylight filtering through the window.
Voices from the neighboring alley mingled with the sounds of washing and rinsing, faintly drifting inside.
“Oh my, this is the first time I’ve heard of Iceland. What kind of place is that? The name sounds so cold.”
Another voice, a bit more worldly, replied with a hint of showing off, “I heard from that editor that it’s a tiny, tiny country, only about ten thousand people in total. All together, they don’t even outnumber one town in Zhabei!”
“Tsk tsk, foreigners sure have their tricks. Counting ten thousand people as a country? Ridiculous.”
“Hey, don’t interrupt! Let her finish!”
The first woman urged.
“What happened then? Did the Icelander babble on? Did Mr. Jiang understand him?”
The woman, clearly an information hub, raised her voice, describing vividly as if on the scene: “Of course! That Icelander was tall and big, with a red beard, speaking in some strange mumble that was impossible to understand!”
“Guess what?”
“Come on, don’t keep us in suspense!”
“Mr. Jiang just stood there quietly and listened once, then started chatting with him in the same mumble! And quite fluently! Whereas that Huang Gongzi, oh dear, so arrogant with his nose in the air, couldn’t utter a single word back, his face flushing red like a drenched chicken, and slunk away in shame!”
“Ha ha ha ha ha!” Laughter burst through the alley, joyful and hearty, full of pride for their gifted neighbor and simple delight at the arrogant elite’s humiliation.
Just as Jiang Mingxi stepped out of the stairwell, the neighbors washing by the well at the alley’s entrance spotted her immediately and greeted her warmly, eyes shining with friendliness and respect.
“Little Jiang, you’re back.”
“Oh no, Aunt Zhang, you should call him ‘Mr. Jiang’ now! He’s in the papers as a great talent!”
One aunt, holding a wooden basin, lifted her apron to wipe her hands, carefully pulling out a neatly folded Jinshi Xinshi.
Slightly embarrassed, she handed it over. “Mr. Jiang, our family’s head, specially bought this this morning. We can’t read… Could you read a little for us?”
Jiang Mingxi took the paper kindly.
Her eyes quickly scanned the lengthy report about her, filled with extravagant praise, painting her as a talented folk genius from a difficult background, waiting to be discovered.
Her fingertips gently traced the printed words, and finally, she curled her lips into a faint, complex smile, whispering, “Hmm, they wrote about some of my things.”
The same person.
What was different from her previous life?
Wasn’t she a genius last time too?
—How could a genius not know they were a genius?
Jiang Mingxi knew she was gifted.
Even if she had never gone to school, even if she came from the countryside and had seen little of the world.
When she could recite Miss Shen’s lessons at the girls’ school in a day, when she could imitate Young Master Shen’s handwriting well enough to write essays that the Civil Service Academy scholars ranked first, earning their praise, she certainly knew her mind was no ordinary one.
She had once passionately longed to meet Bo Le, a talent scout, who would lift her out of the mud and give her a stage to shine.
But she was a slave who never went to school, a runaway from a brothel, a destitute orphan.
Her talent and gifts brought her no praise or opportunity, only deeper hatred, greed, and dangerous coveting.
Sadly, she hadn’t fully realized this at the time.
So when she escaped the brothel, wandered to Shanghai in hardship, worked hard but had her savings stolen by thugs, starving and cold, that gentleman in the long gown praised her language talent and said he would sponsor her schooling— and she naively believed him.
She thought her dark life was finally touched by a ray of hope, finally turning for the better, ready to soar.
But?
The respectable teacher stripped her in front of her.
He said, “Your birth is despicable, and as a woman, no matter how well you study, it’s all an illusion. Better to become my concubine.”
He promised he would treat her well if she was obedient, frugal, and bore him children. He would ensure her comfort for life.
She refused, so he tried to force himself on her, intending to make an irreversible situation.
In this life, she was Jiang Mingchuan.
She was a man.
Not the most classic, pitiful, easily pitied image in novels — an unrecognized genius born in poverty.
So this time she revealed her talent and met all good people.
Some pitied her, some cursed heaven for injustice, others hoped she would achieve greatness…
“May I ask — where does Mr. Jiang Mingchuan live?”
A somewhat abrupt voice broke the harmony of the alley and snapped Jiang Mingxi from her drifting thoughts.
She looked up to see a man standing at the alley’s entrance, dressed in a brand-new silk long gown and a melon seed cap, looking like a merchant.
His face was fair, wearing a large jade ring on his finger, holding a handkerchief and pinching his nose with obvious disdain.
Behind him followed a servant.
Jiang Mingxi withdrew her gaze calmly. “I am Jiang Mingchuan. What is your business?”
The merchant’s small eyes brightened instantly.
His face blossomed into an enthusiastic smile as he strode forward, grabbing Jiang Mingxi’s hand and shaking it vigorously.
His palm was warm and slightly damp, his eager eyes scanning her face as if appraising a rare treasure.
“Ah! You are Mr. Jiang Mingchuan! I have long admired your reputation. Truly a youthful prodigy, handsome and extraordinary!”
His tone was exaggerated. “I read your story in the papers. Absolutely astonishing! A born genius like you should not be trapped in poverty, buried in such a humble alley! What a pity! What a lament!”
“I am willing to sponsor your continued education with full financial support!”
—See, some still regarded such a rare talent as a precious investment, wanting to promote and back this apparently limitless “blue chip.”
Jiang Mingxi did not immediately pull back her hand but listened quietly, her eyes coolly passing over the merchant’s sharp calculating brows and his flushed, plump face flushed with excitement.
When he finished speaking, she lightly withdrew her hand.
The young man narrowed his eyes, the thin afternoon sunlight filtering through the narrow alley casting faint shadows on his handsome face.
Suddenly, he smiled gently, a smile without a hint of flattery or surprise, but one of clarity and composure beyond his years.
“Thank you for your kindness. Mingchuan is grateful,” she said steadily and clearly. “But my ambition lies not in study. I see you are a businessman and no doubt understand commerce well. How about… we set aside this sponsorship and talk about another deal?”
She thought.
She would not be a man forever.
She would climb higher.
She would stand at the very top.
She would make everyone see, and finally admit— women’s wisdom and strength were never inferior to anyone’s.
She wanted to fight for herself, for those women like Miss Shen trapped in their boudoirs, for Huang Wanyi’s unborn daughter, and for the countless women who would come after.
She would create a brand new world with her own hands,
A world where they could stand tall, live by their own intelligence and labor, earn respect openly, and have the right to choose their own lives.