Chapter 2062 - Mi Xiang Ju

The dinner had been pleasant enough—more pleasant than Zeng Juan had dared hope.

Liu Cuihua, true to form, had dominated the conversation with her cheerful chatter, deflecting any awkward silences that might have arisen between Zeng Juan and Nan Wan'er. The food at Mi Xiang Ju had been excellent, the atmosphere convivial. By the time the meal concluded and Liu Cuihua excused herself (claiming, with transparent insincerity, a sudden remembered errand), Zeng Juan and Nan Wan'er found themselves alone at the table.

Nan Wan'er poured herself another cup of tea and took a slow, measured sip.

Though the restaurant they had chosen was modest in size, modesty did not equate to crudeness. On the contrary, the establishment was arranged with considerable ingenuity. It was called Mi Xiang Ju—Rice Fragrance House. Not one of Guangzhou's ancient establishments, it had opened only within the past six months.

What made it unusual was its workforce: run entirely by women. From management to service staff, from head cook to scullion, every single employee was female. Though such arrangements were not entirely unheard of in Guangzhou, for restaurants—which were neither teahouses, nor wine shops, nor brothels—to adopt this model was exceptional.

For women to enter the catering trade had historically been taboo. Who had ever heard of a woman working as a chef, server, or restaurant manager?

Yet Mi Xiang Ju did precisely that. The result? After opening, business had not merely been "passable"—it had been unexpectedly robust. At the very least, the establishment had turned profitable in under six months.

There were, of course, reasons for this success. First, Guangzhou now employed many more wage-earning women than before, and these working women increasingly required somewhere outside their homes to dine, just as men did. Second, under Australian governance, Guangzhou had grown markedly safer and more orderly—even at night, women faced minimal harassment.

On the other hand, traditional restaurants and teahouses still catered overwhelmingly to male clientele. Even women who could afford to dine out rarely did so, finding the atmosphere uncomfortable amid throngs of male patrons. Apart from certain "improper" establishments that served mixed clientele, respectable restaurants rarely saw female guests. For ladies of status or respectability, visiting such places was simply out of the question.

Mi Xiang Ju had been founded precisely to fill this void. Its furnishings and menu were all designed with female customers in mind. Its most distinctive policy was elegantly simple: it never admitted male patrons—unless they were escorting a female guest. And even then, men could only enter if accompanied.

As a result, many women from respectable families who wished to dine out—whether widows, young unmarried women, or simply ladies of status—frequented Mi Xiang Ju. Visiting such a pleasant restaurant brought no ill rumors, and Mi Xiang Ju had quickly developed a thriving trade.

For Zeng Juan, this restaurant had proven ideally suited to conversations requiring discretion. Here, the secluded booths ensured nobody would eavesdrop on what two people discussed over dinner. And naturally, there was no risk of encountering awkward acquaintances.

Nan Wan'er took a small sip from her bottle of Gervas, savoring its sweetness. She found the beverage quite agreeable—sweet, cool, refreshing, and subtly effervescent. It seemed tailor-made for women. She could not fathom why men would find it any less appealing, though it had indeed become fashionable among Guangzhou's male population ever since the Australians had established their rule.

But lately, drinking Gervas had acquired additional significance. People now called it "praising the Australians" or "praising the hairless ones," implying tacit acceptance of Australian governance. Naturally, many who resented the Australians boycotted it. Conversely, sipping Gervas in public had become a subtle signal of political allegiance.

For their part, neither Zeng Juan nor Nan Wan'er concerned themselves overmuch with such nuances.

"Sister Zeng," Nan Wan'er said quietly after a pause, "do you think there will truly be war again?"

Zeng Juan set down her cup and shook her head. "I don't know. Such matters are for the higher-ups to decide. What can we ordinary folk know?"

"But if there is another war... what will happen to us?"

Zeng Juan smiled thinly. "What else could happen? For people like us, the only thing to do is try to hold on to what we have. As long as we aren't crushed underfoot by some giant's careless step."

"But this time—" Nan Wan'er hesitated. "The Australians seem to have the upper hand, don't they? I've heard the Ming court's armies are no match for them."

"That's certainly what everyone says." Zeng Juan picked up a candied date from the plate and nibbled it thoughtfully. "But who really knows until the dust settles?"

They both fell silent. Outside the window, the familiar sounds of the city filtered in: vendors hawking their wares, the rumble of carriage wheels, the occasional shout of a stevedore or servant. All the mundane, reassuring commotion of a metropolis at peace.

At peace...

How long would it last?

Zeng Juan let her gaze linger on the window shutters, painted in the fashionable Australian colors that had become ubiquitous throughout Guangzhou.

"More Gervas?" Nan Wan'er offered, lifting the bottle.

Zeng Juan nodded absently. "Why not? It's better than worrying ourselves to death."

(End of Chapter)