Everyone knew that bargaining was a prolonged art of language, and Fred was exceedingly patient.
He dutifully followed his daughter’s instructions, waiting outside the liquor store and keeping a close watch through the shop window at the scene inside.
He didn’t know what Dolly was saying, but he could clearly see that she seemed to be engaged in a fierce verbal exchange with the wine merchant inside for quite some time.
Dolly had her back to the outside, while the wine merchant initially frowned, listening to her speak, then gradually relaxed his brow and showed a thoughtful expression.
Finally, the wine merchant nodded, seemingly relenting.
Shortly after, she went to the counter to count out a handful of gold coins, and the wine merchant promptly issued a receipt.
Seeing Dolly come out, Fred opened the door for her, scratched his head, and asked, “How did it go?”
Dolly showed a look of affirmation, her eyes betraying a rare sense of anticipation.
“No difficulty at all.”
She handed the receipt to Fred for inspection. The wholesale quantity listed on the document was one hundred bottles, priced at ten Pounds Sterling.
Fred knew the market price of this rum was around three Shillings.
But the price Dolly secured was two Shillings per bottle, seemingly cutting out all the profit the merchant could have made.
What kind of persuasion could make a wholesaler give up their own profit?
Walking behind Dolly, Fred felt an inexplicable sense of fear toward his daughter.
Fortunately, he was Dolly’s biological father and not her competitor—otherwise, he wouldn’t even be able to afford pickled vegetables.
Their next destination was a cigar shop, where they prepared gifts for the Sanitary Inspector.
Approaching noon, Dolly and Fred returned to the grocery store with the ingredients Mary needed.
Mr. Nash exchanged a glance with Fred and Dolly, and the two of them went out to continue their milk deliveries.
Dolly took over the counter and began attending to customers and managing the business.
In the kitchen, Mary received the almonds and retreated to start making almond chocolate, which would also be sold at three farthings per bag.
After serving customers all afternoon, Dolly tallied the day’s earnings while waiting.
Around three or four in the afternoon, a very clean and respectable-looking freight carriage, devoid of any brand markings or engravings, pulled up.
The wine merchant had indeed followed her unusual request and arranged for the delivery this way.
Dolly stepped outside, made several trips to the carriage, moved the liquor inside, and stacked it in the empty space behind the counter.
After she signed the paperwork, the carriage driver departed.
One hundred bottles of rum looked impressive but didn’t actually take up much space.
She cleared out the original area where liquor was displayed, placed the rum there, and moved the rest into the storage room.
She went outside, took down the chalkboard, returned inside, and with a piece of chalk, wrote a prominent line above the ready-to-eat foods:
Jamaican Rum on Sale, Limited Quantity, First Come First Served.
She had calculated that selling all one hundred bottles at a discounted price would result in a loss of five Pounds Sterling.
If she wanted to avoid losses while selling at a discount, she could also bundle the sales.
For example, customers would need to purchase three Shillings’ worth of groceries to qualify for buying a bottle of rum at one Shilling.
But this approach might not convince people that the cost of her rum was far lower than any price obtainable through regular channels.
Only by going to such lengths would the fish be sure to take the bait.
Mary emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of freshly baked biscuits and noticed the rum on the counter.
She wondered why Dolly had suddenly started selling alcohol, but didn’t dwell on it, returning instead to her busy work in the kitchen.
All fifteen pounds of the Diamond Cookies and coffee biscuits baked today had sold out.
Yet tomorrow was another payday, and many ready-to-eat foods would need to be prepared in advance by evening.
At least five pounds of Diamond Cookies, ten pounds of coffee-flavored biscuits, fifty pounds of bread to bake, two pots of meat broth pudding to simmer, and one pot of jam.
Mary was truly overwhelmed with work.
Still, today’s revenue had easily exceeded a thousand pence, and tomorrow would only bring more.
In the evening, Penny returned home, and Mr. Nash and Fred came back pushing their cart, the Nash Grocery Store still open for business.
Many people passed through Clark Street in the evening, intending to visit the tavern for some leisure.
Just as they were about to enter Clark Street, they caught sight of the sign for the Nash Grocery Store across the street.
Promotional rum?
Why bother going to the tavern then.
Curious, these people stepped into the Nash Grocery Store, where Fred and Mr. Nash attended to them.
Upon learning that the rum was priced as low as one Shilling, these drinkers bought it without hesitation.
Meanwhile, Dolly and Penny were in the kitchen, hand-wrapping biscuits while peeking through the curtain.
Mary was still kneading dough and asked with some confusion, “Where did you get such cheap rum from?
The black market? Could it be unsafe?”
She deftly divided the dough into portions and added:
“After that case a while back, the underground black market is so hidden now—how did you even find a seller?”
Dolly shook her head with a smile. “We happened to come across it by coincidence. With all the chaotic news and tight security outside, sellers are eager to offload their stock.
We only have these hundred bottles; they’ll sell out quickly, and we won’t restock. Nothing will go wrong.”
Hearing this, Mary nodded, puzzled.
Staying at home all day, she had no idea whether security was tight or not. She took Dolly’s word for it and continued kneading the dough, adding a lump of butter.
She trusted Dolly completely—if Dolly said it, then it must be reliable.
In the small grocery store, the one-Shilling bottles of rum quickly sold a fifth of the stock.
Word spread from one to ten, and from ten to a hundred.
Neighbors in the alley, nearby taverns, and several other grocery stores all heard the news.
After nine in the evening, Fred went outside, climbed a ladder to take down the gas lamp hanging under the eaves, and removed the chalkboard hanging outside the door.
Then, he sealed all the window shutters and closed the front door tightly, giving the appearance that the store had already closed for the night.
Shortly after, Mr. Lobit emerged from the end of the alley, wearing a small black felt hat.
He glanced around, passed by the Nash Grocery Store, stared for a moment at the light seeping through the window cracks, and walked toward the underground tavern with a grim expression.
The underground tavern was in the middle of its operating hours and wouldn’t close until midnight.
Lobit held onto the railing as he descended underground, where a pungent smell of alcohol hit him. Disgusted, he took a couple of steps down and scanned the cramped tavern with his eyes.
There weren’t many customers in the tavern today. Nansen was behind the bar, wiping glasses.
Lobit walked straight to the bar. Nansen looked up, not at all surprised by his appearance.
“Mr. Lobit, what a rare guest. What would you like to drink? Rum?”
Lobit clicked his tongue. “Don’t mock me. What’s going on across the street? How did they suddenly get their hands on that rum?”
Nathan’s boss wasn’t around, so he leisurely wiped a glass and said, “How should I know?”
“Everyone knows how that rum got circulated. It was already in short supply before, and now the transactions are probably even more hidden.”
Lobit thought for a moment, then pulled a few shillings from his pocket and slipped them to Nathan.
“Don’t think I don’t know—your tavern sold that kind of rum before, also smuggled goods, right?”
Nathan accepted the money, the corners of his mouth lifting as he nodded, but he warned him:
“So what if we did? Do you know why we stopped selling it?
Back then, when the police went to Nash’s house to ask Lisa for clues about the case, they mentioned the smuggling happening outside.
Selling this rum now is just too risky. I advise you not to get greedy.”
Lobit listened and actually pondered this. He fell silent for a while, then shook his head and said:
“That unsolved case is incredibly complicated, involving so many lawsuits. Which police officer could possibly get to the bottom of it?
If they had that kind of ability, there wouldn’t be a black market in White Chapel.
The Nash family has dealt with the police before. Maybe they just know the police won’t investigate further, so they said that to fool you. And now, they’re the ones getting into this business.”
“I know there are risks, but I can’t not find out where this rum is coming from. Just tell me, and I’ll handle the rest myself.”
With Lobit speaking like this, Nathan had no choice but to take out a notepad and hand it to him.
“In all of White Chapel, there’s only one source for this batch of goods.”
Lobit took it and looked—written clearly on it was “Delta Kitchenware Shop.”
…
The next day, the weather was gloomy. From the moment Nash Grocery Store opened, a long line had already formed.
All were customers wrapped in coats, bleary-eyed, ready to buy something for breakfast while also coming to check out the rum.
Penny was on holiday at home, and Dolly dragged her out of bed early. After washing up and hastily eating a bite, they began bustling behind the counter.
Penny was responsible for bringing bread from the kitchen and helping customers with milk, while Dolly handled promotions and checkout. In the kitchen, Mary was in charge of preparing cooked food.
They were swamped, serving at least several dozen customers in the morning alone.
After the morning rush, from late morning until noon, there were still plenty of individual customers coming for the rum.
Meanwhile, Mr. Nash and Fred slowly delivered milk along Dorothy Street.
They could easily observe with their own eyes that every grocery store and tavern on Dorothy Street was deserted today, with only the occasional passerby stopping by.
All the residents from the nearby small streets and alleys were gathered outside their shop.
It wasn’t until lunchtime that the line gradually disappeared.
At noon, Mr. Nash and Fred returned to the shop to help.
Dolly, clutching a drawer full of loose change and pennies, slipped behind the curtain into the kitchen to count the money.
Yesterday’s sales totaled one thousand and nine pence, roughly four pounds and four shillings.
From early morning until noon today, they had served a full one to two hundred people, and the rum had long been sold out.
They had attracted almost all the nearby residents to rush and buy, with some even fighting over the last bottle.
Even until closing time, a group of people still came by to inquire.
As long as someone came to the door, even if they didn’t have the product the person wanted, Dolly made sure no one left empty-handed.
Under her precise management, the turnover exceeded twelve pounds sterling. After deducting the fixed losses from alcohol, everything fell within her expectations.
In the nighttime Clark Lane, George, wearing an octagonal cap, darted across the middle of the street and returned to Lobit Grocery Store.
Lobit could no longer sit still.
He immediately rose from behind the counter, walked to the main entrance, and roughly dragged George inside for questioning.
“Found the goods?”
“Found them, but they refused to disclose any information about other buyers. Should we still make the purchase?”
“How’s the price?”
“Sixpence per bottle, and there’s plenty in stock.”
After George finished speaking, Lobit began pacing back and forth in the room. It seemed he thought of the still-empty cash register from earlier today and finally made up his mind.
“Fortune favors the bold, and the timid starve. If they dare to do it, so can I.”
Having run the grocery store here for so many years, Lobit believed this wasn’t the first time he had encountered such a situation.
George dared not speak, much less advise.
He saw that his boss had likely gone mad, single-mindedly focused on competing with the Nash family and clearly having lost his senses, daring to take such a risk.
However, as a mere employee, George felt it wasn’t his place to advise this stingy old mule.
He nodded. “The seller said transactions can only take place during the morning market. You can go in person tomorrow morning.”
…
Late at night, in the attic of the Nash house, Dolly held a piece of paper in her hand. Standing behind the window, she reached out and pulled back the yellowed lace curtain, looking outside.
The pitch-black night was completely shrouded by thick clouds, hiding the stars.
In the dark alley, only a few neighbors still had their gas lamps on, emitting faint glimmers of light.
Penny lay fast asleep on the bed, her face peaceful and comfortable, occasionally kicking the blanket.
Dolly remained standing by the window, idly tapping the paper tube in her hand against the table.
Her eyes lowered slightly as she searched her mind for some ancient memories—about the original setting of this world.
In the original story, England during this period was home to numerous conflicting groups.
If she traced it from top to bottom, it was geography, political parties, ethnicity, and class—everywhere entangled, mutually exclusive, and full of opposition.
All crimes in the original story thrived in this naturally fertile soil.
The bill of lading fraud case was a complex affair involving lawsuits, murder, and the underground black market.
Most news reports focused on the brutal methods of the murderer and the intricate games of blame and legal disputes.
Some even described the perpetrator as a member of the Forney Brotherhood.
It seemed no one paid attention to the root of the matter.
The food merchant whose business had suffered a blow and the batch of imported food he had entrusted to a shipping company to transport into the port.
Was it really just food inside?
…
Author’s Note:
Sharing a friend’s upcoming novel:
“The Heiress Just Wants to Retire [Unlimited]” by Chen Xu
Orientation: Female protagonist, no romance
Synopsis:
Ying Cixi, the heir to the Ying financial conglomerate, grew up under strict family discipline. Her upbringing felt like a living hell. As soon as she came of age, she was tricked into taking over the conglomerate’s control, leaving her life devoid of joy.
The Ying parents promised that once she earned one billion, they would end their world travels and return Ying Cixi to a life of freedom and happiness.
In pursuit of her dream of early retirement, Miss Ying was known for her swift and decisive actions, leaving no room for retreat, which ultimately earned her the hatred of rivals who hired assassins to silence her.
Isn’t death just another form of retirement? Miss Ying passed away peacefully, only to regain consciousness and find herself pulled into an infinite world.
Unable to even die properly, Ying Cixi gave up entirely.
That was until she heard that the first player to earn ten billion points could return to the real world and exchange all their points for an equivalent amount of currency.
When they encountered her again, the players realized:
Ying Cixi had gone mad…
…