The next morning brought not one but three more telephone inquiries—from Guangzhou, Ningbo, and Fuzhou. By afternoon, two telegrams arrived from smaller treaty ports expressing serious interest.
Yang spread a large map across his desk, marking each inquiry location with pins. Chen, Morrison, and Zhao crowded around, studying the geographic distribution.
"We have serious interest from eight different ports now," Yang said, pointing to each location. "Shanghai, Ningbo, Guangzhou, Fuzhou, Xiamen, Wenzhou, Yantai, and two separate inquiries from Tianjin itself."
"That's excellent for validation," Chen said, but his expression was troubled.
"That's a serious logistical problem," Morrison corrected bluntly. "We're based in Tianjin. How do we effectively support franchise operations in Guangzhou? That's over a thousand miles away. Communication alone would take three to five days for each decision or question."
Zhao studied the map, noting how the inquiries clustered geographically. "We can't manage everything centrally from Tianjin—that's obvious. We need regional operations centers. Shanghai for the central coast and Yangtze River routes. Maybe Ningbo for the southern Yangtze and Zhejiang provincial routes."
"That requires trusted people in those locations," Yang said seriously. "People who understand the franchise system deeply, who can negotiate effectively with ship owners, who have established local commercial relationships and credibility."
Morrison was quiet for a long moment, thinking strategically. "There are two people currently in Tianjin who could do this effectively. Xu Run—he's deputy director of CMSNC, second in command officially, but he's been systematically sidelined by the bureaucratic faction. He knows Shanghai commerce better than anyone, has relationships with every major merchant there built over decades."
"And Tang Shaoyi," Xu Mingzhe added thoughtfully. "He's foreign-educated, understands modern commercial operations, has strong connections in Ningbo from his family background. He's currently stuck in administrative work here in Tianjin despite his significant capabilities. If we offer him operational control of Ningbo franchising..."
"We'd be sharing authority," Yang said carefully, thinking through the political implications. "Shanghai and Ningbo operations would be semi-independent from Tianjin headquarters. They'd get credit for whatever they accomplish."
"That's the point," Zhao said firmly. "We're not trying to monopolize reform or control everything centrally—we're trying to make reform succeed systemically. If Xu Run and Tang Shaoyi succeed in their regions, that strengthens the entire system and proves the model works across different locations. And it builds a coalition of successful reformers rather than a single isolated project that can be easily targeted."
Morrison nodded with approval. "I can approach Xu Run and Tang Shaoyi today. He's been frustrated for years watching the bureaucratic faction control operations he should theoretically be managing. This gives him real authority and a genuine chance to restore merchant-oriented management in Shanghai."
Morrison found Xu Run in his office at CMSNC headquarters—a spacious office that should have signified real authority but had become essentially a gilded cage. As deputy director, Xu Run officially had significant power on organizational charts. In practice, the bureaucratic faction systematically routed important decisions around him, leaving him to handle ceremonial duties while Sheng's people made actual operational choices.
"Morrison," Xu Run said, looking up from paperwork that was clearly make-work. "This is unexpected. What brings you here?"
"I have a proposal," Morrison said directly, respecting Xu Run's time. "One that gives you operational control of Shanghai franchise operations. Real authority, not ceremonial responsibility."
That got Xu Run's complete attention. Morrison explained the franchise system in detail, then the regional structure they needed to support growing interest.
"Why Shanghai specifically?" Xu Run asked.
"Because we're getting serious franchise inquiries from eight different ports," Morrison said. "We can't manage everything from Tianjin—we don't have the local relationships or the communication speed. We need people with established merchant connections in each major region. You know Shanghai commerce better than anyone in this company. You built those relationships over decades."
"I'm deputy director," Xu Run pointed out. "Technically, I already have authority over Shanghai operations on the organizational chart."
"Technically," Morrison agreed. "But realistically, Sheng's faction has been routing important decisions around you for years. Everyone knows your authority is ceremonial. This gives you direct operational control, semi-independent from Tianjin bureaucracy. You'd report results to Yang, but you'd make day-to-day decisions locally based on your own judgment."
Xu Run was quiet, considering the implications carefully. "This would antagonize Sheng's people even more than they already resent me. They already hate my merchant background and my connections to the old commercial faction."
"They're already your enemies," Morrison said bluntly. "That's not a new situation. The question is whether you want to fight them while trapped in a ceremonial position with no real power, or fight them while running successful operations that prove merchant management works better than bureaucratic control. Which position gives you more leverage?"
A slight smile crossed Xu Run's face. "You're offering me a chance to embarrass them commercially while helping reform succeed systematically. That's... professionally appealing."
"There's one more thing we need from you," Morrison said. "Your remaining influence with employee contracts and job assignments. We're implementing new employment contracts across CMSNC, but we're facing organized resistance from senior staff. Your name still carries weight—you built the commercial foundations of this company. If you publicly endorse the contracts, if you help us with personnel transfers and departmental assignments, it legitimizes the entire process."
"You want me to use my remaining political capital to support your reforms," Xu Run said.
"I want you to use your authority as deputy director to restore the merchant-oriented management that made this company successful before bureaucrats took control and ran it into sustained losses," Morrison corrected. "This isn't about supporting my reforms—it's about reclaiming what you built."
Xu Run looked at the make-work paperwork on his desk, then back at Morrison. "When do we start?"
"Immediately. And there's someone else we need—Tang Shaoyi for Ningbo operations. Can you arrange a meeting quickly?"
"He's in this building right now," Xu Run said, already standing. "He's been complaining about being underutilized for months. This will interest him considerably."
Tang Shaoyi arrived fifteen minutes later—a man in his early thirties, Western-educated but wearing traditional Chinese scholar's robes as a conscious statement. He'd been assigned to CMSNC administrative work despite his foreign training, essentially wasted on tasks any competent clerk could handle.
Morrison explained the proposal again—Shanghai operations under Xu Run, Ningbo operations under Tang Shaoyi, both coordinated with but operationally independent from Tianjin headquarters.
"You're offering me operational control of Ningbo franchising?" Tang asked, his skepticism evident. "Complete authority over contracts, ship owner relations, cargo coordination?"
"Semi-independent authority," Morrison corrected precisely. "You report results to Tianjin headquarters, but you make operational decisions locally. You build the system in your region according to your judgment and local conditions."
"And if I fail?"
"Then you fail publicly and your reform reputation suffers," Morrison said honestly. "But if you succeed, you demonstrate that foreign-educated Chinese can run modern commercial operations effectively. You prove that reform works and that Western education has practical application."
Tang looked at Xu Run. "You're supporting this?"
"I'm managing Shanghai operations under the same structure," Xu Run confirmed. "Morrison's right—this is a real opportunity to prove merchant-oriented management works better than bureaucratic control. And if we succeed in our respective regions, we strengthen the entire reform coalition. This isn't about personal advancement—it's about systemic validation."
Tang was quiet for a long moment, thinking through the implications. Then: "I'm in. When do I start?"
"Today," Morrison said. "Xu Run, we'll need your help with something else immediately. The employee contracts—can you review them and provide your public endorsement? Your name carries weight with the merchant faction and with employees who remember when this company was competently managed."
Xu Run took the contract documents Morrison offered, reading carefully with his commercial expertise. "These are well-drafted. Clear terms, fair conditions, performance-based advancement. Much better than the patronage-dependent system we have now."
"Will you endorse them publicly?"
"I'll do better than that," Xu Run said with determination. "I'll use my authority as deputy director to facilitate the job assignments and transfers. Any employee who signs the new contract and wants to move to a different department or location—I'll process those transfers personally. That removes one major barrier Sheng's people could use to obstruct implementation."
"That's... significant," Morrison said, recognizing the implications. "You're essentially guaranteeing we can restructure the workforce based on the new contracts without bureaucratic obstruction."
"I'm using the authority I technically possess but rarely get to exercise," Xu Run replied. "Sheng can't openly oppose the deputy director handling personnel matters without making his obstruction too obvious to ignore. This forces him to either accept the transfers or reveal his sabotage publicly."
Morrison smiled. "Welcome to the reform coalition. Both of you."
Week One: Final Numbers
By the end of the week, Yang compiled the final adoption numbers in a detailed report:
Dock workers: 185 of 200 signed (92%)Junior clerks: 120 of 150 signed (80%)Mid-level managers: 35 of 80 signed (44%)Senior staff: 8 of 30 signed (27%)Total: 348 of 460 employees signed (60%)
"Sixty percent exactly," Morrison said, reviewing the roster with its color-coded indicators. "Better than projected for lower levels, worse than hoped for middle management, about as expected for senior staff."
Yang studied the organizational chart, now marked to show which employees had signed contracts. "The company is effectively split. Sixty percent operating under new contracts and procedures, forty percent clinging to the old patronage system."
"Can we actually function like that?" Tan asked with concern. "A company divided against itself?"
"We have to," Yang said firmly. "The sixty percent includes all the dock workers, most of the junior clerks, and enough mid-level managers to handle core operations. The forty percent who refused are mostly senior management and their personal loyalists—people who were already passively obstructing us anyway."
Xu pointed to specific departments on the chart. "The mid-level managers who signed are concentrated in operations and cargo handling—the departments that actually run ships and move freight day-to-day. The ones who refused are mostly in administration and finance—oversight roles that can be routed around. That's actually a favorable distribution for operational purposes."
"And with Xu Run handling personnel transfers," Morrison added, "we can start systematically reorganizing departments. Move the reform-supporting managers into key operational positions, assign them the franchise support responsibilities, route operational decisions through them instead of through the obstructionist forty percent. We create parallel operational chains."
Zhao entered with Chen, both looking energized. "The merchant faction just saved us from three weeks of bureaucratic paperwork backlog. Documents that were stuck in approval queues for weeks suddenly got processed overnight. Fang Dechang and his associates are using their relationships to unstick administrative obstacles systematically."
"And Shen Dunhe brought seven more foreign-educated Chinese this morning," Xu reported. "Engineers, administrators, technical specialists. Tang Shaoyi's involvement is attracting his entire social circle—once they heard he was getting real operational authority, they all wanted to join the effort."
The pieces were accelerating beyond their initial projections. Merchant factions support removing bureaucratic obstacles. Returnee recruitment providing technical talent. Contract adoption splitting the workforce favorably. And franchise inquiries continue to arrive from multiple ports.
"We have momentum," Morrison said. "Real, measurable momentum."
"We have one week of momentum," Zhao corrected carefully. "That's not the same as sustainable reform. But it's a start—a better start than I expected."
The following morning brought unexpected but crucial assistance. Fang Dechang arrived at Yang's office with three other merchants from the old commercial faction—men who'd been involved with CMSNC decades ago before bureaucratization pushed them out.
"We've been discussing the franchise system," Fang said without preamble. "We think you're underestimating the administrative warfare you'll face."
"We're aware there will be obstacles," Yang said carefully.
"You're aware, but you're not prepared," Fang corrected, not unkindly. "You've built good structures—contracts, regional organization, talented people. But you don't fully understand how bureaucratic obstruction actually works at the operational level."
He pulled out a thick document. "This is a list of every administrative touchpoint where Sheng's people can create delays. Cargo allocation, docking schedules, maintenance approvals, customs procedures, maritime bureau inspections, harbor pilot assignments, warehouse access, stevedore hiring, insurance verification. Twenty-three different processes where a sympathetic bureaucrat can slow things down through 'proper procedure.'"
Morrison took the document, scanning it with growing concern. "This is... comprehensive."
"This is experience," Fang said. "We fought these battles for fifteen years before the bureaucrats won. We know every tactic they use. And more importantly—" he smiled slightly "—we know the workarounds."
Another merchant, Zhou Mingshan, spoke up: "For every official procedure Sheng controls, there's an unofficial network that actually makes things happen. Harbor pilots who can be hired directly rather than through bureau assignment. Stevedore crews who work independently of port authority scheduling. Warehouse operators who allocate space based on relationships rather than paperwork. Customs inspectors who process documentation quickly for people they know."
"You're talking about bribery," Xu Mingzhe said flatly.
"We're talking about how Chinese commerce actually functions," Fang corrected. "Yes, money changes hands. Yes, relationships matter more than procedures. But that's reality. You can operate in the system as it exists, or you can insist on operating in the system as you wish it existed and fail completely. Your choice."
Yang and Morrison exchanged glances. This was the uncomfortable truth they'd been avoiding—that succeeding might require participating in the very corruption they wanted to eliminate.
"We're trying to build a clean system," Yang said finally. "If we immediately resort to bribes and unofficial networks, we're not reforming anything."
"You're building a clean system within a corrupt environment," Fang replied. "That requires compromise. Not wholesale corruption—you don't need to bribe everyone for everything. But selective use of unofficial channels to bypass bureaucratic obstacles that are specifically designed to obstruct you? That's not corruption. That's survival."
Zhao had been listening quietly. Now he spoke: "You're offering to handle this for us. The 'selective use of unofficial channels.' That's why you're here."
Fang nodded. "We manage the grey areas so you can maintain clean public operations. You document everything properly, follow procedures where possible, build your transparent system. We ensure that when procedures fail—when Sheng's people use 'proper process' as a weapon—there are alternative paths that keep operations moving."
"Why?" Morrison asked bluntly. "Why help us this way?"
"Because we want the bureaucratic faction to fail," Fang said simply. "We want merchant-oriented management to prove it works better. And we're willing to get our hands dirty in ways you can't afford to, politically. You need to be the clean reformers. We can be the pragmatic operators who make things work."
The room was silent as everyone processed this offer. It was simultaneously cynical and practical—an acknowledgment that idealism alone wouldn't overcome entrenched opposition.
"What do you want in return?" Yang asked.
"Franchise licenses at fair terms," Fang said. "We're already planning to operate vessels under your system. We want assurance that as the system grows, the merchant faction maintains significant participation. We don't want this to become another bureaucratic takeover in ten years."
"That's reasonable," Morrison said.
"And one more thing," Fang added. "When you succeed—and if you follow our advice, you will succeed—we want recognition that merchant expertise was essential. Not public credit necessarily, but acknowledgment within commercial circles that the old merchant faction helped make reform work. Reputation matters in our world."
Yang looked at Morrison, then at Zhao. Both nodded slightly.
"Agreed," Yang said. "You handle the grey areas, we maintain public legitimacy. And the merchant faction gets fair participation and recognition."
Fang stood, offering his hand Western-style. "Then we have an arrangement. Your first franchise partner is Chen Shuheng from Shanghai, arriving next week?"
"Yes," Morrison confirmed.
"We'll ensure his first month of operations goes smoothly," Fang said. "Whatever administrative obstacles emerge, we'll have solutions ready. He'll see that the franchise system actually works—not because bureaucracy cooperates, but because experienced merchants know how to make things happen despite bureaucracy."
After the merchants departed, the team sat in silence for several minutes.
"We just agreed to let them bribe officials and use corruption networks on our behalf," Tan said quietly.
"We agreed to let experienced operators handle practical realities while we build clean institutional structures," Morrison corrected. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" Xu Mingzhe asked. "Philosophically, morally—is there really a difference between doing it ourselves and having others do it for us?"
"Yes," Zhao said firmly. "The difference is intent and outcome. Our intent is to build a merit-based, transparent system. The merchant faction's intent is to make that system function in a corrupt environment. The outcome is that we gradually reduce corruption as our clean system proves its worth, rather than trying to eliminate corruption instantly and failing completely."
"That's rationalization," Xu said.
"That's pragmatism," Zhao countered. "Perfect reform isn't possible. The choice is between imperfect reform that makes things better, or no reform at all because we insist on impossible purity. I choose imperfect improvement over perfect failure."
Morrison stood, walking to the window overlooking the port. "I've worked in China for fifteen years. I've watched reform efforts fail because reformers refused to compromise with reality. The British Empire didn't build global dominance through moral purity—we built it through practical adaptation to local conditions."
"That's colonial justification," Xu said.
"That's how change actually happens," Morrison replied. "You can judge morality if you want. But I'm telling you the practical reality: reform succeeds by adapting to existing conditions while building better alternatives, not by demanding immediate perfection."
As the others departed, Zhao remained alone in the office, studying the organizational charts and operational plans covering the walls. One week of implementation had produced remarkable progress—but also revealed how complex success would actually be.
They weren't just fighting bureaucratic opposition. They were building clean systems in a fundamentally corrupt environment, proving merit-based operations could work in a patronage culture, convincing ship owners that transparent contracts were more valuable than traditional relationships.
In four months.
Chen Weiming entered with tea, looking thoughtful. "You're worried."
"Calculating probabilities," Zhao said. "We've made impressive progress. But we're one major setback away from collapse. If Chen Shuheng's first month goes badly, if other franchise partners encounter serious problems, if Sheng's sabotage proves more effective than our workarounds..."
"Then we fail," Chen finished. "I know."
"But we might also succeed," Zhao said. "That's what keeps surprising me. Every time I calculate the obstacles, I think we're doomed. Then something unexpected happens—Xu Run joins us, the merchant faction offers sophisticated support, foreign-educated Chinese rally to the cause."
They sat in comfortable silence, drinking tea.
"Chen Shuheng arrives in four days," Chen said finally. "Everything depends on whether his operations succeed."
"Then we make sure they succeed," Zhao said. "We use every advantage—Xu Run's authority, the merchant faction's networks, our procedures, Morrison's expertise. We don't leave success to chance."
"You sound confident."
"I sound hopeful," Zhao corrected. "Confidence is certainty. Hope is believing success is possible while acknowledging failure is too. I'm hopeful because we've built something worth hoping for."
After Chen left, Zhao remained in the darkening office. Through the window, ships moved in the harbor—the endless commerce connecting China's economy despite political chaos and administrative corruption.
Somewhere out there, Chen Shuheng was preparing to travel from Shanghai, deciding whether to risk his three vessels on an untested franchise system. Other ship owners were reading advertisements, calculating whether the terms were genuine.
And in Shanghai, Sheng Xuanhuai was planning sabotage, confident that institutional control would triumph over reformist enthusiasm.
Four months to prove reform could work. One week down. Fifteen weeks remaining.
Zhao extinguished the lamps and headed home through Tianjin's evening streets. Tomorrow would bring new challenges—Chen Shuheng's arrival preparations, operational procedure finalization, continued implementation efforts.
But tonight, walking through the port district where he'd worked as a dock laborer just months ago, Zhao allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.
They'd built something real. Imperfect, morally ambiguous in places, dependent on compromises he wished weren't necessary—but real. Functional. Possibly sustainable.
And that was more than most reform efforts in China could claim.
Tomorrow, they'd find out if reality agreed with hope.
But tonight, hope was enough.