Chapter 97: Trade Agreement

The headman led them to an open field outside the village and instructed them to rest there. This Li settlement bore no resemblance to the tourist-trap "authentic Li villages" of the modern era. For one thing, it lacked walls entirely—it looked more like an ordinary rural hamlet, only somewhat larger. Dense, thorny shrubs encircled it, interwoven with bamboo and creeping vines into a living hedge so thick that not even a rabbit could squeeze through. None of them had ever encountered such a barrier.

Nor did the village contain any of the iconic "boat-shaped houses" they had expected from tourist brochures—stilted structures with living quarters above and livestock pens below. Instead, the dwellings were pyramid-shaped straw huts with walls of bamboo-strip lattice plastered over with mud. Quite distinctive. Nanan Village was evidently the dong's capital.

Hainan's li-dong were roughly delineated by natural terrain, each usually comprising several villages. The dong chiefs held government-recognized hereditary positions complete with official seals and bronze credentials. These Li native officials—dong chiefs and tushe administrators—bore two primary duties: to suppress the Li commoners and maintain local peace, and to fulfill the government's various annual levies, both official taxes and the private "lucky money" that greased palms all the way up the chain. Naturally, they also needed to collect their own income—native officials, large or small, received no government salary and were expected to extract it themselves. In other words, as long as they paid all dues on time, both official and otherwise, native officials could do whatever they pleased within their territory. They were essentially local emperors.

Those waiting outside the village came under Zhang Bailin's supervision. Everyone maintained an outward calm while staying inwardly alert, resting as efficiently as they could. Meanwhile, Lu Rong, Wen Desi, and Mu Min followed the headman into the village to meet the dong chief.

Many curious Li people, both inside and outside the village, watched from a distance, pointing and murmuring. Wen Desi noticed several old women sitting on roadside rocks, weaving rattan. Their faces were densely tattooed with black patterns, their mouths solid black masses. Truly horrifying. So this was the famous "Eighteen Oddities" of Hainan—"old grannies look like monsters." Seeing was believing. Li women's face-tattooing had continued until the 1950s. The practice served both to prevent capture by outsiders and to symbolize romantic fidelity. The black lips and teeth were simply the result of daily betel-nut chewing. Looking more carefully, he noticed that nearly all the women were tattooed except for young children. Everyone's fantasies about beautiful minority maidens shattered on the spot.

"This custom must be revolutionized," Wei Aiwen muttered under his breath. In his original plan, recruiting Li soldiers was merely step one; the next phase involved consolidating power by commanding Li troops—and the crucial element was marrying a Li headman's daughter. He had imagined Li girls based on movie depictions. Present reality shook that plan to its foundations. If a headman actually offered his daughter, should he accept? Truly troubling. Moreover, local women were tattooed upon reaching adulthood... He found himself fretting over castles in the air.

At the moment, never mind headmen's daughters—even ordinary Li girls showed no interest in him. For Li commoners, these strangers were terrifying. They had heard that the newcomers' "powder guns"—the Li term for firearms—were formidable, firing continuously and killing from great distances. Survivors of their last encounter said the gunfire had been relentless; people died in droves.

Lu Rong's group was led into a large house at the village center. Taller than the ordinary dwellings, it was built on a raised platform with bamboo-lattice beds on three sides for sitting or sleeping, leaving only a central corridor. The fire-pit stood against the back wall, with bamboo racks suspended above it for smoking food. Side windows admitted some light, but the interior remained quite dim—entering felt like going blind until one's eyes adjusted.

The dong chief proved to be an old man with white hair and a poor complexion. They later learned he was only just past fifty, though by seventeenth-century standards that qualified as elderly anywhere in the world. Lu Rong presented the specially prepared gifts: one bottle of Red Star Erguotou, one bag of rock candy, and two folding knives.

Of these, the Erguotou in its glass bottle attracted the most attention. Though baijiu was common enough in Ming times, liquor packaged in a transparent, colorless glass bottle was visually striking for anyone in this era. Clearly, the glass bottle serving merely as modern packaging was far more valuable to the chief than the liquor inside.

As for the two folding knives—the dong chief examined them closely, scratched a wooden board several times, and his eyes gleamed with admiration.

"Such fine knives—even in the county seat, you can't buy these." The chief looked up at them, visibly surprised. "Where are you from? Qiongshan?"

Wen Desi launched into his Australian sea-merchant routine—practiced so often by now that it had become polished smooth. The chief knew little about the outside world; the only Han area he had ever visited was the Lingao County seat. The "great official" in Qiongzhou Prefecture—the Prefect—represented the highest authority in his understanding. But upon hearing they were not Ming subjects but overseas Chinese, he visibly relaxed. He ordered wine to be brought—rice wine made from glutinous shanlang rice grown by the Li. This wine would later develop into the local specialty known as Shanlan Yulu, "Shanlang Jade Dew."

Shanlang wine was essentially simple fermented glutinous rice, brewed for only seven days with minimal alcohol content—similar to modern sweet rice wine. All three drank a bowl.

With wine as lubricant, discussions proceeded more easily, and they gleaned considerable local information. The chief's surname was Zhu—though he bore no relation to Zhu Yuanzhang. His family were so-called "banana children," village headmen for generations. During the Wanli-era Mashi Uprising, many Lingao dong had been involved, but his family had not participated. After the pacification, nearby villages were consolidated into one dong, and he was made dong chief. The entire dong now comprised seven villages with more than two thousand men, women, and children—one of Lingao's largest.

As for governance, Chief Zhu explained that recent county magistrates had been manageable, their demands modest. Sending annual "regulation fees" kept them satisfied. Only in recent years had road security deteriorated, with fewer Han peddlers reaching the Li areas. Salt had always been expensive; now prices were even worse. If the sea-merchants could bring salt, they would take any quantity, exchanging hides, red-and-white rattan, betel nuts, and cattle. The bribed Headman Fu added that it would be best if they could also sell iron goods—farming tools and knives were scarce here.

These conditions were expected. Lu Rong agreed to all of them. Salt and iron could not yet be manufactured, but production was imminent and supply would not be a problem. In comparison, Li territory offered many useful products: timber, cotton cloth, hides, rattan, pigs and cattle—all urgently needed.

On pricing, Wen Desi decided against exploitation. Operating like itinerant peddlers—selling small quantities with huge markups—meant low volumes. Of course, in an age of low productivity, poor transport capacity, and dangerous roads, high-profit methods were understandable. But for transmigrators with large-scale industrial production capacity, that approach was unsuitable. Exorbitant salt prices might yield high profits, but commoners would minimize consumption to bare survival levels, resulting in low sales. Lower prices, on the other hand, would cause consumer demand to rise immediately.

His salt price pleased Chief Zhu and the headman—only one-third of what peddlers charged. Yet even this made Wen Desi feel like a profiteer. Salt was measured temporarily in official dou; upon his return, Wen Desi resolved to produce measuring instruments of their own, using trade to spread transmigrator units of measurement. For iron goods, he did not yet know Ming iron prices, so he only promised they would certainly be cheaper than the peddlers.

After bargaining, they reached their first trade agreement since arriving in this timespace—historic in its own way: The Nanan Village Trade Agreement. Its terms stipulated that the transmigrators could sell any goods to Nanan dong, but each trade must include certain quantities of salt and iron. Nanan dong would exchange any goods the transmigrators needed—except people.

The eighty kilograms of salt brought on this trip netted more than seventy cowhides, deerskins, and wild-boar skins; forty bolts of Qiong-cloth; and one water buffalo. The piled goods made everyone feel like profiteers—though they did not yet know that specialized Li-trade peddlers could exchange one jin (the old jin, equivalent to 594 grams) of coarse salt for a pig weighing twenty to thirty jin.

The Li also felt they had profited handsomely. Hides were abundant in every village—easily obtained in their eyes. Qiong-cloth was simply women's homespun fabric—worthless.

The chief additionally gifted twelve bolts of kudzu cloth. Kudzu cloth was a famous Ming-era Hainan product—moisture-wicking and heat-dissipating, a premium summer fabric. Each returned prisoner's family contributed one pig as thanks for their release. Everyone was satisfied.

Chief Zhu summoned all the villages' aoya to drink. At the feast, he produced two arrows. First, he had someone loudly recite the agreement, then he carved nine notches on one arrow and handed the other to Lu Rong.

"You must also carve nine notches," Mu Min explained. This was the arrow-cutting ceremony, signifying that both parties must honor the terms. Violators would be fined ninety cattle and ninety liang of silver.

After cutting arrows, they drank several more bowls of rice wine. Both sides designated liaisons: for the transmigrators, Lu Rong; for Nanan dong, local aoya Fu Dayou. Wen Desi then proposed staying in Nanan for several more days to survey what local products they might need. If available, these could offset salt-and-iron payments. The request was readily granted.

(End of Chapter)