Chapter 275: Sweet Port Turbulence – Countermeasures
"Speaking of molasses utilization, making industrial alcohol is actually rather wasteful. We could distill spirits instead. Several distilleries in Xuwen already use molasses for that."
Bei Wei added, "Xue Ziliang, who's on my team, knows how to produce various Western spirits. He mentioned that sugar factory molasses can be made into rum..."
"Excellent," Wen Tong said quickly. "The economic value of rum far exceeds that of plain alcohol."
Bei Wei saw it differently. "Isn't alcohol more useful industrially?"
"It is, but alcohol can be derived from anything containing sugar or starch. Rum can only be made from molasses," Wen Tong explained. "I've thought about distilling spirits from molasses, but I didn't know where to begin. If you have an expert, that would be wonderful."
"I'll send him over when I return," Bei Wei promised.
Chang Shide laughed. "Once the rum is ready, exporting it back to Europe won't be a problem. I've heard people say Cuba and Batavia were both major rum-exporting regions back in the day."
"After molasses is processed into rum, the residue can still be refined into other byproducts," Wen Tong added. "It's definitely superior to producing plain alcohol."
And so the matter of establishing a rum distillery in Xuwen was settled. After all, shipping molasses back to Lingao for processing was simply impractical.
That evening, Wen Tong drafted a report for the Executive Committee, requesting a distillation apparatus and temporarily borrowing Xue Ziliang to guide operations at the South China Sugar Factory.
None of those enthusiastically discussing sugarcane byproduct utilization realized just how profound the South China Sugar Factory's impact would prove to be. In a sense, it would surpass even the various construction projects the Transmigration Collective had undertaken in Lingao. Here was a factory entirely open to ordinary Ming Dynasty citizens. The convenience, efficiency, and low cost afforded by mechanized, industrialized large-scale production left an indelible impression on everyone who encountered it. And the consequences arrived faster than anyone anticipated.
Hai'an Street, the Sugar Trade Guild Hall—the Haiyi Guild.
The building rose prominently on Hai'an Street, its green stone gatehouse exuding the rich architectural flavor of Guangdong. Hai'an Street was famed as "Sweet Port," and controlling this port—nearly monopolizing Leizhou's sugar exports—were precisely the merchants gathered within these walls. The vast majority hailed from Guangdong's Chaozhou and Guangfu regions. Geographic proximity combined with shared commercial interests made the sugar merchants here extraordinarily united, fiercely protective of a domain won through years of effort.
Ever since the South China Sugar Factory's chimney had begun billowing black smoke, these sensitive merchants had detected something shifting in the air. They grew restless. In teahouses, in restaurants, in everytrading house's back office, hushed whispers could be heard.
Everyone sensed that action was necessary, yet no one knew quite what to do. Even those who had resolved to respond by doing nothing at all felt uncertain, always wishing someone would step forward to validate their strategy.
Now the managers and senior staff of these trading houses had all assembled in the guild hall's reception room. This lofty, luminous hall, constructed of fine materials and exquisite craftsmanship, had no equal anywhere in Leizhou Prefecture. Ordinarily at this time of year, the managers would gather here—sipping choice teas, sampling delicate snacks, sometimes accompanied by the soft singing of hired songstresses—to negotiate the year's sugar prices. How much reward a season of toil and sweat would yield for so many people was decided at gatherings precisely like this one.
At this moment, however, a strange unease pervaded the hall. As usual, six square tables had been laid out, laden with cold dishes, snacks, fine teas, and quality spirits. But today, these men who were normally so particular about their refreshments had no appetite. The managers and senior staff of each trading house sat in silence. Some had eyes darting rapidly, as though calculating something; others sat with deceptive calm, appearing unperturbed. Suddenly one man stood, paced a few steps, then dropped back into his seat and began furiously working a folding fan.
"It's only spring. It can't be that hot." A fat man, unable to bear his neighbor's gale, spoke up.
"It's my heart that's burning. Fanning won't cool it." The fan-wielder was younger.
"Hot, my foot. Nobody's stopped coming to sell sugar at your place. What're you so anxious about?" The fat man sounded annoyed.
"Not now, perhaps. But later?" The one with the fan was the young master of "Rixiecheng." His family's trading house ranked among the ten largest on Hai'an Street.
"Probably won't decline later either," the fat man said unhurriedly. "If they don't sell to your house, they'll sell to mine. Same price. What's to fuss about?" He was the manager of "Riyuelai."
"I'm worried about the South China Sugar Factory!" The young master swallowed hard. "Haven't you visited their operation? The sight gives you nightmares! Those massive iron rollers—a man would be crushed to pulp if he went through! And that chimney breathing fire by night and belching smoke by day, like some ghostly tree reaching for the heavens!"
The fat man waved dismissively. "They make sugar, we sell sugar. What's it to us? Besides, the more sugar they produce, the lower prices fall. That benefits us—"
"If only it were that simple." An elderly man heaved a long sigh. "What if they decide to enter the sugar trading business themselves?"
"Surely that's impossible? Different trades, different worlds—"
"Hard to say." The old man sighed again. "I hear South China's owners came from Guangzhou. With profits this substantial, why would they simply relinquish them? What if they plan to handle the 'foreign trade' business right here?"
This observation sparked a wave of murmured whispers. At that point, someone called out to the man who had been sitting absolutely motionless in the center of the room.
"Third Master Zhu, you're our backbone. Give us some direction!"
The man addressed as Third Master Zhu was past fifty, short of stature, yet free of the decadent air that came from overindulgence in wine, women, and wealth. He emanated an aura of shrewd competence. His given name was Zhu An, and he was the third-born in his family. Everyone respectfully called him "Third Master Zhu," so consistently that his real name was nearly forgotten. His family operated a sugar trading house called "Riyicheng" and owned more than a dozen large vessels of 200 liao or greater, specifically for transporting sugar to various destinations. Because sugar was highly profitable and easily converted to ready cash, pirates on these waters specialized in hijacking sugar ships. Third Master Zhu, as both a local trading house proprietor and a major ship owner, had organized the trading houses to pool funds and establish the trade guild "Haiyi Guild." Each year they publicly discussed the sugar price, then from the profits, each house contributed according to its size—funds used for cultivating official relationships and entertaining various local strongmen. Additionally, they had recruited at handsome wages quite a few deserters from the naval forces to escort their vessels. Since then, incidents of lost sugar shipments had dropped dramatically, and nearby waters had grown considerably more peaceful. This man was wise and decisive, maintaining excellent relationships in both official and private spheres, with substantial local prestige. He was a leading figure here; the trading houses followed his guidance.
Third Master Zhu hadn't uttered a word since the gathering began—not until someone addressed him directly. Only then did he speak. "Direction? What direction do I have? They're operating a legitimate sugarcane estate and sugar mill enterprise. They're neither violating laws above nor disturbing the populace below. On what grounds would we interfere?"
He picked up his teacup and took a deliberate sip. "Gentlemen, I know what concerns you: you fear they're wealthy and powerful, that someday they'll muscle in and damage our interests."
But someone interjected, "That's not what worries me most. I keep sensing something fundamentally wrong with South China Factory's sugar!" His face was the picture of patriotic concern. "Right now, probably more than half the cane farmers in the entire county are having their sugar processed there. The same goes for farmers arriving from Haikang and Suixi. If there's trickery involved—if it ruins Leizhou sugar's reputation—none of us will be able to make a living!"
"Precisely!" The young master of Rixiecheng perked up. "Their sugar is definitely suspicious! I've visited sugar mills. There's only so much sugar an acre of cane can yield. After accounting for the master's skill level, the total can only fall short, never exceed. How does their operation produce more? And so much more? It's either adulteration or sorcery!"
The word "sorcery" gave everyone a start. When they thought about it, those enormous iron rollers spinning rapidly without a single ox in sight did seem rather uncanny. After a long pause, the fat manager from Riyuelai finally said, "That can't be right. What kind of sorcery would accomplish that?"
"If not sorcery, where does this extra sugar come from?"
"How should I know? If such sorcery existed, I'd want to learn it myself!"
Third Master Zhu silenced the chatter with a hand. "Gentlemen, has the sugar you've been purchasing lately been properly inspected?"
Everyone confirmed it had, and nothing unusual was found. Because this was South China Factory's first year of production, they'd specifically instructed their workers: any sugar purportedly from South China Factory was to be examined with extra care. The results had left them dumbfounded. The earlier batches were quite ordinary, but over the past fortnight, South China's output had proven far superior to every other small-scale mill—especially in purity, which was in a league of its own. It contained no impurities whatsoever.
After hearing all the reports, Third Master Zhu sat in contemplative silence. When he noticed everyone watching him, he finally spoke. "How South China Factory produces their sugar isn't our concern, and we needn't worry about it. I've made inquiries in the county: they own nearly three thousand mu of cane fields in Xuwen and Haikang alone. Adding all the toll processing fees they're collecting—they must have at least ten or twenty thousand shi of stock by now." He shifted tack. "So why haven't they sold any?"
"Yes, we've been wondering that too!" everyone chimed in. It was obvious even to a blind man that South China Factory was going to be a major sugar stockholder. Each trading house had dispatched their "traveling managers" to pay courtesy calls, hoping to probe their intentions for this substantial deal. To their surprise, the other side had declined with impeccable politeness—offering not the slightest hint they planned to sell.
"The sugar from their other mills is also being shipped to South China. It appears they have no intention of selling locally. More likely they're stockpiling to export themselves."
"They do possess large ships. They might genuinely do it."
"Hard to say..."
Just as they were debating this, a servant suddenly rushed in and whispered something in Third Master Zhu's ear. His expression changed immediately. "Are you certain?" he asked quietly.
"Absolutely. It's the talk of the county. The shop is nearly finished—only a matter of days until they open." Though the servant spoke softly, those nearby caught fragments.
"What? Is it—"
Third Master Zhu's face was dark. "Just as you feared—South China Factory opens for purchasing in a few days!"
The news was like cold water splashed into a pot of hot oil. The formerly listless hall instantly erupted.
"What is this! This is outrageous!"
"They want to eat from our bowl, yet they didn't even have the courtesy to pay their respects first. What lawless scoundrels run that South China Factory!"
"Third Master Zhu, this cannot stand! For decades, all the sugar in Leizhou has been handled exclusively by the twenty-one houses of the Haiyi Guild. If we let them break the rules, how will any of us survive here in the future?!"
"That's right, Third Master—say the word. Our twenty-one trading houses will spare neither money nor effort. We absolutely cannot allow South China Factory to upset our arrangements!"
The young master of Rixiecheng fanned himself languidly, looking smug. "No need to trouble Third Master. I have a scheme that'll surely hurt them badly."
"What scheme?"
"Hmph. Find a few roadside corpses and dump them at their gate in the middle of the night. Arrange things with Constables Li and Chen at the yamen—have them waiting at first light. If South China doesn't report it, arrest them on the spot for 'concealing a corpse.' If they do report it, drag the managers in anyway. Once they're inside the yamen, grease a few palms and make sure they have a... memorable experience."
"Keep your half-baked schemes to yourself!" Third Master Zhu snapped. "You think they arrived here empty-handed? Can you obtain a calling card from the aide of the Viceroy of Liangguang? The moment they produce that card, never mind the county magistrate—even the prefect would have to escort them out with bows and courtesies."
The crowd deflated somewhat. As the saying went, a wise man doesn't fight power. Ordinary people, unless driven to rebellion, feared officials above all else—regardless of their trade. Wealthy men were no exception. Learning that their adversary had connections in the Viceroy's office, hearts sank by several degrees. The eager fighting spirit that had been building cooled considerably.
"Furthermore, making trouble like that would mean open warfare with South China Factory! Do you even know what other backing they possess?" Third Master Zhu continued. "Those iron rollers alone—no ordinary great household could afford to install such equipment."
All eyes turned to Third Master Zhu, knowing he had something in mind.
Third Master Zhu allowed himself a thin smile. "In this matter, we can only employ soft tactics, not hard ones. The way I see it, we must first ascertain exactly who we're dealing with: where they come from, who their master is, what precisely their relationship with the Viceroy's aide entails. We need to understand everything thoroughly."
"Third Master is right!" The fat manager from Riyuelai slapped the table. "If their power is greater, we respond with flexibility. If their power is lesser, we apply force. Isn't that the idea, Third Master?"
"More or less," Third Master Zhu said vaguely. "Know your enemy, know yourself."
Some impatient ones were already calling out, "Third Master, just tell us what to do!"
(End of Chapter)