Chapter 1177 - Nintendo

Once the pleasantries concluded, the two men settled into casual conversation. Master Zhou inquired about Australian affairs—though he had spent many years abroad, he still maintained connections with old acquaintances in both Nanjing and Beijing. And despite being too old and frail to venture to sea himself these past ten years, his information networks remained remarkably well-connected. Before committing to anything, he wanted to take the measure of this Australian merchant's background.

Ping Qiusheng understood the old merchant's thinking perfectly. He repeated the fabricated backstory he had prepared earlier, explaining that while his ancestors were Japanese, he was now a subject of Australian Song. This voyage to Japan served three purposes: first, to return to his ancestral homeland and fulfill his forebears' long-cherished wish; second, to apologize for certain incidents at Jeju Island; and third—since Australia was a nation built upon industry and commerce with many rare goods to offer—he hoped to establish trade with Japan, though having been away so long, he now lacked the necessary connections. He concluded with appropriate expressions of humility.

Master Zhou stroked his beard and nodded repeatedly, taking his time to respond. In his estimation, this so-called Taira descendant from Australia was obviously fabricating his lineage—merely using the prestigious Taira name as convenient cover. But no matter. Claiming distinguished ancestors was simply human nature, particularly if one wished to conduct business in Japan.

Master Ping's meaning, however, was perfectly transparent: the Australians wanted to trade with Japan. Though Zhou had never personally witnessed Australian might during his long residence in Japan, word of their strength had spread here over the past few years, carried alongside their goods. Chinese ships arriving at Nagasaki and vermillion-seal ships returning from the Great Ming occasionally brought scraps of Australian merchandise—all of it highly valued and snapped up the moment it touched port.

Now an Australian merchant had sought him out, proposing cooperation. His heart swelled with both excitement and apprehension. After all, these Australians were a juggernaut no less formidable than Zheng Zhilong himself. Whether partnering with them would lift him to the heavens or crush him to powder remained an open question.

Ping Qiusheng presented Master Zhou with ten jars of Lingao-made pickles and two bottles of Peerless Champion. Zhou Xingru hailed from South Zhili, so the sight of these pickles stirred a familiar fondness. And the Peerless Champion left him marveling inwardly—he had never beheld such crystalline glass bottles. Glass broke easily, and this particular liquor was in such scarce supply in Guangzhou that people often had it sent from the capital by special courier. Bulk quantities had never reached Japan.

He could not help but silently admire the Australians' cleverness. As the conversation turned to business, the atmosphere gradually relaxed. He knew the Australians excelled at producing sought-after rarities—items seldom found elsewhere—and now, having seen this Peerless Champion, he understood precisely why it commanded such demand.

"This old man is unworthy of such generosity, but I still maintain certain connections throughout these Eastern isles," Zhou said. "May I ask what goods your side deals in, and in what quantities?"

Ping Qiusheng seized the opening. He ordered an attendant to bring out an exquisite paper box containing a thick tome—as substantial as a photo album from a portrait studio.

This leather-bound volume was a product catalog, entirely the work of Leibtrani in both binding and illustration. Every design employed copperplate engravings; the paper was heavy stock; the decoration and printing as fine as any craftsman could achieve. By this era's standards, the catalog itself was practically a treasure.

These hardcover albums served as promotional brochures and order forms for distribution to potential trade partners. To ensure no one discarded them, they had been made lavishly luxurious.

Like the catalogs in Lingao's department stores, the first half detailed and categorized the appearance, performance, quality, and FOB prices of every product the Senate could supply—all the essential data for trade. Some products even included line-drawn sketches. Photo paper reserves were insufficient for such mass consumption, and until photography technology and equipment could be restored, they had to rely on this ancient but effective method. In practice, the Italian artist's renderings seemed to produce better results than the printing factory's crude photo prints.

The catalog's appendix listed goods the foreign trade company wished to purchase. Each catalog's contents were tailored to the region and recipient—some adjusting product offerings, others adjusting pricing. To facilitate reading by locals, the catalogs were printed in multiple languages. The one given to Zhou Xingru used traditional vertical Chinese characters. Anyone receiving such a catalog who wished to trade with Lingao could easily understand the transaction process.

Zhou Xingru leafed through the thick volume, clicking his tongue in amazement. He had dealt with countless merchants, but this was the first time someone had presented a catalog rather than actual gold-and-silver samples for personal inspection. The exquisiteness of the binding, the meticulousness and realism of the illustrations, the thorough detail of the descriptions—all opened his eyes.

The product descriptions were particularly impressive, featuring every specification down to dimensions, colors, materials, and weights. They even explained available packaging options.

The variety of goods was immense. Zhou Xingru flipped through roughly and saw the catalog divided into five categories: food, daily goods, weapons, textiles, and farm tools. Each category branched into numerous subcategories—a dazzling array that left the old merchant struggling to keep pace.

He leafed through it, unable to put it down, finally setting it aside with reluctance. "Your organization is truly extraordinary!"

"Not at all—Master Zhou is too kind." Ping Qiusheng could read from his expression that the deal was more than halfway done. He immediately clapped his hands, and a servant brought in another reinforced box.

The box contained, as expected, an assortment of novel Lingao products: glass mirrors, bone china, and similar items that amazed Master Zhou. The merchant's mind immediately began churning with possibilities.

This Master Ping's every gesture thoroughly demonstrated genuine sincerity—deeply attractive to Master Zhou, whose business had fallen into decline. He lacked many ships, and his capital could not match great maritime merchants like Zheng Zhilong. But if he could become a local import merchant? That would be comfortable work indeed—simply counting money.

"I wonder how Master Ping plans to sell goods here?" Though his heart surged with anticipation, years of experience allowed Zhou to maintain a calm, friendly smile. After all, on this Fukue Island, he was the host and the Australians the guests—much negotiation remained.

"I will need to trouble Master Zhou greatly to help make this happen," Ping Qiusheng said with earnest sincerity.

"Easily done, easily done," Master Zhou replied with the magnanimous air of a generous elder.

And so both men smirked inwardly.

The two sides then discussed entering into "deep, close cooperation." They agreed to establish a joint trading post on Fukue Island, with the Zhou family handling all formalities. Capital investment and personnel would be the Australians' responsibility; the Zhou family would manage purchasing local land, cultivating relations with domain officials, and smoothing connections all the way to Edo.

The new trading post would be named "Nintendo." Ping Qiusheng found himself quite satisfied with this name. Elder Qiao, being a devoted Nintendo fan, lodged a half-hearted protest, but was easily overruled.

The trading post's total capital was set at 100,000 taels of silver. The Zhou family would hold forty percent, invested in cash; the Senate would hold sixty percent, invested in cash and goods. Ping Qiusheng followed the precedent of the Guangdong Zi Enterprises, distributing dividends according to twenty-three shares: three shares reserved for employee welfare and bonuses, the remaining twenty shares of profit divided with the Zhou family according to capital contribution.

The trading post's current labor needs would temporarily be sourced locally with the Zhou family's assistance—though Jeju Island had plenty of people, conducting business on Japanese soil required at least basic Japanese language ability. Ping Qiusheng specifically requested preference for local Chinese. Zhou Xingru explained that the domain lord was currently constructing a castle at Ishida, conscripting most locals for the work site—finding Japanese laborers would not be easy. In the end, they recruited two young servants, both around fifteen years old. According to Master Zhou, both were illegitimate sons of Great Ming sailors and merchants; their mothers were Japanese. Ships from the Great Ming had long frequented these waters, naturally leaving behind plenty of offspring from passing dalliances.

These two servants were nominally Chinese but actually spoke Japanese more fluently than Chinese. Ping Qiusheng was not entirely satisfied, but upon learning they could both read and write Chinese characters, he decided they were moldable material and retained them. Master Zhou also found several local Japanese women to serve as maids, specifically to handle daily shopping and housework. After all, this was not the Great Ming—unmarried women performing such work in public was perfectly acceptable here. And locals would be more familiar with the area.

When Qiao Tianzhi heard there would be Japanese maids, he immediately volunteered to personally screen and select them. Naturally, he ended up disappointed—this height, this skin, these teeth... they practically shattered his expectations. He then approached Ping Qiusheng in somewhat zombie-like fashion, requesting that Master Zhou procure some local lolis to implement a "Hikaru Genji plan."

"That would be simple enough, but there's no way to expense it," Ping Qiusheng replied. Though he was not a fellow traveler in that particular regard, he quite agreed with the concept of "cultivating maids from a young age"—the island had plenty of fishing-village girls running about barefoot in torn kimonos with disheveled hair. But purchasing a few for training lacked any suitable justification. Ever since Old Chang's incident, everyone had become more cautious about such abuse of public resources for private purposes.

So the matter was temporarily shelved. Master Zhou purchased several abandoned samurai residences near the port. These buildings were all fine timber-frame construction, spacious, and almost all equipped with fireproof earthen storehouses. They could serve adequately as temporary quarters and warehouses.

Fukue Island's port boasted excellent natural conditions. During Wang Zhi's heyday controlling China's coast, it had been a major base for Chinese pirates and maritime merchants. Thanks to frequent visits from Great Ming merchants, the port facilities here were complete, with wooden piers where H800s could dock directly to unload cargo.

Once matters were settled here, the first shipment of goods constituting their capital investment arrived from Jeju Island: large quantities of salt, sugar and candy, mirrors, glassware, bone china, Chinese medicinal materials, and cloth. Also arriving with the ship were a dozen or so naturalized citizens—these would become the backbone personnel of the Japan Station.

With personnel assembled, Ping Qiusheng appointed Qiao Tianzhi as temporary general manager of Nintendo, responsible for renovating the newly purchased residences and incidentally repairing the pier. Once the goods arrived, business would officially commence.

(End of Chapter)