Chapter 1374 - Compulsory Cooperation
Just as Shen Kaibao was steeling himself for these "heroic" preparations, Duoduo's mother arrived. She had formally become a "monthly helper" at the Wang Siniang household. Her frequent task was conveying Wang Siniang's "instructions" among the villagers. In Shen Kaibao's eyes, she had become something of a "lackey."
Though everyone looked down on her somewhat, they also envied the lackey's compensation: Duoduo's mother earned one tael and two mace of silver per month—roughly what shop assistants at the big stores in town made. She earned more than many men in this village. So while the villagers despised her inwardly, every time they saw her, they couldn't help but smile obsequiously and flatter her, terrified of giving offense. If she spoke ill of them to Wang Siniang, their debts might be collected first.
Duoduo's mother was all smiles. She told everyone that tomorrow evening the Shen Da family was inviting all households in the village to a "banquet"—a "thank-you feast" for everyone's support of her business this year.
"Bring the whole family!" Duoduo's mother called out cheerfully. "Plenty of wine and dishes have been prepared!"
Every household felt goosebumps rise at this news. There was never anything good about landlords inviting tenants to dinner. It meant either rent increases or evictions.
Though the Wang Siniang household wasn't technically landlords, they were creditors to everyone. Creditors inviting debtors to dinner was even more self-explanatory.
"I'd wager this is a Hongmen Banquet!" Shen Kaibao said fiercely.
But not going was absolutely impossible. Several boats had moored at the Wang Siniang family's pier, carrying caterers who had arrived to prepare the feast. Stoves were being set up on the threshing ground; baskets of pots, pans, ladles, and all manner of vegetables and meats were unloaded. Women gathered by the river washing vegetables. On the threshing ground, fires blazed and steam rose. The fragrance of dishes cooking could be smelled throughout the entire village. Children's mouths watered as they eagerly anticipated the evening feast—such days hadn't come in years. Even the anxious adults found their stomachs rumbling, saliva flowing involuntarily.
That evening, the entire village—young and old—gathered at the threshing ground before the Wang Siniang house. Tables and chairs borrowed from various households had already been arranged, with torches lit brightly all around. The fully laden tables made every eye in the village go wide.
Wang Siniang sat at the head table with a beaming face, directing her subordinates to greet everyone and guide them to their seats. She offered some polite words, then ordered the feast to begin.
No wine was served, but rice was unlimited. Everyone had barely managed to fill their stomachs with coarse grains lately. Now confronted with delicacies, who cared what medicine this Hongmen Banquet was selling? They wolfed down the food, demolishing everything like wind sweeping through clouds. In an instant, the dishes were cleaned out. Several children took the oily soup left on plates and mixed it with rice, eating bowl after bowl until their bellies bulged and they nearly burst. Wang Siniang hurriedly sent for vinegar to give them.
Once everyone had eaten their fill, Wang Siniang got to the main topic.
The debts owed by each household could temporarily go unpaid. However, Master Zhao wanted the village to continue raising silkworms—specifically, summer silkworms and autumn silkworms.
Ancient sericulture had indeed included raising two or three crops of silkworms per year. But due to the lack of disinfection awareness and methods at the time, continuing with summer and autumn crops after spring silkworms often resulted in severe disease outbreaks. Over time, sericulture households had largely abandoned the practice.
Wang Siniang explained the proposal in detail. Both parties would sign a contract. Master Zhao would loan everyone silkworm eggs, mulberry leaves, and grain as advance payment, without interest. Each household would be responsible for raising a certain quantity of silkworm eggs according to their capacity. After the cocoon harvest, the advance payment would be deducted by converting it to cocoon quantity at contract prices, and the remaining cocoons would be purchased at those same contract prices.
Everyone had heard of raising summer and autumn silkworms, but no one had actually done it. Now, hearing that Master Zhao wanted them to try, they couldn't help but exchange uneasy glances. No one dared respond.
"Everyone can rest assured," Wang Siniang declared, patting her chest. "I have methods for raising summer and autumn silkworms, and I will naturally help take care of things when the time comes. I guarantee everyone's silkworm raising will succeed."
No one believed her. In their view, this was just another new trick the wealthy had devised to exploit farming people.
But no one dared refuse. Wang Siniang held a bundle of IOUs, each charging one percent monthly interest—life-threatening ropes, every one. Who would dare say no? Tomorrow Master Zhao could dispatch collectors and squeeze every household into immediate ruin.
Zhao Yingong knew that in their current predicament, the sericulture farmers—caught between ruin and oblivion—had no choice but to accept his terms. Winning farmers' trust was tremendously difficult. Securing their genuine cooperation required even more sustained, relentless effort. He had neither sufficient manpower nor sufficient time to proceed slowly. He could only exploit this cheap-purchase crisis and force his terms upon them with lightning speed. The methods were harsh, but this was the most efficient approach available.
Contract production was the first step. To truly earn the farmers' trust would have to wait until the summer and autumn silkworm raising succeeded. Only then could he discuss forming cooperatives.
More than ten li from Jixian Village lay a town called Jiuli. Like most towns in the Jiangnan water country, it was surrounded by rice paddies, with numerous lakes, ponds, and rivers scattered like stars across the landscape.
Jiuli, like most Jiangnan small towns, displayed signs of prosperity everywhere. Though it couldn't rank as a first-rate major town on the Hang-Jia-Hu Plain, it still contained over five hundred households. On both sides of the stone-paved upper and lower pond roads, black-tiled, white-walled homes and shops lined up one after another: rice shops, cloth shops, grain stores, ironware shops, boat equipment stores, sundry goods shops, teahouses. The town had everything an ordinary small town should have, plus "big businesses" like silk and satin shops, dyeing houses, and silk guilds. Of course, there were also several temples and Taoist shrines with incense smoke curling skyward, honoring various gods and Buddhas.
In the southwestern corner of this small town stood a residence that was compact but very exquisite. This was the "mansion" of Master Cao.
Country folk didn't understand the imperial court's regulations, and late Ming society wasn't as sensitive about exceeding one's rank as in the dynasty's early days. Thus Master Cao—a local strongman with only a xiucai background—was grandly addressed as "Master" by everyone, and his residence was called "Cao Mansion."
In the waterside pavilion overlooking the mansion's garden pond, the soft tapping of singing boards and the gentle voices of women could be faintly heard.
Master Cao—Cao Guangjiu—reclined on a xiangfei couch with half-closed eyes, emitting faint snoring sounds. A maidservant knelt beside the couch, fighting to resist the afternoon drowsiness while gently massaging his legs.
Though he had slept for more than two quarters of an hour, without the master's orders, neither the singing girls nor the maidservant dared stop.
Master Cao was middle-aged. Though he was a xiucai and his family could claim to have "passed down poetry and books through generations," he bore no resemblance to images like "fair-skinned scholar" or "romantic talent of Jiangnan." He was a tall, dark, and robust fellow. His face was full of fierce flesh, conveying a ferocious expression even in sleep.
Cao Guangjiu was a typical "Broken Boots Party" member—the title society at that time bestowed upon such rogue scholars. Broken Boots Party members were almost invariably xiucai or Imperial Academy students. Considering themselves persons of status, they could walk freely through government offices. In ordinary times, they monopolized lawsuits, mediated disputes, and bullied the weak while fearing the strong—extremely roguish. As for lending at interest and exploiting villagers, that was routine business.
The Cao family had originally merely run a private school in town to make ends meet. Since Cao Guangjiu became a Broken Boots Party member and mastered its money-making methods, the family had prospered in just over ten years. In recent years, he had also monopolized grain tax collection from nearby villages. Every year during summer and autumn tax seasons, he pocketed considerable "extra water" through methods like delaying reports and underreporting collections. His family business had grown formidable.
Though Cao Guangjiu was a Broken Boots Party member who had done plenty of ruthless deeds abroad, his behavior in his own hometown remained reasonably restrained. His lending interest was lower than average, and his conduct more measured. This wasn't because he was kind-hearted—it was because the Jiangnan region had an extremely flourishing tradition of imperial examinations. There were many people with scholarly titles, and the gentry's power was great. As a mere xiucai, if he truly offended a powerful member of the gentry, a single calling card could make his life difficult. Ordinary gentry also held the mentality of "better to offend a gentleman than a petty man," so they maintained a relationship of well water not intruding on river water.
When news reached him that someone in Jixian Village and more than a dozen surrounding villages was lending at a monthly interest of just one percent, Cao Guangjiu dispatched people to investigate. Who could be so charitable as to lend at such a rate? Though lending at interest was one of his "business lines," he had never attempted to form a monopoly in the area—interest lending was the main income source for gentry and masters everywhere. As a Broken Boots Party member, he absolutely didn't dare dream of cornering the market.
But this blatant "business stealing" caught his attention. His investigators learned that behind the lender was a "Xiucai Master" surnamed Zhao from Hangzhou city, and this Mr. Zhao had considerable reputation among the Hangzhou gentry. He was particularly influential among the Catholic gentry.
Upon learning this, Cao Guangjiu had no further thoughts. Without a diamond, don't take on porcelain work. No wonder this Master Zhao had dared to send people so boldly to "steal business." As a Broken Boots Party member, Cao Guangjiu could certainly make trouble for the other party, but given the man's deep background, any real confrontation would end badly for Cao Guangjiu himself. Besides, plenty of gentry in the area lent money, and he wasn't the biggest player. Why should he stick his neck out? When things escalated, some greater master would naturally step forward.
So Cao Guangjiu retreated. These were the busy farming days. Tax collection season hadn't arrived, and no one had time for lawsuits. His "business" was slow. Apart from his morning routine of "soaking in water" at the teahouse—gathering news and catching up with "friends" from all walks of life to scout for profit opportunities—he spent his days leisurely at home.
His snoring grew louder. At that moment, the steward hurried along the garden path. In his hand, he carried a visitor's calling card.
When Cao Guangjiu slept, subordinates didn't dare disturb him—or they'd be hung up and beaten half to death. But today's visitor was extraordinary. The steward entered the waterside pavilion and called softly, several times.
"What is it?" Cao Guangjiu woke with a belly full of anger. But seeing the steward, he knew there must be something important and immediately asked.
"A guest has come to visit."
(End of this chapter)