Chapter 1387 - Visit

Phoenix Mountain Villa maintained its own ice cellars—not merely for preserving ice, but for storing vast quantities of fresh fruits, vegetables, and meat. The estate's fresh lychees had become legendary among Hangzhou's gentry circles. Despite prices that bordered on extortionate and strict purchase limits, one still needed to place orders well in advance.

The guests savored lychees between sips of fine wine and mouthfuls of delicacies, gradually surrendering to pleasant inebriation. Sensing that the masters' spirits had risen sufficiently, Steward Cai slipped away to summon the songstresses.

The fashion for theatrical performances ran rampant in the late Ming Dynasty. Nearly every gentry household and wealthy family maintained their own opera troupes. Zhao Yingong, however, detested such extravagance—the costs of preparing costumes alone were astronomical, to say nothing of hiring instructors. Should the Council of Elders ever discover such expenditure, there would be yet another uproar. He still remembered how several people at Leizhou Station had been dressed down and threatened with death merely for acquiring a few extra maidservants.

Yet forgoing an opera troupe made entertaining the gentry somewhat awkward. "Australian gadgets" remained woefully inadequate for such purposes. Zhao Yingong's compromise was a team of female musicians.

These musicians had been carefully selected from among refugees who had sold themselves into service. Each specialized in a traditional instrument. The Council of Elders raised no objections—after all, one could invoke the excuse of cultivating traditional musical talent, which appealed greatly to certain Senators fond of "expressing sentiments for tradition." The maid training program had even incorporated musical instruments into its curriculum.

Zhao Yingong also sought to curry favor with the General Office, sparing no expense to hire renowned teachers from performance troupes. Though the girls' skills remained somewhat immature, the masters listening used this merely as pleasant diversion—the drunkard's intention, as the saying goes, lies not in the wine.

A middle-aged servant woman in green led six girls forward, and they bowed together toward the banquet. All wore their hair in double-bun styles; the youngest were thirteen to fifteen, the eldest sixteen or seventeen. Dressed in sky-blue tight-sleeved shirts beneath pale red sleeveless jackets, they appeared delicate and refined, untouched by vulgarity. Each held a musical instrument and bent her knees gracefully before the guests. Their poise was such that even the most worldly and experienced masters could not help but be moved.

"This greeting ceremony is quite unique," Wen Huai remarked with amusement. "Is this the Zhao family's household etiquette?"

"A new custom from Guangdong," Zhao Yingong replied with a smile. Then his expression darkened. "Why only six?"

The servant woman seemed uneasy. She lowered her head and reported, "Replying to Master—Miss Xihua said they had missed too many lessons while practicing songs these past few days. Fearing it would delay their studies, she kept them back."

Zhao Yingong's displeasure was evident. He slowly set down his cup, fixing the servant woman with a hard stare. "She said that?"

Under his gaze, the woman could barely stand. She trembled, fighting to keep from dropping to her knees. "This servant dares not lie."

Zhao Yingong remained silent for a moment. "Withdraw."

The servant woman retreated hastily. Beside the banquet, under the tree's shade, twelve round stools had been arranged—now only half were occupied, lending the scene an air of emptiness. Wu Zhixiang sensed that Zhao Yingong had lost some face and quickly intervened: "Let us hear the music first."

Zhao Yingong nodded slightly. The clapper sounded a few light beats; pipa and zither began first, joined shortly by flute and xiao. After a brief tuning of strings, a light, gentle melody rose leisurely—flowing water and drifting clouds made audible.

However, among those present, all but Wen Huai—who came from merely a well-off family—had kept at least a few female musicians at home. Upon listening, they judged these Zhao household girls as merely "passable" at best. Surprise flickered through them. Master Zhao's tastes and expenditures were famously lavish throughout Hangzhou; that his female musicians should prove so unremarkable was unexpected. Disappointment crept across their faces.

Though the music failed to impress, it did not spoil the masters' leisurely mood. After further toasting and conversation, the several guests who had grown thoroughly drunk were helped down and escorted to sedans for their respective journeys home.

Only Wu Zhixiang lingered, unwilling to take his leave—he had another purpose for coming here.

Shortly after Zhao Yingong's filature had commenced production, the raw silk it produced had quietly found its way into the market. To gauge the reaction to this new silk, Zhao Yingong had discreetly arranged for a batch to be sold anonymously to weaving workshops, collecting user feedback. The results had been immediate and emphatic. This silk was not only classified as top-grade "fine silk" but proved whiter, finer, and smoother than even the finest "Qili Silk" available.

Most remarkably, the price remained quite low—only ten percent more than locally produced "fat silk."

Whether silk guild bosses or weaving workshop owners, all were captivated by this cheap, high-quality raw silk, inquiring everywhere about its origins. But the silk had vanished without a trace. Though raw silk prices had begun climbing slowly following the thorough exploitation of sericulture households, they remained relatively low. Besides, Zhao Yingong's purpose in reeling silk himself was export; confirming the general market reaction was sufficient.

Wu Zhixiang, however, had immediately guessed where this silk originated. Unlike other Jiangnan gentry closely associated with Zhao Yingong, Wu Zhixiang had dealt far more extensively with "Australians" in Guangzhou and had seen far more Australian goods. He had visited the Great World construction site in Guangzhou and toured several new "factories" established by Guangzhou Station. He knew intimately that Australian "ingenious skills" far surpassed all others. This was most likely the product of an Australian factory. And since Cihui Hall's filature operation was registered with the prefecture yamen and hardly secret, Wu Zhixiang connected the dots with little difficulty.

Though Wu Zhixiang was commonly regarded as a profligate son of a wealthy family, he harbored genuine ambition. He simply lacked the constitution for scholarship—imperial examinations had always proved torturous. Though his recent efforts toward obtaining an official position in Jiangnan had shown some progress, it seemed he could only enter officialdom through the path of Imperial College student—a background thoroughly looked down upon in those circles. His enthusiasm for becoming an official had consequently waned.

His initial attraction to Australians had been their playthings of "ingenious skills." Gradually, Wu Zhixiang had developed intense interest in Australians as a whole—particularly their use of skills to seize the power of creation, generating wealth on a scale utterly beyond their predecessors, accomplishing things previously unimaginable. This had shocked Young Master Wu profoundly.

Australians are human, and I am human—we are all of Huaxia lineage. What they can do, I can also do. Wu Zhixiang could not recall when this thought had first taken root in his heart.

Having lived in Guangzhou for extended periods and intending to pursue foreign firm business, Wu Zhixiang knew the Pearl River Delta's sericulture industry possessed considerable scale, though its raw silk quality was inferior to Jiangnan's, and export prices fell short of "Nanjing Silk." If he could obtain Australian assistance to raise silkworms and reel silk in the Pearl River Delta, perhaps he could open an entirely new frontier.

"You wish to visit Cihui Hall's filature?" Zhao Yingong was somewhat surprised—he had never encountered a Ming "upper class person" interested in factory workshops. Let alone upper class; even ordinary commoners showed no interest.

"Indeed! I beg Brother Zhao to fulfill this humble brother's wish!" Wu Zhixiang's expression was earnest. "To speak plainly: I also wish to establish industry in Guangdong!"

"Easily done, easily done." Zhao Yingong's mind raced through several calculations. Wu Zhixiang belonged to the "pro-Australia personnel." From risking himself to warn Guangzhou Station in the past to actively selling rice to Hangzhou Station and purchasing Merchants Bureau shares now, everything proved this man's "heart turned toward the Council of Elders."

His motives, of course, were nothing more than relying on the Council of Elders to start industry and grow wealthy. But the mere ability to recognize the Council's advanced nature in technology and productive forces was already commendable—he was an "object that could be reformed and united." Moreover, the Council of Elders itself intended to spread private light industry throughout the Pearl River Delta region. If people like Wu Zhixiang were willing to invest, the transformative impact on broader social attitudes would be immense.

"No harm in letting you see—though if word of this filature's inner workings spreads, I am merely an outsider here. I fear some matters might shock the ignorant masses and set tongues wagging..."

"I swear to heaven," Wu Zhixiang said solemnly. "I will tell no outsider anything about this place."

From anyone else, Zhao Yingong would not have trusted such an oath. But Wu Zhixiang was, after all, a local who had proven himself during the Guangzhou Incident and the Second Counter-Encirclement Campaign. Though not quite a "comrade," he was at least a "fellow traveler." Zhao Yingong immediately agreed to his request.

For this descent from the mountain, Zhao Yingong did not call for a sedan chair. The two walked down together. Phoenix Mountain Villa's location was neither high nor steep, and stone-paved paths had been constructed. The walk down took only twenty minutes. Zhao Yingong deliberately avoided sedans or litters, wanting to observe whether this young master was physically lazy.

Lazy men could not accomplish practical work. No matter how much capital or sincerity they possessed, they could only serve as paying "shareholders." Only those capable of practical work could become the Council of Elders' true "collaborators."

Along the way, Wu Zhixiang brimmed with interest, lingering over the scenery and occasionally sharing his ideas with Zhao Yingong. Upon reaching the mountain's foot, both men walked a considerable distance under the scorching, unshaded sun, yet Wu Zhixiang showed no sign of fatigue or boredom. He possessed a vibrant vitality that many local young scholars lacked. This earned Zhao Yingong's genuine appreciation.

The two arrived at the factory gate. Here the smell of coal smoke and sewage could already be detected. A powerful stench assailed them, and Wu Zhixiang could not help but frown, covering his nose with his hand.

"The smell is indeed unpleasant," Zhao Yingong said with a smile. "Inside, it's even worse. If you're feeling unwell, perhaps you'd better not enter..."

Wu Zhixiang shook his head. "No hindrance. I can bear it."

Within the factory workshop, the final batch of cocoons in stock was being processed. Water boiled in massive cocoon-cooking pots; steam hissed from gaps between the tightly sealed lids and barrels. Though the roof of the cocoon-cooking workshop featured large skylights that could open and close for ventilation and heat dissipation, the temperature inside under the midsummer sun still climbed to fifty degrees. Workers within, clad in full work attire, were drenched black with sweat.

(End of this chapter)