Chapter 1550 - The Advertising Brochure
"In truth, you are not losing out. Consider this: without reliable, capable people, is managing land an easy affair?" Li Xiaopeng continued smoothly. "As for the expenses—they are all invested in your own land. Should you decide to sell in the future, the price won't be that of the wasteland or poor soil you bought now. You won't be at a loss."
"Then what is partial management?"
Li Xiaopeng explained that under partial management, all expenses for farming were borne by the landlord. Whether to improve the water and soil, whether to build irrigation works—such investments were up to the landlord's discretion. Taxes, too, were the landlord's responsibility. The Tiandihui was only responsible for actual production and collected a corresponding service fee, taking no share of the proceeds.
If the landlord had substantial capital for independent investment, partial management was clearly the better bargain. But if funds were limited and investment modest, then even with the Tiandihui's involvement, improvements in production would remain slow.
Beyond partial management, there were also à la carte services—pay once, use once. Pest control, mechanized irrigation, mechanized plowing and harvesting—whatever agricultural needs arose, one could purchase a single-use service.
Some still refused to give up, persistently inquiring whether one could buy land and build one's own house, and whether it was really so difficult to recruit tenants. Li Xiaopeng explained the relevant policies once more: none of this was actually prohibited by Australian law—it was simply very difficult to accomplish.
Even so, quite a few remained skeptical. Li Xiaopeng did not swear oaths of honesty. He simply stated that anyone who wished could try for themselves:
"We Lis are businessmen. As the saying goes, 'When the deal is done, righteousness remains.' If any of you have other ideas, by all means give it a go. If there's anything you don't understand, as long as we know the answer, we'll certainly tell you without reservation."
Li Xiaopeng then fielded many more questions—covering all aspects of buying houses, establishing estates, and daily life in Lingao. His memory was excellent, and he answered virtually every query directly, displaying the nimble decisiveness of a seasoned merchant.
Zhuo Yifan had not come to buy land or houses. Still, this was his first time attending such a seminar, and he was curious—he wanted to see just what clever strategies the Shorthairs used to beguile impoverished commoners and entice landlords alike to throw themselves upon Lingao.
Yet after listening to all of this, he concluded that these landlords must have lost their minds to come here. A place where a single misstep meant punishment, where harsh laws rivaled those of the brutal Qin Dynasty—even building a house meant wading through endless petty rules! And the dizzying array of "taxes"! Everyone said the Shorthairs were "extravagantly wealthy"—who would have imagined such ruthless exploitation of the people! If even the gentry were treated so shamelessly, the common folk must surely suffer even more cruelly. Yet this contradicted everything he had observed along the way.
Puzzled, Zhuo Yifan watched the seminar conclude and drifted out of the flower hall with the crowd, returning to his courtyard.
That evening, Li Xiaoliu personally delivered several thick volumes. "Please take your time browsing, Young Masters and Madams. If anything catches your fancy, make a list, and starting tomorrow we can arrange property viewings."
The books were bound in the Australian style—their covers were fine lambskin, firm and weighty in hand, twice the size of ordinary volumes.
Opening one, he found page after page of exquisite thick paper, illustrated with various houses, gardens, and courtyards. Each image was accompanied by a floor plan, annotated with detailed explanations in small characters.
Such things were not entirely unknown: Chinese master builders had long produced floor plans and perspective renderings—common folk had no need of them, but when building for high officials or the emperor, nothing was spared. The Qing palace archives and the Yangshi Lei repositories contained vast quantities of such drawings.
But the illustrations here were unlike anything produced in China. The draftsmanship was foreign, yet the images were exquisite beyond words: rich in color, meticulous in detail. One could only marvel.
Zhuo Yifan was the son of an official's household and the prized disciple of the White Stone Daoist. He had traveled far and wide, seen much of the world—yet never had he encountered anything so luxurious. Examining several pages closely, he saw they depicted properties built by the Li Family Slope Real Estate Company—Li Xiaopeng's family business—in a place called "Jade Rose Garden." He had never heard of it, but that hardly mattered. He had no intention of purchasing anything.
At first glance, aside from slight differences in layout and style from the Great Ming, the houses seemed unremarkable. But as he turned further, his eyes widened.
The latter pages were interior renderings—something utterly unknown in seventeenth-century China. At that time, interior décor was typically described by written "furnishing inventories." Yet what the Australians' renderings depicted was an entirely unfamiliar aesthetic.
Expansive glass windows flooded the rooms with light. Bamboo or wood flooring, spotless and orderly. Porcelain floor and wall tiles in myriad colors and patterns, beautiful and gleaming. Grand crystal-and-glass chandeliers casting a soft glow. And an array of elegant, practical furniture and household items—it overturned Zhuo Yifan's every notion of "luxury." Had they not already visited the Ziming Pavilion in Guangzhou and seen such things for themselves, he would have dismissed these as sheer fantasy.
Wan Lifeng and the others at his side were equally transfixed. The room fell silent.
"No wonder the landlords flock here like moths to a flame," Wan Lifeng sighed at last. "Such extravagance! Not even the Emperor lives like this."
"The Emperor devotes himself to governance; how would he indulge in such pleasures?" Zhuo Yifan agreed wholeheartedly. He knew something of the imperial palace—imperial comforts were indeed beyond ordinary gentry, yet set against these brochures, they almost seemed rustic.
He picked up another volume. The first had been the real estate brochure; this one was a household-goods catalog. Though the Li family did not itself produce or sell these "Australian home products," they were essential complements, and a dedicated catalog could generate additional profit.
Though called "Australian home products," a considerable portion were in fact imported from Southeast Asia, Europe, Persia, India, Japan, and Korea—a veritable compendium of exotic artifices. Even Zhuo Yifan, whose own family was well-stocked with foreign curiosities, found himself dazzled. Many of the items were entirely new to him.
The contents were simply too enticing. Gradually, everyone in the room gathered around, murmuring with wonder. All felt their horizons expanding.
"With such pride and extravagance among the Shorthairs, the gentry and common folk of Hainan must surely be suffering!" Zhuo Yifan sighed as he closed the book. "We must do all in our power to rid the court and the people of this menace!" He tossed the brochure aside.
The assembled martial artists all expressed their unyielding support for the court and their resolve to fight the Shorthairs to the end. Yet the catalogs became the evening's sensation—passed from hand to hand, examined and debated. Like children glimpsing a toy advertisement: unable to play with anything, yet content simply to look.
That day, Sima Qiudao stepped off the light-rail tram arriving from Bopu as usual, ending another day of exhausting work.
His task today had been to visit the northern coastal area of Lingao to inspect samples and monitor production progress: the local products company had signed a purchasing contract with fishermen there. After disembarking at Bopu, Sima Qiudao had relied on his own two legs, walking nearly the entire day.
Leaving the train, his whole body ached; he could barely lift his feet. The Shorthairs' rice is truly hard to earn.
Though still dressed in "old-style" clothing, traces of "Australian" or "new-style" attire marked his person. Slung across his shoulder was a canvas satchel with the shop's logo embroidered on it; inside were a notebook, an inkwell, a sample book, blank agreements and contracts—all befitting a purchasing agent. On either side of the bag were pockets: one held a bamboo canteen, the other a lunch box.
On his back, he carried a "Russian-style" backpack stuffed with local product samples collected from around Bopu.
Sima Qiudao followed the crowd out of the station and bought the day's edition of the Lingao Times from a newsboy at the entrance.
He bought a paper every day: Notes on Pacifying the Shorthairs had advised that reading the newspaper revealed many vital matters. It covered not only Shorthair activities but also, should anything go wrong with Zhuo Yifan or Huang Zhen and the others, the news would appear in print.
Today's paper brought nothing alarming. Sima Qiudao folded it and tucked it into his satchel.
During these days, after work Sima Qiudao had made daily trips to the designated location to check for the safety signal, anxiously awaiting news from Zhuo Yifan's party.
The night before, at the appointed spot, he had at last seen the long-awaited signal: Zhuo Yifan and his party had arrived safely.
His heart, suspended for so long, finally settled.
For this operation, the various groups had moved separately. Though each knew the general objective, the specifics would be communicated only after everyone had reached Lingao and settled in. Sima Qiudao, though only Huang Zhen's deputy, served as the chief liaison.
Therefore, as soon as Huang Zhen and the others had established themselves in Nanbao, Sima Qiudao had immediately left for East Gate Market to lie low and await further orders.
Until now, he had received new information through the Seventh Lord—via a courtesan or a post-office letter—providing not only the latest intelligence from within the Shorthair administration but also various conveniences for their work in Lingao. The Seventh Lord's assistance had been invaluable in helping them settle in safely.
But as for the specific nature of the operation, Sima Qiudao still had no idea.
Before departing, they had been told that Zhuo Yifan knew. But Sima Qiudao knew this was false: Zhuo Yifan, like Huang Zhen, did not know the details of the mission.
Yet from the Stone Elder's excessive caution, Sima Qiudao felt a creeping unease.
(End of Chapter)