Chapter 1767 - Incriminating Material
A merchant beside them interjected angrily: "We grain traders have it a little easier. At least grain is needed year-round, regardless of season—we just make a bit less. Other merchants, once the ya men warehouse their goods, are at their mercy. Not only do they help themselves to whatever they like, they deliberately hold the merchandise and refuse to find buyers. Often traders end up stuck for months, even a year, unable to sell their cargo. Your Excellency, consider: every itinerant merchant has his entire fortune riding on the rise and fall of the market. When the ya holds goods back like that, a hot commodity turns cold. That's a death sentence!"
"Oh? What's in it for the ya if merchandise loses value?"
"No benefit from that—but there's the storage fees. They can't sell it themselves, yet they refuse to let us sell privately. When prices drop, they hold on even tighter—all to collect storage and commission. We itinerant merchants live and die by capital turnover. Get stuck for half a year, a year, and you can't turn over capital at all—yet expenses never stop. This manipulation has ruined countless families, destroyed lives!" He Gao said bitterly. "Some fall gravely ill, some become beggars, some throw themselves in the river, some go mad... It's too terrible to describe!"
Lin Baiguang asked, "How much do the ya brokers currently owe you in payments?"
Manager Ding counted on his fingers. "We dozen or so are all major traders. The biggest is owed over ten thousand shi; the smallest, one or two thousand. About one hundred twenty thousand shi altogether. Plus some scattered smaller operators—another thousand or two."
"And how much do these ya men pay you per shi?"
"At current rates, top-grade Guangxi brown rice should clear at seven qian three fen per shi. But after their deductions, if we actually get six qian in hand, that's already an achievement."
"And what do local rice dealers pay the ya per shi?"
"Market's high right now. Dealers are buying at one tael per shi."
Lin Baiguang recalled that the average market price was around 1.3 taels. He nodded. "What Master He says is true. The ya system was meant to facilitate both buyer and seller; instead it's become the bane of merchants. We certainly intend to abolish it."
At this, the dozen-odd grain merchants looked stunned. Abolishing the ya system was something they had never dared imagine. At most, they'd hoped that with a change of dynasty here in Guangzhou, the ya's arrogance might be humbled a bit—a chance to vent some resentment. Perhaps new ya men would be appointed; a new regime always started out on better behavior, so they might catch their breath.
They had seen plenty of officials in their time. Whenever commoners petitioned, the typical response was either a sharp rebuke, branding them "troublemakers," or else, if the crowd was large enough, vague equivocation—"His Excellency has noted the petition; you may return home; the Court will decide in due course." As for what decision, only heaven knew. Nine times out of ten, nothing ever came of it.
And here the Song's "Second Prefect of Guangzhou" bluntly announced he would abolish the ya system—just like that. They could scarcely believe it.
Manager Ding hesitated. "Your Excellency, is this truly so?"
"The Senatorial Council values credibility above all—why would we deceive you?" Lin Baiguang said. "The ya men have been doing evil for years; no doubt there's blood on their ledgers. We're waging a revolution of Tang and Wu here; it's only right we settle their accounts, isn't it?" He smiled faintly.
The meaning was unmistakable. The merchants stirred with excitement. Having suffered under the ya's heel for years, every one of them was full of pent-up hatred. Hearing that the Australians intended to deal with the ya men left them almost speechless with emotion. Manager Ding's beard trembled as he cried, "Your Excellency! If you crush these ya men, whatever grain payments they owe me, I'm willing to contribute every last fen to the cause!"
He Gao followed suit: "This humble one also offers all to the Great Song!"
Once someone took the lead, the rest had no choice but to chime in, each pledging to donate their payments.
Lin Baiguang shook his head. "That won't do. You've suffered untold hardships bringing rice to Guangzhou. How could we take your payments? Say no more on that." He motioned for them to sit. "Since we intend to settle accounts for the ya's crimes over the years—and as outsiders, we know little of the details—we'll have to rely on you..."
He instructed the merchants to write up summaries of the ya firms' situation and offenses and submit them.
"The Senatorial Council governs by law above all else. Though the ya men's crimes are notorious, we need evidence and proof before we can punish them openly and justly."
"Yes, we understand." Manager Ding nodded vigorously, thinking: So the Australians are planning to slaughter some pigs—raiding these ya men's estates will fill their coffers. "We'll take care of this properly. Director Lin, rest assured."
"Where are you staying?"
"The Haiyang Guild Hall."
"Good. Go back to the Hall and rest; don't go out for now, and don't breathe a word of this to anyone." Lin Baiguang said, "I'll have people keep watch over you discreetly."
Manager Ding understood that he and the others didn't really need "protection"—it was simply to prevent them from leaking news of the ya crackdown. Knowing the Australians were determined, he said, "We understand the gravity."
Lin Baiguang saw them out, then summoned a cadre and gave low-voiced instructions: dispatch a squad of White Horse troopers to guard the Hall; no one in or out.
The banquet ran until very late. Zheng Shangjie didn't get back to her suite at Ziming Tower until almost ten o'clock. She went straight to the bathroom for a bath, then, with a maid's help, changed into a dressing-gown before reclining on the sofa, finally at ease.
The banquet that evening had been attended by Guangzhou's leading merchants—including heavyweight figures like Gao Ju. Ever since the liberation of Guangzhou, these tycoons had been on edge, frantically seeking avenues to meet with the Australians. They were worldly men; they knew the Ming was beaten and would never return. They needed to figure out the temperament of this new regime's officials as quickly as possible.
Within the second week of entering the city, petitions for audiences had piled high on every desk at the Guangzhou Station. Guo Yi had left, gladly escaping the fuss. Pei Lixiu, fearing she lacked policy acumen and might say the wrong thing, claimed to be "ill" and bowed out. Only Zheng Shangjie—since she had always been in charge of commercial affairs and was confirmed to be staying—had, under Liu Xiang's instructions, "met with old contacts and offered reassurance." So she'd had no choice but to receive some of the more important former clients.
But for the sake of avoiding mistakes, the meetings were purely ceremonial. Beyond platitudes such as "go about your business in peace" and "the Senatorial Council has always governed by law," the burning questions these merchants wanted answered, she avoided entirely.
Her caution was well-founded: Ming urban and commercial society was extremely complex, and some aspects didn't align with the Senatorial Council's expectations.
In the old social environment of the Ming, these merchants had cooperated well with the Guangzhou Station. But now circumstances had fundamentally changed. If she made rash promises that conflicted with Senatorial Council policy, the consequences would be dire.
Last night's welcoming banquet for Chen Ce had finalized the new-currency issuance plan. Currency issuance required distribution channels, and the Commerce sector under her purview would certainly be involved. Only then did she host this banquet, inviting roughly fifty of the city's principal merchants as agreed upon by the leadership.
"Ma'am, a sobering broth is ready. Would you like some now?" The speaker was Zheng Shangjie's maid in Guangzhou, a girl named Han Yue—originally "Cold Moon," changed because Personnel said the maid-name was inconvenient for registration. Naturally, within the Guangzhou Station, she was still called "Cold Moon."
She had been born a house-slave of a wealthy family in northern Guangdong. Clever and nimble, she had waited upon the young master in his chambers—pretty as well as sharp. Originally, she was slated to become a "chamber-maid" concubine; once the young master married, she would be legitimized. Unfortunately, the young master had known the ways of the flesh early; at fourteen he had deflowered Han Yue, who was a year older. A young man newly tasting forbidden fruit indulging to excess—within a year he had contracted a "chilled passion" illness and died. Han Yue was naturally blamed as the culprit. To vent his fury, the patriarch had her flogged every few days; she'd taken several hundred blows over time, beaten within an inch of her life, and was to be sold to a brothel. Someone interceded, pointing out that such treatment was bad for karma. In the end, she was thrown out of the gate to fend for herself. Her own kin, terrified of being expelled by the master, didn't dare lift a finger to help.
Injured and penniless, Han Yue collapsed by the roadside, on the brink of death. By sheer luck, men from the Qiwei Escort Agency happened by. They rescued her and sent her to Guangzhou.
Because she had been trained from childhood in the full repertoire of personal service, she was "promoted" to Zheng Shangjie's side as a maid, attending to her daily life and comforts.
"No, just bring me some tea." Zheng Shangjie lay back on the sofa, rubbing her temples. Han Yue had only done a three-month crash course in Lingao, learning Mandarin along with some accounting and secretarial basics, then returned to Zheng Shangjie's side. The traces of "modernization" on her were faint. In the early years of the Guangzhou Station's covert work, that had been a good thing; now it seemed to have held her back.
Should I send her to Lingao for proper schooling sometime? Zheng Shangjie watched Han Yue pouring water back and forth between two cups to cool it. Suddenly, she felt reluctant to part with her: after all, this sort of attentiveness, trained from childhood, was truly indispensable! Qian Xuanhuang—though her memory of him had faded—and other "modernized" servants never had this kind of intuitive thoughtfulness.
"Any news today?" Despite Guangzhou having been liberated for nearly a month, Zheng Shangjie still couldn't shake the habits she'd acquired during her years at the Guangzhou Station. This troubled her—compared to Liu Xiang and other Senators who had lived in Hainan's "modernized" environment, she felt suddenly out of place, like... like Wang Xifeng crawling out of Dream of the Red Chamber into the twenty-first century... What a tangled metaphor...
(End of Chapter)