Chapter 1770 - The Federation of Industry and Commerce

In the old days, at least he'd been on equal footing with the Australian top man in Guangzhou—calling each other "brother." Now he had to go through a woman, relying on old personal favors just to get a word to the "leadership."

Perhaps that Scholar Zhao had been right? Maybe Guo Yi was really just the head of some secret-service bureau or palace-security agency. His great merit in Guangzhou earned him only a promotion to some mid-level rank back in Lingao? Whereas this Senator Liu was a "Pacification Commissioner" dispatched by the Aus-Song—a "Commissioner Prime Minister"?

Thinking of that Scholar Zhao only put Gao Ju in a sour mood. The phrase "you don't even deserve the surname Zhao" had already swept through Guangzhou's commercial circles and literati world. This Scholar Zhao was an old tongsheng from Nanhai County. Guangzhou was a prosperous region with many scholars; though its performance in the metropolitan examinations couldn't match Jiangnan's, it still boasted a refined culture. Yet in Guangzhou Prefecture—never mind passing the provincial examination—even becoming a shengyuan was difficult. This Old Scholar Zhao was already past forty and still hadn't gained admission. He had always hinted that he was a descendant of the Song imperial house, and he had studied Song history quite extensively. When the Australians unfurled the banner "Traveling Court of the Great Song in Australia," Scholar Zhao grew wildly excited. Every Australian "true kun" who appeared in Guangzhou became the subject of his inquiries; he'd then assign them official titles from Song bureaucracy and expound theories about their significance. Occasionally, he hit the mark, gaining some reputation in literati and commercial circles. Unfortunately, he'd come to grief several times trying to analyze Director Zheng, finally throwing up his hands and exclaiming, "A woman in charge—this is intolerable!"

Just before and after Guangzhou changed banners, this Scholar Zhao had loudly declared that Senator Hong must be the "Guangnan East Circuit Transport Commissioner," the "Aus-Song Commissioner Prime Minister," or even "Transport Counselor." This sent the merchants flocking to flatter the "Counselor," only to blunder into an Australian taboo—making everyone in commercial circles despise him. Then, after the Great Song's army "liberated" Guangzhou, Scholar Zhao appeared at the Municipal Government gates bearing his genealogy, demanding that the "Prefect" come out to receive him as a "Zhao-clan kinsman of the realm," and that his imperial lineage be formally recognized... In the end, the Japanese guards at the door, who couldn't understand a word he said, beat him away with sticks. The phrase "you don't even deserve the surname Zhao"—reportedly an off-hand comment by some Senator—circulated throughout the city. Of course, the Sister Ye who had spread that remark was now locked up.

Gao Ju's thoughts drifted, and he entirely missed what was happening at the registration desk. Only when the familiar voice of Cold Moon reached his ears did he snap out of it.

"Master Gao, so sorry to keep you waiting!"

"Ah! Miss Cold Moon!" Gao Ju nodded with a smile.

"Shi Gang, this is Master Gao—an important contact of the Chief. In future, when he comes, there's no need to register. Just announce him directly." Han Yue turned to the communications officer.

The fellow named Shi Gang frowned and asked firmly, "Are those the Chief's orders?"

Han Yue was left momentarily speechless, and she shot Shi Gang a sharp glare. "Must I ask Director Zheng to write you a personal directive?" Then, turning back to Gao Ju: "Master Gao, this is the new communications officer from Central, only recently assigned to the Chief. He doesn't know the situation yet—everything's done here by Lingao rules. Please bear with us."

Gao Ju rolled the little scene over in his mind, wondering whether this signaled a change in the wind at Director Zheng's, or merely a clash between Miss Cold Moon and the new gatekeeper. His thoughts spun, but his tongue didn't falter: "When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Now that Guangzhou is liberated, we follow Aus-Song rules. 'Always swap new peach-wood charms for the old!' Please, Miss Cold Moon, lead the way!"

"New peach-wood charms for the old"—ostensibly about the change of dynasty over Guangzhou, but in context it hinted that Miss Cold Moon had been displaced from her duties. Han Yue was in a sensitive mood; hearing this, her face darkened momentarily, and she fixed Gao Ju with a look. Yet his expression remained all smiles, just as always. She decided she was overthinking it and led him inside. She had no idea that the instant her face changed, Gao Ju had confirmed his suspicions and set his heart largely at ease.

Australian room layouts were compact. Though the suite had inner and outer chambers, only a few steps separated them. Gao Ju didn't bother asking questions. Han Yue knocked, announced herself, opened the door, and ushered Gao Ju in.

The moment the door opened, Gao Ju noticed today's meeting would be different from before. Unlike Ming officials, who left the drudgery to clerks, Australian officials—big and small—handled minutiae themselves. Normally, even with an appointment, Director Zheng would be at her desk in the reception room processing documents. Though this might partly be for show, making a display of favor, the busyness was genuine—not some pretense of reading papers and nodding sagely. But today her desk was bare and tidy; a few ochre document-boxes held neatly stacked files arranged in a small square.

Gao Ju had never been comfortable with the Australian reception-room layout. He was accustomed to grand halls where host and guest sat apart, ranked left and right, with rites defining hierarchy. But since Guangzhou had changed hands, every visit brought him to this study-like arrangement: a large desk in the center, the host seated with back to the window facing the door, and on the other side a single chair for the visitor. Along the walls stood iron-and-glass filing cabinets and a tea-service counter, plus a few potted plants for decoration. The walls bore a Truth-Office-"corrected" distorted world map and a map of China; in one corner sat some round stools stacked for attendants. That last detail was hardest to accept. In his world, an attendant who could stand behind his master during an audience already enjoyed tremendous favor. The Australians did things differently: either you fetched a stool and sat by the wall, or you waited outside.

"Even the Chiefs sit to talk; how dare a mere attendant stand there and look down on the Chief?" A certain Sister Ye, recently arrested, had once explained it to him this way.

It was a pity about Sister Ye. Still, Gao Ju had extricated himself cleanly—he'd enjoyed the benefits without a speck of implication. That was the reward for years of "familiarizing himself with kun customs."

After a few vapid pleasantries, Han Yue brought Limu Shan Oolong Tea—the Australians had no tradition of signaling the end of a visit by "serving the soup." Gao Ju accepted the cup, made a show of sniffing, took a few sips, and continued with the meaningless compliment that only Director Zheng's place had authentic Limu Shan Oolong, its flavor unlike anywhere else. But Zheng Shangjie had no wish to continue this pointless back-and-forth. Rather than responding with the expected platitudes, she simply gave a charming smile, took a slow sip of her own, and said unhurriedly:

"Master Gao, I invited you here because I do have an important matter to discuss, and I'll need your advice."

Gao Ju's spirits rose at once. He responded hastily: "I dare not, I dare not. Whatever the Senatorial Council commands, this humble citizen will do his utmost to serve."

What Director Zheng had in mind was for him to take the lead in organizing a "Federation of Industry and Commerce."

Private industry and commerce in Guangzhou numbered in the thousands, covering a bewildering array of categories and employing a vast workforce. It touched every aspect of urban life and involved extensive domestic and international trade.

The Senatorial Council had no intention of controlling everything through a planned economy—that was neither consistent with their economic theory nor feasible in practice. But such a large-scale commercial sector still needed effective organization. The coming tax reforms, currency reforms, and promotion of new equipment would all require a local organization of industry and commerce to assist. Controlling such an organization would also enable the municipal government to mobilize Guangzhou's commercial resources effectively, regulate prices, and channel the flow of goods. At the same time, it would provide businesspeople with a dedicated upward channel for feedback.

The merchants already had organizations of sorts: trade guilds such as "Rice and Grain Hall," "Silk and Satin Gongso," "Money Trade Gongso," and so on. There were also regionally based guild-halls. Guild-halls were more complex: some were trade-specific, others cross-trade. Take the big grain merchants who shipped rice to Guangzhou—they participated in the "Haiyang Guild Hall," but were also members of the broader "Teochew-Swatow Guild Hall," and simultaneously belonged to the "Rice and Grain Hall."

Someone like Gao Ju, for instance, was not a member of the Foreign-Goods Hall, yet he was one of the directors of the Xiuning Guild Hall.

All these miscellaneous guilds and halls had to be brought together into a unified organization—only then could they be effectively managed and utilized. At the same time, their excessive influence in social life had to be curbed. "When in trouble, go to the guild-hall"—for merchants and scholars living away from home, the guild-hall was their only recourse.

Gao Ju had no idea how many ulterior motives lay behind the Senatorial Council's "Federation of Industry and Commerce." But instinctively, he sensed it "had deeper meanings."

From what he knew of the Australians' consistent approach, they "valued commerce" as a tradition. Lingao—a place that had once possessed virtually no commerce—had been transformed by them into a thriving hub where "merchants gather from all sides." Now that they'd come to Guangzhou, naturally a place where trade and travelers had always converged, how could they not display their prowess?

Yet from years of a merchant's experience dealing with officialdom, Gao Ju knew that any venture led by the government—however lofty the stated reasons—ultimately aimed at revenue extraction. If he became the "Chairman of the Federation of Industry and Commerce," he would be entirely aboard the Australian "pirate ship." Troubles and headaches were sure to follow, and he'd probably attract a fair amount of blame.

On the other hand, the Australians prized industry and commerce above all. Becoming "Chairman" would make him the "spokesman" for Guangzhou's commercial world. Communication between the Australians and the local merchants would all funnel through him. Many decisions would necessarily involve his consultation—such authority was unmatched anywhere in Guangzhou's merchant community!

Gao Ju's mood swung between exhilaration and trepidation. The two emotions roiled within him, and his face shifted unpredictably.

(End of Chapter)