Chapter 2442: The Teahouse Auction

Wu Nanhai held firm views on technological diffusion. If the natives obtained technology too cheaply, it would ultimately harm the Senators' interests. During the early construction phase, when factories were still being built and workers had yet to master industrial production, the Senators' expertise seemed invaluable—without their knowledge, none of this progress would be possible. But once factories were completed and workers became proficient, they would inevitably believe that everything had been created by their own hands, with nothing owed to the Senators. The intangible nature of technological knowledge would lead people to undervalue intellectual property. And if knowledge lost its importance, the Senators' prominence would soon follow.

To ensure workers always recognized the significance of Senator-held technology within the Senate's domain, protecting intellectual property was essential.

This meant instilling from the very beginning the notion that intellectual property must be purchased with real currency—and moreover, like farmland, could generate continuous income. Only through such measures would the Senators' prestige be preserved for generations.

Furthermore, their previous approach to technology diffusion had relied on selecting partners based on individual Senators' preferences rather than any clear criteria. Often, some native merchant would gain a Senator's favor through chance encounter and thereby receive support. While the supported enterprises had generally performed well, the system was inherently unfair, fraught with speculation and arbitrariness. It encouraged native merchants to scheme and plot, none of which fostered a fair and open business environment.

Wu Nanhai's theories had gained considerable support among the Senators. As the Senate's power grew, even those who had previously championed aggressive technology diffusion had shifted their stance. After all, when you possess machine guns, there's little need to obsess over flintlock technology. Moreover, the Senate's current industrial situation—technologically advanced but woefully limited in output—urgently demanded change. The auction had been convened under precisely these conditions.

Wu Nanhai picked up the folder from the table and began browsing. The documents listed merchants who had submitted their deposits. Under the Senate's new regulations, engaging in industry and commerce required a registered business entity, so the list contained many unfamiliar enterprise names—all newly registered companies established by local powerful families.

Since the Tax Bureau's arrival in Guangzhou, these families had been scrambling to register companies to comply with the new tax system, spawning a proliferation of "limited liability companies."

Wu Nanhai turned to the second page, which contained background information on the participating enterprises. He studied the actual controllers behind these unremarkable business names—several he recognized as notable figures from late Ming Guangdong. The others were unfamiliar, but presumably no ordinary merchants.

Notably absent from this auction were some of the benchmark enterprises the Senate had previously supported and invested in, such as the Zhang family's food enterprise or the Chen Li Ji and Runshitang pharmaceutical companies. Many attendees had little previous interaction with the Senate—newcomers hoping to find money-making opportunities under the new system.

Yet examining their backgrounds, apart from a handful, most had no connection whatsoever to industry. Over ninety percent derived their primary income from commerce, lending, and agricultural tenancy. Fewer than ten percent had operated handicraft industries, concentrated mainly in silk weaving, food processing, and crafts.

Wu Nanhai had read the Guangzhou Industry and Commerce Survey compiled by the Guangzhou Municipal Comprehensive Management Office and understood the city's industrial foundations well enough. In a word: large-scale manufacturing was virtually nonexistent. Such figures simply didn't exist here.

Manufacturing doesn't make you rich in any era, Wu Nanhai mused. Looking at these wealthy families, the richest were almost universally in trade and lending.

Guiding them toward manufacturing—with its heavy investment requirements, thin margins, and slow returns—would have been impossible without the Senate's prestige.

Of course, the "patents" in this auction were essentially franchises. Whichever project the local merchants won, actual operations would see them contributing capital (and perhaps land) while the Senate provided technology. Given the Senate's current situation, there was no way they would allow these merchants to fail. After spending their money, the merchants would be aboard the Senate's ship—fame and fortune would surely follow. A genuine win-win arrangement.

Just after noon on January 15th, Wu Yijun arrived at the Great World in a two-person sedan chair, accompanied by his servant.

The Guangzhou Federation of Industry and Commerce maintained an office in the Great World, but the auction itself was held elsewhere—at the junction of the "Outer World" and "Inner World," where a row of storefronts had been knocked through and uniformly renovated. A sign reading "Lotus Root Pavilion Teahouse" hung outside.

This teahouse differed little from typical Guangzhou establishments, except that Australians ran it. What they served was old-timeline "Cantonese morning tea"—now rebranded as "Australian morning tea."

The moment Australian morning tea appeared, it won acclaim among Guangzhou's wealthy classes. Compared to the original, the seventeenth-century archaic version of dim sum was not only crude in production and ingredient selection, but the portions were truly too substantial. A single lotus leaf sticky rice was meal enough on its own, comparable in size to Jiaxing meat zongzi—quite unfriendly for refined palates.

Any tea patron with knowledge of Lingao and the Senate would recognize that the Lotus Root Pavilion name had considerable origins. Not only was it Australian-run, it was also the "tertiary industry" of Wu Nanhai's Agriculture and Forestry sector. After South Sea Teahouse was transferred to General Office management with Agriculture and Forestry Ministry serving only as custodian, Wu Nanhai had instructed Ye Yuming to establish Lotus Root Pavilion Teahouses as a chain throughout Senate-ruled territories in relatively prosperous commercial cities. The target consumers were primarily stationed or traveling Senators and naturalized citizen cadres, while also welcoming local natives seeking something new.

This particular Lotus Root Pavilion in the Great World had naturally become the favored destination for various "new nobility" and influential families hoping to curry favor. Holding the auction here was only fitting.

Because of the auction, a "Private Event Today" notice had been posted at the entrance. In the open space outside, over a dozen sedan chairs were already parked. Sedan bearers and servants squatted against the teahouse's outer wall, chatting idly.

Wu Yijun surveyed the sedan chairs and servants. He recognized most as belonging to Federation of Industry and Commerce members. A quick assessment showed few heavyweight figures had arrived. The most important person present was Gao Ju, though he wasn't participating in the auction—he was attending as a "leader."

Still early, Wu Yijun thought. These big shots always preferred to arrive right on time—probably to demonstrate their importance.

Each attendee was permitted one personal servant. The servant presented the invitation at the entrance, and master and servant were admitted inside.

The Lotus Root Pavilion's ground floor was a spacious, well-lit main hall containing roughly twenty-odd Eight Immortals tables. Gallery corridors ran along all four sides, with private rooms above—convenient for gatherings and discussions. This was another reason local business magnates favored the establishment.

Today being the auction, naturally no one went upstairs. About half the tables already had guests. As soon as Wu Yijun entered, everyone rose to greet him. He was responding with polite nods when a tea attendant in a white short jacket approached:

"Master Wu, would you prefer to sit at the front today or..."

"Front or back doesn't matter. Somewhere with a clear view."

"Right away." The tea attendant immediately led him to a table against the wall. Wu Yijun surveyed the room—this position commanded a view of the entire hall. He nodded with satisfaction. His servant immediately produced a bill and slipped it to the attendant.

"Thank you for Master Wu's generosity!" The tea attendant bowed and withdrew. Before long, he returned with tea sets and cups. The attendants kept each customer's preferences firmly in mind; without special instructions, they followed established routines.

The main hall originally featured a small stage for performers. Today, a gate-shaped frame stood at center stage with a blackboard beside it. On the other side sat a small table piled high with sealed folders.

Wu Yijun surveyed the teahouse. The person nearest him was a young man who seemed somewhat unfamiliar. He wondered if the Federation had such a member. Looking more carefully, there was a thirty percent resemblance to someone he knew.

So it's him! Wu Yijun suddenly understood.

This young man was none other than Shen Changxi, the young master of Jufenghao Exchange Shop.

Jufenghao, as the most prestigious exchange shop in Guangzhou, had originally been a steady "sitting and eating" business. But after the Australians issued "Australian dollars" and prohibited the circulation of silver taels and copper coins, the exchange business was finished. The reason was self-evident. Moreover, the Central Reserve Bank immediately prohibited private gold exchange transactions—eliminating the exchange shop's final source of income.

Jufenghao naturally had to close. The shop's workers and craftsmen weren't worried about their prospects—they were quickly absorbed by the Hong Kong Mint and the Central Reserve Bank's Guangzhou branch. The Central Reserve Bank also extended an olive branch to the Shen father and son, inviting them to work there. After all, they were rare technical talents.

But the father and son politely declined the Senate's invitation. The Shen family had conducted business in Guangzhou for many years and possessed substantial accumulated wealth. They were unwilling to simply close up shop—they were preparing to start fresh.

It seemed they had already chosen a suitable project, Wu Yijun thought.

Farther away sat Boss Mi—Wu Yijun couldn't help frowning, as though he'd caught a whiff of something foul. This big boss who had once controlled all of Guangzhou's "night soil districts" had sensibly handed over his "night soil routes," then switched to operating a "fertilizer business," using his facilities and channels to sell fertilizer for the Sanitation Office.

(End of Chapter)