Chapter 2546: Guangzhou Textile Market (Part 4)

"...In the future, merchant ships carrying textiles and raw materials—whether domestic or foreign—will dock directly at these wharves to load and unload cargo, eliminating the cost and hassle of overland transshipment. See that row of buildings under construction along the river? That's the future logistics center—warehouses, essentially."

The two men clicked their tongues in wonder. The scale was enormous. Would there really be enough merchants and goods to justify all this? And yet, judging by the Australians' level of investment, they seemed utterly certain of success.

"As for foot traffic, you needn't worry about that either. While our current customers are primarily wholesalers, we've also planned blocks suitable for ordinary people to shop and do business. Transportation will follow accordingly. The ferry wharf is just the beginning—scheduled ferries will eventually run between here and various wharves outside Guangzhou's South Gate. This will not only solve the market's passenger flow problem but also improve travel between Henan Land and the Guangzhou urban area."

Until a bridge spanned the river, Henan Land would remain constrained by its commute. In later centuries, mere ferries and liners would never suffice. But in the seventeenth century, Henan Land was still pure countryside, with far less commuting demand. Cheap, reliable ferry service would be enough to meet most needs.

The Senate harbored grand ambitions for this area, envisioning it as the future New Guangzhou City. But erecting a great bridge across the Pearl River remained beyond their current capabilities. For now, they had shelved that grander vision, attempting only modest projects with limited investment.

At the market entrance stood a tall schematic diagram, its different zones marked in distinct colors.

Along the Pearl River from west to east lay Zones A through D—the four main commercial districts. All faced north toward the main gate, each dedicated to its specialty: textiles, textile raw materials, textile machinery, and related goods. Flanking them on either side were two additional zones. The East Zone was residential, offering detached houses and dormitories for rent or purchase. Merchants, their families, and shop assistants could live there. A commercial street was also planned, featuring shops for dining, groceries, bathing, and other services. Eventually, a National Primary School would be established here as well—though a market alone hardly justified a school. Its primary enrollment target would be children of employees from the Guangzhou State Cotton General Factory, currently under construction across the way.

The West Zone, An Jiu explained, was the Merchant Guild Zone—reserved specifically for foreign merchants.

They entered Zone A first. In terms of location, Zone A was the best, yet ironically, its target customers were the humblest: small vendors and ordinary citizens.

The designers had reasoned that the market area was vast. Citizens coming for leisure would never stroll through the entire complex, so the retail zone belonged near the entrance. This made browsing convenient while also generating activity—the bustle of people coming and going would enliven the main gate.

Business in the retail area fell into two categories. First, small vendors and local household weavers could sell their individually produced fabrics and raw materials. The Senators had concluded that eliminating household textile handicrafts was currently impossible. Better to channel than to block—give these producers an opportunity to differentiate themselves rather than leave them at the mercy of putting-out merchants. Perhaps some might even become models of prosperity through honest labor.

Second, this zone housed Clothing Street: ready-made garments and alterations, old clothes recycling and resale, sewing equipment sales, and similar offerings. A street serving everyday needs, essentially.

Because Zone A catered to small clients, it featured numerous storefronts, each occupying minimal space. Shop fronts stood shoulder to shoulder, densely packed, yet each unit offered only thirty square meters of usable area. The zone's total footprint was the smallest of the four commercial districts.

Some shops had already been rented and displayed simple signboards. Others lacked even that, hanging only banners marked with words like "Patterned Cloth" or "Raw Silk" to indicate their wares.

"The rent here is quite cheap. For those unwilling to commit long-term, we also offer stalls for short-term rental—that open ground is for stall vendors. However, goods sold here are mostly handmade and small in quantity. They can't supply bulk commodities, so overseas buyers won't bother looking."

South of Zone A lay the remaining three zones in sequence. Zone B dealt primarily in textile raw materials: cotton, cotton yarn, silkworm cocoons, raw silk, wool, hemp thread, and the like. It occupied the largest planned area. Zone C sold finished and semi-finished textile products—cotton cloth, woolens, yarn, silk, satin, and everything in between.

Zone D, the final district, specialized in textile machinery. Everything from massive iron-and-wood looms to tiny needles and replacement parts could be found there. Eventually, chemical products for textile use—dyes, sizing agents, and such—would be sold there as well.

Compared to the first three zones, Zone D's architecture differed markedly. The others consisted of two-story buildings: ground floor for the shop, upper floor for offices or storage. The style was Qilou—arcade buildings with extended corridors providing shade for pedestrians, a design well-suited to southern commerce and residence.

Zone D, however, required space for displaying and storing machinery. Here, the architecture shifted to truss-style warehouse buildings.

"This Australian design is quite ingenious," Wu Yijun remarked, studying the peculiar Australian-Song architecture. "Wide eaves like these, providing shade in the scorching summer—not bad at all." In the original timeline, Qilou had only appeared in the nineteenth century, spreading through Guangdong with the introduction of European architecture. In this timeline, it had arrived early.

Though the market hadn't officially opened, rental recruitment had begun over a month ago. No shops were operating yet, but well-informed merchants had already secured their preferred locations. Others still prowled the grounds, hoping to find the perfect feng shui spot.

This project, pushed hard by the Australians, needed little promotion among merchants with keen instincts. The Australians clearly had ambitions beyond reshaping Guangzhou's textile trade—something far larger was afoot. The business opportunities were self-evident.

The three toured all the zones at a brisk pace, glancing at everything without lingering, and finally arrived at the Merchant Guild Zone in the west.

Buildings here were more refined—mostly stone-built European-style structures with varied designs, no longer the uniform Qilou or warehouse architecture.

An Jiu led the uncle and nephew to the first building in the West Zone. It was the plainest of the row. This, she explained, was the market's management company. Though it bore the sign "Light Textile Market Co., Ltd.," the true majority shareholder and primary operator was the Cooperative Society Co., Ltd. A second sign beside the door read "Cooperative Society Co., Ltd. Guangzhou Branch."

A small square fronted the building. A flagpole stood at its center, flying the Morning Star Flag. Huge display boards lined the square's edge, hung with rows of wooden tablets.

"What are these?" Chen Lin asked curiously. He saw inscriptions for lint cotton, clean cotton, cotton cloth, dried cocoons, and more, though empty hooks indicated content yet to come.

"Market reference prices, provided weekly by the Bureau of Statistics..."

The Bureau of Statistics supplied reference prices for various markets based on daily price data collected from major distribution and consumption centers like Guangzhou, Foshan, and Lingao. The goal was to give merchants and customers a benchmark, preventing fraud born of information asymmetry and fostering an atmosphere of fair trade.

"And what does 'A-1 Standard Cotton Cloth' mean?" Chen Lin pressed. His family intended to enter the cotton cloth business, so naturally he paid close attention to cotton cloth prices. But here, only "Standard Cotton Cloth" appeared, with no further details.

"Standard Cotton Cloth refers to fabric meeting specific requirements: a certain number of warp and weft threads per square centimeter, within a certain weight range," An Jiu explained. Australian-Song Standard Cotton Cloth came in several specifications, from A-1 to B-3—not necessarily woven to a uniform 20-by-20 count.

"Is it like the 'sheng' measurement for official cloth?" Chen Lin asked. Before the Single Whip Method was implemented, cloth had been an important form of tax payment. The government had established standards—not only for width and length, but for warp threads within a given width. Generally, eighty warp threads constituted one sheng, though exact measures varied slightly by dynasty and region.

"Similar in concept, but weft threads are also counted, so there are differences." An Jiu pointed to the words "Reference Price" on the board. "This is merely a reference. If you can produce something superior, you can naturally command higher prices. Substandard goods won't fetch premium prices—it all depends on whether the buyer knows quality when he sees it."

The second building along the Qilou row in the Merchant Guild Zone displayed a golden anchor above its doorway. An Jiu introduced it: "This is the Penglai Company, where I'll be working in the future. Once my internship at the Nansha Cotton Textile Factory ends, I'll officially join here. If you ever need to find me, come to this company—though nine times out of ten, I won't be in..." She delivered the line deadpan. When the uncle and nephew failed to catch the joke, she quickly added, "Best to make an appointment beforehand. We're quite busy. But since we're all here, let's go in and sit."

She led them into the reception hall on the first floor. People moved in and out constantly; some with obviously foreign features came and went as well. Screens partitioned the hall into private rooms arranged around a courtyard. An Jiu guided them into one.

Chen Lin glanced around and noticed several signs hanging on the screens facing the main gate: "Lingao Penglai Shipping Co., Ltd.," "Penglai Development Co., Ltd.," "Penglai Investment Co., Ltd."—multiple company names.

"What's the difference between all these companies?" Chen Lin asked, slightly confused. Wasn't Penglai Company just Penglai Company?

(End of Chapter)