Chapter 136: The Foshan Trip, Part Two

The new banking practice was a godsend for businesses with substantial cash flow, especially those who frequently purchased goods in Guangzhou. It eliminated the perilous risk of traveling with large sums of silver. Liu San, one of the time-travelers, became the first to use a draft from the De Long Bank.

The next morning at Bopu, Liu San met Huang Tianyu, a representative from the Industrial and Energy Committee. Huang, also joining the inspection tour, was awkwardly clad in Ming dynasty attire, complete with an artificial hair bun and a gauze scarf that seemed ill-suited to his frame. They were attended by two boys, no older than thirteen or fourteen, who were, surprisingly, future intelligence agents. One of them was Gao Di.

Gao Di had established an intelligence network in Guangzhou, comprised mainly of the children of his family’s servants. However, as the scope of operations in the city widened, its effectiveness waned. His initial advantages—his familiarity with the Gao family’s servants and the local neighborhood—were diminishing. His increasingly bold activities had also alerted Gao Ju and others, further reducing the network’s usefulness.

By now, Guo Yi’s own intelligence system was beginning to solidify. From an intelligence perspective, Gao Di’s value had plummeted. Guo Yi recognized that while Gao Di was clever and trustworthy, he hadn’t been indoctrinated by the time-travelers and lacked professional training. Allowing a local boy with his own following to operate unchecked in Guangzhou could create unpredictable problems down the line.

His unreliable father was another point of concern. After Guo Yi reported the situation to the Executive Committee, the entire family was moved to Lin’gao. His parents were given jobs in the Bairen Commune, and his sister, Gao Lujie, was assigned to work as a “secretary” for Wang Luobin. After finishing his literacy classes, Gao Di was enrolled in the intelligence training program as a trainee.

Yang Shixiang had also brought two of his own servants. Liu San introduced Huang Tianyu as a friend and fellow ceramics merchant, also on his way to Foshan, who wished to travel with them for safety and companionship. Yang Shixiang readily agreed.

The group boarded the Guang Ding. The ships of the Gao Guang Shipping Company were cargo vessels without proper passenger cabins. Travelers had to spread their bedrolls in the cargo hold, where the air was stuffy and foul, and they had to be careful of the surrounding cargo. As a seasoned traveler, Yang Shixiang was unfazed by the hardship. Liu San and Huang Tianyu, however, found it quite miserable.

The journey passed without incident. Yang Shixiang and Liu San spent the time discussing the intricacies of the pharmacy trade.

The traditional Chinese medicine business was incredibly profitable. Most medicinal herbs, except for a few rare varieties, were bought in bulk by the catty. After processing, they were sold by the tael and mace, yielding enormous profits. Common medicinal slices had a gross margin of at least 60%, while expensive tonics like ginseng and deer antler could fetch profits exceeding 200%. Unless a pharmacy was terribly mismanaged, it was a surefire way to get rich.

However, starting a pharmacy was a capital-intensive venture. A respectable pharmacy needed to stock between eight hundred and a thousand types of herbs, mostly based on the Compendium of Materia Medica, which was already widely used. Even a small herb shop had to carry at least three hundred common medicines.

After purchase, the herbs required extensive and labor-intensive processing. Some herbs couldn’t be used right away and had to be stored for months or even years. Unlike other businesses, where running out of a few items was acceptable, pharmacies were expected to have a full inventory. Consequently, any established pharmacy would purchase enough of several hundred common herbs from major medicinal markets to last one or two years. Large pharmacies maintained massive warehouses to store several years’ worth of stock. This tied up a significant amount of capital, meaning that even a small pharmacy required an initial investment of two to three hundred taels of silver.

“So, it seems opening a pharmacy isn’t so simple after all.”

“It can be, if you inherit a good foundation. As long as you run the business honestly and avoid major disasters, you’re guaranteed to make money,” Yang Shixiang sighed. “Don’t be deceived by the quiet appearance of my Runshitang. If a shipment of herbs hadn’t been seized by pirates years ago, crippling my finances, I wouldn’t be in this position, begging for help just to compound some musk and borneol.”

Sensing an opening, Liu San asked him about “Liaodong goods.”

Yang Shixiang explained that pharmacies sourced five main products from Liaodong: pine nuts, ginseng, deer antler, amber, and honey.

Ginseng, deer antler, and amber were well-known. The sea pine nuts from Liaodong—now known as Korean pine nuts—were a valuable tonic in Chinese medicine. Honey was used to bind pills, and Liaodong honey was prized for its rich flavor and thickness. Merchants used to source pine nuts and honey primarily from Liaodong, with some coming from Korea. Since the fall of Guangning, the Liaodong supply had been cut off, and even goods from Korea were becoming scarce.

“With the war raging beyond the pass and the court halting trade, our merchants can’t get out, and the Tartars’ medicinal goods can’t get in. What we have is all that’s left. Korean ginseng is now worth its weight in gold. I hear it’s been a long time since any Liaodong ginseng has been seen at the Qizhou medicine market.”

Worth its weight in gold. The phrase was striking. Even Huang Tianyu, who had no stake in the trade, took notice. The potential profits from trading with the Jurchens were immense, and they could even tap into the Korean market along the way.

The group spent the next few days chatting, telling stories, and playing cards. After four or five days, they finally arrived in Guangzhou.

The ship docked at the Gao Guang Shipping Company’s pier, another of Qiwei’s ventures. The escort agency had become a household name in and around Guangzhou. In addition to escort services, it had expanded into the “four pillars” of travel: transport, shipping, lodging, and porterage. Qiwei now handled every aspect of a traveler’s journey. In this era, business travel was grueling, not just due to the difficult journeys and poor accommodations, but also because of the rampant extortion and fraud by merchants. An old saying went, “Carters, boatmen, innkeepers, porters, and brokers—all deserve death, even if innocent.” Qiwei addressed this problem directly by reforming old practices, eliminating corrupt rules, and introducing modern business methods that greatly benefited travelers.

The time-travelers’ influence was palpable. The Guangzhou station provided not only financial backing but also direct management. To counter interference from local gangs and bullies who had long controlled these industries, the station used the network of gentry it had cultivated through its jewelry trade and deposit-taking services, leveraging their influence for protection. It also discreetly made a few of the most troublesome opponents vanish without a trace. The name “Qiwei” now “rang like thunder” in Guangzhou.

Despite the noise, the pier was orderly. Travelers, carts, porters, and livestock moved in separate lanes, preventing congestion. Previously, innkeepers’ touts would swarm disembarking passengers, fighting over customers and sometimes even grabbing their luggage. Now, these touts were restricted to a row of storefronts, each with its own sign. Behind the counters stood smiling young clerks in clean, blue coats.

Liu San’s group walked past, looking at the names. He planned to stay at a Qiwei inn to support their own business. Next to the inn counters was a porter agency. A group of porters in uniform vests—a white circle with the black character for “porter” on the front and a large number on the back—waited for customers. A dedicated accountant managed the logistics; customers paid at a counter to get a token, which the porter would collect after delivering the luggage and redeem for payment. Everything was perfectly organized. Across from the storefronts was a large open area and warehouses filled with goods. This was the freight-forwarding office, which handled shipments across Guangdong province. A large board at the entrance listed destinations, delivery times, and prices in meticulous detail, making everything clear.

Other amenities, like a large, clearly marked latrine, were also available. Uniformed watchmen carrying short clubs patrolled the pier to maintain order. Yang Shixiang was impressed by the novelty, and even Liu San and Huang Tianyu found this recreation of a modern city in the Ming era fascinating.

Liu San went straight to the Qiwei Inn counter to book a room.

“Sir, you have a keen eye! I guarantee you won’t regret choosing our Qiwei Inn,” the clerk greeted them with a wide smile. “May I ask, gentlemen, will you be staying inside or outside the city?”

“Your inn has branches?” Yang Shixiang asked.

“Yes, we have eight inns in total, both inside and outside the city,” the clerk said proudly. “Just tell me which area you prefer, and I can arrange it for you!”

Liu San’s main goal was to get to Foshan, so he saw no need to enter the city. “We don’t need to go into the city. We’re heading to Foshan tomorrow morning. Do you have a location close to the road?”

“Right away,” the clerk said, pulling a ledger bound with rough paper from a shelf and flipping through it. “The Tongji South Bridge branch would be perfect. For six people, masters and servants, how would you like your rooms?”

“Three superior rooms,” Liu San replied.

The clerk wrote out a slip, tore it off, and called over a young assistant. “Get three sedan chairs to take these gentlemen to the Tongji Bridge branch. And find a porter for their luggage!”

The Qiwei Inn’s Tongji Bridge branch was a short distance from the pier, near the main road to Foshan. As soon as they stepped inside, they could tell the place was different. It broke from the traditional courtyard-style layout of inns and felt more like a modern hotel.