Chapter 434: Preparing the Goods

Manor Lord Lu’s major actions were hardly worth mentioning amidst the chaos in Shandong. In troubled times, such local warlords were as common as ox hair. With the start of the Deng-Lai Rebellion, bandits who raised their own banners and seized territory were everywhere. They occupied villages, attacked stockades, and plagued the common people. Some were even bold enough to join forces and attack county towns. However, under the pressure from both the rebels and Lu Wenyuan, it was difficult for them to maintain their territory. Neither the rebels nor the Senate liked others competing for their food. Zhu Mingxia constantly led the newly formed local militia to sweep away the bandits, both to train the militia and to capture more prisoners and seize some spoils to supplement his own forces.

As for the court, they had no time to pay attention to the deeds of Manor Lord Lu on his small island. Shocking news came one after another. The new governor of Shandong, Xu Congzhi, was killed by a concentration of the rebels’ Hongyi cannons, just as in history. The disastrous defeat of Liu Yulie and the martyrdom of Xu Congzhi became excellent pretexts for a new round of factional strife. Political figures from all sides took the stage, attacking each other. Wang Daochun, the Shandong Censor who had broken out of Laizhou to take charge of coordinating the armies in Qingzhou, came under fierce attack from the censors. Like Liu Yulie, he was heavily criticized from all sides for the defeat at the Shahe River.

By the eighth of the fifth month of the fifth year of the Chongzhen reign, after a chaotic great debate, a new commander-in-chief finally arrived: Zhu Dadian, the former Tianjin Military Intendant, was appointed governor of Shandong, stationed in Qingzhou to coordinate the efforts. This series of major defeats required someone to take responsibility. Sun Yuanhua was holding out in Laizhou, and Xu Congzhi was already dead. Thus, Wang Daochun, who had originally broken out of the city to Qingzhou to organize the response, inexplicably lost his post earlier than in history. Filled with grief and indignation, he returned to his hometown, grumbling. Fortunately, he had Liu Yulie for company—he too was dismissed from office earlier than in history.

As soon as Zhu Dadian took office, he began to reorganize the defeated troops, stockpile grain, supplies, and firearms, and deploy for the suppression campaign. This time, Lü Zeyang, who had been staying in the southern suburbs of Laizhou, was not so calm. Zhu Dadian was known as a capable official, and the Dengzhou mutiny had ended under his command. He knew that according to the course of history, the rebels wouldn’t be able to hold out for more than a few months. In the coming months, their sphere of activity would be continuously compressed, and the siege of Laizhou would soon be lifted.

The telegram was concise, but Zhao Yingong knew that behind it lay untold bloodshed and turmoil. He couldn’t help but sigh. At the end of the telegram was a proposal from Lü Zeyang, submitted according to the Senate’s military and political proposal system: to dispatch a special reconnaissance team to assassinate Zhu Dadian, in order to prolong the chaotic situation in Dengzhou.

According to this system, once a complete proposal was submitted, the Standing Committee of the Senate would have to solicit opinions from all elders, including those stationed abroad.

Zhao Yingong frowned. He felt that the assassination was somewhat unnecessary. However, he had heard that this Zhu Dadian was known as a capable official, and from historical records, he knew that he was a scholar-official with considerable national integrity. If he were to lead the suppression of the rebellion, he would become the governor of Shandong after its success, which would obviously be inconvenient for Manor Lord Lu, who wanted to form a local power base in Shandong. From this perspective, assassination was also an option.

Next were several more letters and reports. He opened and read them one by one, then wrote down his instructions. Afterwards, he began to write a letter to the managers of the “Wanyou” Shanghai head office.

“Wanyou,” as the dedicated commercial enterprise in the “Mountain and Sea” two-pronged operation, was primarily responsible for the Senate’s commodity sales and material procurement, in addition to generating profits through its own trade.

Of course, Zhao Yingong generally did not show his face at Wanyou, but issued instructions through written orders.

Wanyou was the “Gold Brand” of the “Mountain Route.” Lin Quan’an himself was stationed at the Yangzhou head office, managing the business. According to the operating model of the “Mountain and Sea” routes, Wanyou’s logistics and financial services were outsourced to Qilin Station and Delong Bank, respectively. It focused on commercial operations, taking great advantage of the efficient logistics system and flexible and abundant capital mobilization. Coupled with Zhao Yingong’s efforts to win over the Xu family and the Restoration Society, its operations were highly effective, with both sales and profit margins rising steadily. Last year’s dividend amount made Lin Quan’an grin from ear to ear for days—although according to Wanyou’s articles of association, there were no dividends for the first three years. Zhao Yingong saw in the surveillance report that he “walked with a swagger and spoke with a booming voice.”

“Hmph, if we hadn’t been short of start-up capital back then, how could we have let you get so rich,” Zhao Yingong thought to himself. Sooner or later, he would have to bring it up in a Senate meeting: dilute Wanyou’s share capital, or simply start a new venture—this fat piece of meat from the Ming Dynasty trade couldn’t be given away for nothing.

This time, for the trade with Japan, Zhao Yingong did not plan to let Wanyou participate directly. Its only role in this trade was to gather goods according to his instructions. The necessary funds for preparing the goods would be drawn from the foreign trade company under the Colonial and Trade Department. After all, in this era, maritime trade did not necessarily require a corporate entity.

It was now early summer, the time when Zheng Zhilong’s fleet set sail from Fujian for Japan with the southeast monsoon. Shen Tingyang’s sand ships could not leave Shanghai at this season—sand ships from Shanghai had to depart in November. They still had plenty of time to prepare the goods.

At that time, Japan, like other East and Southeast Asian countries, was severely lacking in daily necessities. Therefore, no matter what was shipped to Japan for sale, it was easy to sell: from high-end textiles and raw silk to the most common iron pots, coarse porcelain bowls, sewing needles, and so on, there was almost nothing that didn’t sell well.

The most important export commodity was, of course, raw silk. In this time, raw silk generally began to appear on the market in the seventh and eighth lunar months of each year. Zheng Zhilong’s fleet had to depart in the summer and naturally could not wait. Therefore, the silk he sold in Japan must have been old silk stockpiled from the previous year.

In contrast, his sand ship fleet, departing in the winter, could leisurely purchase the better-quality raw silk of the current year. In terms of quality, it would already be a cut above Zheng Zhilong’s silk.

Zhao Yingong’s ambitions did not stop there. Zhejiang produced the best cocoons in all of China. If they used a more advanced reeling process to produce raw silk, the quality would be unparalleled in this time. Especially this year, with a major drought in Zhejiang, cocoon production was bound to be greatly reduced, and market prices would inevitably be high. For a new buyer like Wanyou, it was unlikely to compete with other silk merchants in the procurement network, so the purchase price would certainly be higher. Producing high-quality raw silk could significantly increase the added value, making it highly competitive.

His instructions to Wanyou were to purchase raw silk and cocoons without limit, especially cocoons. He had already written a letter to the Planning Commission to discuss the possibility of establishing a mechanized or semi-mechanized silk reeling factory in Hangzhou.

The idea of a silk reeling factory had been around for a long time—it was unimaginable not to consider this issue in a major cocoon production base like Zhejiang. He had already communicated with the Planning Commission, the Industrial and Energy Committee, and the Ministry of Light Industry on this matter. A silk reeling factory was relatively simple in terms of technology and did not require large power equipment. According to the plan given by the Industrial and Energy Committee, it would basically be built in the model of Chen Qiyuan’s Jichanglong Silk Factory. Strictly speaking, the Jichanglong Silk Factory was not a truly mechanized reeling factory, but only semi-mechanized production. However, the investment was small, construction was fast, and the new equipment would bring a leap in silk quality. This was very much in line with Zhao Yingong’s current material basis and surrounding environment.

The project for the silk reeling factory had been generally approved, just waiting for the final approval of the Executive Committee. Zhao Yingong estimated that the project was very likely to be approved—after all, raw silk was currently a flagship export product. Relying solely on partners to collect it on the mainland was not only costly, but the scale of local silk production was too small by modern industrial standards. The huge appetite of the Europeans alone was worth launching this project.

In the 17th century, besides China, Japan, Italy, North Africa, and Central Asia all produced silk, but none could match China’s scale of production. Once Zhao Yingong’s improved breed and new method raw silk was produced, with its excellent quality, huge output, and powerful transport capacity, it could directly crush the raw silk industries in these places, creating a huge monopoly effect.

In addition to raw silk and cocoons, he also wanted Wanyou to purchase various daily sundries, especially to try to procure various daily-use porcelain from Jiangxi. Jiangxi was a major porcelain-producing province, and both the quantity and quality of its production were much higher than the Kraak porcelain specially fired for export in Fujian. It was very difficult to transport porcelain from Jiangxi to Fujian, but it was not difficult to transport it to Shanghai, as Jiangxi had a developed inland river transport system.

In addition, he also submitted an application to the Planning Commission to purchase a batch of Lingao’s small metal products for export to Japan. After writing all these letters, Zhao Yingong finally let out a sigh of relief and handed all the letters to the confidential courier waiting outside.

Next was to wait for news from the Japan side. The Colonial and Trade Department’s channel to Japan should have been opened by now. When the wind picked up in November, the four large sand ships arriving in Nagasaki or Hirado would certainly cause a sensation. If nothing else, just the new silk of the current year was something that neither Zheng Zhilong nor any other Chinese merchant’s ship could bring. Zhao Yingong chuckled coldly. By then, the Jiangnan gentry begging Shen Tingyang to go to Japan with them to make a fortune would probably wear through the old Shen family’s threshold. They might even have to send dozens of large sand ships to Japan to dump their goods, filling up the warehouses of the Japanese merchants and sweeping up all their silver. Once the Zheng family’s Japan route was destroyed, he wouldn’t be able to last for more than a few days—without an economic foundation, everything was just empty talk.

No matter how capable Zheng Zhilong was, and no matter how much Xiong Tingbi trusted him, he probably wouldn’t dare to provoke the Jiangnan gentry, the most powerful force in the court and among the people in the late Ming. By then, he would either jump over the wall in desperation and come out for a decisive battle—which was what the Senate was hoping for—or he would slowly weaken and die from blood loss.

Zhao Yingong thought: this is what it means to subdue the enemy without fighting. Let them see that we can win from a thousand miles away without relying on strong ships and powerful cannons.