Chapter 129: Ziming Tower

A good idea meant rolling wealth, and the instant the words left his mouth, every eye in the room gleamed with avarice.

"We still don't know the full extent of what Guangzhou has to offer," Zhang Xin began, "but as a major trade hub, the available goods must be plentiful. My thought is this: we should procure as many upgradeable primary products as possible here."

His proposal was classic international trade exploitation—purchase raw materials, export finished goods. Using Guangzhou as their base, they would bulk-purchase baijiu, tobacco, pig iron, cotton cloth, raw silk, crude sugar, and timber—all semi-processed commodities that could be refined in Lingao into high-grade industrial products for export. The scissors differential alone would generate enormous profits, and this approach would prove far faster and more economical than building complete agricultural and industrial systems from scratch.

"Didn't Xiao Bailang say we have Zentraedi-level technology?" Zhang Xin continued, warming to his vision. "Since our capabilities so vastly exceed theirs, we shouldn't waste time on low-level manufacturing. Take the current lumber yard—Lingao isn't particularly timber-rich. But Guangdong-Fujian forestry remains thriving even in the twenty-first century. Why not procure timber here? With timber, we can mass-produce paper. Days ago, Guo Yi and I surveyed the markets—writing paper commands premium prices, and bulk quantities move fast."

"There's a shipping capacity issue," Xiao Zishan pointed out. "Diesel reserves are limited, and we must conserve them. Our shipbuilding lacks experience, and the dockyards need major infrastructure work."

Zhang Xin smiled and shook his head. "I don't mean to say the Committee is disconnected from the masses—" Everyone except Guo Yi nodded in agreement. "—but sometimes you're inflexible, determined to manufacture everything yourselves. You even tried producing toilet paper in-house. And the result? You don't realize that men with wives and girlfriends are using dry leaves just to conserve toilet paper for their women."

"Such things are happening?" Xiao Zishan was taken aback. "The toilet paper supply isn't problematic." As Internal Affairs commissioner, he understood that toilet paper—seemingly trivial—greatly affected quality of life. Shortages could devastate morale. Pre-transmigration stockpiling and post D-Day distribution had been tightly managed, calculated daily, distributed weekly. But self-production remained incomplete.

"Commissioner Xiao, having something and having enough are two very different things," Zhang Xin said, shaking his head. "Men with women nearby will naturally sacrifice a bit for them." His conclusion was simple: "Buy ships, don't build them."

"Buy ships? Guangdong sand junks?"

"I don't know precisely what sand junks are—" Zhang Xin waved his hand dismissively. "But Guangdong's timber resources are abundant, and maritime merchants abound—shipbuilding must be well-developed here. We can order ships locally and solve our immediate needs."

Indeed, the Deng Yingzhou's tonnage was inadequate. As Qiong-Yue maritime transport scaled up, capacity expansion was imperative. But build or buy? This question, like so many others from the old timespace, had sparked fierce internal Committee debate. The industrialists insisted on building—whether wooden, iron, or cement ships—as a way to accumulate experience and train workers. The Commercial Trade faction advocated purchasing—quickly expanding capacity first.

The final result had been the acquisition of the Deng Yingzhou, with the buy faction slightly prevailing. The reasoning was practical: even the industrialists urgently needed mainland raw materials. Self-building would require months before launch, and they lacked many critical materials.

But the Deng Yingzhou's commissioning had not eliminated the fundamental disagreement. The build faction argued that after the initial small-boat trade phase, once industrial capacity increased, shipbuilding could commence—the Deng Yingzhou was merely transitional. The buy faction countered that short-term industrial focus on shipbuilding was counterproductive—purchasing should continue and intensify.

How to reconcile these factions gave Xiao Zishan a headache. Personally, both sides made sense—buying and building were both urgent. But how to explain this to the Committee?

Then inspiration struck. "The Guangzhou Forward Station essentially equals a subsidiary. Production capital like ships—subsidiaries can self-invest."

Rather than proposing "buy don't build" at the Committee and triggering another round of debate, he would let the Guangzhou Station solve it themselves.

"We can decide ourselves?" Guo Yi could barely believe his ears.

"Yes, you decide." Xiao Zishan graciously patted his shoulder. The Guangzhou Station was isolated on the mainland, bearing both trade and intelligence responsibilities—its affairs were too complex and numerous for the Committee to micromanage. Moreover, multiple departments were involved, and remote control would mean unclear command authority.

"Also—how do we handle Gao Ju's interests?" Yan Maoda raised a concern. "Previously, he was our distributor. Now we're opening direct retail—he won't be happy about that."

"Didn't you say when discussing the jewelry house that you'd operate non-overlapping lines? Let him handle glassware."

"The problem is he'll probably request that the Committee let him distribute the new products too. Merchants are greedy." Guo Yi sounded worried.

"We stay wholesalers—let him handle retail. Retail is the hard part. It needs local merchants." Zhang Xin said.

"Segment the channels." Xiao Zishan pondered for a moment, then explained his thinking.

"Channel segmentation?!" Zhang Xin and Yan Maoda grasped the concept immediately but had their doubts. Channel marketing strategies had only emerged in China during the 1990s.

"I know what you're thinking—but my channel marketing concept isn't overly complex. It's a two-track approach." He laid out the details.

Gao Ju, as the Australian goods agent, had already opened doors to Guangzhou's luxury market. He possessed local connections that the transmigrators lacked. Luxury goods could therefore continue using the agency model: primarily glassware—mirrors, drinkware, tea sets. Glass had endless applications; new products could flow to him continuously.

Salt, sugar, iron products, soap, cigarettes—mass consumption goods—were low-priced and high-volume. For these, they would use the trading house wholesale model, letting small and medium merchants and peddlers handle distribution. Additionally, they would leverage Guangzhou and Macau as windows for organizing large-scale exports.

"That's good—" Zhang Xin began, but a coquettish voice from outside cut him off: "Then where's my role?"

Everyone knew without turning: Special Agent PEPI had arrived. Today she wore a blue Confucian scholar robe—lips red, teeth white—alluringly beautiful yet radiating a carefree elegance. She truly deserved her "hundred transformations" reputation.

"Weren't you assigned to run Ziming Tower?" Guo Yi was somewhat displeased; she certainly knew how to make dramatic entrances. He couldn't help teasing: "With your skills, won't you dominate the scene and drive the city mad? Intelligence gathering will be child's play."

"Ziming Tower is trivial." PEPI lightly flicked her long sleeves with a "not taking a single cloud" elegance. "Intelligence is trivial too. Creating Guangzhou's new fashion era—that's the real matter."

Indeed! This woman truly treated the Forward Station as her personal performance stage.

"Then go ahead and create. Nobody's stopping you." Little Guo was growing annoyed.

"Ah, what can I say about you men?" Miss P's eyes rippled in a way that made everyone's skin crawl. "Fashion requires an interconnected industry chain. Ziming Tower leads trends and builds the brand—but you need a fashion boutique for material support."

"Great idea!" Yan Maoda immediately threw his support behind her. He had already been planning to leverage his twenty-first-century materials and jewelry industry expertise to open a jewelry house selling new-style pieces. If Miss P's Ziming Tower succeeded, it would serve as a living advertisement. He spoke excitedly: "I can design complete new jewelry sets for Miss P! Mark my words—they'll sell massively!"

Guo Yi hesitated. An unexpected proposal, but feasible—the premise being Ziming Tower's success. He nodded. "I think it could work."

Xiao Zishan agreed as well. Thus "Zizhen Studio" was settled. Guo Yi and Yan Maoda were raring to go, ready to deploy all their jewelry company skills.

The radio clicked again—Industrial Committee this time—requesting that Xiao Zishan recruit professional craftsmen in Guangzhou.

"Masons, carpenters, shipwrights—shipwrights?" Xiao Zishan was puzzled: were they starting a shipyard after all? "Potters, blacksmiths, coopers..."

A dozen trades were listed. Xiao Zishan thought: indeed needed. These were basic crafts, but mastering the fundamental handwork techniques was essential. This could go through Sun Kecheng. He noted the tasks in his notebook.

"The radio's become a treasure." Xiao Zishan smiled. "Lingao now has clairvoyance and clairaudience."

Guo Yi nodded. "Now if Guangdong plans any punitive expeditions, the Committee will know immediately. One-way transparency."

"But what about intelligence collection? How good is Ming-era secrecy?"

"Though I'm not a Ming history enthusiast—personally, I believe maintaining secrecy in a medieval environment is extremely difficult," Guo Yi said. "Warfare involves grain, ships, troop movements. Even in modern war, these cannot be completely concealed."

"Nevertheless, the Ming has the Brocade Guards and the Eastern Depot. Don't get complacent."

Everyone nodded gravely. Those two agencies' terror echoed even four centuries later in another timespace.

"Our knowledge of these organizations' current historical status is limited," Xiao Zishan said. "But both the Brocade Guards and Eastern Depot surely have personnel in Guangzhou. Stay constantly vigilant. Avoid any actions that might arouse suspicion."

"We'll be careful."

"About the Capture Protocol Manual—has everyone memorized it?"

(End of Chapter)