Chapter 276: Conspiracy
"First, this year's sugar price." Third Master Zhu had already thought it through. "We need to drive it down—way down. The moment their trading house opens for business, we set our price at 1.5 taels per shi."
Everyone was momentarily stunned. That price was outrageously low. Even in the best harvest years when sugar prices dropped, one shi still fetched at least 2 taels of silver. In lean years, it could exceed 4 taels. Third Master Zhu's opening bid of 1.5 taels—right now, even a shi of rough brown rice was selling for 2 taels! Wouldn't the cane farmers riot?
"This year's harvest has been average. By established convention, the price should be 2.5 taels. We've already been purchasing for over a fortnight. To suddenly drop this much—how do we explain it? These are relationships cultivated over many years..." The objection came from Feng Guangfeng, owner of the "Richangji" trading house. His establishment was relatively modest, and Feng Guangfeng wasn't part of the Shanxi-Guangdong clique—he was a former clerk who had married his employer's only daughter and become manager by marrying into the family. He was rather looked down upon within the Haiyi Guild.
Still, his words struck a chord. Business depended on long-term cooperation; both buyers and sellers valued leaving room for future dealings. A move like this would create permanent bad blood with the cane farmers.
Seeing everyone hesitate, Third Master Zhu sneered. "It's simple. Everyone knows South China Sugar Factory is producing enormous quantities now. We'll say that because they're generating so much sugar, outside markets can't absorb it, so prices have collapsed."
"Will that actually work?"
"Why wouldn't it? If cane farmers are willing to sell at this price, we reap windfall profits. And besides, how can we be blamed for the price drop? Wasn't it South China Sugar Factory that upset the market? 'Every wrong has its source, every debt its creditor'..." Third Master Zhu's voice dropped lower as he spoke, but everyone understood clearly. Some silently cheered; others broke into cold sweats.
"Brilliant!" The manager who had earlier proposed dumping corpses at South China's gate cried out. They could strike a devastating blow without openly rupturing relations—preserving room for reconciliation if necessary.
"But there's a risk," the elderly man cautioned. "They're opening their purchasing operation precisely when the Guangzhou market is favorable. If they offer 3 taels per shi, they won't be losing money. If our price is low and theirs is high, won't we simply be herding all the stock into their hands for free?"
"No concern there." Third Master Zhu exuded confidence. "All three counties of Leizhou produce over 200,000 shi of sugar in a normal year. If South China's price is higher, naturally all the sugar flows to them. But consider: say they purchase a third of it. That requires at least 100,000 taels of silver. Where will they find that much ready cash? And with the world as chaotic as it is, would they dare transport such a fortune to Leizhou? When they run dry and want to stop buying, it won't be so easy. We're the only ones in Leizhou with substantial amounts of cash on hand. Squeeze them tight with interest rates—and even if we can't destroy them, we'll make them bleed."
Everyone found this plan workable: the volume normally absorbed by all twenty-one trading houses would now be dumped on South China Factory alone. They'd choke on it.
"Better safe than sorry," the old manager persisted. "What if they actually dare to ship in the silver? What if they've already prepared it? Missing a season's worth of purchases is a minor setback—just one year's profit gone. What I fear is destroying our reputation going forward..."
Hearing this, the various managers conceded he had a point and began to waver. Third Master Zhu, observing the old man's endless dithering, said coldly, "You want to act but fear this and fear that! Fine then—best do nothing at all. As long as South China Factory buys, we buy too. We'll capture seventy or eighty percent of the business regardless. If they want to ship their sugar out, let them."
This sounded like he was washing his hands of the matter. Some of the sharper ones realized he probably had additional tricks in reserve. So everyone declared they would follow his plan. Only then did Third Master Zhu continue.
"Second, starting today, whenever you're speaking with people, drop hints about South China Factory. Understand? You can't slander them directly, but the implication should be clear: those massive iron rollers, that chimney—things no one has ever seen before. As the saying goes, 'When circumstances defy nature, there must be demons.'"
Everyone recognized this stratagem as particularly vicious. But given their monopoly profits, this group—though ostensibly respectable businessmen—were no saints. They'd participated in worse than rumor-mongering before.
"Finally," Third Master Zhu said, "each year we typically retain two percent off the top. This year, of that two percent, one percent must go to the Haiyi Guild. I don't mind working for everyone without compensation, but my people who do the legwork need to be paid, and gathering intelligence costs money. The public coffers contain only four or five hundred taels at present. Not enough."
The managers all looked pained at this. This so-called two percent rule dated back to when cane farmers had consigned sugar to trading houses for sale—it was a handling fee. Though they'd since converted to cash purchases, the customary two percent had always been retained. It represented significant profit for each house. Being asked to surrender one percent of it now—no one was eager.
Third Master Zhu said, "Stop looking so sour. Once this is accomplished, all the factory's stock becomes ours, and the sugar price will have crashed to 1.5 taels. Isn't the profit considerable? Quibbling over this bit of expense—you lack the big picture!"
So it was decided. Each trading house advanced a sum to the Haiyi Guild's public account, proportional to its size, for Third Master Zhu to draw upon as needed. With matters settled, everyone finally felt hungry. They sat down to eat and drink.
Third Master Zhu barely touched his food before announcing he had matters at home and departed with his servant. His residence lay only four or five storefronts away. House and business were connected as one—he could reach the trading house without stepping outside. If he wished to visit someone, he needn't enter the street—he could exit through a side gate directly into another trading house's residence, then continue from one house to the next.
This arrangement was born of necessity. Though in recent years, through the Haiyi Guild's organization of local militias and cultivation of officials and various maritime powers, raids on Hai'an had become rare, small-scale robberies and kidnappings still occurred with disturbing frequency. So the trading house residences had been built wall-to-wall, connected by side gates, with barred lanes and high walls forming a closed community. Ordinary pirates or bandits simply couldn't penetrate it.
Third Master Zhu passed through several trading houses' back alleys to reach his own residence. After freshening up briefly, he summoned his house steward.
"Go fetch Zhao Jijiao for me." Then he closed his eyes to rest momentarily. The task of investigating South China Factory's background—he'd already dispatched a capable clerk for that purpose back when the Qiwei Escort Agency had first begun acquiring land and sugar mills in the area. At the time, he'd simply wondered why an escort agency was purchasing such properties. Who could have known this casual precaution would prove so prescient? He was rather pleased with himself. Had he been sending someone only now—Guangzhou lay over a thousand li distant; a boat voyage there and back would consume more than ten days. By then, the opportunity would have passed.
Before attending the guild meeting, he had actually already known the essential background of South China Factory. Just as he'd suspected, another master stood behind the Qiwei Escort Agency. As for this master's identity, the clerk hadn't managed to discover it—the escort guards kept their mouths exceptionally tight, and ordinary clerks knew nothing. But the matter of Lü Yizhong's calling card had been uncovered through various channels: Lü Yizhong's cards were sold openly at fixed prices. With the right connections, one or two hundred taels would secure one.
That being the case, this master was probably not an official figure. Judging by the need to purchase Lü Yizhong's card as a protective talisman, he likely lacked significant background in government circles either—though he unquestionably possessed wealth.
With this foundational intelligence, Third Master Zhu knew his next moves. His performance earlier had simply been theater for his colleagues, designed to bring them along with his plan.
At first glance startling beauty, at first glance startling beauty, I suddenly behold a little maid like a celestial fairy, Her moth-brows lightly swept, her natural charm rarely seen in this world. See her autumn-wave eyes gently send, exceptionally bright. I wish to plant flowers, best seize them while fresh...
Just as he was humming this little tune, the steward announced that Zhao Jijiao had arrived.
"Send him in."
A man in his thirties entered. He was dressed neatly enough, resembling a shop manager at first glance, but as he stood there his body and head kept shifting, eyes perpetually darting. Clearly not an upright character. Zhao Jijiao was a local gang leader who ran a band of riffraff that loitered around Hai'an Street near the Zou Monk Temple. The Haiyi Guild paid them a monthly stipend of money and rice—partly to keep them from causing trouble, partly to have them available for unsavory tasks when needed.
"Little Zhao, tomorrow dispatch all your men onto the streets." Third Master Zhu spoke deliberately. "Have them spread word as follows—" He then recited the prepared script.
"Do you have all of that?"
"Your servant remembers everything!" Zhao Jijiao nodded vigorously.
"Here's 50 taels of silver. Distribute it among them first."
"Thank you, Master."
"Also, select a few of the more presentable ones from your people and keep them ready. In the coming days, South China Sugar Factory will likely be hiring workers. Have them prepared to seek employment. Tell them to work diligently when the time comes—they only need endure a couple of months. When it's finished, I'll reward them handsomely."
"Getting hired—won't that require a shop guarantee?" Zhao Jijiao looked troubled.
"No problem. I'll handle the guarantee. You just assemble the men and get them cleaned up."
"Certainly, but we'll still need funds for clothes and grooming..." Zhao Jijiao's eyes rolled as he attempted to extract more money.
Third Master Zhu snorted. "I haven't disbursed your reward money yet—take it from this first."
Hearing that reward money awaited, Zhao Jijiao's spirits soared. "This matter is completely in my hands and my brothers'." With that, he departed in high spirits.
Watching Zhao Jijiao go, Third Master Zhu still felt uneasy. He decided: he would send someone to Guangzhou again to dig deeper into their background.
"If they truly have no backing, we simply eliminate them. That sugar factory really is quite impressive." A glint of greed flickered across Third Master Zhu's face.
Meanwhile, at South China Sugar Factory, the transmigrators were busily preparing for the trading house's opening. For easier management, the site was selected right at Nanmen Pond where the factory was located—essentially just a subdivision of the factory itself. The front gate opened directly onto the official road connecting Xuwen to Hai'an Street. Beyond constructing the new trading house storefront, Mei Lin also organized laborers to repair this stretch of road, re-erecting several wobbly bridges—infrastructure improvement was always a precondition for the transmigrators' commercial and industrial ventures. The local people, for their part, were merely curious about this novel road-building method of having oxen drag enormous stone rollers back and forth.
The trading house's signboard had been inscribed by the county magistrate of Xuwen himself. His calligraphy came at modest cost—only 30 taels of silver, a few bottles of quality wine, plus some Western cloth and brocade for his wife. The moment the storefront was completed, amid drums and gongs, the gilded signboard was ceremonially hung. The couplets flanking the entrance had been written by a well-known retired official in the county. These were all protective talismans of a sort. The transmigrators were adapting to local customs.
To facilitate communication with locals and prevent linguistic misunderstandings, Wen Tong recruited several local workers in the county to serve as front-counter staff and scale operators. His attempt to hire an experienced sugar trading house manager had never come together—the Wen brothers were simply too young. In the end, he asked Liao Dahua to find someone. Anyone who'd served as a manager would do. Liao Dahua, never shy about recommending family, produced a cousin named Liao Daxing. This Liao Daxing had never been a manager proper, but he'd worked for several years as a senior counter clerk at a grain trading house in Haikang County. He was quite adept at dealing with people, and though his Mandarin was poor, his Cantonese was fluent. He understood commercial protocols. Wen Tong knew the trading house couldn't truly depend on such people—they were all amateurs. Only by taking charge personally would it function properly. Fortunately, the sugar factory was now running smoothly, and Chen Tianxiong was handling the equipment. He could devote more energy to the trading house.
Liao Daxing, freshly promoted and having heard from his cousin that these masters were wealthy and generous, threw himself into the work. Though the grain trading business differed from sugar trading, considerable overlap existed—purchasing, transport, and similar matters. He assumed responsibility for all trading house affairs one by one. Wen Tong actually found collaboration with him more convenient—after all, Wen Tong was an engineer by training and not particularly business-minded.
After conducting market research, Wen Tong and Liao Daxing agreed to purchase at the prevailing Hai'an Street rate of 2.5 taels, without raising the price—hoping to avoid provoking the local trading houses.
"Let's abolish this two percent rule," Wen Tong declared. He deeply resented such "hidden rules."
"Better not—for now," Chen Tianxiong advised. "Best not to stand out too obviously. Not wise."
"I have an idea—we can keep the two percent rule," Chang Shide suddenly interjected. "But take it from the people and use it for the people. Lay the groundwork for Old Wen's future sugar cooperative."
"What's the idea?"
Chang Shide's proposal was to convert this two percent into a kind of "common fund." This fund would issue loans and subsidies to people who joined the sugar cooperative in the future.
"...Everyone who sells us sugar pays the two percent, but they can't access loans or subsidies unless they join us. Nobody likes feeling cheated. By then, when you promote the sugar cooperative, it'll be far easier."
"Should we explain this at the counter to ordinary folk? Or hold a mass meeting to announce it?"
(End of Chapter)