Chapter 289: Sweet Port Turbulence — Funds in Place

It turned out the people Pepi had arranged to introduce were all scions of official and gentry families who frequented Purple Clarity Pavilion. Their status wasn't particularly exalted—the son of a Grain Intendant here, the young master or brother-in-law of a Vice General or Regional Commander there, the junior proprietor or nephew of a major merchant elsewhere. They commanded disposable funds and mostly held some form of official degree. Men with money and leisure naturally craved excitement, and a place like Purple Clarity Pavilion, where novelties constantly appeared, drew them like moths.

"Several young masters wish to meet you. All of them are wealthy. Extracting some capital from them shouldn't prove difficult."

"Borrowing funds I understand, but I hadn't expected creditors to be the eager ones seeking a meeting with the borrower. It's rare to find lenders anxious to meet debtors." Guo Yi showed surprise. His usual contacts were a miscellaneous lot—business partners, government connections—but he seldom encountered young wastrels of this type. They conducted no commerce and made no demands, so they had no reason to seek him out.

"They heard you're a guest from overseas and grew curious." Pepi smiled gracefully, then recounted the particulars. It began with casual conversation during entertainment. When wealthy guests came to Purple Clarity Pavilion to squander money, she, as hostess, naturally accompanied them for periods as a decorative presence. During these sessions, she would share tales of Australian sights and customs for amusement. These stories were materials approved by the Propaganda Department in Lingao—accounts of Australia's various benefits and oddities, including fabricated history, mostly along the lines of "Strange Tales from Across the Seas." But they also incorporated much content the Transmigration Group wished to disseminate among Ming Dynasty populace.

Such stories were inherently captivating. The ingenuity of Australian goods—together with the novel amusements and pleasures provided by Purple Clarity Pavilion itself—combined with Pepi's eloquence and vivid embellishment, had kindled deep interest in Guo Yi, the mysterious proprietor.

Pleasure-seeking sons rarely befriended upright, austere gentlemen; they insisted on "interesting" companions—articulate, striking in appearance, or unconventional in conduct. These particular young men kept pestering Pepi, demanding introductions to the somewhat enigmatic "Proprietor Guo."

"I see." Guo Yi reflected. It hardly mattered—this was an opportune time to expand his network, and establishing such connections could only prove beneficial.

"Don't underestimate them just because they're ordinary young masters; their family assets are quite substantial." As she spoke, Pepi flipped her wrist lightly, displaying an emerald ring glittering on her finger. "This represents their generosity."

The ring had a market value of at least eight hundred taels—no small token.

"Isn't such a gift rather heavy? There's no free lunch in this world." Guo Yi couldn't help worrying.

"Who said anything was free?" Pepi affected boredom, lifting her pinky to examine her latest nail art.

"?!" Guo Yi's expression showed alarm.

Pepi realized his misunderstanding and stamped her foot in combined embarrassment and agitation. "What's wrong with you? Why does your mind constantly wander down crooked paths?" She stamped again and made to leave.

"Misunderstanding! Complete misunderstanding—don't go, don't go—" Guo Yi quickly caught her arm, feeling absurdly like a soap opera protagonist.

"Hmph." Pepi turned back. "I belong to Proprietor Guo. No matter how dissolute they are, they wouldn't dare entertain designs on me. And even if they did, Lixiu would never yield—"

"Fine, fine." Guo Yi shuddered and hastily changed the subject. "So how did you handle it?"

"What's to handle? They had a request; I gave them what they wanted—nothing complicated." Pepi smiled. "What they seek is naturally an audience with you, Proprietor Guo."

Further discussion proved unnecessary. Moments later, a maid came to report: the young masters had arrived.

"Show them to the Bamboo Garden," Pepi instructed.

"Bamboo Garden? You've built a small garden?" Guo Yi found this strange—he hadn't seen any such project order.

"It's just a private dining room. I gave it an elegant name." Pepi went inside to change. When she reemerged, she wore a thin dark-patterned purple velvet dress that accentuated her tall figure and the luminous quality of her complexion.

Guided by a maid, the pair walked through corridors, descended stairs, and turned corners. "This place is like a labyrinth!" Guo Yi remarked.

"Too cramped, and the layout's a bit chaotic. When we have the capacity, it really needs renovation," Pepi replied.

The implication was dissatisfaction with Purple Clarity Pavilion's facilities. The establishment had originally been an acquired building, subsequently modified. At that time, Lingao's industrial capacity was essentially nonexistent, and the Executive Committee had been unwilling to invest too many modern elements. Renovation proceeded according to this timeline's capabilities. Because they were eager to establish position, and the original decorations and facilities remained sixty or seventy percent serviceable, no major changes had been made.

Guo Yi thoroughly agreed. With Pei Lixiu's appearance and conversational skills, though the novel packaging attracted dandies for now, it wasn't a sustainable strategy. To keep Purple Clarity Pavilion thriving long-term, continuously fresh attractions were essential to lead Guangzhou's fashion trends.

Considering this, Guo Yi spoke thoughtfully: "If you hadn't mentioned it, I'd have forgotten. Lingao sent a list of the latest goods. Examine it later and see what might prove useful here. Consider that before planning any renovation."

"If you ask me, sanitary fixtures should come first—current facilities are too inconvenient..." Just as she was about to continue, seeing they'd nearly arrived, she instantly switched to a tone saccharine enough to induce diabetes: "Proprietor, watch your step."

Though called a private room, the Bamboo Garden was actually a small reception hall. The decoration was reasonably elegant, though the furnishings showed wear. Two pretty maids attended within. Both guests displayed the manner of noble young masters in fine clothing.

After host and guests exchanged bows, Pepi introduced the newcomers to Guo Yi. She had described them accurately—textbook examples of gilded youth. One was Wu Zhixiang, whose father and brothers all held capital appointments; he himself had achieved xiucai status. The other proved more surprising: Dong Jizhong was a Vice General's son who had inherited the hereditary position of Commander.

"An official! My respects, my respects." Guo Yi bowed again.

"What sort of official? A hereditary position the size of a sesame seed." Dong Jizhong appeared indifferent. "Someone like me—could I really take the field wielding saber and spear?"

He had the look of a frail scholar; it was difficult to imagine a scion of a hereditary military house appearing thus. However, since this person was in Guangdong, his father must be serving in either Fujian or Guangdong. If this connection could be cultivated, news from Ming military circles would become considerably easier to obtain.

They exchanged mutual admiration. As it was noon, Pei Lixiu ordered the banquet served in the hall. A large round table had been assembled in the center. On the blue-and-white fine porcelain tableware, twelve cold dishes were arrayed. Guo Yi had been here long enough to know that Ming Dynasty banquets—whether official feasts or elegant gatherings—didn't follow this format. This quintessentially twentieth-century banquet service, along with many dishes, had been transplanted by Pepi from her own time—she had brought numerous cooking utensils and recipe books.

Guo Yi surveyed the spread. Not only were the dishes varieties commonly seen at public and private banquets in another dimension, but even the table setting looked hauntingly familiar. He couldn't suppress a knowing smile.

Since this was an elegant gathering, seating was informal. As the gentlemen were treating Guo Yi, they pressed him toward the seat of honor, and he accepted without false modesty.

Conversation at the table inevitably drifted toward various Australian anecdotes and curiosities. Thanks to the internet, Guo Yi's head was stuffed with random knowledge—astronomy, geography, social news—which he could arrange however he pleased. He understood these remarks were merely prologue; the substantive topic would surely follow.

Indeed, after three rounds of wine, Wu Zhixiang came directly to the point. It emerged that though these men were sons of officials, prolonged residence in Guangzhou had infected them with merchant habits. They possessed "modest private funds" and wished to pursue "profitable ventures."

Profitable ventures were easily discussed, but for sons of officials like them, complications abounded. They understood little of commercial practices and dared not intervene rashly. Though lending was profitable, risks were high, and reputation suffered. Should some censor or supervising secretary hear of it and memorialize, the mildest consequence would be criticism for "competing with the common people for profit"—highly inappropriate.

The easiest and safest approach was depositing with a reliable major trading house to earn interest—both secure and gossip-free. But Wu Zhixiang found the interest rates disappointing.

After considerable reflection, the most lucrative Guangzhou business was maritime trade. Shiploads of porcelain, medicinal materials, raw silk, and tea sailed out; gleaming silver returned. Anyone would feel jealous watching it.

But though Wu Zhixiang's father and brothers held capital appointments, they weren't influential grandees. Dong Jizhong's father was merely a Vice General, and military ranks had always carried little prestige. Moreover, serving as officials in distant provinces, they lacked local connections to flatter them by permitting them to "insert shares," carry goods, or make small investments. As for operating their own ships—hearing about treacherous storms and pirates, neither man possessed the courage. Entrusting others felt unreliable...

Dong Jizhong interjected: "They say maritime trade guarantees profits, but ocean storms are perilous. Zheng the Trait—" he paused, "—though Zheng Zhilong has accepted amnesty, the sea still churns with three-foot waves even in calm weather! Extremely dangerous!" He smiled bitterly. "We have silver but no use for it."

Having rambled to this point, Guo Yi understood he was dealing with ordinary wastrels—envious watching others grow rich, but unwilling to bear any risk or hardship. That was why they'd sought him out. Such characters were easy to manage. He nodded agreeably and remarked casually: "The sea is indeed turbulent—truly unsuitable business. You are both precious sons of privilege; such commerce is beneath you."

Though they had abandoned thoughts of maritime trade, the desire for profit remained. Dong Jizhong had concluded that in present-day Guangzhou, the other great money-making opportunity was Australian goods. A mirror sent to Jiangnan doubled in value; to the capital, it added half again. The items were compact, easily transported, and extremely marketable—far safer than risking large sums in oceanic ventures.

Another advantage: because Wu Zhixiang's father and brothers were in the capital, he frequently traveled or dispatched people there on business. Each time, the Wu family seized the opportunity of these capital journeys to transport substantial merchandise for sale along the route. This business—trafficking under cover of official travel—not only avoided checkpoint taxes but had all travel expenses borne by courier stations; even porters could be requisitioned from stations along the way.

The two had immediately seen eye to eye. Capital they possessed. But the Gao family monopolized wholesale distribution of Australian goods in Guangzhou. Hoping to obtain supply from him was no different from snatching food from a tiger's maw. Though Gao Ju was merely a commoner, he had palace connections and reputedly pirate ties as well—who would dare provoke him? As for Guo Yi, they had long heard his name, but lacking any connection or suitable intermediary, an unsolicited visit risked being turned away; even if admitted, the humiliation of word spreading would be intolerable.

After much deliberation, they thought of Pei Lixiu at Purple Clarity Pavilion. Learning this establishment was Guo Yi's property, they concluded that Pei Lixiu, who presided over operations, must be the proprietor's favorite—a cherished concubine. If she introduced them and spoke favorably at the critical moment, matters would proceed far more smoothly.

Having decided, the two haunted Purple Clarity Pavilion daily, lavishing attention on Pepi, not hesitating to ply her with extravagant gifts. Their objective: to secure pillow talk, meet Guo Yi, and persuade this "God of Wealth of Australia" to let some goods slip through his fingers—which they could enjoy endlessly.

"...We have funds we cannot deploy. We hoped to ask Proprietor Guo's advice on how we might put them to profitable use." Dong Jizhong spoke politely, but his meaning was transparent: the only guaranteed money-maker in Guo Yi's hands was Australian goods.

Guo Yi recognized an excellent opportunity and calculated carefully. Since they had uninvested funds—idle capital—it could be borrowed short-term. Better still, properly managed, this capital could be occupied for long-term operations. He just didn't know the exact amounts. Presumably each man had ten or twenty thousand taels.

But he didn't reveal his hand immediately; he would tantalize them first. He responded vaguely: "Much to discuss, much to discuss."

"What wine would the master prefer?" Pei Lixiu inquired. "Wine has been prepared."

"Just wine."

Lately, whenever banquets occurred, Guo Yi drank "National Scholar Unrivaled"—purely to advertise their own product. He was thoroughly sick of it. Hearing wine was available felt like rain after drought.

Wine was sold in Ming Dynasty Guangzhou as well. One type was imported goods, transported in wooden barrels, indistinguishable from twentieth-century wine; another was simply yellow rice wine with added raisins. An establishment like Purple Clarity Pavilion naturally served the former.

Wine was poured into a glass goblet—crimson and beautiful. Guo Yi lifted it and took a small sip. No astringent bite, just the original sweet-tart flavor; a familiar fruity wine aroma. He couldn't help exclaiming: "Excellent wine!"

(End of Chapter)