Chapter 991 - Return Voyage
To expand their influence, Ping Qiusheng also hosted a banquet for various merchants locally—Chinese and Japanese without exception. His purpose was to promote Australian goods, for procurement required bringing sufficient trade goods in return.
Besides the Senate's traditional export commodities, this voyage Ping Qiusheng had also brought new merchandise: Runshitang Pharmacy's Plague-Averting Powder and Zhuge Marching Powder.
After Runshitang Pharmacy's new pharmaceutical factory went into production, output of all proprietary Chinese medicines had increased dozens of times. Plague-Averting Powder and Zhuge Marching Powder, their flagship products for sale and personal use in the South China region, had for the first time accumulated inventory exceeding current monthly sales—and the stockpile was continuously growing, urgently requiring new markets. Si Kaide judged that besides summer demand in South China and Jiangnan, the year-round hot and humid regions of North and South Vietnam, Siam, Cambodia, and Burma—all subtropical and tropical zones—would certainly welcome these heat-relief medicines. European colonizers in Southeast Asia could use them too. Market prospects appeared exceedingly broad.
Ping Qiusheng had brought several dozen cases of these medicines, distributing samples to guests at the banquet. In fact, both medicines were already sold in limited quantities in Thonburi. Their remarkable efficacy had already earned them a decent reputation—only the prices were exorbitant, as merchants wholesaled and transported them from Guangzhou.
Now that these commodities could be sold directly here, retail prices had fallen by more than two-thirds. This immediately caused a sensation in the local business community. Owners of many large Chinese merchant shops eagerly proposed becoming agents for Runshitang Pharmacy.
But Ping Qiusheng was unwilling to grant agency rights. Beyond cash-on-delivery terms for goods brought this voyage, he required all shops interested in selling Runshitang products to sign ordering contracts. Runshitang would supply local merchants according to the figures on their contracts.
Based on each shop's ordering quantities and fulfillment record, he would then consider which to grant Runshitang Pharmacy agency rights. This approach came from Si Kaide's playbook.
Si Kaide also planned to implement a prepaid deposit system for agents after both sides had established sufficient mutual trust.
This was extraordinarily rare in commercial trade of the era. In contemporary commerce, not only was prepayment for goods virtually unknown, even cash-on-delivery was extremely rare. Goods first, payment later was standard practice—payment terms stretched long, tying up substantial capital, with high ratios of bad debts. Anyone imagining that seventeenth-century commercial ethics surpassed those of the twenty-first century was, in Si Kaide's view, utterly deluded. Whether counterfeiting, overdue payments, or absconding on debts—whatever the twenty-first century had, the seventeenth century had it all.
Murasaki Shūji scratched his disheveled hair. His locks were carelessly bound with straw rope; each scratching motion sent straw fragments and dandruff floating down like snowflakes.
After scratching sufficiently to feel comfortable, he stood, stretched with an enormous yawn, kissed the cross hanging around his neck, and made the sign of the cross.
Murasaki's height, like most Japanese men of this era, was perhaps slightly over 1.5 meters—short and stocky, with a typical Chōshū facial type, meaning his body hair was considerably less than the Satsuma type. He looked fairly handsome, just gaunt and yellow-complexioned, appearing malnourished.
He wore a samurai vest—the name sounded grand, but it was merely several pieces of cloth and silk scraps bound to his body with straw rope. His lower body had no trousers; his sole "garment" was a new loincloth—the last remnant of several bolts of Nanjing cloth obtained as war spoils when following Lord Yamada Nagamasa to fight in Ligor for the Siamese King the previous year.
Despite being barely clothed, he wore broken armor plates on his chest and back. Though the protected area barely covered front and back torso, many hemp threads connecting the plates had snapped and been repaired with coarse hemp rope. The workmanship was poor; the plates hung crooked.
On his feet was a pair of straw sandals. His left hand gripped an elm wood sword scabbard containing a tachi; a wakizashi was thrust through his waist. His appearance was precisely that of a down-and-out masterless wild samurai—a rōnin.
Murasaki Shūji was indeed a rōnin. Originally a low-ranking samurai of the Tosa Domain, he had been forced to flee abroad because he was a Christian. He had drifted around Southeast Asia for seven or eight years now.
During those years, he had survived as a mercenary—sometimes charging at the front, sometimes drowsing through years guarding some trading post or fortress.
A few years ago, he had joined the Japanese Volunteer Corps. Life was quite comfortable then. But ever since Lord Yamada had died under mysterious circumstances in Ligor the previous year, that life had abruptly ended.
Though as a lower samurai of the Volunteer Corps he knew little of affairs above, rumors swirled everywhere. The subsequent sudden Siamese looting of Japanese merchant towns convinced him that Lord Yamada's death was highly suspicious.
Suspicious or not, it had little to do with him. His relationship with Lord Yamada amounted to nothing more than employer and employee—no "sentiment" bound them. So he harbored no thoughts of risking his life for revenge or getting to the bottom of things. Yet subsequent developments made him, as a Japanese, feel a profound crisis.
Rumors spread everywhere: the Divine King intended to completely expel and exterminate the Japanese. Many who had joined the Volunteer Corps had already fled. Numerous Japanese merchants and craftsmen had likewise chosen to leave—many going to Cambodia, some to Vietnam or elsewhere. Murasaki also wished to flee, but he was penniless. Without the Divine King coming to kill him, he would starve to death on the road himself. Here in Thonburi, at least scrounging meals was easy—rice here was practically worthless.
Murasaki Shūji lived day by day in this dilemma, trembling with fear—terrified that one day the Thais would kill him before he could even make a final confession.
He wandered the street aimlessly, looking to see if any familiar Japanese or Chinese shops were serving breakfast where he might beg a bowl of rice.
While idling, he suddenly noticed the owner of a familiar Japanese shop laboriously carrying large and small bundles. One glance told him another merchant was fleeing home. He couldn't help feeling a wave of sorrow: at least others possessed the means to flee. For him to flee—first, he had no money; second, returning to Japan carried great risk. The Shogunate showed no mercy to Christians; if things went wrong, he would end up on a cross.
Unexpectedly, he obtained fresh information from this Japanese merchant. The Australian ships that had arrived over a fortnight ago were now recruiting Japanese.
According to Ping Qiusheng's orders, word had spread throughout Thonburi: Any Great Ming subjects or Japanese overseas residents wishing to leave Siam for Great Ming or Japan would be extended passage convenience by the fleet, with only a nominal fare charged. Those who couldn't afford the fare could travel free, but must serve the Australians in Lingao for several months to repay the passage. Those without suitable destinations could also serve the Australians.
For all overseas residents willing to serve, the Senate guaranteed sufficient wages and excellent living conditions. Upon completing their service terms, they could freely travel to any destination.
This news received an enthusiastic response. Many small merchants, seeing that Siam's situation appeared likely to descend into chaos, prepared to return home one after another. As for Japanese overseas residents—especially Yamada Nagamasa's former subordinates—they had been living in constant fear. Now presented with an opportunity to escape, why wouldn't they seize it?
During these recent days, the Southeast Asia Company had been trading goods here. Transactions were scrupulously fair; they caused no trouble for local residents. Moreover, seeing their sturdy ships and sharp cannons, voyage safety seemed guaranteed.
Because Japanese overseas residents kept arriving to board—many from the interior who had requested local compatriots to petition after hearing the news, asking the fleet to wait a few more days—Ping Qiusheng ultimately stayed an additional week before officially setting sail. During this time, he repeatedly declined local villagers' offers to have their wives entertain the Australian sea merchants, leaving both the pirate-originated sailors and local villagers feeling quite disappointed.
Finally, the fleet—laden with rice and potash salt ore, plus forty-odd Chinese merchants and more than three hundred Japanese Volunteer Corps members—set forth grandly on the return voyage. Because of the overcrowding, many Japanese Volunteer Corps members who couldn't afford the fare slept on deck. Murasaki was among those sleeping in the open. He wrapped himself in an old fishing net obtained from who-knows-where, his two swords carefully bundled with straw and carried on his back—his only property and the tools of his survival.
After the fleet returned to Lingao, the Chinese merchants purchased Great Wave Shipping tickets and traveled back to Guangdong. During their stay, they inevitably conducted inspections and toured locally. After all, the fame of the Australians and Lingao was thunderously renowned. Everyone wanted to personally see whether new opportunities awaited here.
As for the Japanese, except for a few merchants, nearly every one was penniless. Even those who could afford passage to Guangdong or Fujian and living expenses while awaiting return ships mostly proved unwilling to go home empty-handed. They had originally come to Southeast Asia hoping to escape impoverished domestic life. Returning to Japan with nothing meant continuing to live in poverty. Moreover, many were Christians; returning home carried great risk. So without much persuasion, most Japanese signed agreements to serve the Australians.
A total of two hundred ninety people chose to serve. They were immediately sent to the quarantine camp. After the quarantine period concluded, this batch of Japanese Volunteer Corps would be organized into auxiliary units, serving as security forces for landings in Taiwan and Jeju Island, and eventually as guides for Japan operations.
Ping Qiusheng's Southeast Asia voyage achieved resounding success. The large quantities of rice and the trade agreements he secured earned him considerable prestige. At his report meeting, Wu De smiled broadly while vigorously slapping his shoulder, making Senator Ping howl with pain.
Obviously, obtaining stable rice supplies from Siam was feasible. The disadvantage was that it wasn't as close as Vietnam, and with many summer typhoons, the Siam route was hazardous. But by October, they could continuously receive food supplies from Siam. For the next three or four months' grain—including fixed consumption and anticipated requirements—the Planning Bureau's inventory remained sufficient to cover.
(End of Chapter)