Chapter 1362 - Public and Private Benefit

Hangzhou Prefect Liu Mengqian was a man of refined tastes. His most famous "deed" in Hangzhou was a gathering he hosted one spring on the Su Causeway:

"In the second month, a grand gathering was held on the Su Causeway. Tens of thousands of horn lanterns and gauze lanterns were collected from the city and hung on every peach and willow tree. Red felt carpets were spread on the ground; handsome pages and famous courtesans drank and sang without restraint. At night, ten thousand candles burned at once, bright as day. Looking from the lake at the ten thousand candles on the causeway, the reflection in the water doubled the light. Flutes and pipes played, singing continued until the break of dawn."

Such a scene, past or present, was indeed the height of elegance and romance. When Zhao Yingong had read about this in the past, he too had been quite envious.

But however refined a person might be, once he became an official he had to address the livelihood of the people under his jurisdiction. Liu Mengqian's luck was decent; serving as prefect in Hangzhou—traditionally known as "Heaven"—meant that besides the various "perks" of office, he didn't have to struggle to survive in a nightmarish environment like many of his colleagues.

So Prefect Liu was quite satisfied with his current situation. However, last year's severe drought had cast a layer of gray over his official career.

As long as one served as a local official, encountering a disaster or two during one's term was inevitable. In ancient Chinese society, natural disasters occurred roughly every three years on average, with a major disaster every ten years. Disaster relief and rehabilitation had always been primary duties of local officials. Prefect Liu had experienced this before.

Since the first year of the Chongzhen reign, the Zhejiang region had suffered natural disasters almost every year, affecting the entire province. Even the Hangzhou-Jiaxing-Huzhou plain, traditionally a land of fish and rice, had repeatedly encountered floods and droughts. The common people had almost no respite. Compounded by harsh government exactions in recent years, the Jiangnan region—already heavily taxed—had long been severely weakened.

The vast numbers of refugees gave Prefect Liu endless headaches. In these years, "popular uprisings" were constant, disturbing the peace of the realm. Though Liu Mengqian's exterior was refined, he possessed insight: Jiangnan had enjoyed such prolonged peace that military preparedness was practically nonexistent, resulting in a culture of literary indulgence and martial neglect. If a large-scale uprising truly erupted, relying on exhausted government troops or that gang of policemen who usually only knew how to intimidate and extort the common people would be futile. In that event, he, the prefect, would probably have no choice but to hang himself in his official hall.

Thus, as soon as the famine struck, he summoned the local gentry, urging them to do their utmost to help the government maintain order and relieve the victims. A Famine Relief Bureau was specially established to set up gruel kitchens, sell grain at stabilized prices, distribute medicine, and bury bodies found on the roads. Thanks to Jiangnan being a land of fish and rice with relatively substantial private reserves, the situation was barely maintained.

However, the situation had not improved. The drought had passed, but grain prices on the market were rising steadily as the "five-famine, sixth-month" lean season approached. The price of a dou of rice had already exceeded three qian of silver.

Based on Prefect Liu's experience, once a dou of rice exceeded four qian, large-scale famine would appear among the populace. The miserable scenes of refugees everywhere, which had only just subsided, would repeat themselves, and the hard work of the past half-year would go to waste.

Moreover, if spring sowing and planting could not be carried out in time, the year's harvest would be ruined. If grain taxes couldn't be collected and refugees rioted again, he needn't be prefect anymore. Seeing the situation becoming increasingly dangerous, Liu Mengqian could no longer sit still. Disregarding his "official dignity," he went directly to the Famine Relief Bureau to convene a meeting of the gentry.

The Bureau was located in Guan Lane in the city center. More than a dozen committee members and local gentry who held no position but had contributed significantly gathered in the main hall.

Opinions at the meeting varied. Measures for tide-over and relief were nothing but clichés thoroughly familiar to everyone present. But when it came to specific implementation, no one was willing to say much—because it inevitably involved money.

Since the disaster began last year, "soliciting donations" had already been conducted several times. Although those present were all publicly spirited local figures, they hadn't reached the level of selflessness required to bankrupt their own families to save the starving—especially since local disasters had been continuous in recent years and government exactions harsh, damaging their own finances considerably.

The final result was deliberation without decision. They would merely continue with the few things currently being done. As for the most critical measures—stabilizing grain prices and lending seeds and draft animals to the people—no one was willing to take the lead because the costs were huge and sources of money and grain couldn't be secured.

When the meeting ended and the committee members dispersed, Liu Mengqian instructed his page to invite Zhao Yingong to meet him in informal dress in the flower hall.

Zhao Yingong had been extremely active in the Famine Relief Bureau's activities. In particular, the refugee problem the government found most thorny had been largely solved by Cixin Hall. Although the prefect had heard many rumors—that refugees taken in by Cixin Hall were shipped away via the Qiantang River every month or so, destination unknown, reportedly to Guangdong to reclaim wasteland.

In peaceful times, a local official would have had to investigate such matters. But right now, officials everywhere were treating headaches by treating the head and foot pain by treating the foot; large gatherings of disaster victims were a massive potential danger. If someone was willing to step forward to handle them, who cared where they were sent or whether they lived or died? Besides, the Yellow Register system had long fallen into disuse; population figures were complete fabrications. What the actual population under a local official's jurisdiction was had become an unverifiable mess. Thus, Hangzhou Prefecture's officials, high and low, adopted willful ignorance toward this matter.

Liu Mengqian first exchanged pleasantries with Zhao Yingong, praising him as "young and promising" and "zealous for public duty," adding that he was currently preparing a memorial requesting credit for local personnel involved in this relief effort. The court would naturally bestow honors in due time. It wasn't unknowable that Zhao Yingong might "advance a step further."

Zhao Yingong thought to himself that "advancing a step further" would likely be nothing more than a Jiansheng qualification to "study at the Imperial College"—something he truly didn't care for. But on the surface, he had to act overwhelmed by the favor, expressing his gratitude repeatedly.

After the pleasantries, Prefect Liu turned the topic to famine relief.

Zhao Yingong had long had a plan in mind. But he hadn't been willing to speak up at the meeting: first, it would be too high-profile and likely to provoke jealousy; second, once this matter was implemented, the subsequent economic benefits would be enough to make people envious, so proposing it himself wasn't appropriate. Far better to present the plan privately to Prefect Liu and let him announce it.

This Prefect Liu wouldn't let any opportunity slip by right now. Given Zhao Yingong's demonstrated ability to absorb refugees in the previous phase, he would definitely come seeking advice.

Zhao Yingong had considered his plan many times. On one hand, continuing to absorb Jiangnan refugees south was his mission anyway, so he could readily accept that task. On the other hand, he needed to use this to cloak his own affairs in the righteous guise of "saving lives from fire and water."

He concisely reported his thinking, with the eight-character motto: "Use Commerce to Replace Relief, Revitalize the Market."

There were many disaster victims. If they wanted to save money, relying on diluted gruel and pickles for relief could stabilize hearts but couldn't restore production. Lending draft animals and seeds to help victims restore production was naturally best, but the cost was truly too great for the Famine Relief Bureau to bear. Even "soliciting donations" again from all Hangzhou gentry and merchants would likely fail to raise much money or grain. Moreover, repeated solicitation would inevitably cause a backlash—Zhao Yingong tactfully reminded Prefect Liu that this would be detrimental to his official reputation.

In the Ming dynasty, gentry power was formidable. If a local official wanted to serve his term peacefully, he couldn't afford to offend the gentry. Prefect Liu naturally understood the reminder.

"'Use Commerce to Replace Relief, Revitalize the Market'—these eight characters are well said, but how to implement them? Please teach me, sir." Prefect Liu adopted a posture of humbly seeking advice.

"Using commerce to replace relief" was just a policy, however novel. But specific implementation still couldn't avoid the two words "money and grain." What Prefect Liu wanted to know was how Master Zhao could conjure money and grain out of thin air.

"Your Honor overstates it. I would absolutely not dare to 'teach.' It is merely a humble opinion of this student, and the difficulties involved are many."

"Speak freely. As long as it is something this student can do, I will certainly do my utmost."

"The difficulties are naturally numerous, beyond telling, and I dare not trouble Your Honor with them; as long as it is within my power, I will handle them myself. Please rest assured. The refugees will absolutely not become a menace."

Zhao Yingong's remarks first clarified his attitude: Cixin Hall would continue to receive and ship out refugees. As long as local authorities didn't interfere, incidents of refugees forming roving bands and endangering order would not occur.

Liu Mengqian nodded slightly. With this premise, everything else became much easier to handle. As for where the refugees went, that was none of his business.

Zhao Yingong continued, saying that although the refugee problem could be solved, restoring production remained the top priority. To avoid missing the agricultural season, lending seeds and draft animals to the people was imperative. It was just that neither the government nor the Famine Relief Bureau could produce the money.

"After thinking it over, this student actually has a method that could be called convenient for both public and private interests." Only then did Zhao Yingong reveal his hand.

"What method?"

"Silk!"

Liu Mengqian's mind was extremely quick; he immediately realized that Master Zhao was targeting raw silk. This wasn't surprising—the profits from raw silk were huge. But distant water couldn't quench a nearby fire; by the time raw silk came to market, the rice transplanting season would have passed. The key lay in how he calculated this "public and private benefit."

Zhao Yingong explained: Although Hangzhou suffered a drought last year, the impact on sericulture households wasn't significant. In particular, mulberry orchards were largely unaffected by dry weather, and there had been no further disasters from last autumn until now. The mulberry trees were growing well, and this year's leaf harvest shouldn't be a problem. Therefore, the cocoon harvest could be guaranteed.

His plan was to use the fifty thousand taels raised by the Merchants Bureau as an advance payment to the Famine Relief Bureau. The Bureau would then step in to purchase cocoons. Zhao Yingong wouldn't interfere with the Bureau's purchasing price, but the price at which the Merchants Bureau bought from the Bureau would be fixed. The difference generated in this transaction would be the Bureau's profit. This profit would then be used as capital for relief loans—purchasing seeds, draft animals, and tide-over grain to distribute to disaster victims as loans. Repayment would be made after the autumn harvest.

The Famine Relief Bureau was government-run and had the righteous title of famine relief; it could easily form dual pressure, political and moral. There was no fear that sericulture households wouldn't submit. And given the consistent nature of late-Ming gentry, they would never stop without ruthlessly squeezing the small households given such an opportunity.

As for how much profit they could squeeze from the sericulture households and what bottomless things the contracted silk-and-cocoon guilds might do—that wasn't within his scope of consideration. The more grievous the losses of the sericulture households, the more beneficial it would be for Zhao Yingong.

He continued that in terms of specific operations, the advanced payment could be used immediately so as not to miss the agricultural season, as long as enough purchasing funds were reserved. As for exactly how much to reserve, Zhao Yingong spoke vaguely. In short, ultimately he required cocoons or raw silk equivalent to fifty thousand taels at the Merchants Bureau's buying price.

"What if the sericulture households refuse to sell to the Famine Relief Bureau?" Prefect Liu asked.

"What difficulty is there?" Zhao Yingong laughed. "Naturally, we will first trouble Your Honor to issue a proclamation, explaining the reasoning. Ostensibly, the common people will understand the necessity. If that still doesn't work, we'll have to ask the gentlemen of the silk-and-cocoon guilds to assist."

The Famine Relief Bureau wasn't a silk guild; specific business operations still had to be handed over to them. Zhao Yingong reckoned that with the Bureau as general contractor skimming a layer of profit for nothing, the silk guilds in Hangzhou would inevitably fight fiercely over cocoon purchasing rights, and exploitation of sericulture households this year would likely be unprecedentedly heavy.

Prefect Liu stroked his beard and nodded, saying nothing. Zhao Yingong, beaming, lowered his head and focused on his tea.

He wasn't worried that the Famine Relief Bureau or Prefect Liu would cheat him—if this were his personal initiative, the likelihood of being cheated would be high; Ming officials and gentry were vultures who ate people without spitting out bones. But now the lender was the Merchants Bureau. Leaving aside the righteous cause of famine relief, for Prefect Liu to cheat thirty-six Jiangnan gentry patriarchs in one go—his gall would have to be overly fat.

Prefect Liu understood clearly, thinking to himself that this Master Zhao was indeed a cunning merchant. But this did solve his urgent problem. He estimated that this purchasing scheme could yield at least a fifty percent profit. Not only would the expenses for seeds and oxen be covered, but the gentlemen of the Famine Relief Bureau would also gain a little something. It was indeed "convenient for public and private interests."

A smile immediately appeared on his face, and he repeatedly praised, "Sir is a great talent." Zhao Yingong took the opportunity to propose his second suggestion.

Although sericulture households had suffered smaller losses, they had still been affected by the disaster. Since the money and grain for this relief effort were to come from the silkworms they raised, and with the current lean season, the sericulturists' lives were also difficult. Therefore, they should also receive some support. He mentioned that he was willing to help the sericulturists by providing "forward leaves" and simultaneously opening a charitable workshop within Cixin Hall specifically to reel silk for customers.

"Establishing this workshop is also to provide a place where the refugees we've taken in can earn their own keep."

Prefect Liu, serving in Hangzhou, knew the meaning of "forward leaves." Hearing Zhao Yingong mention it, a moment's thought revealed his intent. Zhao Yingong was contributing greatly to relief; opposing his request for these benefits would be inappropriate. As for the workshop reeling silk for customers, he didn't see any particular necessity, as most sericulture households reeled their own silk. But he felt there was no harm—it wasn't anything illegal.

"That is easy. Just go ahead and do it," Prefect Liu said. "I know how to handle it." He raised his tea cup. "Please excuse me."

(Whether the Hangzhou Prefect in 1634 was Liu Mengqian is doubtful.)

(End of Chapter)