Chapter 1769 - An Audience
"Master Gao, is there still no progress in securing an audience with Prefect Liu?" A middle-aged man in an old cocoon-silk robe sat in the guest's seat to Gao Ju's left, beads of sweat on his forehead, his tone urgent. This was He Guirong, boss of the city's largest ya brokerage—a hereditary "official broker" family that had been in the trade for generations.
The He clan had originally been Guangzhou military-household people, locals for many generations. It was said they could trace their brokerage permits back to the Chenghua era. In the early days, they had simply worked the docks as middlemen for grain merchants, earning a hard laborer's fee. Gradually, they rose to monopolize the rice trade in Guangzhou. Every permit-holder in the city—whether or not their business touched grain—deferred to them.
But right now, no one was more anxious than He Guirong.
The Ming brokerage permits were now worthless paper. And Song permits? Not a whisper about them yet!
A ya broker had nothing to lean on except a permit stamped with the Ministry of Revenue's great seal. Without that, they were nothing!
House-brokers and people-brokers could still scrape by on their decades of old connections and familiar faces—permits or no permits, they'd always find a bowl of rice. But his kind depended entirely on that tiger-skin permit to fleece both buyer and seller. Lose the tiger skin, and the Teochew men who ran grain boats up the West River—none of them easy customers—would no longer be afraid.
He and they had never gotten along. Without that tiger skin, there was no telling what the Teochew-Swatow crowd might do!
"Master He! When we visited Director Zheng's residence yesterday, your clerk was part of the delegation." Gao Ju sounded rather impatient. "Master Guo has been transferred back to a metropolitan post. In Guangzhou, the one who 'talks' is Mayor Liu!"
Gao Ju had no ties to the ya brokerages. Strictly speaking, they were rivals. Anyone dealing in foreign-ship cargo was, in theory, supposed to have a ya permit. Whether loading exports onto foreign vessels or unloading imports, the old regulations required everything to pass through a ya firm. But overseas trade had always been fabulously lucrative; major private merchants like Gao Ju, backed by powerful patrons, had been involved for years. The ya could do nothing about them—but whenever an opportunity arose, they'd still needle Gao Ju and his ilk.
That Master He had now sought Gao Ju's door showed how desperately they were "clutching at straws." As for the several thousand taels and four exquisite singing-girls the ya had presented as gifts, Gao Ju didn't think much of them.
"So the Senatorial Council's ya permits..." Master He was practically ready to seize Gao Ju by the collar to wring out an answer. A few days earlier, he'd heard that the female kun Director Zheng had hosted a banquet for more than fifty of Guangzhou's principal merchants—virtually every major name across every trade. Yet not a single ya broker was on the guest list!
Merchants were sensitive creatures; semi-official ya brokers, deeply entangled with the government, were more attuned to political shifts than anyone. The Australians had entered Guangzhou and changed the dynasty. Master He and his fellow brokers could smell trouble.
Without new permits from the Australians, goods entering the city would bypass them entirely. The fortune they'd been eating for a hundred years would be handed to others!
To get Australian permits as quickly as possible, Master He had visited Gao Ju's mansion more than once; each time he raised the stakes.
Yet Gao Ju kept hedging, because he knew perfectly well that what Master He wanted—Senatorial Council ya permits—simply didn't exist.
Though Gao Ju had never been to Lingao himself, he'd sent plenty of stewards and servants there on business, errands, and intelligence-gathering. The Australians prized "free trade," "valued commerce," and insisted on "convenience" for merchants. There would be no obstructionist ya system—at least, he'd never heard of one.
Gao Ju softened his tone slightly, saying with deliberate vagueness: "If it's for business matters, though, I could put in a word with Director Zheng. My old face is only worth that much."
But that's not what I came for today! Master He cursed inwardly. Unwilling to give up, he tried again: "I've heard that back in the day, Chairman Wen of the Aus—er—the Great Song and Your Honor..."
"Ahem!" Gao Ju cut him off brusquely. "What happened back then was eight generations of ancestral merit that allowed me to bask in Chairman Wen's reflected glory. We small folk should know our place."
Master He continued to press, arguing for quite a while, but ultimately left empty-handed—Gao Ju never gave him a chance to name his price.
After the perfunctory farewell, Gao Ju sipped the bag-brewed herbal tea produced by Jishi Hall, watching Master He's dejected figure depart. He spat contemptuously.
"You still owe me for old debts! You think a few trinkets will wipe the slate clean? Dream on!" Gao Ju privately savored the satisfaction. Private merchants like him had suffered no end of petty torments from the ya men lording it over them.
His steward came to ask what should be done with Master He's gifts.
"Silver goes to the accounts department," Gao Ju said lazily. "Other gifts—give them to the Third Concubine to keep. The four singing-girls: strip off their jewelry and fine clothes, dress them in coarse cotton, and hand them to the Stewardess at the central gate for strict supervision. Tell them I've ordered each to receive forty strokes first. Then set them to washing clothes and tending the fires."
These last instructions left the steward momentarily stunned, but the master's word was law in this house. He acknowledged and withdrew.
Though Gao Ju didn't know what game the newly arrived Mayor Liu was playing, it was clear that under Australian rule, he would at worst preserve his family fortune. He knew the Australians' ways intimately: first, they kept their word; second, they didn't forget old friends; third, they used people to their full potential.
With those three points, he had nothing to worry about.
He was still savoring this comfortable thought when Yan Xiaomao came scurrying in—a surprising flurry of speed for his age. Gao Ju was puzzled, but Yan Xiaomao was already beside him, face beaming:
"Master! Good news! Director Zheng invites you over—she has important matters to discuss!"
"What?!" Gao Ju shot to his feet. A personal invitation from a Senator—this was the first since the city fell. He snapped his fan shut. "Prepare my clothes and sedan chair!"
Yan Xiaomao answered in a flurry of assent and was about to dash off when Gao Ju called him back.
"This errand—let Little Four come with me. I think that boy is sharp enough."
Yan Xiaomao was overjoyed. Yan Xiaosi was his grandson, just twelve, already learning to run errands for the master. Since ancient times, to be a favored body-servant was the only path to real "prospects" for one in service. He dropped to his knees and kowtowed.
"Thank you, Master, for your patronage!"
When Yan Xiaosi reached the entrance hall, the person who came out to greet him was not the familiar "Auntie Cold Moon," but a sharp-looking young man. One glance told Yan Xiaosi this was one of the Australians' so-called "cadres"—something like a clerk or petty official. Looking at the cloth badge on the soldier's chest, he saw: "Communications." Apparently, the Australian equivalent of a courier or relay runner.
Though Yan Xiaosi had accompanied his grandfather and father to Lingao a few times, he had little direct contact with "cadres." Apart from hearing rumors that gatekeepers didn't accept bribes—the famous "clean and honest" reputation—he had no practical experience. Auntie Cold Moon had always handled things the old Ming way. Now, with a cadre blocking the door, Yan Xiaosi didn't know what to do.
Hearing his master clear his throat disapprovingly behind him, Yan Xiaosi had no choice but to proffer the visiting-card in both hands and address the man according to old etiquette:
"Good gatekeeper! My master is—"
"Comrade! Visitor registration! Do you have an appointment?" Before he could finish, the cadre at the door cut him off and thrust a ledger at him. Yan Xiaosi had been holding the card with both hands; now he could only awkwardly clamp the ledger against his chest with his arm.
What... what... what am I supposed to do? Why won't he follow the script? And wait—visitor registration? Doesn't that only happen at Mayor Liu's office? Why is Director Zheng's place the same now? Where's Auntie Cold Moon? Yan Xiaosi was in a muddle. He couldn't help asking:
"Where is Auntie Cold Moon?"
"I'm new here. I don't know. Comrade, can you read? I'll ask, you answer, I'll write." Before Yan Xiaosi could react, the soldier took back the ledger, set it on a side-table by the door, glanced at the clock in the reception hall, and began to write, starting with the time.
"Name!"
"Huh?"
"What's the visitor called!"
"Huh? Oh! My master... no, Officer, I can write. I'll fill it in. My master was invited here by Director Zheng!"
Gao Ju sat on a sofa in the reception hall, watching this scene with mixed emotions. In the early days, he'd practically had to beg before Master Guo would even accept his calling-card. Later, as they became regular acquaintances, visits required exchanging cards, setting a time and place, then bringing the customary small gifts for polite chitchat. Still later came the bombardment of Guangzhou. After that, whenever Guo Yi came to the city, aside from paying a courtesy call to thank Gao Ju at the start, Guo Yi's official demeanor grew weightier. Gradually, Gao Ju had to prepare formal "water gifts" and request a proper audience—though Guo Yi never accepted them and usually scolded him for it.
Now that Guangzhou had changed masters, he, the great merchant Gao Ju, was reduced to being "summoned." Counting up, he'd met Mayor Liu a few times, but always to be questioned about various affairs of Guangzhou Prefecture and the commercial world. Privately, there'd been no progress whatsoever. Several times he'd come to pay his respects, only to be made to register and state his business; if it was official, he'd be scheduled; if not, he was politely turned away. Gao Ju naturally had no "urgent business," so Mayor Liu declined to receive him. Fortunately, Director Zheng had some friendly history from previous years, and Guo Yi had personally entrusted certain matters to her, so she was still approachable on personal matters outside office hours. But compared to when Guo Yi was here, his status had clearly plummeted.
(End of Chapter)