Chapter 2534: Indian Cotton and Domestic Cotton

The Textile Industrial Park of Nanbao had grown quiet. Where the cotton textile factory once hummed with ceaseless activity, most workshops now stood silent.

A walk through the complex revealed empty halls, their floors marked only by the bolted-down bases where machinery had once stood. The equipment itself had been dismantled weeks earlier and shipped to the General Machinery Plant in Lingao for comprehensive overhaul before being sent on to Guangdong.

New equipment had since arrived in stages and was now undergoing installation and trial operation.

Li Shan took particular interest in these new machines—they had been designed according to the process flow he'd developed, with Zou Biao handling the specific implementation.

Several months prior, after the decision to carry out "capacity diffusion" in Guangdong and sell off all the old Demonstration Factory equipment, Li Shan had presented Zou Biao with his specifications for the new spinning machinery.

Zou Biao had studied the proposal and raised concerns. "The equipment itself isn't difficult—our current machinery plants can manufacture all of it. But there's one issue. The Model 54 spinning frame is an all-electric design with a spindle speed of 12,000 revolutions per minute. We can only achieve 4,500. That might prevent us from reaching the target output of 15 kilograms per hour."

"You're talking about the spindle speed of the ring spinning frame," Li Shan replied. "But Model 54 isn't just a machine—it's an entire process flow. I can't speak for other industries, but in textiles, process flow and spindle speed don't have an absolute relationship. Many steps aren't mandatory, though skipping them affects output and quality. Using the Model 54 process and building a ring spinning frame that matches Model 54 specifications are two different things entirely."

He continued, "Consider this: in the Model 54 process, scutching is reduced from two passes to one, and drawing from three passes to two. These changes have no direct relationship to spindle speed, yet they dramatically save time and increase output. You're aware of this, surely?"

In effect, it meant shifting work previously done by machines in peripheral procedures onto human labor. While overall social productivity decreased, the output of the machines themselves increased. For an agricultural society that had never possessed such machinery, this still represented an enormous leap forward.

"I understand that," Zou Biao said. "But spindle speed still has a significant impact on output. I'm just giving you fair warning—the finished product may not meet expectations."

Now, in the second week of the Model 25 Ring Spinning Machine's operation, Li Shan and Zou Biao were observing production inside the textile factory. Cheng Milian had also come to visit that day.

The Model 25 Ring Spinning Machine had been manufactured according to the Model 54 process flow, powered by steam. Output per thousand spindles per hour came to roughly 13 to 15 kilograms.

"It seems actual production can't consistently reach 15 kilograms," Zou Biao concluded after reviewing the production records. The stable output hovered around 13 kilograms.

Overall, this exceeded his estimates. Model 54 had been an early domestic spinning machine in the old timeline. Though Li Shan's specifications drew heavily from Model 54, they didn't follow it rigidly—he had incorporated elements from the Model 65 process flow as well.

"Spindle speed is one factor affecting output, but it's not the only one," Li Shan said. "Roller speed, package size, yarn count—they all play a role. Output isn't determined by spindle speed alone."

"How does our product differ from standard Model 54?" Cheng Milian asked.

"While spindle speed isn't everything, when it's low, both output and quality suffer noticeably." Zou Biao set down the records. "The standard Model 54 spinning machine in the old timeline produced 25 kilograms per thousand spindles per hour for 20 English count yarn. We're producing 14 English count and barely managing 15 kilograms."

"English count?"

"A British measurement unit—explaining it in detail gets complicated." Li Shan pulled out a roll of finished product and examined it. "Just know that in international cotton trading, the higher the count, the higher the cost, and the finer the yarn. Top-grade Songjiang cloth runs around 14S to 16S. Coarser yarn means greater output." Honestly, in the old timeline, yarn like this would generally be used for denim—and the rougher kind at that.

Higher count meant finer yarn, which also meant more expensive yarn. But under current circumstances, the greatest demand was for low-count products: canvas, fireproof cloth, fabric for work uniforms, and the like. The higher the count of cotton products, the more delicate and precious they became—typically reserved for knitted undergarments, fine clothing, or high-end bedding. Some counts reached as high as 80S. But in this era, cotton products generally weren't made that fine because manual craftsmanship limited single-ply yarn to about 16S. Anyone seeking high-count fabric typically turned to silk rather than cotton.

"Since there's English Count, is there also Metric Count?" Cheng Milian asked. Length had inches, feet, and miles alongside metric equivalents like kilometers—naturally one would wonder about the same for yarn measurements.

"Of course, but metric is generally used for wool and silk textiles. It's just habit—the cotton textile industry in the old timeline was heavily influenced by Britain, so everyone adopted their system. To convert: 14 English Count is roughly 20 Metric Count. Standard Model 54 was around 33 Metric Count—much finer than what we're producing."

"Won't we standardize to Metric Count in the future?" Cheng Milian recalled the vigorous standardization initiative the industrial sector had undertaken, which called for eliminating all the confusing legacy standards from the old timeline—especially the Imperial system.

"Too troublesome. Besides, it's just terminology. The symbol for English Count is 'S'—we can simply say it stands for Song Count. Standards are best left alone. Look at how many Imperial-system parts remain in the industrial sector. Once a standard gains influence, changing timelines doesn't make it go away."

"Like that bizarre 1435 standard gauge," Zou Biao laughed.

"Exactly. Once a standard takes hold, modifying it isn't simple." Li Shan's reluctance to change the English system stemmed partly from this reality—too many technical materials and industry standards from the old timeline had been formulated around the Imperial system.

"However, the Planning Academy seems to have doubts about the cotton yarn production line with a daily output of eight tons," Zou Biao said. "They've only approved this two-ton line." The original proposal had called for multiple production lines in the Demonstration Factory, each capable of eight tons daily, requiring roughly twenty-five thousand spindles. But the Planning Academy remained hesitant about expanding cotton textiles.

"What the Planning Academy fears is nothing more than raw material supply and market demand. That's why cotton textiles were scaled back during the First Five-Year Plan," Li Shan said.

"Yes. If twenty-five thousand spindles operate at full capacity under ideal conditions, they'd consume 1,200 tons of cotton annually. Hainan itself produces almost no industrial-grade cotton. Setting aside whether we can even source that much from outside—if we exclude internal circulation within Senate-controlled territories, at least 400 tons of product would need to be sold externally." Zou Biao laid out the numbers.

Four hundred tons of cotton products would be enough for two hundred thousand well-off households for a year. Of course, this assumed maximum production under ideal conditions. In practice, twenty-five thousand spindles wouldn't consume nearly that much cotton annually.

"I understand their concerns," Li Shan said. "If we're talking about avoiding large-scale development of weaving, I agree. But avoiding the development of spinning? That's unreasonable."

"Under the Ming Dynasty's tax system—regardless of how backward it may be—roughly sixty percent of Hainan households own manual looms. That's a remarkably high proportion. And the nature of textile production means that most of the time, the loom sits idle waiting for yarn. The vacancy rate is quite high."

"Weaving a bolt of cloth takes an average of seven days. Of that, spinning accounts for four to five days, while the actual weaving takes only one. For the remaining six days, the loom stands essentially vacant. If we sell yarn, we fill that vacancy."

In the old timeline, the so-called "native cloth resisting foreign cloth" narrative of the Great Qing was actually misleading. Even before the Opium War, Guangdong native cloth already incorporated substantial quantities of foreign yarn. The vigorous survival of manual native cloth production had actually depended on imported foreign yarn. But the full story was complicated—too nuanced to summarize in a sentence.

"What about raw materials?" Cheng Milian asked.

"Judging from historical statistics, Songjiang alone sells 13 million bolts of cotton cloth annually, representing more than ten thousand tons of cotton each year. And during this period, considerable commodity cotton from the north still flows south. However, given the disaster conditions up north, we may need to source our cotton from India."

"The problem is, how do we convince them to ship cotton to us instead of weaving cloth locally? We've purchased substantial quantities of Indian cloth ourselves," Zou Biao pointed out. This wasn't merely his own question. Historically, Indian cloth had been famous throughout the world. If Europeans were willing to buy Indian cloth, why would anyone process it locally rather than shipping the finished product?

"Ahem. Mo Xiaoan may have taken bribes from Quark Qiong, but I have no evidence," Li Shan said with a joking tone. "According to the Trade Yearbook from the Ministry of Colonial Trade, the FOB average price for the Indian cotton cloth we've purchased runs about 2 yuan per bolt, while the FOB average for Songjiang cloth is much cheaper—only 0.5 yuan. Granted, the Songjiang cloth we import is inferior to Indian cotton cloth in quality."

Cheng Milian drew a sharp breath. "Then hasn't the Senate spent a fortune unnecessarily?" He'd heard that schools used Indian cloth. So many students over so many years—how much money had that cost?

"Not necessarily. Looking at the imported cotton cloth figures over the years, we've brought in large quantities of both Songjiang and Indian cloth. Low-end undyed Songjiang cloth accounts for the highest import proportion among all textiles. The only explanation is that different applications require different products—each serves its own market."

"But doesn't a high FOB price for Indian cloth also mean a high price for Indian cotton?" Zou Biao asked. "If we want to import Indian cotton and it costs more, we certainly can't compete with domestic sources. In that case, our cotton imports would have to come primarily from within the country."

"In normal years, Indian cotton may indeed be no cheaper than domestic cotton. But with war raging in the north, farmers can hardly plant cotton in peace. Whether the traditional cotton-producing regions of the Central Plains and Huang-Huai can still be relied upon is an open question. Domestic raw cotton prices will inevitably rise. We may not lose money importing from India. Even if we take a small loss, it's not a problem."

Li Shan's voice grew more confident. "As long as we can import raw materials, our production efficiency will quickly compress costs to a minimum. At that point, we dump our goods back into India and crush their local manual cotton textile industry with ease. Then we'll be in a position to suppress cotton prices on our own terms."

(End of Chapter)