Chapter 2609: Digging Dikes into Ponds

Since the Hongzhi reign, Jiujiang Township had held a monopoly on fish fry fishing rights along the West River, giving rise to a thriving freshwater aquaculture industry. Zhang Xiao had assigned Chen Wuren the task of investigating this local fish fry trade in depth. Before dawn, Chen Wuren and several cadres from the Agriculture Bureau donned wigs and civilian clothes, then boarded a small boat guided by Mo Yu toward the surrounding fish fry markets—each market operated on different days.

Under the Ming Dynasty's market licensing system, countless markets throughout the region went unrecorded in local gazetteers. The reason was simple: many operated outside the law.

A market could only be considered legal—and thus worthy of official recognition and documentation—if its owner applied for a license and managed operations according to regulations. This was the tax farming system that many in the Senate opposed. Naturally, quite a few market owners collected rent and taxes without bothering to obtain government approval. These were invariably men of power and influence, the sort local officials dared not challenge.

Take Yuewan Market, Longyong Market, and Liangcun Market, all established during the Wanli period. None appeared in the Wanli-era Nanhai County Gazetteer, nor even in the later Chongzhen edition. Yet their founders, Chen Dacan and Huang Xianfu, had been high-ranking officials during the Wanli reign.

In the twenty-eighth year of Jiajing, Xiang Qiao, Left Administration Vice Commissioner of the Lingnan Circuit under the Guangdong Provincial Administration Commission, had promulgated a decree titled "Banning Market Owners to Benefit Citizens." His reasoning was straightforward: since the court had established customs taxes, with stations in Wuzhou Prefecture, Nanxiong Prefecture, and elsewhere already levying tariffs on passing goods, there was no need to squeeze additional profit from small markets. Yet governments at every level continued issuing licenses to market owners, collecting fees, and allowing these owners to charge ground rent for market stalls or take a cut from goods passing through.

Xiang Qiao's intentions were admirable, his purpose to ease the burden on common folk. But whether you called it a percentage cut, ground rent, hygiene fee, or stall fee, such costs inevitably trickled down to consumers.

The flourishing of markets, however, was simply a response to economic demand—something no government decree could change. Local authorities continued to tacitly accept practices that stimulated the economy and increased revenue. Xiang Qiao's edict had little effect. In the Xiqiao area at least, the market owner system spread unchecked.

The Finance and Taxation Bureau took great interest in the market system. Markets, after all, provided a handle for tax collection. Only through markets could taxes on scattered economic activities be gathered. The couple Wang Qiyi had long pondered how to "legalize" market owners.

Zhang Xiao shared this interest. Market revenue had always been a crucial supplement to local finances in the Ming Dynasty. Only by regularizing this income could local officials have the funds to accomplish anything.

Mo Yu had once been a Dan person—a boat dweller. To survive, he'd joined Shi Shisi's crew and lived the dangerous life of a river bandit under Zhu Cailao's banner, licking blood from the blade. Later, he followed Lin Baiguang in defecting to Lingao. Showing some aptitude for mechanics, he became a technical sailor in the navy. But a moment of carelessness during a routine exercise caused an accident that left his left hand mildly disabled, and he was retired into a cushy position in the police system. It wasn't until the Senate moved north and manpower grew scarce that veterans like him—disabled but experienced, and eager to contribute—were called back into service.

"Section Chief Chen, you might not believe me," Mo Yu said, "but whether you do or not, my underwater skills are first-rate. Once, while diving without any equipment, I held my breath for a full minute and caught a ten-jin mud carp with my bare hands..."

Mo Yu resembled an uglier version of Su Bingtian, but possessed an inexhaustible love of bragging—what locals called "blowing water." He chattered without pause throughout the journey. Chen Wuren found himself silently groaning at the man's endless boasts, yet gleaned much useful information along the way.

"Starting in March each year, the West River rises with the upstream floods. The big fish spawn, and the eggs drift downstream, hatching into fry at the wide river bends where the current slows. Dan households along the river have to band together—dozens of families pooling their money—just to afford the fishing licenses from Jiujiang. Then they sell their catch to the Zhuangjia, the Sorter Families. Jiujiang merchants always put fish first: counting fry with the left hand, counting coins with the right." Mo Yu's voice grew somber. "There's a saying: 'Clouds rise from the creek in April, drowning the Dan family old man.' When the fish fry come, so do the unpredictable storms. The wind howls, the waves surge, the water runs wild on the West River. One moment's carelessness means losing both your boat and your life." He paused, his expression darkening with old memories. "You don't know how miserable we had it when we were Dan people..."

Chen Wuren nodded. "We've all been cast to the ends of the earth at some point. Following the Chief—that's when our luck finally turned."

"Isn't that the truth?" Mo Yu brightened. "Now I'm a proper court official. Back in the old dynasty, this would've been equivalent to a Jiangpu Patrol Division inspector—rank 9a!"

The group continued trading stories for a while longer.

The division of labor in Jiujiang's fish fry industry was remarkably specialized. Dan households fished at the river ports. Those who received the fry and placed them in initial holding ponds were called Zhuangjia—the Sorter Families. Those who purchased from the Sorters, raising the fry in flower ponds until they grew larger, were called Zaojia—the Rearer Families. Those who bought from the Rearers, cultivating the fish in large ponds until they reached a foot in length or until year's end, then draining the ponds to sell the mature fish at market, were called Gengzhongjia—the Cultivating Families. The Sorters handled primary rearing and classification; after twenty to thirty days in their pools, the fry could be sold. Since this occurred in summer, these young fish were called Summer Flowers. The Rearers specialized in growing these Summer Flowers to larger sizes. The Cultivators bought Summer Flowers from the Rearers and raised them to full maturity.

The Fish Fry Market stood right beside the river creek, convenient for passing boats to load their cargo. Since natural fish fry wouldn't be caught until March, nothing was for sale yet—but many had already come to place advance orders.

A fish fry boat was moored at the shore. Two local men stood on the bank in conversation, one tall and one short, their contrasting heights almost comical.

The tall one produced a pack of Holy Ship brand cigarettes from his jacket, drew one out, and offered it to his companion. "Still raising fish fry these days?"

The short one's face looked ashen, as if something weighed on him. He accepted the cigarette, struck a match to light it, then lit one for the tall man as well. "Don't want to do it anymore. Too exhausting. My health's gone bad—if I work myself to death, who the hell's going to care?"

"True enough," the tall one said. "Your son can carry the family now. After a lifetime of hardship, you've finally reached the sweet after the bitter."

The short one didn't seem cheered by this. "It's just fate. This is how it's always been."

"Heard something strange recently..." The tall one lowered his voice conspiratorially.

"Oh? What's so mysterious?"

"Word from fish merchants running to Leizhou and Gaozhou—business was terrible last year. Lost their shirts, they did."

"What's strange about that?" The short one shrugged. "The Australians are pushing in. With war stirring everything up, what business isn't losing money?"

"Leizhou Prefecture borders the Australians' old territory—they'd already infiltrated it like a sieve. The army settled things the moment the proclamation arrived. There was no war chaos to speak of."

"Oh? Then what happened?"

"The Cultivating Families over there bought their fry from Lingao."

"What!" The short one's expression changed dramatically. Though Jiujiang villagers held the West River's fish fry monopoly, they also bore the burden of thousands of taels in fish taxes. Jiujiang's sales network extended north to Qingyuan and Shaozhou, east to Huizhou and Chaoshan, west to Fengchuan and Gao-Lei. In later times, great tall ships even sailed from Luzon and the Southern Seas to purchase fry. If customers stopped needing Jiujiang's product and income fell, the tax silver hanging over their heads wouldn't decrease by half a cent.

"Lingao has neither great rivers nor large lakes," the short one said. "Where would freshwater fish fry even come from?"

"Who can explain anything the Australians do? Some say they conjure them through the power of water and fire."

"Guan Youde! Guan Youde!" Mo Yu's voice rang out from the approaching boat. He'd spotted the short one from a distance.

Hearing the call and recognizing Mo Yu, the short one's dour expression transformed into a welcoming smile. "Master Mo! What brings you to the Fish Fry Market today?"

Once the boat was securely docked, Mo Yu tossed a cigarette to each man, then gestured toward his companions. "Got some distant relatives here looking to get into the fish business. Brought them around to have a look."

The naturalized cadres all spoke with Fujian-Guangdong accents. Fitted with wigs and local clothing, they were indistinguishable from natives. Guan Youde took the story at face value. "I know this Fish Fry Market like the back of my hand—there's nothing about it I don't understand. Since they're Master Mo's relatives, their business is my business. Whatever you need, just say the word."

The tall one nodded. "Master Mo found the right man today."

Mo Yu didn't recognize the tall one and asked, "And you are?"

Guan Youde made the introduction. "This is my good friend, Zhong Ji. He's a Rearer here in the township."

"Then we'll be in your debt!"

And so, with Guan Youde as their guide, the investigation team wandered through the Fish Fry Market. Guan Youde belonged to the Jiujiang Guan clan. According to family tradition, their ancestry traced back to Guan Yu himself, the clan having migrated here during the Southern Song Dynasty. The Jiujiang Guans comprised six halls: Shude, Shimei, Dianxun, Shide, Qiyi, and Sicheng. In old rural society, a family with three sons could speak with more authority than the village police station. A clan numbering in the thousands, like the Guans, was unquestionably a dominant local power.

Chen Wuren had once managed the Lingao Popsicle Factory, overseeing dozens of workers. His manner was mature and steady, and apart from Mo Yu, he was the oldest in the group. Guan Youde quickly concluded he must be their leader. "Might I ask the gentleman's surname? Where does your family reside?"

"My humble surname is Chen. I'm from Xiangshan."

"Xiangshan, is it? Are you looking to trade fish or raise them?"

"Raise them."

"Then you'll be Cultivators. When the time comes, if you buy your Summer Flowers from Zhong Ji, he won't cheat you." Guan Youde exhaled a plume of smoke. "Do you have fish ponds already?"

Armed with the knowledge gleaned from Mo Yu's chatter during the journey, Chen Wuren answered without hesitation. "Our clan has several dozen mu of communal land. The fields lie low and close to water, so grain yields have always been poor. The clan elders discussed it and decided we'd be better off converting them to fish ponds. But Xiangshan has few ponds, and no one in the clan has experience with aquaculture. So they sent us here to learn from your esteemed township."

"Then you've come to exactly the right place." Guan Youde nodded approvingly. "Though I should warn you—digging dikes into ponds is costly work. Your clan must be making quite an investment."

"Since ancient times, profits from fish and mulberry have been among the richest. If we can make this work, it will be the foundation for our clan for a hundred years."

"Master Chen truly has a long-term vision!" Guan Youde gave an appreciative thumbs up.

(End of Chapter)