Chapter 205: By Morning He Sleeps in a Shack, by Evening He Ascends the Castle Keep

Early the next morning.

The merchants waiting before the raw silk monopoly warehouse received notice.

Due to wind and waves, this year's raw silk purchases had fallen short, so each merchant could only buy a fixed quota.

As an apology, they would also receive a delivery voucher, and the clerks carefully explained the voucher's rules and usage to the merchants.

Nishikura was a silk-weaving merchant in Hirado, with only ten looms at home. Using the fine silk-weaving techniques he had learned in Kyoto's Nishijin district, he had opened a small weaving shop in Hirado.

He had originally planned to purchase ten bales of raw silk—his shop's entire year's supply—but he only got one bale, plus two delivery vouchers.

The clerk at the raw silk monopoly warehouse explained the voucher's usage at length, but he didn't take in a single word.

His mind was entirely occupied with one question: what was he going to do this year?

Last year, Ming merchants had shipped in large quantities of raw silk, driving the price of Hirado lake silk down to 185 taels per bale.

He had made a tidy profit from that and added three more looms—but he hadn't even finished paying off the loans when this year's raw silk supply tightened!

Nishikura felt the world spinning around him; his whole life was about to collapse!

In his heart, he cursed the monopoly officials, his creditors, his weavers, and the Ming merchants alike.

When the clerk finally finished his long-winded speech.

Nishikura could not wait, thrusting out his voucher and shouting, "I want to claim my goods!"

The clerk flew into a rage: "Baka! These can only be used after the Great Ming Treasure Merchant Fleet arrives!"

Nishikura was in despair. Head bowed, he walked back toward the castle town, his servant following behind, pushing the single bale of raw silk.

Passing a drainage ditch, Nishikura casually tossed the vouchers into it.

In his eyes, they were just two scraps of paper—a toy the monopoly officials used to mock them.

But the very next moment, shouts came from the docks: "The treasure fleet is here! The treasure fleet is here!"

Nishikura was stunned. Could such a coincidence really happen in this world?

Not caring that he would soak his clothes, he jumped into the ditch and fished out the vouchers. Fortunately, the printing quality was excellent—the ink had only blurred slightly, and the writing was still legible.

Nishikura told his servant to push the bale of raw silk home first, while he himself went to the docks to claim his goods.

The weather was fine today, and in the distance, a Haicang ship came sailing in.

As soon as the ship docked, a crowd of people clutching vouchers surged forward.

Nishikura, being the strongest, shoved his way to the front, holding three soaked vouchers to buy raw silk.

The man beside him snapped angrily: "Your vouchers are soaked through! What are you butting in for? Get lost!"

"They're wet, but the writing is still clear—it was agreed that vouchers redeem goods! Hey, Ming man, you're not going to back out, are you?"

Having lived in Hirado for so long, Nishikura had picked up some Chinese from constant exposure.

The Haicang ship's master ran over, took the three vouchers, verified the serial numbers, and said, "These were issued by the helmsman."

Then a crewman carried down a cargo chest from the ship. When opened, it was filled with top-grade lake silk wrapped in oiled paper. It was weighed and handed over on the spot. Nishikura had his servant pass over five hundred and forty taels of silver, then loaded the silk onto a cart amid the envious stares of the others.

He moved so fast, as if afraid the Ming merchants might snatch it back.

He hadn't understood the voucher rules, and in his view, the Ming merchants were simply idiots.

At the raw silk monopoly warehouse, lake silk sold domestically for 200 taels per bale, and the monopoly merchants' purchase price from the Ming merchants was 190 taels per bale. But merely because of the vouchers, the lake silk was now selling for 180 taels per bale.

If that wasn't stupidity, what was?

While Nishikura was loading his goods, the Ming merchant was cupping his hands and explaining something to the people around him.

But the two sides couldn't communicate, and the Hirado merchants couldn't understand a word, so they all begged Nishikura to translate.

Having bought cheap raw silk himself, Nishikura was in a fine mood, so he said: "He says the Ming merchant fleet ran into a shipwreck, and this year's raw silk supply is insufficient. This silk was bought at high prices in the Ming by their leader, only a little over a hundred bales, and selling at one hundred eighty taels is already at a loss.

The vouchers can be redeemed any time until June next year, so we shouldn't be anxious.

He wants to sell this shipload first to the 'Silk Guild Elders.'"

At these words, the remaining Hirado merchants erupted in fury—who would pass up the chance to make silver?

They swarmed around the Ming merchant, demanding to redeem their goods.

Though the Ming merchant sighed and groaned, he truly kept to the rules, redeeming all the hundred-plus vouchers at the price of one hundred eighty taels. The ship's cargo was cleared out, and those who hadn't managed to buy anything could only accept their bad luck.

After the Hirado merchants scattered, the crew of the Haicang ship headed toward the Portuguese trading post.

During their time in Hirado, Bai Qing and the others always stayed there.

Today's shipload of raw silk was a play staged by Chaya Jiro, using them as actors—the silk had actually all come from the monopoly warehouse.

Bai Qing had suffered no loss, so he was happy to play along.

Because the scramble for raw silk had been so heated, by that evening the black-market price of Hirado lake silk had quietly risen to 203 taels per bale.

Because of Hirado's raw silk monopoly, private trading was forbidden.

So the black market's purpose was for emergencies and cashing out, not for trading or investment—thus its prices had always been lower than the monopoly warehouse's selling price.

Exceeding the monopoly warehouse's price was unprecedented.

Beyond that, another commodity had appeared on the black market's trading tables: the "delivery vouchers."

No matter how much the Ming merchants seemed to respect contracts, who could guarantee they would honor them next year?

Rather than holding onto such insubstantial vouchers, it was better to sell them off early and get some cash.

Ten days later, late at night, Sonke, the representative of the Dutch Hirado trading post, walked into a small eatery in the castle town's merchant quarter. Familiar with the place, he went straight to his usual room. He ordered a serving of sake, a bowl of ochazuke, two sea bream sushi, and a serving of salmon sashimi.

While he ate and drank, someone knelt outside the paper door.

Sonke had the man come in and asked in Japanese: "What news from the inquiries I asked you to make?"

The newcomer was in his forties, dressed as a ronin, though without a sword. Hearing the question, he stretched out a hand, and only after receiving the silver Sonke gave him did he speak: "The Ming merchants ran into a storm and suffered heavy losses. Forget about targeting the Dutch—they'll be lucky to break even."

When Sonke pressed further, the ronin told him about the delivery vouchers.

"Hmph." Sonke let out a cold laugh. "Lin Qian really is going all out to replace Li Dan and curry favor with the shogunate. Do you have one of those vouchers? Let me see it." The ronin took one from his bosom and laid it on the table: "These are scarce in town—getting one wasn't easy."

Sonke turned it over in his hands, then sneered: "A worthless scrap of paper."

The ronin chuckled darkly: "This thing may be worthless paper to you, sir, but this humble one is counting on it to make a fortune!"

Sonke said flatly: "In the Hirado black market, what's the price of raw silk these days?"

"Huzhou silk is 220 taels," said the ronin. "Once the next merchant ship docks, this humble one will net thirty taels of pure profit!"

"Wasn't it forty taels?"

The ronin laughed: "Giving it away free was the old market rate. Now a single pickup voucher sells for ten taels of silver at the government monopoly warehouse!"

Sonke set down his chopsticks: "Aren't you worried the Ming merchants will back out?"

"Rumor has it the Ming merchants put up a hundred thousand taels as collateral, and besides—" the ronin grinned smugly, "this humble one doesn't have to hold it until the last day, does he? I can sell it to anyone else who's interested—say, a Dutchman like yourself."

Sonke was indeed intrigued now, and picked up the pickup voucher again to examine it closely.

The printing was fine, the paper distinctive, with a handwritten serial number—hard to forge. Most importantly, there was no name or seal stamped on it at all.

"Bearer form?"

"Deliver goods upon presentation."

"I'll buy it." Sonke took twenty taels of silver from his breast pocket. "I'll pay double."

The ronin smiled: "This thing changes price by the day. I'd like to hold onto it a while longer, make a bit more."

Sonke produced another ten taels.

The ronin tucked the thirty taels into his robe: "This thing is yours now, sir."

With that, he stuffed the silver into his breast pocket and withdrew, beaming with joy.

On the first day of the sixth month in the fifth year of Tianqi, the black market transaction price for raw silk in Hirado was 231 taels per dan.

At the same time, the government monopoly warehouse's raw silk selling price rose accordingly, going straight to 235 taels per dan.

This in turn further stimulated the black market raw silk price—by only the second day of the sixth month, the transaction price had reached 238 taels per dan. Chaya Jiro sold the remaining fifteen hundred pickup vouchers in small lots over multiple transactions, each sale priced slightly higher than the last.

The final batch sold directly at thirty taels of silver per voucher.

Chaya Jiro's two thousand pickup vouchers sold for a total of over thirty thousand taels of silver—a tidy windfall, if a modest one.

During this period, silk ships continued to dock at Hirado every few days.

Some of these ships belonged to Lin Qian, while others were ordinary sea merchants—but without exception, all carried very small quantities of raw silk.

That was because on the Ming market, spring silk had already sold out, and Lin Qian was also buying up large quantities of the early summer silk.

The other ordinary sea merchants lacked sufficient capital and had no ability to compete.

At first, when ordinary merchants' ships docked and couldn't use pickup vouchers, it drew complaints from the voucher holders.

Gradually, the complaints died down.

Because the merchants discovered that cashing in a pickup voucher didn't require actually picking up the goods—selling it to the next buyer worked just the same!

The small batches of raw silk that kept arriving at port didn't hurt the market at all—instead, they pushed the raw silk price even higher, reaching 241 taels per dan.

The pickup voucher market price reached 40 taels per voucher.

At this time, Nishikuza the silk weaver in the castle town suddenly realized that if he had kept those three pickup vouchers and picked up the goods now, he would have netted 183 taels—almost matching his earnings from weaving silk.

He was so regretful he kept pounding his own skull.

That evening, Chaya Jiro hosted a banquet for Bai Qing and the others at Benzaiten, the most luxurious restaurant in the castle town.

On the one hand, he wanted to express his apology.

He had made over twenty thousand taels from those two thousand pickup vouchers without giving Bai Qing and his people a single tael of silver, and his conscience pricked him.

On the other hand, he wanted to probe the waters and ask whether more pickup vouchers could be printed.

This thing sold too well—a single light sheet of paper was worth 40 taels of silver, which made Chaya Jiro's heart ache.

If only he'd known the vouchers would rise so fast, he would have kept some to sell now—even keeping a thousand would have meant forty thousand taels of silver! At the restaurant, plenty of sashimi and raw fish dishes were served.

Lü Zhou and He Sai could still stomach it, but Bai Qing looked at it and was reminded of the bad memories aboard the Xu family ship, losing his appetite.

Chaya Jiro was extremely adept at reading people—before Bai Qing even spoke, he ordered the raw food removed and cooked dishes brought up instead.

As long as he could keep the God of Wealth happy, never mind serving cooked food—he'd serve Buddha Jumps Over the Wall if needed!

After much drinking and endless pleasantries, Chaya Jiro, emboldened by the wine, finally stated his purpose.

"This... our country's demand for raw silk is truly too great. To stabilize the market price, I hope the Helmsman could print some more pickup vouchers."

Having said this, Chaya Jiro walked before Bai Qing, knelt, and pressed his head to the floor: "I beg of you!"

Bai Qing said: "Get up first."

"Please, you must agree to my request!" Chaya Jiro's tone was utterly resolute.

Bai Qing was well acquainted with the temperament of the Japanese pirates and took no offense, merely saying: "Two thousand dan is already no small amount, and besides, the market price is so high right now..." "I can buy them!" Chaya Jiro gritted his teeth. "Twenty taels per voucher!"

He Sai said: "The strike price of 180 taels per dan—can it be raised?"

Chaya Jiro thought to himself: the merchants had only just gotten familiar with the rules of pickup vouchers—if he raised the strike price, what if no one wanted to buy?

He said at once: "Twenty-five taels! Twenty-five taels per voucher!"

Bai Qing said: "By the way, what about the matter of building the trading post?"

"Easy to arrange! The Matsuura clan of the Hirado domain has already agreed, and I've submitted an application to the shogunate on the Helmsman's behalf. Once approval comes through, any land in all of Hirado suitable for building—the lady may take her pick!"

Bai Qing said: "I am not a lady."

"Yes, yes, Dame Bai." Chaya Jiro said in clumsy Chinese.

After the banquet ended, Bai Qing wrote up the situation in Hirado as an official report and sent it to Lin Qian by falcon ship. As for the matter of printing more pickup vouchers, Bai Qing didn't mention it—because the ship they'd come on still carried three thousand dan worth of pickup vouchers.

Lin Qian had long anticipated that two thousand dan of pickup vouchers wouldn't be enough to keep Hirado entertained. He had already printed the follow-up product, just waiting for Chaya Jiro to beg him to release it to the market.

Bai Qing picked out two thousand "half-dan vouchers" from among them.

As the name suggested, these corresponded to half a dan each, totaling one thousand dan together, but each one's strike price was cut in half—90 taels per half-dan. When a single dan-voucher's value was too high, it became inconvenient for circulation.

The advantage of half-dan vouchers was that they could halve the price of a single voucher—similar to a stock split—making it convenient to harvest money from the small fry.

Bai Qing estimated the falcon ship's speed and planned to deliver these two thousand "half-dan vouchers" to Chaya Jiro half a month later.

After this, if new certificates were needed, Bai Qing still had "10% certificates," which were 10% of a one-picul certificate.

There were also "raw silk certificates," which were for one picul of ordinary raw silk, priced lower than Huzhou silk.

There were even "10% raw silk certificates," "sugar certificates," and "porcelain certificates"—all sorts, printed across an entire wall.

Since they were going to blow a bubble, they might as well blow a big one in one breath.

Half a month later, Bai Qing sold two thousand half-picul certificates to Chaya Jiro, netting a cumulative profit of 25,000 taels.

That day, the market price of delivery certificates reached 48 taels/picul, and when Chaya Jiro sold them off in turn, he netted 23,000 taels that very day.

Because the half-price certificates were easier to circulate, small merchants' capital also flooded in.

Five days later, the market price of delivery certificates soared to 53 taels/picul.

Chaya Jiro was so regretful he slapped his thighs, thinking that if he had held on just five more days before selling, he could have earned 5,000 more taels.

Saikyuza was even more regretful, slapping his head every day. If he hadn't sold those three certificates in the first place, he would now have earned at least... in any case, a very large amount of money! After brooding for a long while, a bold idea sprouted in Saikyuza's mind: "What if I buy three more delivery certificates?"

Saikyuza took silver from his home and walked to the izakaya in the castle town.

The moment he stepped inside, he was stunned.

The izakaya was nearly packed with people, with the largest crowd gathered around the hearth. Everyone was drinking and laughing freely, joy written on every face, the noise so loud it threatened to lift the roof right off.

Besides townsfolk, the drinkers included ronin, monks, samurai, and even Dutchmen.

These were people who would deliberately avoid one another on the street on ordinary days, yet here they were gathered together drinking and carousing without a care—a truly rare sight.

Saikyuza noticed that many people held paper in their hands, covered in Great Ming script and printed with intricate patterns.

They were the very delivery certificates he thought of day and night.

The entire izakaya had become a trading market for delivery certificates!

The shogunate enforced the silk-thread allotment system, forbidding private trade in raw silk, but raw silk delivery certificates neatly circumvented the government monopoly restrictions.

Not only were they unrestricted, but the rōjū in charge of the silk allotment even tacitly approved, quietly fanning the flames behind the scenes.

As a result, trading delivery certificates went from secret meetings in the beginning to open, brazen transactions.

Saikyuza wove through the izakaya gathering information and found that delivery certificates had risen to 54 taels/picul.

This price was absolutely unaffordable for ordinary farmers or townsfolk, but fortunately there were "half-picul certificates" on the market at 27 taels per half-picul.

Even this price was outrageous, but samurai could pawn their swords, farmers could pawn their fields, and townsfolk could borrow from monks—so it was still affordable. Saikyuza also discovered that most townsfolk and farmers had only a vague understanding of the rules for delivery certificates, knew nothing of the current raw silk market conditions, and some didn't even know what raw silk was!

Everyone only knew that there was a magical little slip of paper on the market—buy it, hold it in your hand for a while, sell it, and you'd make money. Even if you were honest and law-abiding and wanted no part of it, when you saw the people around you buy delivery certificates and get rich by sheer luck, how could you not be envious? If the ones getting rich were great merchants or great monks, that would be one thing—but the one getting rich was that fool Goro next door!

In what way were you inferior to that fool?

If he could make money, then surely you could too!

And so the fervor of all Hirado was ignited by the delivery certificates.

This place was already Japan's foreign trade hub, with assets highly commodified, rapid circulation and liquidation, and pawnshops and lending extremely convenient.

A flood of emotion-driven private capital poured in, driving delivery certificates ever higher, to the point where the same certificate could have different prices in the morning and evening.

After staying in the izakaya for a while, Saikyuza also heard some absurd rumors.

For instance, that the Great Ming's summer silkworm harvest had failed completely.

For instance, that the Great Ming had banned the export of raw silk.

And again, that all silkworms had caught a strange disease and were on the verge of extinction.

In short, each rumor was more absurd than the last—even Saikyuza, with his limited experience, could tell they were all lies.

But a terrifying fact was that no matter how absurd the rumor, there was always some fool who would believe it.

Even if a rumor were so absurd that no fool would believe it, as long as the market believed there were fools who would believe it, that alone could push the price of delivery certificates even higher! Saikyuza didn't rush to buy. Instead, he ordered food and drink and sat in a corner observing.

In the izakaya, the Dutch were fewest in number, but they traded the largest volumes, routinely buying and selling three or four piculs, five or six piculs at a time.

Many of those absurd rumors had been fabricated by the Dutch themselves.

For example, one Dutchman was holding forth at length about how, while sailing past the southeast of the Great Ming, he had personally witnessed severe drought, cracked earth, and mulberry trees all withered and dead.

His account was full of details, the story too vivid—so much so that even Saikyuza believed half of it.

Thanks to the Dutchmen's efforts, by evening the delivery certificates had risen to 56 taels/picul.

Saikyuza bought three piculs' worth of delivery certificates and went home, calculating that even if the certificate price fell, raw silk wouldn't drop—when the time came, he could redeem them for the physical goods and still make a steady profit with no risk of loss!

End of the sixth month.

An eagle ship sailed into Hirado harbor.

The crew made a show of unloading newly printed delivery certificates—fully three thousand piculs' worth.

Chaya Jiro had been waiting nearby with eyes stretched wide in anticipation. He didn't even count them before completing the handover with Bai Qing.

As the price of delivery certificates rose, so did the issue price, climbing to 32 taels/picul.

By now, Lin Qian had used several thousand sheets of mulberry-pith paper to net a cumulative profit of 121,000 taels.

Chaya Jiro had just received his delivery certificates and was leaving in satisfaction when he was suddenly dazzled by a flash of light.

He stopped and turned around, only to see a bolt of silk being unloaded from the eagle ship.

Under the sunlight, the silk gleamed with golden light, like a treasure that radiated its own brilliance.

Chaya Jiro drew closer and saw that the silk was patterned with round floral medallions of embroidered balls, each stamen rendered with hair-thin precision, the colors rich, gorgeous and vivid, the contrasts sharp, the visual impact overwhelming.

Each medallion flower was opulent and full, like a magnificent Tang dynasty painting.

What was rare was that the medallion pattern was neither painted nor embroidered—it had been woven directly into the dyed silk.

This was a bolt of top-grade Shu brocade.

Even in the southeast of the Great Ming, it was already a top-tier luxury item, never circulating on the open market—you had to have connections to buy it. Even Lin Qian had to go through some trouble to acquire it.

Thus, Shu brocade placed in Hirado was an even more supreme treasure.

The "Nishijin weave" celebrated in Kyoto actually had its techniques originating from Shu brocade.

Japan's nobles and daimyō were extremely fond of "Nishijin weave," and this year happened to coincide with a raw silk shortage, sending silk prices soaring.

At a time like this, Shu brocade was almost the finest substitute for Nishijin weaving.

Thus, the moment the Shu brocade arrived in port, it triggered a frenzy among merchants.

The merchants bidding were no longer only those tied to the silk trade—every trade was represented.

After all, Japan also runs on personal connections and social grace, and this bolt of top-grade Shu brocade was the perfect gift for a daimyo, or even the shogun himself.

Acting on Lin Qian's advice, Bai Qing deliberately dragged out the bidding frenzy, until over a thousand people had gathered at the wharf.

Those at the very back could not even see the hawk ship, let alone the Shu brocade—they had to rely on those in front to relay what was happening. After nearly four hours of price inflation, the bolt of Shu brocade ultimately sold for one thousand two hundred taels of silver.

That was nearly ten times the purchase price of the brocade!

In the Great Ming, "an inch of brocade is an inch of gold" was an exaggerated literary flourish—but in Hirado, it had become reality.

The man who purchased the Shu brocade immediately sent men to load it onto carts and transport it to the Shimazu clan of Satsuma domain.

The rest of the onlookers received another shot of adrenaline, their confidence in raw silk and delivery vouchers growing even stronger.

That very day, delivery vouchers shot up like a rocket to 58 taels per bale.

Even more far-reaching in its impact, as private lending and luxury fever spread, the great monks and daimyos of Kyushu were drawn in as well. Noble capital was already beginning to flow into delivery vouchers.

Hirado's market grew ever more prosperous—everyone involved in the delivery voucher trade was raking in fortunes.

The tale of "sleeping in a longhouse shack at dawn, ascending the castle keep by dusk" played out again and again in Hirado.

Many who were still neighbors and colleagues yesterday were embracing geisha left and right in teahouses the day after.

Delivery vouchers were even spilling out of Hirado, spreading to Nagasaki and across Kyushu.

Among all the participants, none invested more heavily than the Dutch. Ever since Sonck bought delivery vouchers at 30 taels per bale, he had fallen utterly in love with the game.

And the other Dutchmen were just as unable to resist.

As of the third day of the seventh month in the fifth year of Tianqi.

The Dutch trading house in Hirado had amassed nearly two thousand bales of delivery vouchers—by market value, worth a full one hundred twenty thousand taels of silver!

Late at night at the Dutch trading house, Sonck gathered all the Dutchmen together.

Sonck calmly analyzed:

"According to what our informant revealed, the Shimazu clan of Satsuma domain has allocated thirty thousand taels of silver to inject into the Hirado market.

The Matsuura clan of Hirado has prepared even more—about eighty thousand taels. I think the time has come to sell!"

Yahei

Round

Pen