Chapter 2096: Taizong Chronicles 38: The Great Han in a New Era (Part 2)

Just as the rumors said, Shanghai's commercial market was booming—large volumes of all kinds of goods were being shipped out, and buyers were even more numerous. From the north, from the south, from upriver, from overseas—all sorts of people from every trade imaginable could purchase any commodity with circulation value here.

Cotton cloth was even hotter. Late autumn and early winter was precisely the peak season for bulk commodity trading, and cotton cloth was the most mainstream product on the market, accounting for nearly 30–40% of all trade. Walking a few li along both banks of the Song River, one heard nothing but the sounds of cotton cloth deals being struck and saw nothing but scenes of cotton goods being loaded and unloaded.

In such a feverish atmosphere, Cao Yong naturally felt a surge of ambition to make a big move. Yet the process of purchasing goods did not go smoothly, and the problems he encountered were mainly two.

One was that the goods here in Shanghai came in too many varieties, dazzling the eyes—from Xiuzhou, from Suzhou, from other regions of Jiangzhe, even cloth from Guangnan East Circuit was being shipped to Shanghai boatload after boatload. Beyond variety, he also had to face choices of new versus old, materials, and workmanship; even two lots of Xiuzhou goods made in different workshops with different looms differed greatly.

After running around the Shanghai market for over half a month, Cao Yong only began to glimpse the ropes. The confidence he had built from years of experience in the capital's brokerage houses and major trading markets was shattered here in Shanghai. In his view, this Shanghai market was strange—strikingly strange—but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what was strange about it. It could no longer be explained away as simply "a thick commercial atmosphere."

Of course, amid the booming market climate, the details Cao Yong fretted over counted for nothing. With demand outstripping supply, the owners of goods only needed a bit of patience and needn't worry about selling.

Therefore, compared to agonizing over the details of the cotton goods themselves, the second problem was what troubled Cao Yong most. He discovered that the 80 strings of cash he had prepared before heading south—having mortgaged everything he owned and taken loans—was somewhat insufficient. Tossed into the Shanghai market, it couldn't even raise a ripple.

In Luoyang, top-quality cotton cloth generally sold for 270–300 wen per bolt; even inferior grades rarely fell below 250 wen. Cao Yong didn't know what prices were like in the producing regions of Henan and Hebei, but here in Shanghai—especially cloth produced in Suzhou and Xiuzhou—the prices were simply too tempting.

There was an abundance of fine cotton cloth selling for only 130–150 wen per bolt. Even for a major merchant, the price was too low. After a period of cautious struggle and hesitation, Cao Yong finally made his move.

Having chosen his target, Cao Yong directly took out the life-or-death money he had hidden along the entire journey. They had been lucky—always careful, keeping a low profile, disguising themselves as ragged and destitute, being miserly with food and lodging, projecting an image of hardscrabble entrepreneurship. That was how they had avoided being targeted by ruffians.

One had to understand that although public security in the Great Han was now good, that "good" basically applied only to towns and cities—places where the government's coercive authority could reach. Once outside the towns, in the wilds and desolate places, anything could happen.

Therefore, in such an era, anyone who dared to travel out to trade was a ruthless character. No one could grow and prosper on luck alone. Beneath the feet of those celebrated "righteous merchants" who had achieved fame and fortune might lie piles of bones, and their hands might be stained with who knows how much blood.

Carriages, boats, shops, porters, brokers—Cao Yong had previously worked in the "broker" trade, so he knew all too well the dangers lurking in the shadows. When traveling by boat, he also used vessels under the Central Plains boatmen's guild system, precisely because he valued their prestige and "creditworthiness" in the trade.

But even so, countless merchants who chose to come to Shanghai for goods like Cao Yong met with accidents along the way—too many to count. And when an accident happened, there was generally only one outcome: family ruined and lives lost. Even those merchants who appeared quite prosperous—losing money or losing their lives was all the same in nature.

Just as Cao Yong was searching for supplies in Shanghai, a major case occurred. A spice merchant from Hubei was robbed—not only were over 300 strings of his goods money taken, but two of his hired hands were also killed. Shanghai constables, Song River patrolmen, and local gangs mobilized together and quickly found the robbers: a band of fierce brigands from north of the river. But in the end, only a dozen-odd strings of the money were recovered, and even that was graciously accepted by the local gangs as a "service fee." The constables and river soldiers, for their part, were commended for cracking a case of river pirates.

As for that Hubei merchant, before long he jumped into the Song River and died. Of the five who had come, only two hired hands returned, carrying three corpses.

Although looking at the overall scale, such incidents were relatively rare—low-probability events—when such a low-probability event befell an ordinary merchant, it was a weight that one's life, career, and family could not bear.

In the process of the court gradually relaxing restrictions on commerce, many people had raised objections, feeling that merchants reeking of the stench of money were profit-driven and corrupted social morals, while also worrying that if everyone went into business, it would harm social production and be detrimental to public order, and so on.

But in fact, doing business—especially traveling trade—involved risks far beyond what others could imagine, and it truly was not something ordinary commoners could undertake. And having shouldered such great risks, seeking some high profits seemed not so hard to understand. Otherwise, who would risk the ruin of their family and their own life to engage in such a trade?

Back in the capital, Cao Yong had sworn confidently that even if he had to gamble with his life, he would win himself wealth and honor. But after this one trading journey, he realized that his earlier considerations had still been far too simple.

The capital's treacherous currents and vicious hearts—those experiences didn't seem to apply to Shanghai's wild frontier, its bloody struggles. This was clearly a different set of rules. In the thirty-odd years since the port had been established, it was still developing at breakneck speed, everything exuding a raw, untamed energy—all people and all affairs seemed to be growing savagely.

Therefore, it bears repeating: Cao Yong and his party were truly fortunate.

He took out 55 strings of cash at once, all to purchase cotton cloth—480 bolts at a price of 115 wen per bolt. Such a low price was below market even in a great port like Shanghai. This batch of goods clearly had something special about it. It wasn't bought from the cloth shops along the Song River's banks; the supplier was a fish shop in the fish market. When picking up the goods, one could smell fishy odor on the cloth.

In nearly every city of the Great Han, guild systems had already formed. After years of development, this system had become quite mature. The major guild powers had tight organizations, strict hierarchies, presented a united front to outsiders, and acted in unison, using this to extract substantial profits. Of course, the "share" for the officials and the powerful could never be missing.

In a place growing as wildly as Shanghai County, of course there were also various guilds, with the cotton guild being one of the larger ones. But its organization was far looser. As long as the contradictions between Suzhou and Xiuzhou remained unresolved, the industrial disputes could never stop.

And beyond competition within the same industry, all sorts of cross-industry poaching occurred regularly. Fishermen selling fruits and vegetables, running transport, soliciting passengers and cargo, selling silk and cloth—it all seemed reasonable. And because of such poaching, conflicts and bloody fights between the major guilds were also the most ordinary of occurrences.

Of course, setting aside the poaching and setting aside where that fish shop had gotten its cotton cloth—in Cao Yong's eyes, although these were old cloth, the quality was still decent and the condition well preserved. The fishy smell was admittedly a bit strong, but there were ways to deal with that. The most crucial thing was that it was cheap.

At the same time, there was only one requirement: he couldn't sell the goods in the surrounding area. For Cao Yong, that was simple enough.

As for where the goods came from, Cao Yong didn't care—or rather, didn't dare to care. He even knew in his heart that accepting this batch of goods was taking a risk.

Perhaps the provenance wasn't legitimate, but if it were goods at proper prices, when would it ever be his turn? And where would he get the capital? And if he didn't take risks, how could he possibly make windfall profits?

Moreover, the supplier was full of "jianghu spirit"—not only supplying at low prices, but also generously helping arrange loading, unloading, and shipping. Nearly 500 bolts of cloth shipped back to the capital region for only 9 strings of cash. Even just for that low freight rate, it was worth the risk.

Had his funds not been insufficient, Cao Yong would have wanted to buy even more. Though he hadn't gone to look at the warehouse, judging from the expression of that supplier surnamed Sun, fewer than 500 bolts was just small business. But there was no help for it—the remaining money had to cover the return fare, freight, and bribes, and there was still the tax to pay at the Luoyang port.

Cao Yong and his accountant partner had carefully calculated: if everything went smoothly and they brought the cloth back to Luoyang to sell—even at just 250 wen per bolt—after accounting for principal, loans, interest, taxes, and all incidental expenses, they could still make a profit of roughly 24 strings of cash.

250 wen was only the most conservative selling price. On top of that, every additional wen meant nearly half a string of pure profit!

Such projections made Cao Yong and the others especially excited. Wasn't this kind of profit far more than what he could earn as a broker in the capital? How many deals would he have to introduce, and how large would those deals have to be, to earn such high commissions?

Of course, the ability to calculate such high profits was due to multiple factors. First was naturally the hardship and risk of the round trip—though that was something every traveling merchant had to bear.

Second was that purchase price of 115 wen—so low it felt dreamlike.

Third was the court's policy support for the cotton cloth trade, mainly reflected in taxation. To encourage the development of the textile industry and strive to solve the clothing problem for the Great Han's people, in cloth transactions—especially cotton cloth—only a 5% tax was levied at each stage of circulation. Compared to other goods, this was already extremely preferential.

Of course, before the profits were realized in hand, excitement couldn't last long—especially for someone like Cao Yong, who had seen something of the world and had further glimpsed the treacherous side of the marketplace. Before the money was safely in his pocket, he dared not be the least bit careless.

It wasn't until the ninth month of autumn in the fourth year of Yongxi, when a five-hundred-liao cargo ship named "Iron Pear," fully loaded with spices and Cao Yong's 480 bolts of cloth, turned at the mouth of the Song River, entered the Yangtze heading west, and set out on its journey to Luoyang, that Cao Yong finally breathed a slight sigh of relief.

What reassured him somewhat was the boat captain and the several dozen sailors aboard—none of them looked like decent folk, every one fierce and formidable. But it was precisely because of that that he felt at ease. Without them, he would have had to constantly worry about the goods on which his very life and fortune depended.

At the same time, Cao Yong couldn't help wondering: that shipload of spices was worth far more than his cloth, and cloth took up space besides—why would the shipowner be willing to carry his goods at such a low price? It had to be said, Cao Yong possessed the most basic instincts of a frontier merchant. Neither the boss who supplied the goods nor the boat captain responsible for shipping could possibly be as simple as the identities they presented on the surface.

What Cao Yong didn't know was that on the journey north, someone on the ship had been silently observing and testing him all along.

With the rise of overseas trade, the seas around the Great Han saw frequent activity. Countless ships laden with goods came and went each year, some successfully facilitating the Great Han's exchanges with the outside world.

Beyond that, some ships were destroyed and their crews perished, their wealth buried in the deep sea; others appeared on the market in a different form. The batch of goods Cao Yong had purchased very likely had a "special" history as well.

Shanghai County's savage development manifested in every aspect. Behind all the transactions conducted in the sunlight, there were also countless black-market deals—too many goods, materials, weapons, and even rare treasures of dubious origin needed to be disposed of.

In Shanghai County's underground trade, over the years, a set of rules for moving goods in and out had naturally formed. But the people at various links in the profit chain weren't necessarily satisfied with that distribution of benefits.

Thus, it was only natural that some sought breakthroughs. As luck would have it, Cao Yong happened to be in the right place at the right time—a small merchant, and from the capital region at that.

The return journey went even more smoothly than expected. Unfortunately, he had to disembark and unload at Kaifeng. There was no help for it—the Yellow River's flood season wasn't over yet, the current was too swift, seriously affecting navigation, and the boat captain wasn't willing to take that risk.

The owner of the goods had his destination at the Eastern Capital and had already sent people to wait to receive the shipment. Their status was such that even a jianghu roughneck like the boat captain dared not offend them—after all, he still wanted to keep plying this waterway.

And compared to cloth, the profit on spices in the Great Han—especially in cities like the two capitals—still sat at the high end. The cloth Cao Yong had worked so hard to acquire, bearing every risk, might earn him less than a fraction of what that one shipload of spices was worth. But the world was just that unfair; some things couldn't be envied.

There was no help for it—Cao Yong had to unload at the Eastern Capital and find other carts to transport the goods to Luoyang. His traveling companions suggested selling the goods right there in the Eastern Capital, but Cao Yong, after careful consideration, refused.

The market in the Eastern Capital naturally couldn't be weaker than that of the Western Capital, but this wasn't their home turf after all. Moreover, Kaifeng had more supply sources, more convenient transport, and was closer, which caused cotton cloth prices in Kaifeng to be considerably lower than in Luoyang. In fact, many cloth merchants specialized in running the route between the two capitals and still made money.

On the other hand, Cao Yong considered the buyer he had agreed upon in the Western Capital. On his first trading run, unless absolutely necessary, he absolutely could not break his word.

And so, after more hassle, Cao Yong hired ten large carts and set out from Kaifeng for Luoyang. Unlike other places, public security between the two capitals was far better—it was rare for merchant caravans to be robbed in groups, and a pile of cloth like this had little robbery value anyway, being troublesome to dispose of.

At the same time, there was a "high-speed direct road" between the two capitals. Along the way, mountains, rivers, and streams were all connected by roads and bridges, with almost none of the hassle of "transfers." It was very convenient.

Of course, it was also because Cao Yong had planned relatively thoroughly back in Shanghai County, not spending all his ammunition. This additional transport cost was still something he could afford.

After all the toil along the way, by the time he returned to Luoyang, winter had already set in. The north wind was rising and a chill hung over everything, but Cao Yong's heart was burning hot—the winter cotton cloth market in Luoyang was even more feverish than he had imagined.

Even ordinary townsfolk, if they had the means, all wanted to prepare a new set of clothes for their families before the winter solstice. "People-friendly" cotton cloth was naturally in hot demand, outstripping supply.

Having paid his taxes in full at the Yanshi port, his 480 bolts of cloth traveled unimpeded to Luoyang and went almost directly to market. There was no need to seek out buyers—the several shops he had agreed with beforehand took the entire lot.

On the contrary, the dyeing workshop owner they had agreed with was quite dissatisfied and grumbled a bit, because what Cao Yong brought back were all finished cloth. However, seeing that Cao Yong could haul back several hundred bolts of cloth, clearly capable and well-resourced, he ultimately had to say nice things, hoping that Brother Cao would think of him more next time he moved goods.

Cash on delivery, no cheating old or young. When the final tally came out, Cao Yong's party was thoroughly excited. The sales situation was even more optimistic than they had expected—basically selling successfully at 280 wen per bolt, while at the Yanshi checkpoint they paid taxes based on a "landed price" of 250 wen.

Even counting the added transport costs afterward, this single trip netted them a full 33 guan in profit. Of that, Cao Yong alone could take 18 guan.

What happened next needed no further explanation. Having rested in the capital for only five days, Cao Yong set out again with his men, this time bringing along two more sturdy laborers, plus weapons.

With the first trip's experience, the second was far more efficient. In Shanghai County, it was still that surnamed Sun's resident merchant, still the same generosity, the same prices. Cao Yong took 80 guan worth of goods in one go, and the return trip went just as smoothly.

Thus, two years later, Cao Yong had accumulated nearly 400 guan in assets, becoming a somewhat well-known cotton cloth merchant in Zhengsu Ward of Luoyang. Not only had he opened up the trade route from Shanghai County to Luoyang, but he also owned his own shop front and his own house. His clever fifteen-year-old son Cao Meng had also begun helping him manage the family business, showing special talent. Everything seemed to be developing for the better.

However, in the autumn and winter of the sixth year of Yongxi, Manager Cao, just as in the past two years, went to the southeast to procure goods—except this time the quantity was far larger than any previous trip: a full 350 guan worth, over two thousand bolts.

Cloth at prices as low as those from two years ago wasn't something even the "all-connected" Grand Master Sun could produce often; rising purchase prices were perfectly normal. Still, as long as he sold at the right market moment, he would naturally make a big profit, and his business and family fortune could climb another step.

Only this time, luck did not favor Cao Yong again. Not only was his cargo taxed at high rates when passing through the checkpoint, but on the very night it was delivered to the Luoyang warehouse, fire broke out and burned everything to ashes. Shortly after, arsenic was slipped into Cao Yong's drinking water. His life was saved, but he was ruined as a man. Then creditors came knocking, his employees scattered, and even his shop and home were splashed with tung oil lacquer.

Then the people behind the scenes appeared. It couldn't be called a single person, but rather a force—the big cloth merchants of the north.

Over these years, with the rise of the south, the cotton industry merchants of the north had naturally felt the pressure. Before they could even go south to conquer territory, the southern tribesmen were already thinking of pushing north, and with less and less restraint. This of course had to be taught a lesson.

And Cao Yong, though only a small cloth merchant, was a northerner doing work that bit the hand that fed him—importing cloth from Jiangnan to impact the northern market. How could such a "traitor" be tolerated?

Though not many people did this sort of thing, Cao Yong's reputation was considerable, and his wealth accumulated quickly. The earlier small-scale dabbling could be overlooked, but this time he hauled a whole boatload of goods in one go. That goods turned into "calamity" was hardly surprising.

Of course, there were some other small traders who met fates similar to Cao Yong's, all ruined and their families destroyed. At the same time, the Great Han's first "North-South Cotton Cloth War" also began. Becoming cannon fodder in such a fierce and large-scale commercial war—for Cao Yong, it was hard to say whether that was fortune or misfortune.

The clamor of the outside world was, for the Cao family whose pillar had fallen, no longer much of a concern.

After his father was murdered, young Cao Meng stepped forward. But he was ultimately too young. Even though he desperately tried to maintain the family business, in a short time he could only watch it decline and go bankrupt—even the new house they hadn't lived in long might not be saved.

Then a friend of his father's surnamed Sun came to visit. After a conversation, he took a great liking to Cao Meng's talent and decisively extended an olive branch. And so, another "legendary" business story was born in the Great Han Empire.