Chapter 103

The room was very quiet.

The two Japanese watched curiously as Cai Sang, after pulling out a colorful slip of paper, froze completely.

The expression on Cai Sang's face at that moment reminded Dongye Shangche of his father, who had died of a stroke. His honored father had worn that exact same expression back then, then leaked a great deal of drool and filth, and went to meet the gods that very afternoon.

Fortunately, Cai Feiming recovered shortly after. He slowly rose, gestured for the two to wait a moment, then stepped outside and waved the paper money in front of Wang Liguo's face: "There's something wrong with this money, isn't there, Bureau Chief?"

Wang Liguo had probably anticipated this scene long ago. He let out an awkward laugh and said, "I asked Chief Executive Cao the exact same thing at the time."

"What did Chief Executive Cao say?"

Wang Liguo shook his head and, mimicking Cao Chuan's manner at the time, said: "I turn over hundreds of thousands a minute — where would I find the time to cut out images and find someone to photocopy them? Hm, I happened to pass by a temple and bought these from the old lady at the gate. Took one minute to sort out. Oh, right, there aren't many of the 1000-denomination ones. I guess property prices down below are high lately too; the old lady's stopped printing the 1000s. You'll just have to make do."

Cai Feiming blinked, then lowered his voice and said angrily: "How are we supposed to make do? This money doesn't even have serial numbers! And also... you know what I mean!"

"Cough..." Before Old Cai had even finished speaking, Bureau Chief Wang, like a Doraemon, pulled a five-digit numbering machine from his pocket: "Didn't expect a ship to come so soon. Stamp them yourself — shouldn't need more than five digits. As for that other thing... play dumb."

Cai Feiming: "......"

Later on, the gold, silver, and copper bars aboard the Japanese ship were swept clean, all entering the Transmigrators' silver vault.

And the Japanese duly received their land certificates. The two well-traveled Japan merchants were utterly captivated by the paper currency Cai Sang had exchanged for them: the exquisite designs, the beautiful layered colors, the intricate security patterns. They could read the 'Five Thousand' and '5000' on the front and back, but they did not recognize the imperial portrait. They pressed Cai Sang repeatedly, asking who this majestic emperor was.

Cai Feiming was suffering in silence; he knew there was a considerable pitfall here.

Recently, after the initial chaos, the situation on the forum had gradually clarified. Two major camps had taken embryonic form: those supporting a presidential system and those supporting a constitutional monarchy. Both camps were cobbled together from a pile of major gangs and societies.

Interestingly, the group advocating constitutional monarchy consisted mostly of those currently in power. Cai Feiming himself was a member of the core organization, the "Dingge Society." Those wanting to play at a presidential system were basically people without high administrative positions, swindling a bunch of losers into making trouble for the leadership.

As far as the current situation went, the right-leaning faction led by the "Dingge Society" held the advantage, while the left-leaning faction advocating for greater internal equality, led by the "Imperial Han Faction" and the "Tang Cavalry Society," was now at a disadvantage.

Note: the 'left' and 'right' above apply strictly within the inner circle of the Transmigrators. The moment you step outside that circle, all Transmigrators are uniformly right-wing — it's merely a matter of degree.

The Imperial Han shouting about equality for all Transmigrators, when the topic turns to European and American devils, instantly and seamlessly switch to the extreme right. "Slaughter England, Destroy Spain" (there's no America yet) then becomes one of the 50 things they absolutely must do in their lives.

So Cai Feiming was in a very difficult position, and he understood Wang Liguo's difficulty as well.

Regarding the hell money matter, Cao Chuan had certainly done it casually, without realizing the potential problems inherent in it. Yet Wang Liguo certainly couldn't say to Cao Chuan directly: "Look, Chief Executive Cao, we're all preparing to push you to the top now. At such a sensitive moment, currency printed with someone else's portrait... wouldn't that be slapping your own face when the time comes?"

This sort of thing could only be understood implicitly, never spoken aloud — and certainly couldn't be stated openly. The Imperial Han were just worrying about a lack of targets; bringing it up would only serve to alert those idiots.

Previously, Cai Feiming hadn't really cared about such matters. Whatever happens, happens — what's it got to do with me, not even half a cent's worth?

However, after the party ban was lifted not long ago, he quickly learned what "political nothingness" meant: the day Dayuan fell, Cai Feiming delivered an impromptu speech to the Red Hair prisoners. This speech, given in Dutch, was posted on the forum a few days ago: a complete recording, accompanied by a Chinese translation.

In other words, in that chaos of blood, flesh, and severed limbs everywhere, someone had been cold-blooded enough to record every word Old Cai said with their phone.

After posting the recording, the thread, in a tone of grievous certainty wielding solid proof, exposed to everyone a hidden Hollandophile, a diplomatic dwarf, Cai Feiming — who had one-sixteenth Japanese blood in his veins. It called for people to unite, expel Cai Feiming, and hand his post over to "someone who truly cares about the interests of the Transmigrators."

Although most people scoffed after reading the post — Cai Feiming's speech had no real fault, just a bit of posturing — Old Cai himself broke out in a cold sweat at the time. He now had no doubt that one day in the future, someone would organize seventeen or eighteen friends of various skin tones to come calling him 'Daddy.'

Political nothingness.

And so, the new land certificates began to be issued in an eerie silence. Moreover, Cai Feiming could not answer the Japan merchants' question about the imperial portrait: he couldn't say it was the Jade Emperor, High God Above, as that would offend Chief Executive Dong, who might ascend in the future.

Nor could he say the portrait was Chief Executive Dong himself: the form of government hadn't even been settled yet, and the new emperor's portrait was already on the currency?... This super colossal solid proof would send the Imperial Han into raptures, and he would be torn to shreds by friendly forces!

So, poor Cai Feiming could only end up talking around the subject, never answering the Japan merchants' question directly. Fortunately, the Japan merchants were also perceptive characters; after asking twice and seeing Cai Sang's expression sour, they tactfully stopped.

Early the next morning, in front of the Transmigrators' largest storehouse at the Dayuan Trading Post.

A large camphor wood table, unvarnished and showing raw wood grain, was placed before the warehouse doors. A pile of office supplies sat atop it.

Cai Feiming and Wang Liguo sat side by side behind the table. Standing before the table were the two Foreign Trade Managers, Dongye Shangche and Lin Xun.

Since the Japan merchants no longer brought up the matter of the currency, Cai Feiming's mood had recovered. Now, with both legs propped up on the table, he spoke in a tone reserved for old friends: "200 taels per picul of silk. All new silk from this year. If that works, I'll open the storehouse and you two can go in and inspect the goods."

"Cai Sang!" After exchanging a glance, Dongye stepped forward, his face full of indignation: "The Ming ships that sold raw silk here before all offered a price of 155 taels!"

"155 taels is fine too. You each only get 50 piculs."

"Ah! Is this some new extortion scheme? Cai Sang!?"

Cai Feiming lowered his legs from the table, then spoke to the two men with earnest gravity: "Back when it was 155 taels, you never once ate your fill, because most of the Ming silk merchants had agreements with the Red Hair. You could only buy a portion of it at high prices, isn't that right?"

Seeing the two Japanese respond with a sharp "Hai!", Cai Feiming continued: "After this, you still have to go to Vietnam, Thailand, and Manila to replenish your stock. The lowest prices there are all above 200 taels. Not to mention the high shipping costs — do sunken ships not count as a loss?"

"Now then, for just 200 taels a picul, Dayuan Port right at your doorstep can supply you openly. How much cost does that save? I don't need to remind you two gentlemen, do I?"

"Even so, 200 taels a picul is still far too unreasonable! Cai Sang, we are good friends. At 180 taels a picul, the girls in those 'secret pictures' will surely come here!"

... Just as these surface-level friends were haggling, a voice in Dutch suddenly rang out nearby: "My dear Cai, I believe it is necessary for me to remind you — the East India Company has already paid a deposit for the raw silk in this warehouse, with our silver and our trading post. You cannot sell it all to the Japanese."