Chapter 324: A State of Ten Thousand Chariots Has Merchants Worth Ten Thousand in Gold; a State of a Thousand Chariots Has Merchants

"This boy here — rather simple and honest, isn't he."

A slightly thin, reedy voice came from one of the private rooms on the second floor of the auction house.

The speaker was none other than Zheng Zhihui, the seal-holding eunuch of the newly created Finance Directorate of the Ming Imperial Household, recently carved out of the Directorate of Ceremonial.

And those gathered with him in this private room were, one could say, a hall full of men in vermilion and purple.

Bi Ziyan of the Ministry of Revenue's New Policies Finance Office, Xiong Mingyu of the Academy of Sciences, Xue Guoguan of Shuntian Prefecture, Minister of War Huo Weihua, Minister of Works Xue Fengxiang, and others all sat quietly within.

And seated at the very center was Gao Shiming, the seal-holder of the Directorate of Ceremonial.

Hearing Zheng Zhihui's veiled probe, Gao Shiming merely held his teacup and gave a flat "Mm," offering no response.

Simple and honest?

What the hell do you know?

Gao Shiming sneered inwardly. His Majesty is a celestial being descended to the mortal world — how could the people he favors be seen through just by looking at the surface?

Just watch. This Wang Cheng'en will surely shine with dazzling brilliance in the days to come.

Just like Li Shiqi, Cao Bianjiao, Huang Degong — all men His Majesty plucked from lowly obscurity.

Down below, the auction proceedings continued.

The men upstairs, however, began to chat idly among themselves.

Bi Ziyan gently stroked his long beard and slowly spoke:

"The pre-festival financial budget report did not pass, and His Majesty has instructed us to go back and read Guanzi's 'State Accumulation' carefully once more."

"It seems the strategy for broadening revenue streams is not to be found in the mountains, seas, fisheries, or salt — but rather upon these very merchants."

The background to Bi Ziyan's remark was, in truth, the Yongchang Emperor's partial rejection of the Ministry of Revenue's traditional means of broadening revenue, such as the salt laws, the tea laws, and the gold and silver mining levies.

Raising taxes, increasing apportionments — none of that was a problem; even investigations, anti-corruption drives, and executions were permissible. But comprehensive reform — that would have to be set aside for the time being. At least in the first year of Yongchang, all reform matters were to be researched first, not implemented.

Xue Guoguan nodded and picked up the thread:

"'A state of ten thousand chariots has merchants worth ten thousand in gold; a state of a thousand chariots has merchants worth a thousand in gold. Why is this so?'

'It is because the state has lost control of too much profit; thus ministers do not exhaust their loyalty, and officers do not exhaust themselves unto death.'

"The problem with those salt laws and tea laws does not lie in the regulations or methods, but in the distribution of wealth."

The words Xue Guoguan spoke next were even more nakedly blunt than Bi Ziyan's.

"The wealth of the dynasty has piled up excessively upon the bodies of parasites — this is the very root cause of the Great Ming's daily decline!"

Huo Weihua gave a rasping chuckle and spoke along the same lines:

"No matter. Wealth, after all, simply sits where it sits — it neither increases nor decreases."

"One need only make it flow to the right places."

"With proper distribution and guidance, profit will naturally issue from a single aperture, and nothing under heaven can stand against it."

Hearing this, the assembled men all nodded at once.

Ever since the School of Mind had risen — and then been officially proscribed —

the currents of thought among the common people had fallen into a state of confusion.

In this time of confusion, the doctrines of the pre-Qin masters had welcomed a modest revival.

So it was not only Guanzi's statecraft learning; even Han Feizi's arts of power and stratagem were selling like wildfire in the publishing market. "Enough chatting for now — let us watch their performance more closely before we speak further."

Gao Shiming cut in, redirecting everyone's attention back downstairs.

By this point, two auction items had passed, and the person presiding over the auction had switched from Wang Cheng'en to Fang Zhenghua.

This auction — one could call it important, and one could also call it unimportant.

It was important because the rank of the officials in attendance today was exceedingly high.

Xue Guoguan, Xiong Mingyu, Bi Ziyan, and the others went without saying; the auction items involved today were all more or less connected to their respective departments. Moreover, this auction format would become the mainstream model for official-merchant cooperation in the Great Ming going forward, so they naturally had to come and observe it in person.

And Gao Shiming and Zheng Zhihui were stationed here, nominally representing the Imperial Household, to collect that portion of "patent fees" belonging to the Emperor.

I, Zhuge Youjian, have provided guidance on so many projects — taking a small cut from these early patent monies is truly not excessive.

But in reality, the imperial command they were carrying out was to use this opportunity to properly size up the true character of these merchants, and to sound out the details for the soon-to-be-established "imperial merchant" system.

Imperial merchants — this was a state policy the reigning Emperor had weighed for a long time before settling upon.

Reviving the Great Ming would inevitably be accompanied by countless great works and great projects.

Should these matters be pushed forward using the state's official operating power, or should merchants be summoned for procurement?

The Emperor had ultimately chosen the latter.

The reasons were, unsurprisingly, threefold.

First, the state's finances were presently burdened with heavy obligations and had not yet reached a time of ample funds; the court could hardly conjure vast sums of start-up capital out of thin air. Second, the training and rectification of the lower-level talent pool required an extremely long time. Even once trained, they would have to be assigned first to fill gaps in the central and local administrative systems.

Without sufficient talent to back it up, rashly launching state-run enterprises would, one hundred percent, become a massive breeding ground for corruption.

Third, forcibly pushing state-run operations would all too easily hand critics a pretext, dragging one into the whirlpool of public opinion over "contending with the people for profit."

Before the redistribution of profits was complete and the overall situation was thoroughly stabilized, the Emperor truly had no need to go looking for this kind of trouble for himself.

Capital, talent, public sentiment — with these three checkpoints blocking the way, imperial merchants became the most suitable means of breaking the deadlock for the present.

As for why this auction was unimportant…

A mere bunch of profit-chasing merchants — here at the feet of the Son of Heaven, under the whetted-blade pressure of the government offices, who among them would dare kick up any waves? Precisely for this reason, this small-scale trial run touching the Great Ming's economic lifeline had instead become a training ground for the reserve young eunuchs of the Inner Palace School. As His Majesty put it, one must always give the young people more opportunities to train.

Fang Zhenghua strode up onto the platform.

His style was utterly different from Wang Cheng'en's.

Seeing the hundred-odd pairs of eyes below fixed upon him, far from being stage-struck, he felt his blood surge with excitement.

"Gentlemen!"

Fang Zhenghua slammed down the gavel.

"The second auction item is the Yongchang first year, Northern Zhili, iron gas wells — centralized procurement project!"

"This item: a bulk procurement of ten thousand air-pressure wells!"

"Reserve price: fifty thousand taels!"

"Using a descending-price auction method!"

"The lowest bidder wins the contract!"

"The successful bidder may proceed directly to the Northern Metropolitan New Governance Finance Office to sign the documents."

"Once the contract is signed, thirty percent of the payment is advanced; the full sum is settled upon verified delivery!"

"If delivery is exceptionally swift and quality surpasses standard, you will also secure priority rights for the next phase of well procurement!"

Fang Zhenghua swept his gaze across the hall, his words rattling out like a volley of firecrackers:

"Respected shopkeepers, a single air-pressure well, forged entirely of iron, costs no more than two taels of silver to produce. If you win at the reserve price, that is over thirty thousand taels of pure profit!"

"This device draws water at three times the efficiency of a counterweighted well-sweep, and five times that of human labor! It is already all the rage in the capital's outskirts!"

"What is more, the Northern Metropolitan New Governance drive is sweeping forward — digging wells to combat drought is the foremost performance metric for every prefecture, subprefecture, and county official!"

"This phase is ten thousand wells. Do you imagine the next phase will be any fewer than twenty thousand?"

"Passing by, passing through — do not let this slip away! This is a once-in-a-millennium opportunity!"

He poured forth an unbroken torrent, his every word pitched to the utmost pitch of incitement, so overwhelming that the merchants poised to speak could find no gap to interject.

The merchants waited a long while, and only when the young eunuch paused to catch his breath did they seize the chance to raise their placards and bid.

"Forty-five thousand taels!"

"Excellent! Forty-five thousand taels, going once! Any lower bids? Gentlemen, look to the long term!" Fang Zhenghua shouted at the top of his lungs. "Forty thousand taels!"

"Thirty-nine thousand taels!"

"Twenty-five thousand taels!"

The merchants were not about to swallow pie-in-the-sky promises.

The price slid steadily downward, swiftly approaching an exquisitely delicate bottom line.

By this point, everyone still raising a placard was a shopkeeper from the capital's ironworking trade.

Twenty-five thousand taels — on paper, that still left a profit of five thousand taels.

But once you factored in fluctuations in the price of pig iron, the food and drink of the craftsmen, and the risk of tying up capital, this was barely earning hard-labor money. Merchants chase profit, and they look not only at the ledger figures but also at inventory carry and project duration.

These air-pressure wells were indeed popular, but their construction was far too simple, and unlike the microscope, this was not a chartered monopoly business.

Once this phase was completed, there was every chance that village smithies in every locality would be able to copy and spread the design on their own.

That the bidding had held firm at twenty-five thousand taels was already a reflection of these iron-trade merchants harboring a touch of political speculation, a desire to show their faces favorably before the authorities. Fang Zhenghua grew anxious and redoubled his exhortations:

"Gentlemen! Do not fix your eyes on the Northern Metropolitan Region alone! Next year marks the second phase of the Yongchang New Governance!"

"Shanxi! Henan! Shandong! Shaanxi! Which of them will not need these pressure wells?"

"Win ten thousand wells today, and tomorrow thirty thousand, a hundred thousand wells will be waiting for you!"

Yet no matter how hoarse he shouted, this dead object of iron and steel ultimately lacked the eye-catching dazzle of the earlier microscope patent.

And within the capital's ironworking trade, there happened to be no gambler like Zhang Wenshan, willing to stake his entire fortune and life on a single throw.

In the end, the price stuck dead at twenty-four thousand taels and would not budge a fraction lower.

Fang Zhenghua cursed inwardly.

He had been counting on bamboozling a bid below cost, so he could go back and preen before his colleagues at the academy. Who knew this bunch of blockheads were each as shrewd as a monkey — a complete waste of Grandpa Fang's spittle.

Seeing that dragging it out further was pointless, he could only raise the wooden mallet with flagging energy.

"Twenty-four thousand taels, third and final call… sold."

After that, the auction continued, the items diverse and varied.

For instance, the Ministry of War allocated funds to procure military supplies — padded jackets, army boots, arrows, and waist sabers — for twelve thousand men of the capital's Demonstration Camp and the Valiant Guard Camp. Let no one doubt it: the practice of inviting merchants to supply military matériel was already a well-established affair. It was simply that in the past it had rarely been conducted so openly, having always been apportioned through private connections.

Each of these items was valued in the range of several thousand to over ten thousand taels, and all were ultimately concluded — though the margin of price reduction did not even match that of the air-pressure wells. After all, in past experience, the Ministry of War's "cost of doing business" was on the same tier as the Ministry of Works.

These merchants still retained some confidence in the Northern Metropolitan New Governance Finance Office, a new bureau under the Emperor's intense scrutiny, but their confidence in the Ministry of War was considerably thinner. The next lot was the first-phase construction of official clerks' dormitories, to be built on the former site of the Wang Gong Factory west of Xuanwu Gate.

The Ministry of Works opened the bidding at twenty thousand taels, yet the final hammer price was a mere four thousand taels!

This price was far below the cost of bricks, tiles, and timber.

It went without saying that within the local construction trade, there was a speculator cut from the same cloth as Zhang Wenshan.

After that came a rather astonishing lot: the chartered franchise rights for the capital's night-soil industry.

The opening bid was fifty thousand taels per annum.

For a full half-incense-stick's time, the vast hall was silent as the grave; not a single bid was called, and in the end the lot was embarrassingly passed in.

After all, this was the Great Ming's first-ever official auction, unprecedented in history, and everyone invited here was a prominent merchant of standing and reputation.

Small and middling merchants, on the contrary, had not been included in this round of invitations.

Thus, before so many old acquaintances and rivals, no one could afford the loss of face that would come from contending for a "night-soil hauling" enterprise.

Even Zhang Wenshan, who had just moments ago been tirelessly enlivening the atmosphere with his frequent bids and frequent defeats, now kept his mouth firmly shut and played dead.

The young eunuch presiding over the auction was left so mortified his face flushed crimson, and tears of frustration nearly sprang to his eyes.

Thereafter, the various lots took the stage one by one.

There were chartered franchise rights put up for bid, and there were official procurement projects.

Some fetched astronomical prices far exceeding their reserve; some were unremarkably middling; and naturally, there was no shortage of lots that drew no interest and were passed in.

But however it went, the atmosphere in the great hall had been thoroughly ignited.

Silver flows of tens of thousands, even over a hundred thousand taels, transformed into weightless strings of figures echoing through the hall.

Everyone felt their mouths parched and their blood surging in wave after wave.

Until the moment the final lot was about to appear.

The atmosphere of the entire hall shifted in an instant.

This time, the one presiding was no longer those callow young eunuchs, but the seal-holder of the Inner Household Finance Office on the second floor, Zheng Zhihui, who had come down to handle it himself. In his hands he carried a wooden tray covered with red silk.

And what lay on the tray was no longer those intangible things — projects, patents, operating rights — but a single slender volume. With steady steps, he carefully and cautiously placed the tray upon the raised dais in the center.

Then he turned around, his cold, gloomy eyes sweeping across the entire hall, and spoke with terse precision.

"The final item up for auction today…"

He reached out and whisked away the red silk.

"'The World Under the Microscope' — one copy in His Majesty's own hand."

"No reserve price. Begin."

The instant those words fell,

the hearts of every merchant below began pounding uncontrollably.

Here it was!

Was this the final testament of some transcendent great Confucian master? No.

Was this an authentic work by some painting sage of a former dynasty? No, it was not.

But every merchant present knew with absolute clarity exactly what this slender sheaf of paper represented.

It was a token to pledge loyalty to the reigning Son of Heaven!

It was a protective talisman, bought with silver to save one's life!

Even more, it was the one and only death-absolving iron writ that merchants could obtain in this Yongchang reign!

Zhang Wenshan was the first to raise his arm high.

The liquid silver on his books had, in truth, already run dry, but he had to be the first to call out a price.

In any case, this deadly serious item was absolutely beyond his financial reach, but his attitude had to be placed at the very forefront.

"Thirty thousand taels!"

"Fifty thousand taels!"

Zhang Wenshan's voice had barely faded when Wang Quan, the great capital-debt merchant seated diagonally ahead, shot abruptly to his feet and caught the price almost instantly. "Seventy thousand taels!"

"Ninety thousand taels!"

Qian Changle, after a brief moment of ease, had once again entered a state of frantic scribbling.

He strained to keep pace with the speed of the bidding, filling the form before him with cryptic, scrawl-like records that only he could decipher. "One hundred thousand taels!"

"One hundred fifty thousand taels!"

The speed at which the price soared was ten times more ferocious than when the microscope patent had been auctioned!

As the price climbed, the circle of bidders rapidly contracted from merchants of every trade and industry down to the capital-debt merchants, whose business was moneylending. They understood better than anyone that the court was already compiling a list, and the butcher's blade was already dangling above their necks!

Just as Wang Quan was steeling himself to shout a high bid of three hundred thousand taels —

from the very front row of seats, a slightly hoarse cry rang out, abrupt and startling.

"Six hundred seventy thousand taels!"

It was Wu Jinbo!

The first time Wu Jinbo opened his mouth, he killed the contest!

He slowly rose to his feet, and beneath the astonished stares of the entire hall, he repeated himself, word by word:

"The Wu family of the capital bids six hundred seventy thousand taels!"

The expression on his face was terrifyingly calm, as if what he had called out was not the greater part of his entire fortune, but sixty-seven copper coins.

Yet had anyone drawn close, they would have discovered —

his hands, hidden within his wide sleeves, had long since been clenched into white-knuckled fists, his nails biting deep into his own flesh.

His legs, moreover, were trembling uncontrollably.

Qian Changle stopped the brush with which he had been recording and stared at him, dumbstruck.

Wang Quan turned sideways to look up at the dais, his face full of disbelief.

Upon the raised dais, Zheng Zhihui's gaze was deep and unfathomable, a faint, ambiguous smile playing on his lips.

Inside the great hall, after a brief deathly silence, a sudden eruption of buzzing whispers broke out.

Even Xiong Mingyu, Bi Ziyan, and the others in the private rooms on the second floor could not help but fling aside their pearl curtains, lean out, and look down from on high at this madman who had called out such an astronomical price.

Six hundred seventy thousand taels!

That was a full two times more than the three hundred thousand taels they had originally estimated!

Was this sum large?

It was, in truth, enormous.

It nearly matched the greater part of the annual gold-and-silver flower revenue of the Emperor's privy purse.

Yet at the same time, this sum was not really so large.

Placed among the circles of the empire's wealthiest magnates, it could only just barely cross the threshold.

To say nothing of other industries — in Jiangnan and the Huai River region alone, among the twenty-four hereditary salt merchants, any one of them, picked at random, possessed reserves in the millions. During the Wanli era, the Huizhou merchant Wu Yangchun's clan had donated over five hundred thousand taels of silver in succession, ultimately earning them the bestowal of six Secretariat Drafter posts upon the family. But to do it in one breath, without the slightest preamble, directly hurling out six hundred seventy thousand taels in ready silver —!

Wu Jinbo, have you gone mad?!

Could you not have slowly raised it — three hundred thousand, four hundred thousand, five hundred thousand?

Are you just going to throw your livelihood away like this?!

Upon the dais, Zheng Zhihui waited quietly for a moment.

Only then did he begin to go through the procedure.

"Six hundred seventy thousand taels — first call!"

Wang Quan clenched his teeth fiercely, so frantic that his forehead was drenched in sweat. Several times he tried to raise his hand, only to let it fall again in despair.

If he sold off various non-essential properties, and even borrowed from close friends, staking everything he had, it was not that he could not produce such a price. But to call out a bid on the spot, right here and now, was simply far too rushed.

After all, according to the auction rules announced beforehand, if a bid cannot be paid in full after the fact, whatever sum you shouted — that is exactly what you must forfeit! At a proper auction conducted by the government, how could you be allowed to spout reckless nonsense here?

"Six hundred seventy thousand taels — second call!"

Several wealthy merchants of Shanxi origin huddled together and muttered rapidly for a moment, but in the end they still could not reach a decision.

If each of their houses chipped in, they could scrape together the money.

But who would make the bid? Who would step forward — that, after all, was not something that could be decided in a short time.

"Six hundred seventy thousand taels — third call."

Zheng Zhihui smiled, raised the wooden mallet, and brought it down heavily.

"Sold."

He covered the manuscript again with the red silk, looked at Wu Jinbo, who stood rooted to the spot, his face already bright red and gasping for breath, and spoke in a clear voice: "Wu Jinbo, this manuscript, 'The World Under the Microscope,' is yours."

He paused, his eyes sweeping over the other merchants, and added:

"Go home, bathe and change your clothes, and then enter the palace to await summons."

"At three o'clock this afternoon, His Majesty has set aside half an hour to receive the person who won the bid for this original manuscript."