Chapter 165: Cloud Mountain Temple's Sorghum

This was perhaps the gap in their ways of thinking. Zhao Jin had long grown accustomed to handling things alone, and more than one person had already suggested he take on maids and servants.

"Living alone isn't really inconvenient. Master Ruhui, you've come to my place today — surely it's not just to take a look around?" Zhao Jin answered with a smile, his words directly prodding the other to state his purpose.

Ruhui smiled and shook his head slightly, then spoke: "This time I've come to visit Young Master Zhao, I actually wanted to beg a drink. This humble monk once had the good fortune to taste it at the temple, and I still savor the memory!"

As for what the other party really wanted, Zhao Jin grew increasingly puzzled. But Han Well Famous Liquor was in short supply elsewhere, while he always kept a few jars on hand. Others assumed Zhao Jin had a drinking habit, but they never imagined he used this liquor as medicine — to clean wounds. On the training grounds, people were constantly getting injured and bleeding, and using strong liquor to disinfect was a fairly reliable method.

He brought over a wine jar and bowl and filled it for Monk Ruhui. The monk thanked him, lifted the bowl, and took a sip. A flush immediately rose on his fair face. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and sighed: "Fine liquor."

Monk Ruhui drank only that one sip, then set the bowl down and said: "Young Master Zhao, this liquor of yours cannot be called a top-tier famous vintage. It is simply more like true liquor than other liquors."

The words seemed like a Chan riddle, but Zhao Jin could understand. He knew his own affairs best — this Han Well Famous Liquor had no exotic fragrance or unusual aroma, no famous historical associations, and no exquisite craftsmanship. It was simply pure-tasting white liquor.

"The liquor is good, and it can grace the tables of wealthy households. But those who toil and rush about, who endure wind, frost, rain, and snow — they will like this liquor even more," Monk Ruhui continued his appraisal.

Zhao Jin smiled and nodded. Monk Ruhui's assessment of the liquor was truly incisive.

"This temple has several thousand monks and many subordinate branches. Apart from the virtuous senior monks who cultivate in quiet seclusion in their cells, the rest of our brother disciples cannot avoid toiling outside. A few days ago, the moment everyone tasted Young Master Zhao's liquor, they all took a liking to it," Monk Ruhui said, quite unhurriedly.

He was about to get to the point. Zhao Jin understood this, but hearing the other speak so naturally made him feel a bit awkward. Was drinking alcohol so perfectly justified for monks?

"Zhao is a crude man. Master, speak plainly!" Zhao Jin said with a smile.

"If Young Master Zhao is a crude man, then how many in this world can be called thoughtful?" Monk Ruhui offered a flattering remark, then smiled and continued: "This Han Well Famous Liquor — Cloud Mountain Temple wants two thousand jin per month. The temple will send people to transport it. Payment first, goods after. I wonder what Young Master Zhao thinks?"

After saying this, Monk Ruhui fixed his eyes on Zhao Jin. The enmity between Cloud Mountain Temple and Zhao Jin ran extremely deep — lives had been lost, and beyond that, there were several matters both sides understood in their hearts but had never openly acknowledged. Talk of reconciliation was out of the question; achieving mutual restraint and no further bloodshed was already good enough. Ruhui had already prepared several arguments in his mind to persuade Zhao Jin, such as "business is business."

"That can't be done right now. At present, we produce a bit over a thousand jars a month, which is about twenty thousand-plus jin. Many people south of the city and outside the city still can't get any. It's impossible to set aside a separate supply just for Cloud Mountain Temple. But by year's end, it should be about doable," Zhao Jin said after some deliberation.

Zhao Jin needed no reminder at all; his mind was on business. Payment first, goods after — this kind of deal carried no risk, so of course he would do it.

Monk Ruhui looked surprised for a moment, then smiled and said: "Since Young Master Zhao can agree, then this humble monk can report back successfully. However, there is one more matter to discuss with Young Master Zhao. This temple is a vast enterprise, and our finances are managed as cautiously as walking on thin ice. At the current price, over two thousand jin comes to nearly three hundred taels of silver. Over a year, that's more than three thousand taels — a somewhat large sum."

Zhao Jin smiled but did not take up the thread. If they couldn't even produce the silver to buy liquor, then what was there to discuss? But Cloud Mountain Temple wouldn't make such a basic mistake — there had to be more to it. Monk Ruhui continued: "Word is spreading both inside and outside the city that Young Master Zhao brewed this fine liquor using nothing but sorghum. This liquor is made from sorghum. The temple's fields grow quite a lot of sorghum. I wonder if we might use sorghum to offset the cost of the liquor? On the price, the temple can make concessions."

"How do you propose to offset it?" Zhao Jin said coolly, looking less than satisfied.

"The market price for one dan of sorghum is two hundred forty wen. In bulk, it can be had for two hundred wen or even one hundred eighty. How about one dan for four jin of liquor?" Monk Ruhui did the mental math very quickly.

"Sorghum is animal feed. It barely fetches any price at all. My liquor, on the other hand, can be resold at a markup with a flip of the hand. This deal would be far too profitable for your esteemed temple." Business was business — despite the deep hatred between them, they used polite forms of address.

Monk Ruhui smiled and shook his head, but there was puzzlement in his eyes. The young man before him no longer displayed that decisive, lethal edge; instead, he seemed like a shrewd merchant. He had never heard of anyone who could excel as both a merchant and a warrior. Thinking this, Monk Ruhui still smiled and said: "How about one dan for three and a half jin?"

"One dan for two jin!"

"Young Master Zhao, this temple's sorghum is also grown through hard labor, and there are account books to keep. If we were to sell it at that price and then buy liquor, we could do that — why bother with barter?"

The two sides haggled back and forth, finally settling on a price of one dan of sorghum for three jin of liquor.

According to current custom, once a deal was verbally agreed upon in business, it had to be carried out — meaning that once negotiated, it was considered settled. However, Zhao Jin insisted that the Abbot, the Prior, and the Monastery Supervisor of Cloud Mountain Temple all sign the contract, and if the temple had its own seal, that must be stamped as well.

Although Monk Ruhui found this odd, he did not argue with Zhao Jin. The business had already been concluded; these were mere minor details.

Both sides were quite satisfied with the outcome. The current price of Han Well Famous Liquor was over eighty wen per jin. When production expanded in the future, the price would certainly drop, but even so, everyone considered fifty wen to be the floor. Selling one dan of sorghum for over two hundred wen was not an unreasonable price — the problem was that there was a price but no market.

Cloud Mountain Temple had several hundred thousand mu of farmland. But aside from those premium irrigated fields, there were also vast tracts of inferior land. Abandoning these fields would be a waste, yet they couldn't grow high-quality crops — only sorghum could be planted there. Every year, large quantities of sorghum were harvested, but only the lower-ranking monks ate it, and they couldn't consume that much. Selling it off wasn't easy either. Even if sold as animal feed, how large could the volume be? Thus, huge stockpiles of sorghum accumulated and spoiled, fetching no price at all. And if one factored in the abundance of grain and scarcity of coin, it was even worse.

This time, they could trade it for fine liquor. Not only did many at Cloud Mountain Temple drink, but they could also resell it at a markup. However one calculated it, Cloud Mountain Temple stood to gain considerably — it was certainly a profitable deal.

But for Zhao Jin, this sorghum-for-liquor deal was even more profitable. From one dan of sorghum, he could brew fifty to sixty jin of liquor. Deducting labor and various expenses, in pure value terms, one dan of sorghum was equivalent to thirty-five or forty jin of Han Well Famous Liquor. Yet the agreement he had reached with Cloud Mountain Temple was one dan of sorghum for three jin of liquor. Subtract one from the other, and for every jin of liquor Zhao Jin sold to Cloud Mountain Temple, he gained back over thirty jin. In other words, this meant a profit of over thirty times!

Of course, in this present age, grain and silver currency were disconnected. That one dan of sorghum sold for over two hundred wen did not mean it was truly equivalent to over two hundred wen. But the profit was still exceedingly generous.

Moreover, this deal solved a difficult problem for Zhao Jin. As his distillery expanded, the amount of sorghum consumed was also increasing sharply. The supply of raw materials was his lifeline, and Zhao Jin had always wanted to find a stable supplier. The emergence of Cloud Mountain Temple perfectly solved this problem. With this, sorghum was no longer a worry — at least not in the short term.

The idle chat that followed was all about nailing down the details. What surprised Monk Ruhui was that Zhao Jin was not the least bit vague about these details and handled them with extreme precision.

With the deal concluded, both sides were in good spirits. To say that Zhao Jin and Cloud Mountain Temple had thus turned from enemies to friends was impossible, but for the moment, it was indeed a mutually beneficial situation.

"To be frank with Young Master Zhao, this humble monk originally thought there was some lofty expert guiding you from behind, enabling you to build such a grand enterprise. After these two dealings, this humble monk has come to realize that Young Master Zhao himself is that lofty expert. A young hero of outstanding talent — truly remarkable," Monk Ruhui said with a beaming smile.

Though his words were blunt, they were very pleasing to hear. Zhao Jin smiled and said: "Master Ruhui flatters me too much. But Zhao is somewhat puzzled. Cloud Mountain Trading and Cloud Mountain Tavern are both within the city. To discuss such matters, why would you, Master, need to come in person?"

Monk Ruhui paused upon hearing this, then smiled and said: "This temple has so many monks, each with different origins, each busy with their own affairs. They cannot all be lumped together."

The words were veiled, but easy enough to understand — it simply meant there were different factions within Cloud Mountain Temple. Yet Zhao Jin found it interesting. This was the temple's internal affair and should have been kept hidden from outsiders, but Monk Ruhui seemed to be volunteering the information. At their last meeting, this monk had made a similar move.

Zhao Jin pondered for a moment, then smiled and said: "Master Ruhui has come to my place twice now; we are already acquainted. If there is anything you need Zhao's help with, please speak freely. Whatever lies within Zhao's power, I will certainly not decline."

Hearing this, Monk Ruhui's smile remained unchanged. He reached out, picked up the wine bowl, and slowly took a sip. Then he smiled and said: "This humble monk will remember Young Master Zhao's kind offer. The days are long, and there will be opportunities to deal with each other in the future."

Zhao Jin looked at Monk Ruhui's smile, casually took another wine bowl, poured it full, and raised it, saying: "Indeed. There will be opportunities to deal with each other in the future."

With that, he drained it in one gulp. The two looked at each other and smiled.

While Zhao Jin was enjoying his negotiations, outside Xuzhou City at the He Family Manor near the Three Immortals Terrace, a different scene was unfolding.

The He Family Manor had quite a few enterprises. The mill and the oil press were both extremely busy in autumn; with so much grain coming in, it naturally had to be processed as quickly as possible.

The mill and oil press usually began their busy season after the harvest. But the He family had one enterprise that ran year-round without pause — the He family distillery. Every year, a large portion of the He family's grain harvest was sent into the distillery, then emerged as distilled liquor and was transported out. No one knew exactly where it was sold, but the large carts came and went in an endless stream.

The liquor produced by the He family distillery was also sold retail locally. People liked to buy it and have a drink or two. Though the price was higher than local homebrew, the taste was far better as well.