Wu Youcai watched Wang Huadu’s figure recede into the distance. Once the man had disappeared, Wu stood in thought for a moment before heading to the quarters of the manager, Wang Sheng.
“What are you doing here?” Wang Sheng shot him a sidelong glance, not pausing in his letter writing.
Zhang Neng was seated in the inner room, nursing a cup of tea in solitude.
Wu Youcai kept his distance, wary of seeing something he shouldn’t. “The Fangfeng Tongsheng Powder was returned,” he reported in a low voice.
Wang Sheng frowned but did not stop his brush.
Zhang Neng, however, slammed the table. “We showed him such goodwill. Is the kid blind? Manager, why waste words with him? ‘Courtesy before force’ clearly won’t work; we need to get ruthless.”
Wu Youcai looked at Zhang Neng, feeling a mix of conflict and disdain. The fool—does he know anything besides fighting and killing?
The previous accountant, Master Zhao, had fallen into the water and died at the beginning of the first month. That alone had raised suspicions. Now, Zhang intended for two accountants to die in succession? That was hardly appropriate. Master Zhao had drowned in a ditch after drinking; the yamen coroner had examined the corpse and issued a document stating there were no external injuries and no poisoning—a genuine drowning. But appearances mattered. One shouldn't take everyone else for a fool.
Was there really no suspicion back at the old residence by the Yantietang River? Perhaps the Old Master, remembering the Manager’s years of hand-and-foot service, had simply chosen to remain silent. But while the Old Master might stay his hand, would the Third Young Master be so easy to deal with? He was gradually assuming control of the household, and he shared no history with these old hands from Quzhou. He was just waiting for them to slip up so he could catch them by the handle.
Zhang Neng... capable, my ass.Wang Sheng soon finished his letter. Waiting for the ink to dry, he deliberately folded it, stuffed it into an envelope, sealed it with paste, and stamped it with his personal seal.
“Youcai, does the greenware in the storehouse match the accounts?” Wang Sheng asked suddenly.
Wu Youcai cast a complaining look at Zhang Neng.
Zhang Neng looked slightly embarrassed. “What are you looking at me for? Of course, they don’t match, but the discrepancy isn’t too large. I say, Wu Youcai, couldn’t you have been tougher and demanded the account books back? Just because Young Master Zheng said to give them to the new accountant, you actually handed them over? You should have cooked the books first while you were still recording.”
Wu Youcai was tongue-tied.
Wang Sheng ignored Zhang Neng’s outburst and fixed his eyes on Wu Youcai. “Roughly how big is the difference?”
“Seven or eight fen, it looks like,” Wu Youcai mumbled.
“Seven or eight fen a month, or a year?”
“That is the total difference,” Wu Youcai admitted.
[TN: Fen — Equal to 1/10 of a mace or 1/100 of a tael.]
In the trade jargon of the time, “seven or eight fen” meant seven or eight percent. The Zheng family had strict requirements for the greenware shop: the monthly error could not exceed “three fen.” But that margin was intended for money notes; greenware certainly shouldn’t be off by that much. A discrepancy of seven or eight fen—meaning seven or eight hundred pieces missing out of ten thousand—was unjustifiable.
“You are too reckless,” Wang Sheng said, his displeasure evident.
Wu Youcai and Zhang Neng exchanged glances, both feeling somewhat aggrieved.
You are the manager; naturally, you disdain embezzling grocery money, hiring fees, and the breakage allowance. You have other avenues for making money, but we don’t. Besides, didn’t we send you a share of the “damages”? What are you pretending to?
“Manager, things have come to this; there is no other way. Why don’t we wait until Young Master Zheng leaves, and then—” Zhang Neng wiped his face, speaking through gritted teeth.
“Shut your mouth!” Wang Sheng scolded.
Zhang Neng was stunned, then turned his face away in defiant silence, muttering something about how “blocking a man’s path to wealth is like killing his parents.”
Wu Youcai looked awkwardly from one to the other, unsure of what to say.
Wang Sheng stood up and paced slowly around the room. After a long silence, he sighed and stopped in front of Wu Youcai.
Wu Youcai looked at him, hesitant to speak.
“Rope him in again,” Wang Sheng said, staring into Wu Youcai’s eyes. “He is only fifteen. I don’t believe there is nothing his heart desires. Food? Clothes? Money? Or women? Try them all. Delay the handover matter for now. It’s busy recently anyway, and there’s another batch of greenware arriving soon; excuses are plentiful.”
“Alright.” Wu Youcai breathed a secret sigh of relief.
“If we can’t rope him in, what then?” Zhang Neng asked, turning his head back.
“You settle down.” Wang Sheng gave him a harsh look. “Even if we want to do something, it isn’t now. The new accountant meets with an accident the moment he arrives—does that look proper?”
Zhang Neng’s expression soured further, but he said nothing more.
…
In the afternoon, Shao Shuyi returned to the front counter, shadowing Wu Youcai to learn the bookkeeping and familiarize himself with the business process.
In truth, there were not many accounts to manage.
In this season, maritime merchants arrived only on a small scale; bulk buyers of greenware were few and far between. It was the slow season. Aside from a few local retail customers making small purchases, there was almost no performance to speak of.
To be honest, this greenware shop dealt mainly in large-volume maritime trade and had little interest in local retail. The staff’s attitude toward walk-in customers was extremely perfunctory; they disliked attending to them, preferring to squat by the wall near the door and chat.
So much so that when an elderly man came to buy a porcelain plate, the scoundrels by the wall mostly turned a blind eye. Only the shop hand with the childhood name Shitou—formal name Cao Tong—stood up to help the man select the goods.
“Five mace,” Wu Youcai said, barely lifting his eyelids.
The old man took out a Zhongtong note and placed it on the counter.
Wu Youcai inspected it. After a moment’s hesitation, he accepted it—the note was worn, but not severely.
The old man soon left. Wu Youcai wrote the characters for “White porcelain flower phoenix plate, one, five mace” in the account book, deposited the precious note into the money chest, and addressed Shao Shuyi. “Little Hu, there is no need to care too much about these scattered small trades, but the things that should be done must still be done well.”
“Please instruct me, Elder Wu,” Shao Shuyi said humbly.
Wu Youcai found the title “Elder Wu” agreeable, and his face softened with a few smiles. “It is actually very simple. Each day, record the name, quantity, and price of the porcelain sold.
“For the shop’s daily expenses, such as purchasing stationery, labor wages, hired laborer meals, carriage and horse transport, house repairs, and social gratuities—as long as they exist, record them one by one.
“If the payment is in copper coins, gold, or silver, mark them separately.
“If someone wants to buy on credit, you must ask the manager for instructions before recording it.
“Every day after dinner, count the accounts and the money chest together with the manager to ensure the figures match reality. Do this, and you will be a good accountant.”
Shao Shuyi nodded repeatedly as he listened, but inwardly he grumbled that this was too simple and crude. Moreover, he remembered that the accounts recorded previously were not this detailed; they must have been slacking off, or simply keeping brief records on purpose.
“If someone withdraws money notes, how should it be handled?” Shao Shuyi suddenly asked.
“Within five ingots, the manager can decide on his own, but a slip must be pasted and stamped. Um...” Wu Youcai stopped halfway, feeling somewhat awkward.
Shao Shuyi laughed secretly.
He had roughly flipped through the account books; it seemed the manager only stamped and pasted slips when withdrawing wages. There were no such records at other times, which was obviously a violation of regulations.
The so-called “pasting a slip” meant attaching a small strip of paper to the blank space next to the withdrawal entry, with the manager and accountant signing and stamping it together to signify approval. This was basic financial discipline, but the management of the greenware shop was obviously sloppy and loosely executed.
Speaking of which, Manager Wang Sheng’s authority was quite large; he could actually decide the use of funds within five ingots without reporting to the employer.
“On the first day of every month, you are to go to the storehouse yourself to collect various measuring tools—mainly the dou, sheng, and ge—to weigh grain and issue wages.” Wu Youcai quickly changed the topic. “This matter is critical and cannot be neglected.”
“Yes,” Shao Shuyi replied.
“And there is the monthly inventory check of the greenware.” Wu Youcai glanced at Shao Shuyi and said vaguely, “This is a long story. It just so happens that several thousand pieces of greenware have been newly shipped in and need to be registered and stored. Follow me to count them over the next few days.”
“Yes,” Shao Shuyi responded with a solemn expression.
Wu Youcai opened his mouth as if to speak, but ultimately remained silent.
Shao Shuyi noted his hesitation but said nothing.
After that, the two had no further conversation, sitting in silence until a customer came to the door.
A whole afternoon passed quickly. At the end of the Shen hour—late afternoon—the shop hands began to tidy up and sweep, preparing to close the shop.
Shao Shuyi also packed his things into his “tool box,” preparing to leave.
“Little Hu, ah—” Wu Youcai pulled him back, beaming. “I see you live alone in the shop; surely it must be very boring. There is nothing to do today anyway, so why not go out and play?”
Shao Shuyi looked at him with some surprise.
For a split second, he almost thought he had returned to the future. Is he taking me out for dinner, karaoke, and a massage?
“Rest assured.” Wu Youcai smiled, flipped open an account book, and pointed to a specific spot. “The manager has pasted a slip and stamped it; we can withdraw one Zhongtong note ingot. We’ll call Zhang Neng and Squire Sun; they are all our own people, no need to be reserved.”
Shao Shuyi’s mind raced, thoughts struggling against one another until finally, they coalesced into the memory of Zheng Song’s falcon-like gaze.
He sighed inwardly, stood up, and bowed to Wu Youcai. “I am a bit tired today and want to rest early. Next time.”
After speaking, he picked up his box and left.
Wu Youcai watched his retreating figure, his expression fluctuating uncertainly.