While Manager Wang Sheng and Sun Chuan conferred in secret, Shao Shuyi remained in his corner behind the counter, taking the rough logs the clerks had scribbled and merging them into the formal daybook.
He was gradually realizing the benefits of this work: it brought him into contact with all sorts of people, deepening his understanding of this society.
Just a moment ago, for instance, he had watched two monks come in to buy porcelain. They were stout and robust, walking with a vigorous wind in their steps and wearing expressions of supreme arrogance; they hardly even bargained.
Ah, it is a good era to be a monk, Shao thought.
Since ancient times, there had likely never been a dynasty that doted on and trusted Buddhism as much as this one; they had truly struck gold. From the very founding of the state, temples had been granted vast tracts of land, granting them immense economic power. Even now, with the Yuan court facing fiscal difficulties and reclaiming some government land previously granted to temples, schools, and nobles, the bulk remained. The monks continued to live rich, oily lives.
Not only did they possess armies of tenant farmers, but they also kept thugs, issued usurious loans, took three wives and four concubines, bullied men, and seized women—there was nothing they dared not do.
For an ordinary person to enter a temple was difficult—very difficult. Unless a high-ranking monk used his influence to make introductions, one could not dream of holding that iron rice bowl.
Aside from monks, Shao Shuyi saw opera singers, flower sellers, traveling merchants from afar, and rich landlords entering the city.
Sometimes these people chatted casually, dropping interesting tidbits. A merchant returning from Yunnan mentioned that "heartless wretches" in the Jiangzhe Branch Secretariat had dumped a massive load of seashells on the market there, crashing the currency and sending prices skyward, leaving the common people in unspeakable misery.
It was the first time Shao Shuyi learned that many places in Yunnan actually used seashells as currency.Then there was a rich landlord who lamented that a certain Squire in a neighboring village had recruited three uxorilocal sons-in-law—ruthless men, all of them. After the old Squire died, these live-in husbands carved up the family fortune among themselves, leaving the clan members without even a scrap of meat.
An opera singer heard nobles discussing the weather: it had been raining for a month straight in many parts of Henan. Before long, refugees would inevitably flee south to escape the disaster. One had to be prepared to set up roadblocks at major intersections to intercept them and replenish one’s stock of bondservants.
Such stories were too numerous to count.
Shao Shuyi heard no news regarding the war, however, which made him breathe a sigh of relief. The big upheaval hadn’t arrived yet; there was still time to prepare.
At the end of the Hour of the Snake (9:00 AM to 11:00 AM), the first batch of goods returned from the wharf and began entering the warehouse.
Shao Shuyi had the clerks close the doors and windows early, suspending business, while he went to the front of the warehouse to prepare for the intake.
Ox carts drove in one after another through the side gate. The hired laborers followed in succession and began unloading the cargo.
Shao Shuyi looked around and saw Manager Wang Sheng chatting happily with several strangers. He guessed they were merchants escorting the goods from Chuzhou, old acquaintances of Wang Sheng and perhaps even Zheng Song.
He couldn't be bothered with them. He simply stood aside, quietly watching as the hired laborers unloaded the greenware piece by piece and moved it into the room that had been temporarily cleared out.
The scene was slightly chaotic. Even without having seen modern corporate logistics, Shao Shuyi felt many areas begged for improvement. Of course, that was a matter for the future; this was the Yuan dynasty, and this was the industry standard.
After one room was filled, Shao Shuyi walked in and began the tally.
It was a troublesome task, not just because of the volume, but because there were no fixed specifications or product names. He had once asked Wang Sheng and Wu Youcai about it, and the two had told him to just "write down a rough idea"—they had no other requirements. It was a simple, crude system, and it left the door wide open for fraud.
Shao Shuyi felt that if he continued to record things the way they were done before he arrived, he probably wouldn't pass muster with the Zheng family, so he became serious.
"Tricolor porcelain pillows, red and green, Hanshan and Shide motif, twenty pieces."
[TN: Hanshan and Shide — Eccentric Buddhist poets, “Hehe Erxian,” symbolizing joy, harmony, and carefree laughter.]
He recorded carefully, describing the form and style clearly. If Wu Youcai were here, he would likely only write the two words "Porcelain Pillow," which was imprecise to the point of uselessness. Since there was likely more than one type of pillow and the prices varied, the vagueness created room for graft.
As for writing “Hanshan and Shide,” it was mainly because of the inscription on the pillow: those two, Hanshan and Shide, wind-blown and half-mad, clapping their hands and laughing heartily in the street—what great joy.
In short, it was a themed item.
"Village festival porcelain pillows, encouraging the plowing drums, 'Beneath the tree competing with field drums, beside the altar feeding meat to crows,' twenty pieces."
After writing this entry, Shao Shuyi felt a bit embarrassed. He guessed the inscription was from a poem, but he hadn't read it and didn't know the author.
"These are all porcelain pillows fired in Chuzhou in imitation of the northern kilns. Some foreigners are fond of this type, so—"
"Eh!" Wu Youcai suddenly barged in. When he saw the accounts Shao Shuyi was recording, his expression turned sour.
"So that is it." Shao Shuyi nodded, indicating he understood, and then continued counting.
"Is there a need for this?" Wu Youcai looked at the porcelain pillows, then at the account book, his anger no longer concealed.
"It is merely a matter of duty," Shao Shuyi said.
While speaking, he continued to record in the ledger: "White porcelain pillows, fifty pieces."
Wu Youcai stared at him fixedly. After a long silence, he asked aloud, "Little Hu, you have been at the shop for over a month. You have food and shelter, fish and meat and eggs every now and then, and your daily tea has never been in short supply. Is life not more comfortable than before?"
"Indeed," Shao Shuyi said, pausing his brush. "Thanks to the fortune of the Manager."
"Since you are grateful to the Manager, why must you go against him?" Wu Youcai stepped two paces closer, his voice lowered.
"Why does the Warehouse Officer say this?" Shao Shuyi feigned surprise.
Wu Youcai stared dead at him, trying to gauge whether this youth truly didn't understand or was merely pretending. However, he didn't have much patience and soon spoke bluntly.
"For instance, the greenware you just tallied could simply be written as 'ninety porcelain pillows.' There is no need for such detail; this is the Manager's intent. You—are too reckless!"
For a moment, Shao Shuyi felt a twinge of fear. Wu Youcai had punched through the paper window; he was speaking openly and frankly now.
But Shao had no way out.
In terms of his true feelings, he certainly didn't wish to take risks. But things having reached this point, he no longer had the power to choose. After thinking it over, he ultimately ignored Wu Youcai's words and continued counting seriously.
…
After lunch, Wang Sheng stood before the window, quietly watching the greenware piled messily in the courtyard.
The martial master, Zhang Neng, had also brought men to join in the moving, creating a bustle of activity.
"Manager, that fellow Shao Shuyi refuses to listen to reason. What should be done?" Wu Youcai walked over quietly and asked softly.
Wang Sheng did not speak.
"Manager..." Wu Youcai was anxious.
"What is the rush?" Wang Sheng scolded.
Wu Youcai stifled a breath, feeling aggrieved.
You are the Manager, naturally you aren't anxious, he thought. Conspiring with Sun Chuan to yield twenty percent profit to the foreign merchants will bring in three or four hundred ingots at least; naturally, you look down on other "small change."
But we can't do that. For example, with the porcelain pillows recorded just now, if we could manipulate things a bit, dozens of strings of cash would be easily obtained. Even if I didn't pocket it myself, taking it out from time to time to tip the hired laborers and clerks would be good—without rewards, the hired laborers won't listen to you.
Wu Youcai didn't have a big heart; getting ten or twenty ingots of benefit this time would be enough. But having his path to wealth blocked by someone was truly unbearable. He even had the heart to kill, though he certainly wouldn't dare do it himself.
"Watch Zhang Neng; do not let him act rashly for now," Wang Sheng turned around and looked at Wu Youcai.
"Yes." Wu Youcai gathered his composure and responded obediently.
"Do not remain unconvinced," Wang Sheng said, tapping Wu Youcai with his hand. "The Master was already suspicious. He only held back because the Old Master is still around and we are fellow villagers from Quzhou who have worked conscientiously for many years, so he could not set aside his feelings in a rush. But he still sent a new accountant over; can you not see through this?"
Wu Youcai trembled.
Wang Sheng sighed. "Just now, Sun Chuan told me he knows salt households from north of the river who sneak over to smuggle private salt. He wanted to strike a blow, but I persuaded him to stop. Would the Third Young Master and Young Sir Zheng not think of this point? To have a rootless, drifting accountant die in exchange for an opportunity to launch an attack, while also stopping the Old Master's mouth—I fear they would be eager for it."
Wu Youcai hesitated to speak.
You have earned enough and don't want to take risks anymore, but I haven't earned enough, and Zhang Neng certainly hasn't. Even if we endure this time, what about the future? Must we endure every time?
But these words were only thoughts; he dared not voice them. Seeing the Manager had nothing else to say, he quickly bowed and withdrew.
Wang Sheng continued to stand by the window, watching quietly.
His state of mind was actually quite troubled as well. To tell the truth, if it were possible, who wouldn't want to grab a little more money? One had to know that while the money Sun Chuan gave him was denominated in ingots, the precious notes actually only made up a small portion; the bulk was gold, silver, or various jewels. These were the most valuable things, far more useful than paper currency.
The Manager of a greenware shop was a lucrative post, yet he did not know how many more days he could hold it.
Was this current trouble truly caused by that new accountant making waves? No, he wasn't qualified. The one truly making things difficult was at the old residence by the Yantietang River.
Shao Shuyi was merely a pawn—a pawn that could be discarded at any time.