Buying grain was like fighting a war; the intensity was extreme.
People were knocked askew, trampled while wailing, and shoved to the back, shouting abuse. Some even had their precious notes pickpocketed amidst the chaos.
Such a disorderly scene caused the expressions of the Kunshan Prefecture officials presiding over the grain sales to change somewhat. Retreating deeper into the granary, they ordered soldiers to suppress the crowd.
Fortunately, the common people were not truly trying to loot the grain; affairs had not yet deteriorated to that extent. They merely wanted to buy the low-priced grain sold by the government’s Ever-Normal Charitable Granary. After a flurry of turmoil, the situation finally stabilized, and the buyers formed a long line, inching forward.
“Diminished banknotes?” A minor clerk borrowed from Kunshan Prefecture shook the precious note in his hand, then flicked it aside. “Go to the West Wing and exchange it with someone.”
In the West Wing, a dozen or so people sat or stood. In the center was a pot-bellied squire, laughing and chatting with a certain official. Undoubtedly, he specialized in this line of business.
Ordinary commoners could not spend worn and damaged paper currency, but he could. You could exchange it with him, but you would have to pay a price.
Shao Shuyi glanced at the West Wing and seemed to spot Zheng Song.
No, it wasn’t “seemed”—that was Zheng Song. He was speaking with the pot-bellied squire, his gaze casually sweeping the area. He even locked eyes with Shao Shuyi for a moment, though it was unclear if he had recognized him.
The line moved forward, and soon another person stepped up.“Counterfeit note?” The minor clerk carefully examined the precious note in his hand, his expression suddenly twisting. “Such gall! It seems I must have you shackled today!”
“I am wrongly accused, Banshou!” An old man hurriedly knelt, weeping and wailing.
The minor clerk remained unmoved, sneering. “If you are going to pass off fake notes, at least use Jiangxi goods. What is this? Even the characters are missing strokes; it is laughably fake, yet you still try to use it to scam us?”
“This is what I received from selling vegetables yesterday; how could it be fake?” The old man stammered, looking as if he had suffered a heavy blow.
“Enough talk. Men—”
“Forget it.” A light cough sounded from nearby.
Upon hearing this, the minor clerk’s expression changed instantly. He turned and bowed. “Yes.”
Straightening up, he kicked the old man. “Get lost! Don’t block the people behind you from buying grain.”
As he spoke, he tucked the counterfeit note into his chest, not attempting to hide his actions.
Two storehouse clerks walked over, dragged the old man aside, and returned to their posts—one dispensing grain, the other keeping records.
The minor clerk turned his head and cursed at one of them in a low voice, “Look at these ghostly scrawls. Are these characters? You recognize them, but I don’t! And the grandees certainly won’t!”
The storehouse clerk recording the ledger looked somewhat embarrassed.
He indeed did not know how to write well, nor did he recognize many characters, but could he be blamed?
The various storehouses in the locality all had storehouse officers and storehouse clerks. Like the Township Heads, Du Heads, Ward Chiefs, and Block Chiefs, they were all commoners conscripted for miscellaneous corvée duties. They were neither officials nor clerks, so wasn’t it normal for their learning to be poor?
Roles like Township Head involved tax collection and were filled by wealthy local families, but storehouse officers and clerks only needed to manage warehouses. Thus, they had always been filled by ordinary commoner households. Even if those conscripted were “illiterate and unable to calculate,” causing “many delays and errors in auditing receipts and disbursements,” and even if local officials often requested to “hire salaried clerks” so that “corvée would not burden the people,” the Great Yuan court still did not permit it.
Replacing storehouse officers and clerks with minor officials would cost money, wouldn’t it? If they selected conscripts directly from common households, they could just switch to a new batch after six months or a year. It saved a lot of money.
So, this really couldn’t be blamed on the storehouse clerk. He was originally a farmer, barely recognizing a few characters already counted as being motivated. What more could be said?
Shao Shuyi observed silently from the line, lost in thought.
He wondered if the storehouse clerks were provided with meals. If they were, that would truly be an excellent corvée duty.
In fact, Liu Family Port had government-run shipbuilding workshops, and the workshops also had storehouse clerks. They were provided with meals but received no wages, as they were also men grabbed for corvée labor.
Analyzing it rationally, if a storehouse clerk was provided two meals a day—even if one was solid and one was gruel—it would be enough to survive. The downside was that there was not a single wen in wages; it was essentially working for free. Once conscripted, one worked for six months or a year. When it came time to pay taxes, if you couldn’t produce the money, wouldn’t you be finished?
[TN: Wen — Standard copper coin; (1 string = 1000 wen).]
This matter had both pros and cons!
Shao Shuyi had already filed this away in his mind as a backup plan—that is, if he truly had no other moves, going there to keep his belly full would be better than starving to death. The only problem was that there might be competition for the storehouse clerk position; they wouldn’t necessarily use him.
Amidst his reverie, the line moved forward, reaching the person in front of Shao Shuyi.
The man took out one Zhiyuan note and ten-odd Zhongtong notes, his voice trembling. “Buying... buying rice.”
The minor clerk picked up the precious notes, examined them, and threw them into a wooden box at the side. “Fifteen strings, eight hundred and sixty wen.”
The storehouse clerk crookedly recorded it, then looked up at the minor clerk.
The minor clerk furrowed his brows in thought. After a moment, he hesitated. “Seven dou six...”
Shao Shuyi’s heart began to thump.
In that split second, many thoughts flashed through his mind, eventually converging into one: he needed to break out of his predicament, the sooner the better, or he would be doomed eternally.
“Seven dou nine...” The minor clerk extended his fingers, seemingly calculating.
“Seven dou nine sheng three ge,” Shao Shuyi blurted out in a rush of heat to his head.
[TN: 1 shi (approx. 100 liters) = 10 dou; 1 dou = 10 sheng; 1 sheng = 10 ge.]
The minor clerk froze. Perhaps because his train of thought had been interrupted, he glared fiercely at Shao Shuyi.
Not far away, the official wearing a green robe lifted his eyelids and looked at Shao Shuyi with some surprise.
Shao Shuyi dared not look too much. He only stole a glance at the man and saw that he had a high nose and deep eyes, unlike the heavy features of the Central Plains people. If his guess was not wrong, this was undoubtedly a Semu—the Yuan court particularly liked to use Semu people as officials in finance, the judiciary, or the Maritime Trade Supervisorate.
“It is indeed seven dou nine sheng three ge,” the minor clerk finally finished calculating and turned to give the order.
The other storehouse clerk took various containers, weighed the amount, and poured the grain into the buyer's sack.
The man offered a thousand thanks and left, beaming with joy.
One shi of rice was twenty strings, which was more than ten strings cheaper than the market price; buying it was earning it. The Ever-Normal Charitable Granary had a capacity of a million shi and claimed to store three hundred thousand shi of grain, but it was hard to say how much was actually there. In any case, whenever there was a poor harvest, and they needed to sell rice to suppress prices, they would sell at most a few thousand shi, absolutely never exceeding ten thousand. It was truly first-come, first-served.
“Five strings of Zhongtong notes, buying two dou five sheng of rice.” After the person in front left, Shao Shuyi stepped forward and handed over five precious notes.
The minor clerk accepted them and made a show of examining the notes, his peripheral vision secretly darting toward the Semu official. After a moment, he sighed slightly and waved his hand to the storehouse clerk. “Coarse round-grained rice, two dou five sheng. Give it to him.”
The storehouse clerk naturally had no objections and deftly handed over the grain.
Shao Shuyi had wanted to linger, but the person behind him was already squeezing forward, so he could only turn and leave.
From beginning to end, the Semu official said nothing, which left him somewhat disappointed.
The risk had not succeeded.
However, he soon let it go. Gaining it is my fortune; losing it is my fate. If things were accomplished that easily, it would actually be abnormal.
There were opportunities; there would be more opportunities in the future!
The Dao of warfare lay in fostering strengths and avoiding weaknesses. One must utilize one’s strong points, then seize the precious opportunity to succeed with a single strike.
After exiting the gate of the Charitable Granary, he gazed at the long embankment in the distance.
Inside the embankment, shops stood in great numbers, and the sound of singing drifted faintly over: “...I am Li Keyong. I inherited the title of Military Commissioner of Youzhou. Because I struck Duan Wenchu while drinking, I was banished to the Shatuo lands, where I have been for ten years...”
On the embankment, tourists were woven together like fabric. Confucian scholars and literati stood against the wind with their long sleeves fluttering, seeming to chant poetry: “Those men like Yifu, the tortoises bear their grave mounds on the old hills. They could only wave their jade whisks, understanding nothing of wearing helmets and armor...”
Outside the embankment, masts stood like a forest. Large and small boats came and went, transporting ship after ship of goods. Singing also came from the decks: “The black-faced young man rows a sampan, carrying the official to the great ship. When the sun is directly overhead, turn the rudder first; raise hands together to worship the gods of heaven.”
What a vibrant and lively scene!
Shao Shuyi listened in a daze, then laughed at himself. What did this have to do with him? Was Li Keyong very formidable? And who was Yifu?
[TN: Li Keyong was a famous late Tang Shatuo Turk general. “Yifu” refers to Wang Yan of Jin, known for refined “Pure Conversation” while his state slid toward ruin.]
He should hurry home to fill his belly; thinking about how to change his circumstances was the proper business.
When he returned home carrying the grain on his back, he saw Kong Tie sitting inside, waving at him.
Shao Shuyi nodded. He first put the purchased coarse round-grained rice into the grain bin in the west room, then picked up a reed cushion, sat down at the door, and spoke. “Baijianu, why have you come back?”
“I came to ask again. Thousand Commander Ye’s ship is still short two deckhands. If you are willing to go, you can board the ship today. The monthly payment is one ingot of exchange notes. It’s like when you were a hired worker at the Zheng family; meals are not counted against the money,” Kong Tie said directly, cutting the crap.
His voice was muffled and heavy, sounding a bit stifled, but it carried weight and was very sincere.
Shao Shuyi pondered for a moment.
His original self had been on ships, but always sailing near the mouth of the Yangtze River, hired along with his father to help people transport goods over short distances. By reason, he had a certain adaptability to sailing and even sea navigation; if he went into the high winds and urgent waves of the great sea, he shouldn’t get severely seasick.
Moreover, the income was truly quite good.
Li Zhuang worked at the shipyard and was paid according to the standard for a family of four, but his monthly income was only nine dou of rice, half a jin of salt, and ten strings of precious notes.
The monthly salary of a local lower-county Magistrate was only seventeen strings. Many years ago, due to soaring prices, the court mandated that for every string of an official’s income, one dou of rice be given. That meant a Magistrate’s actual monthly income was seventeen strings of Zhongtong notes and one shi seven dou of rice. It looked decent, but they were officials; they had requirements for social reception and interaction, and there were many places to spend money. It wasn’t enough at all, forcing them to embezzle and accept bribes.
Fifty strings for a month at sea was really quite good.
However, Shao Shuyi still refused. “I’m not going.”
Kong Tie gave him a deep look. “Then forget it. However—”
“However what?” Shao Shuyi asked.
“I just heard some news. Master Chen has run.”
“Which Master Chen?” Shao Shuyi didn’t react for a moment.
“The Du Head, Chen Wang.”
Shao Shuyi was startled. “Really?”
“People saw him packing up his valuables, taking a few bags of grain, and hiring an ox cart. The whole family went south. Someone asked him on the road, and with a bitter face, Chen Wang said the whole family was fleeing for their lives, and bid farewell right there,” Kong Tie said.
Shao Shuyi was speechless.
That very morning, Chen Wang had come to ask for five strings of notes, and by afternoon, he had already fled. Did it have to be so fast?
And the way he fled was brazen to the extreme. In broad daylight, under everyone’s eyes, he swaggered off, even stopping to greet acquaintances and exchange a few words—there was not the slightest trace of panic.
Heading south, there was a high probability that he was going to Suzhou City to seek refuge with relatives or friends.
Chen Wang had learning. If he went to Suzhou and had someone to help, once he slowly settled down, finding a job to support his family wouldn’t be hard.
It was just that—now that he was gone, what was Shao supposed to do?
“Little Hu, come with me. We can look out for each other on the ship,” Kong Tie couldn’t help but persuade him again. “Once you’re on the ship, those dog officials couldn’t catch you even if they wanted to. By the time we return to Liu Family Port, it will be months later; maybe the heat will have passed. At the very least, you’ll have an ingot of notes to pay your arrears.”
Shao Shuyi remained noncommittal.
Having read many books on the Age of Discovery in later times, he had a full understanding of the dangers of seafaring in this era. As the saying goes, a gentleman does not stand under a dangerous wall. He still retained a few ounces of modern pride and subconsciously felt he could always find an opportunity.
He looked at Kong Tie and asked, “Do you know which Semu officials are in the Transport Office or the Prefecture?”