Taichang Ming Dynasty

Chapter 358: The Duke's Mansion's Business
Zhu Hui exhaled the foul air that had accumulated in his lungs, and silently repeated the prepared words in his mind before reaching out to grab the copper door knocker and gently touching it against the door.

The wood and copper clashed, producing a crisp, resonant sound. After a moment, Zhu Hui heard the door latch being lifted. Then, with a not-too-gritty creak, the door to the Duke of Cheng's mansion was pulled open a crack.

His gaze peeked through the crack in the door and landed on Zhu Hui's face. The middle-aged doorman, upon seeing who was coming, immediately flung the half-closed door wide open.

"Hey! Little Master Twelve is back!" This cordial greeting seemed to contain a hint of flattery.

But this bit of flattery made Zhu Hui feel even worse. With a cold face, he said to the doorman, "These door hinges need to be oiled. Can't you hear me?" Zhu Hui himself had been a doorman for nearly ten years. Even though he hadn't oiled the door hinges himself in a long time, he could still hear the unusual noise.

"Young Master Twelve is right. I'll oil the door hinges later." Although Zhu Hui didn't look at him in a good mood, the doorman's smile didn't fade at all. "Sir, please stop standing outside in the wind. Please come in."

The reason the gatekeeper was so flattering to Zhu Hui was simple: the Zhu family's caravan leaders could choose their own caravan members. While traveling was tiring, the monthly salary alone was far higher than the gatekeeper's meager salary. Furthermore, participating in the family business might also give him a chance to show his face to the Duke.

Many people in the palace were recommended by the Duke for this reason and were able to hold the title of Governor's Office. Even though this title often carried no real power, it still meant they were officials receiving an imperial salary. If, someday, their ancestors were to fill a vacancy, they could become the master of their own family.

"Is the old steward at home?" Zhu Hui stepped over the threshold, and the other caravan members followed him into the front yard.

"I don't know." The concierge shook his head. "But at least he didn't leave through the main entrance."

"it is good."

“You gave me this time.”

The doorman wanted to talk to Zhu Hui a little more, but at that moment, Zhu Hui was only concerned with completing his task. He clearly had no desire to argue with him. Zhu Hui simply bypassed the doorman, entered the house through a small door on the side, and headed towards the accounting office in the left wing.

Along the way, Zhu Hui also met several old acquaintances who had known him for a long time. They greeted Zhu Hui, but Zhu Hui did not stop to talk to them, but only nodded in response.

Soon, Zhu Hui arrived at the left wing of the two-story building. Before he entered, he heard the sound of abacus beads colliding.

The main accounting office, used exclusively by household steward Zhu Jiazhen, was the largest room in the middle of the first floor of the wing. On either side of the main accounting office were smaller offices specializing in various businesses. The second floor of the left wing served as a library, housing the Duke's Mansion's nearly two hundred-year collection of books.

Zhu Hui approached the accounting office, bent down and took a look through the half-open window. After confirming that Zhu Jiazhen was indeed inside, he knocked on the door frame with his knuckles.

"Old butler." Zhu Hui knocked on the door while putting on a smile. The flattery in his smile was even more than that of the previous doorman.

Zhu Jiazhen heard the call and put down the account book and the crystal mirror in his hands. He looked in the direction of the voice, but couldn't see clearly. Zhu Jiazhen blinked again, and after his sight focused a little, he asked tentatively, "Is Xiao Twelve back?"

Zhu Hui didn't get permission to enter, so he could only stand at the door and respond. "Old Master, it's my grandson."

Zhu Jiazhen and Zhu Hui have no blood relationship, but because Zhu Jiazhen is old enough and of a higher generation, servants of Zhu Hui's generation and those of lower generation than him all call themselves grandson when facing Zhu Jiazhen.

Zhu Jiazhen was the oldest member of the Chengguo Mansion. As early as the 41st year of the Jiajing reign, Zhu Jiazhen was sold to the Chengguo Mansion by human traffickers at the "wholesale price" of five taels of silver per head. At that time, the Chengguo Mansion was still the seventh generation, Zhu Xizhong.

Since Zhu Xizhong died of illness in September of the first year of the Wanli reign, the inheritance of the lineage of Duke Chengguo entered the fast lane. In the short period of 37 years from the second year of the Wanli reign to the thirty-ninth year of the Wanli reign, the title of Duke Chengguo was quickly passed down for five generations through the procedures of father-to-son succession, nephew-to-uncle succession, etc. It was not until Zhu Chunchen inherited the title that the inheritance of the title stabilized.

The Duke's lords kept changing, but the old servant remained as steady as a rock. Nearly sixty years later, Zhu Jiazhen rose through the ranks and became the highest-ranking official in the Duke of Cheng's mansion, the "Old Housekeeper," in charge of all matters, big and small, and all income and expenditure.

"Haha." Zhu Jiazhen smiled lightly and waved, "Come in and sit down."

"Okay." Zhu Hui then pushed the door open and moved the stool in.

Zhu Jiazhen's eyesight was poor, and he couldn't see clearly, whether close up or far away. Most people who came to the account office to see Zhu Jiazhen would sit very close to him. This allowed Zhu Jiazhen to use his eyeglasses to aid his vision. But Zhu Hui never did that. He always found a suitable position so that Zhu Jiazhen could see his face clearly without relying on external objects.

"When did you come back?" Zhu Jiazhen's tone was as kind as a grandfather chatting with his grandson.

But Zhu Hui's nerves didn't relax at all. His lips felt dry, so he swallowed instinctively. "My grandson arrived in Wuqing yesterday afternoon."

Wuqing was a county under the jurisdiction of Tongzhou in Shuntian Prefecture. Those traveling north from Tianjin to Beijing, if they weren't in a hurry or couldn't reach the capital before dark, would stop in Wuqing to wait for dawn. However, Zhu Hui had another purpose for staying in Wuqing: to deposit the profits from this trade trip, along with his previous capital, into the money house run by the Duke of Chengguo in Wuqing. These arrangements had been pre-arranged by Zhu Jiazhen, and Zhu Hui could only follow through.

Zhu Hui pulled out a receipt from the bank and handed it to Zhu Jiazhen. "Old Steward, please take the trouble to review this."

Zhu Jiazhen picked up the crystal again and held it to his eyes. After examining it for a moment, he frowned, just as Zhu Hui had expected. "Why is it just this little money?"

Zhu Hui explained carefully, "Old Steward, this isn't harvest season, and grain prices in the northern Zhili prefectures are already higher than in summer and autumn." Zhu Hui had barely finished his words when Zhu Jiazhen interrupted him rudely. "Stop talking nonsense and tell me something I don't know!" Zhu Jiazhen threw down the evidence, his old face devoid of the previous kindness, replaced by a stern, scrutinizing expression. "How much silver did you spend on the grain?"

Zhu Jiazhen not only understood the seasonal fluctuations in grain prices, but also the recent policies of the various prefectures in Northern Zhili. For example, throughout the entire previous year, none of the prefectures in Northern Zhili had submitted petitions requesting the opening of warehouses to stabilize grain sales in order to lower prices. Therefore, even the cheapest corn started at a minimum of eight cents per dan, and the closer to Shanhaiguan, the higher the price of grain.

Zhu Jiazhen's latest information indicated that the purchase price of millet in Funing County, under Yongping Prefecture, had already reached one tael and two qian of silver per dan. However, grain prices within the Great Wall were limited to this level. If Zhu Hui quoted a price higher than this, he would be unscrupulously embezzling the government's funds. Zhu Jiazhen would leave and summon someone to arrest Zhu Hui. Upon Duke Zhu Chunchen's return, he would have the Duke punish him with the family discipline.

"That's about one tael of silver per dan," Zhu Hui lied again. His average purchase price was nine qian and a half fen of silver per dan. He'd calculated it clearly: the five fen difference was something Zhu Jiazhen couldn't track down, yet it was acceptable. He did this every time, making a small profit each time. Small amounts add up, and he'd built up a considerable fortune by doing this.

"Even if the purchase price is one tael of silver per stone, you shouldn't just make that little profit. Don't tell me that transporting one stone of grain will consume two stones. You are transporting it to Haizhou, not to Tieling." When Zhu Jiazhen was young, he helped the Chengguo Mansion to run the trade route to Liaodong. He knew which city or fort each stone of grain was sent to, and how much was consumed along the way.

Zhu Jiazhen didn't dwell on the cost, which relieved Zhu Hui slightly. He unleashed his prepared argument: "Old steward, this is all the fault of that military governor named Zhang Quan! He's only willing to pay three ounces and five cents per dan for the grain my grandson is shipping to Haizhou." Even so, he didn't even consider returning the five cents difference.

Zhu Jiazhen narrowed his eyes slightly, his tone full of suspicion. "The government's purchase price is five cents less?"

Zhu Hui nodded repeatedly. "That's right, old butcher! He also forced us to buy the grain, not just the grain itself, but also the donkeys and mules that carried it, at a 30% defect rate." If one only counted the price of the donkeys and mules, Zhu Hui would have made only a small profit on this trip. If Zhang Quan had added another 10% defect rate, he would have lost money on the donkey and mule deal.

"He lowered the price and you still sold it?" Zhu Jiazhen asked the question that Zhu Hui least wanted to hear.

"Old butcher! How can I not sell it? Are we going to slaughter all the donkeys and mules and sell them on the market? That would be even less valuable." Zhu Huitian not only changed the subject but also exaggerated it, saying, "I've said everything I could think of. I even mentioned the Duke's title, but that military governor was as stinky as a stone next to a toilet and ignored me completely. He even threatened to impeach the Duke. I have no choice but to sell it, thinking that even if I make less, I'm still making more."

Seeing that Zhu Jiazhen seemed to be persuaded, Zhu Hui dragged other families into the fray to make amends. "And it's not just our family that's losing money. The Zhang, Xu, Li, and even the Yongning Earl Wang family are selling at the same price."

Zhu Jiazhen pulled the receipt over and examined it again. "You better not be lying."

Hearing this, Zhu Hui's heart finally settled. "Old Steward, how could I dare to lie to you? This is all clear and obvious. Those families have also had some people return. You'll know if you ask around."

"I will definitely inquire about it. You don't have to worry about it." Zhu Jiazhen put away the receipt but did not stamp it.

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The Duke of Chengguo Zhu's mansion was located on the far left side of Dashiyongfang, barely a stone's throw from the Five Prefectures Yamen. Consequently, Zhu Chunchen would return home to rest almost every noon. Whether he returned to the Yamen in the afternoon depended on the Duke's mood, as there was usually nothing to do at the Zuo Jun Dudu Fu. Rather than reading idle books in the Yamen, he would rather stay home, drink, watch opera, and sleep. This was influenced by Emperor Taichang; under the Wanli Emperor, he wouldn't have even visited the Yamen, as the Emperor wouldn't have cared. As the saying goes, what goes up, the others follow.

When Zhu Chunchen's sedan chair arrived at the Duke of Chengguo's mansion, the two main doors were already wide open. After the eight-man sedan chair entered the front yard, the two gatekeepers on the left and right used their shoulders to support the solid doors and slowly closed them.

As the sedan chair landed, the bearers immediately lifted the curtain for Zhu Chunchen. Before Zhu Chunchen could even get out of the sedan, the household steward, Zhu Jiazhen, accompanied by the household's most prominent servants, came over to greet him. This was a must-do ritual when returning home.

"I pay my respects to the Duke." The servants knelt and kowtowed in unison on either side of the central axis, while Zhu Chunchen simply waved his hand indifferently. He was so used to this that he didn't even think of stopping to speak.

The Duke, who was hungry and in urgent need of food, did not notice at all that at the end of the team he was about to pass, there was a person who had not returned home for a long time.

After the ceremony, the servants dispersed in order, returning to their own rooms to eat with the other servants of the same rank. Only the servants who served the Duke personally followed Zhu Chunchen. To Zhu Chunchen's surprise, the housekeeper Zhu Jiazhen also followed.

"Uncle, do you have something to say?" Even though he was already a duke, Zhu Chunchen still respected this old servant who had been calling him uncle since he was a child.

"Duke. Little Twelve is back." Zhu Jiazhen said.

Zhu Chunchen was stunned for a moment, then said "Oh" and pretended that he still remembered Zhu Hui.

"Since you're back, I'll give you a reward as usual. Let him have a good rest, there's no need to greet him in person." Zhu Chunchen just thought it was an ordinary routine notification, and he didn't want to waste time on the so-called "Little Twelve".

Zhu Jiazhen immediately guessed Zhu Chunchen's thoughts, which made him feel a little amused. So he didn't lay the groundwork and went straight to the point. "My Lord, when Little Twelve came back, he brought back a piece of news: the price of grain in Liaodong has dropped."

"Hmm? The grain price in Liaodong has dropped? So what?" After a few breaths, Zhu Chunchen reacted and stopped, and the people behind him also stopped. "What's going on? Uncle, tell me in detail."

Zhu Chunchen didn't care about the profits or losses of any individual caravan. Even if Zhu Hui's caravan was robbed and destroyed on the way to Liaodong, he could still seek compensation from the escort agency that insured it, and at the same time use this as an excuse to petition the emperor and seek benefits for the Zhu family.

But with grain prices dropping in Liaodong, he couldn't help but be concerned. Zhu Hui's caravan wasn't the only one from the Chengguo Mansion selling grain to Liaodong to profit from the price difference. Even during this off-season, the Chengguo Mansion alone had at least four similar caravans procuring grain and fodder in northern Zhili and even Shandong. In summer and autumn, these caravans would even increase in number.

(End of this chapter)