Taichang Ming Dynasty

Chapter 784 Shuntong Pawnshop

As Zhao Er approached the counter, before he could even speak, Manager Wang put down his abacus and began to smile, his face crinkling with wrinkles. "Master Zhao, what brings you here today? Are you on official business, or are you looking for a drink after you've finished your work?" As he spoke, he scooped a spoonful of fragrant roasted beans from the earthenware pot beside him into a bowl and handed it to Zhao Er. "These are freshly roasted beans; please have some with them."

"Manager Wang," Zhao Er said without any ceremony, grabbing a handful of food and stuffing it into his mouth, crunching as he asked, "Is there a scholar named Qi Biaojia living here?"

"Yes, there is such a gentleman," Manager Wang nodded, pointing vaguely towards the second floor, "He lives on the second floor."

“Okay.” Zhao Er looked towards the stairwell as he was being directed. “Then take me to him. Governor Sun has something to tell him.”

"Oh dear, I'm sorry," Manager Wang said with a smile. "Master Qi has gone out and hasn't returned yet."

"He hasn't come back." Zhao Er grabbed another bean, popped it into his mouth, swallowed it, and then asked, "Do you know where he is right now?"

"How could we possibly know?" Manager Wang shook his head. "We run an inn, how can we ask our guests where they've gone? If you're in a hurry to leave, you can leave what Governor Sun said here, and I'll definitely pass it on to Master Qi when he returns. If you're not in such a rush, you can eat something first and wait. Judging from the sky, if he's not spending the night elsewhere, he should be back soon."

Zhao Er stroked his chin and glanced at the sky outside the door. By this time, the setting sun had sunk below the eaves, the orange-red of the sky was gradually turning into dark red, and the lanterns on the street were beginning to light up one by one.

“Okay.” Zhao Er stretched. “I’ll eat something here and wait for him to come back.”

"Still the same old thing?" Manager Wang asked with a smile.

"Hmm," Zhao Er nodded, then stretched and let out a very long yawn. "Ah!"

"Alright!" Manager Wang readily agreed, then turned and shouted to the kitchen, "One plate of braised pork, one dish of cucumber salad, and one bowl of fried rice!"

"Okay!" came the reply from the kitchen staff in no time.

Manager Wang turned around, scooped a pot of strong liquor from the wine jar, and pushed the dish of salted beans he had prepared earlier towards Zhao Er, saying in a low voice, "Master Zhao, this wine and beans are on me, please enjoy."

Zhao Er's eyes lit up, but he still pretended to push it away first. "How could I possibly accept that?"

"Oh dear. Why are you being so polite?" Manager Wang insisted, "We're all regular customers."

"Then I'll accept your kindness." Zhao Er smiled, picked up the wine and beans, and found a seat by the window.

Before long, Zhao Er's usual dishes were all served. As he ate and drank, his face quickly turned red, but he still couldn't help but glance at the door every now and then.

Just as Zhao Er's wine bottle was about to run out, a handsome young man dressed in a dark-patterned silk shirt walked in. He was still waving his plain folding fan, and behind him was a young man carrying a book basket. This was none other than the scholar Qi Biaojia and Chen San'er from the Weaving Hall.

"Master Qi!" Manager Wang, with his sharp eyes, immediately greeted him loudly upon seeing him.

Qi Biaojia disliked being addressed as "Master Qi," but he had no interest in arguing with an innkeeper. So he simply gave a curt reply and prepared to head upstairs.

But before he could even step onto the stairs, he heard someone call out from behind, "Master Qi, please wait!"

Qi Biaojia and Chen San'er stopped and turned to look. They saw a man in a blue yamen runner's uniform pick up a waist knife from a bench and stand up abruptly.

Zhao Er strode towards Qi Biaojia, still chewing on braised meat. Seeing Zhao Er get up on his own, Manager Wang lost interest in reminding him and lowered his head to continue keeping track of his accounts.

"May I ask who this gentleman is?" Qi Biaojia closed his folding fan and subconsciously took a half step back.

Zhao Er walked a few steps to Qi Biaojia, swallowed the meat in his mouth, and bowed to him: "I am Zhao Fengnian, a yamen runner from the Governor's Office. I have come to report to Master Qi on the orders of the Grand Secretary."

"Oh? I wonder what instructions you have, Vice Minister Sun?" Qi Biaojia raised his eyes slightly, a hint of surprise on his face. He truly hadn't expected Sun Chengzong's reply to come so quickly.

“Replying to Master Qi, Vice Minister Sun has been busy dealing with taxes, grain, and the clearing of military households lately, and has really not had time to meet with you alone. However, Vice Minister Sun said that he will be attending a banquet at Jinmen Tower in the city in three days, and he would like you to attend as well.” As Zhao Fengnian spoke, he took out the reply letter drafted by Qian Shuban from his pocket.

Qi Biaojia was overjoyed and quickly accepted the reply. He hadn't really expected to meet Sun Chengzong alone, so being invited to the banquet was a great honor. He immediately smiled and said, "Thank you for your kind offer, Minister Sun! I will definitely be there on time in three days! Please ask Zhao Gao to go back and tell Minister Sun that I am extremely grateful."

"Definitely!" Zhao Fengnian quickly agreed.

Qi Biaojia rolled up his sleeves and reached into his robes, but before he could find anything, a question suddenly occurred to him: "May I ask Zhao Gaochai, who hosted this banquet and for what purpose?"

“I’m not entirely clear on the specifics,” Zhao Fengnian said, his heart pounding as he looked at Qi Biaojia’s hand that was reaching into his robes. “But I heard from Qian, the gatekeeper, that all the prominent business owners from various trades in our garrison will be there that day, and four commanders from the temporary garrison will also be present.”

Qi Biaojia nodded, having a general idea of ​​what was going on. He took out a small piece of loose silver weighing about one qian from his pocket and handed it to Zhao Fengnian: "You must be tired from your journey, Gao Cha. This is just a small token of my appreciation."

Zhao Fengnian's eyes lit up instantly. This time, he didn't refuse and directly accepted the silver. He then bowed several times to Qi Biaojia, saying, "Thank you, Master Qi! Thank you, Master Qi! I will go back and report now!"

Qi Biaojia waved his hand, said nothing more, and turned to walk towards the stairs. Chen San'er, carrying a book basket, followed closely behind him, and the two figures quickly disappeared around the corner of the stairs.

Instead of immediately returning to report as he had promised, Zhao Fengnian went back to his seat and continued eating the remaining meat in his bowl. A while later, the peddler who had entered the shop earlier finally finished the last mouthful of meat noodles. He then shoveled the salted beans from his plate into his mouth and chewed them quickly with the remaining liquor. He put down his chopsticks and shouted to Ah Zhu, "Waiter, the bill!"

"Coming right up!" Ah Zhu ran over quickly, and without even looking at the bill, he announced, "Sir, the shredded pork noodles are seven coins, the stir-fried vegetables are four coins, the liquor is five coins, and the salted beans are two coins, for a total of eighteen coins."

The peddler took out a cloth bag from his pocket, carefully opened it, and handed five coins to Ah Zhu. Ah Zhu took the money, smiled, and said, "Take care, sir, come again next time!"

The peddler grunted in agreement, slung his basket over his shoulder, put his straw hat on his head, and stepped out of the Pillow Moon Pavilion.

The city gates were still open, but dusk was already falling. The last rays of the setting sun cast long shadows of the peddler on the still muddy dirt road. He walked towards the east of the city, the silk sachet on his back swaying gently with each step.

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As darkness fell, fewer and fewer pedestrians appeared on the streets. Peddlers moved about, and occasionally, the sounds of women calling their children home could be heard from the alleyways. The calls mingled with the evening breeze, swirling the rising smoke from countless homes into a thin mist.

After walking for about 15 minutes, the peddler finally stopped near the canal wharf, in front of a brokerage firm called "Shuntong".

Two oil-paper lanterns hung at the entrance of the brokerage firm, and in the light, one could vaguely see two gods of wealth pasted on the door panel—Marshal Zhao Gongming and Emperor Guan Sheng.

The peddler pushed open the door and entered a small main room. Inside were several long benches and two square tables. An oil lamp was lit on one of the tables, and a man dressed in short clothes was hunched over it doing accounts. Seeing the peddler enter, he immediately put down his pen and went to greet him, his face showing some surprise: "Why are you back?"

"The errand is done," the peddler put his basket on the ground and dusted himself off. "Of course I have to come back to report."

"Report the results? So quickly?" The man was even more surprised, lowering his voice to ask, "You've investigated everything? Nothing went wrong, right?"

The peddler waved his hand, pulled up a chair, sat down, picked up the iced tea on the table, and took a sip: "It can't be explained in a few words; I have to talk to the person in charge in person. Where is he?"

"He's talking business with someone in the backyard." The man pointed towards the backyard, then dragged a wooden stool over from the corner of the wall. "You can sit here and wait a while. By the way, have you eaten yet? There's still a fire in the stove. If you haven't eaten, I'll ask Old Li to cook you a bowl of noodles."

"I've eaten." The peddler waved his hand and sat down, his gaze sweeping over the ledger on the table before finally settling on the door leading to the backyard: "The business you were talking about earlier, was it business outside, or business upstairs?"

“It’s outside.” The man sat back down and continued flipping through the ledger. “A silk and cloth shop wants to rent a large warehouse over at the dock to store the silk they bring in from the south. I took them to see the place this afternoon, and they’re negotiating the rent right now. I think they’ll finish the negotiation soon.”

The peddler nodded, then, remembering his earlier doubts, couldn't help but ask, "Speaking of which, who exactly are you doing this business for? Like the rent for this warehouse, after it's properly collected, do you keep it directly for yourself like I do, or do you have to pay it to higher authorities?"

Upon hearing this, the man looked around to make sure no outsiders were coming or going before lowering his voice and saying, "It should be handed over. After all, the shop of this brokerage firm and the warehouse at the dock were all provided by the higher-ups." He tugged at his gray short jacket. "Even our wages are paid through the accounts of the higher-ups, just like normal shops outside."

"Then who gets the profits?" the peddler asked again. "The factory?"

The man shrugged, a look of bewilderment on his face. "I don't know. I'm just a shopkeeper, how could I know so much? If you want to know, ask the manager later, he might know." With that, the man picked up his abacus again and began to calculate rapidly, seemingly unwilling to continue the topic.

The peddler opened his mouth, wanting to ask again about the relationship between the "factory" and the brokerage, but just then, he heard footsteps approaching from the backyard, accompanied by voices. He immediately shut his mouth and subconsciously hunched his back slightly.

Soon, General Chen, who had changed into a blue long gown, came out from the backyard. Behind him was a merchant dressed in silk. The two were talking and laughing, and it seemed that the business deal was going very well.

General Chen glanced at the peddler sitting in the room, his eyes flickered slightly, and then he cupped his hands to the merchant: "Master Wang, the warehouse matter is settled then. I will have someone send the contract over tomorrow. You can rest assured to transport the goods over."

"Thank you, Chen Ya Shang," Wang Dongzhu quickly returned the greeting. "I'll head back to the inn now. We can discuss the details tomorrow. Farewell."

"Goodbye!" General Chen bowed again.

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Not long after Wang Dongzhu left, the sound of wheels rolling could be heard outside the door. The sound of wheels gradually faded into the distance, and only the occasional soft clinking of abacus beads remained inside the brokerage.

Before speaking, Commander Chen walked to the door, gently closed the two wooden doors, carefully checked the latches, and made sure they were secure before turning around and nodding to the peddler: "Old Lü, come with me to the backyard."

Old Lü was somewhat displeased by Chen Zongqi's imperious attitude and couldn't help but mutter to himself: just two or three months ago, they were both ordinary agents under the Eastern Depot, squatting on street corners and keeping watch together, their statuses not much different. But now, this Chen Erdanzi not only had the title of "Zongqi" (chief officer), but also managed such a large brokerage firm. He wore a blue long gown, and his demeanor when negotiating business with merchants was exactly that of a brokerage lord.

Thinking of this, an inexplicable surge of jealousy welled up inside me, and it felt like a thorn was stuck in my throat.

“Chief Chen,” Old Lu deliberately slowed down a couple of steps, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm, “you’re really starting to look more and more like a proper broker now.”

General Chen seemed oblivious to the barb in his words, and simply replied, "If you don't act convincingly, how can you fool people? If this brokerage firm looked strange, it would have been spotted long ago."

General Chen pushed open the door to a room in the backyard. An oil lamp was still lit inside, and in the dim light, he could see an eight-immortal table against the wall, with two unfinished teacups on it, the tea still steaming slightly. This was the place where he had just discussed business with Boss Wang.

Commander Chen walked straight to the main seat on the left and sat down, picking up his cup of cold tea and taking a sip. Old Lü hesitated at the door, his gaze sweeping over the chair on the right where Boss Wang had previously sat, but ultimately didn't dare to sit down. Commander Chen now held a proper official title; he was merely a errand boy, and rules still applied. So he moved along the wall and sat down in the corner guest seat, placing his basket beside him with a slight clatter.

(End of this chapter)