Transmigrating to the Qi Family - Chapter 162

Failing to bring down Pei Che and instead gaining a formidable opponent, Manager Xu of the Datong Trading Firm feels deeply wounded. Originally, he plans to gradually stir up public anger, hoping it will escalate day by day—ideally to the point of causing a few starvation deaths. Then, he intends to incite the people to storm the government office.

However, the day after the rumors begin to spread, the citizens go straight to the government office. Right now, everyone still has some grain left; although they don’t dare eat too much, they aren’t starving. As a result, their anger hasn’t reached a boiling point, and Pei Che manages to pacify them with just a few words.

The timing of that merchant caravan’s return is far too convenient. Manager Xu has someone investigate and discovers that their purchase price for mountain goods is exceptionally high, while their grain prices are exceptionally low. Given this, anyone with half a brain knows which merchant to buy from.

He is so angry that his face turns blue. He never expects to be outwitted by a rookie. At first, he thinks Pei Che is just a greedy person, but he soon realizes that Pei Che has been planning to counter him from the very beginning.  In this case, don’t blame him for being cruel! 

Summoning his subordinates, Manager Xu issues a series of orders. A sinister smile spreads across his face, his expression brimming with malice. His usual demeanor of kindness and virtue is entirely absent; anyone unfamiliar with him would be shocked to see this side of him.

…

Meanwhile, Jiang Miao remains completely unaware that someone is scheming against him. He lies in bed, enjoying a massage from Pei Che.

After standing all day at the grain store, his lower back and shoulders feel a little sore. Jiang Miao sighs inwardly—it really is easy to grow accustomed to comfort and hard to return to hardship. Back when he was running a street stall, not only did he have to stand for long hours, but he also had to handle everything himself. Yet, his body never felt as uncomfortable as it does now.

Of course, maybe he did feel uncomfortable back then, but there was no one to care for him. Even if he felt unwell, he could only endure it. Now, lying next to someone who cares about him, he can’t help but want to complain a little and be doted on.

When Jiang Miao realizes his own thoughts, he feels a bit embarrassed. But he quickly brushes it off. No one is made of steel—what’s wrong with wanting a little affection? After all, he has spent most of his past and present lives alone. Now that he has someone who genuinely cares for him, why shouldn’t he act a little spoiled? They are legally married, after all!

Thinking of this, Jiang Miao immediately calls Pei Che over to massage his arms and legs as well, shamelessly taking advantage of Pei Che’s labor. Poor Pei Che, the esteemed governor, works during the day and then comes home to moonlight as a masseur at night—completely devoid of the dignity of a nobleman.

However, Pei Che knows how to claim some benefits for himself. Once Jiang Miao relaxes from the massage, Pei Che’s hands begin to wander. Jiang Miao, oblivious at first, continues instructing him, “A little lighter,” “A bit harder,” until Pei Che crosses the line. Only then does Jiang Miao realize something is amiss. But by that point, all he can do is lie in bed, shed a few indignant tears, and throw out a few scolding words—he is powerless to do anything else.

Satisfied and content, Pei Che is in a great mood. They have both been so busy lately that their married life has taken a hit. Looking affectionately at Jiang Miao, who has already fallen asleep from exhaustion, Pei Che leans down and plants a few random kisses on his face. This earns him a feeble slap, after which he cheerfully heads to the kitchen to boil some water.

By the time everything is settled, it is already late at night. Pei Che climbs into bed and falls into a deep sleep, holding his beloved close beside him.

…

“How much rice would you like to buy, sir?” the clerk at the Harvest Grain Shop asks.

The clerk finds the customer before him a bit odd. From the moment the man walks in, he keeps glancing around, as if he wants to memorize every detail of the shop’s setup. For the typical people of Cangzhou, who are perpetually short on food, their eyes usually fix solely on the shiny white rice, their desire unmistakable.

Snapped out of his daze by the clerk’s question, the man replies, “Four dou of rice.” He hands over a string of 200 coins.

Seeing nothing suspicious, the clerk counts the coins, then tells the customer to open his sack. He measures out the rice—four dou totaling fifty jin—and fills the heavy sack. The customer hefts the sack onto his back, casts one last glance around the store, and then leaves.

Not long after, other customers begin arriving, most of them also buying four dou of rice, as the shop’s sacks can hold no more than that. The clerk measures out rice for each of them, watches them leave, and then glances at the cash drawer, noticing that it contains significantly more money than it did at the same time yesterday.

As he stands there, feeling pleased, he suddenly senses someone beside him. He looks up and nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Master Jiang, you scared me to death!” he exclaims, dramatically patting his chest with an exaggerated expression of grievance.

Jiang Miao chuckles. “It’s broad daylight—how could you be scared to death? By the way, what were you grinning about just now? You didn’t even notice me come in.”

The clerk replies, “Come take a look.” He steps aside, revealing the cash drawer to Jiang Miao.

Jiang Miao leans over and follows the clerk’s gaze downward, noticing that the drawer is packed with copper coins, along with a few pieces of broken silver.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Jiang Miao stares at it for a while but can’t figure out what’s unusual.

The clerk explains, “Don’t you see how many copper coins there are today? In just an hour since we opened, we’ve already made as much as we did in half the morning yesterday. And today, every customer has been buying four dou of rice at a time.”

“That much?” Jiang Miao is a little curious. Cangzhou, with its rainy and humid climate, is unlike the drier Liangjing, even in winter. In such weather, most things in the house tend to get moldy. Although Jiang Miao and the others haven’t been living here for long, they have already had to clean their belongings several times.

Because of the climate, people here usually don’t buy large amounts of grain at once. For one, the price of grain is high, and for another, buying too much increases the risk of spoilage. Moldy rice can cause severe health issues, even death, for those with weaker constitutions. To prevent spoilage, Jiang Miao has instructed that the shop’s warehouse be filled with lime and charcoal to absorb moisture and keep the stored rice dry.

“That’s right. We’ve sold quite a lot, four dou at a time,” the clerk says, pulling out a simple ledger that Jiang Miao has provided for them. He points at the tally column.

Jiang Miao takes the ledger and sees that beneath the column for dou, there are many tally marks grouped into the shape of the character “正” (a counting method). A quick glance shows they have sold around seventy to eighty dou of rice in such a short time.

This tally method is something Jiang Miao has taught them. Since most of the clerks are only semi-literate, asking them to follow formal accounting methods would be too difficult. So, Jiang Miao designs a simple ledger with two columns per page: one for sheng (smaller units) and one for dou. For each sheng sold, they draw a single line, and after five lines form a “正” character, they move to the next one. This system is much clearer than random tally marks. At the end of the day, all the individual ledgers will be collected, consolidated into the main account book, and the total earnings calculated.

“Everyone’s buying exactly four dou?” Jiang Miao asks.

“That’s right,” the clerk replies. “Each customer leaves with a sack completely full. I think if the sacks were larger, they’d buy even more.”

Jiang Miao immediately senses something unusual. It is odd for so many people to buy the exact same amount of rice without any variation or negotiation. Setting the ledger aside, he sits down nearby, deciding to observe the situation further.

Before long, a few more customers enter. One of them requests four dou of rice in a low voice, keeping his head down and looking visibly uneasy. The clerk scrutinizes him for a moment before finally accepting the money and measuring out the rice.

Noticing the clerk’s doubtful expression, Jiang Miao walks over and inquires about it. The clerk admits that the customer seems vaguely familiar.

“He seems familiar, but also not quite,” the clerk says, sounding unsure. They deal with so many customers every day that it is impossible to remember everyone’s face. However, there is something odd about that previous customer’s behavior that strikes him as familiar. Suddenly, he smacks his forehead and exclaims, “I know where I’ve seen him! He was the first one who came to buy four dou of rice. And now he thinks I wouldn’t recognize him just because he changed clothes? Buying so much rice—could it be for a banquet?”

The clerk’s casual comment sparks Jiang Miao’s curiosity. He heads to the grain shop’s backyard and calls out to one of Pei Che’s men stationed nearby. “Could you follow that customer who just left with four dou of rice? Find out his name, where he lives, and what’s going on.”

If it really is for a banquet, why wouldn’t he bring more people to buy larger amounts? Why go to the trouble of coming multiple times and even changing clothes?

“Yes, my lord!” the man agrees promptly but adds, “Jiang Ye, you don’t need to be so polite when giving orders.” With that, he vaults over the wall and disappears.

Jiang Miao can’t help but smile wryly. With such talented individuals on his side, who wouldn’t value them? If they ever decide to quit, it would be a huge loss. 

People nowadays are so simple. Jiang Miao sighs.

But soon, he has to rethink that sentiment.

The man returns two quarter-hours later with a report: “I follow that customer to a small courtyard in the eastern part of the city. Inside, there are a few other people, and the ground is covered with sacks, which appear to be filled with the rice they bought from us.”

Jiang Miao’s expression darkens instantly. Damn it, he thinks. So, this is what’s going on—they’re middlemen! Scalpers in ancient times!

It becomes clear to him that these people are likely buying rice at a low price to resell it at a high one. While Cangzhou isn’t heavily populated, news travels quickly here. Yet, there are still remote areas where people might not know about the new grain shop. If this group transports the grain to those places, they can make an easy profit.

This clever maneuver makes Jiang Miao exclaim, “What a move!” He hadn’t expected this group of people to have such sharp business instincts. In just one day, they have already come up with the idea of reselling.

“Keep an eye on their courtyard. As soon as they move the grain, come and inform me,” Jiang Miao instructs.

After the man leaves, he goes into the shop, grabs a piece of paper, and quickly writes a few words. He then posts the notice in a prominent spot in the grain shop.

It read: Each person is limited to purchasing five sheng per day.

This purchase restriction won’t inconvenience ordinary people, but it will pose a challenge for wealthy families. However, Jiang Miao isn’t planning to cater to them anyway. The shop is meant to make things easier for the common folk. The wealthy don’t starve during good times or bad; their annual harvests are enough to last them all year. The only reason they come here is to take advantage of the lower prices.

…

“What should we do? It looks like that shop has caught on. They just posted some sort of purchasing limit notice, saying you can only buy five sheng a day.”

“Five sheng is fine. We’ll just find more people. We can still buy a lot in a day.”

“But… finding people?” The speaker hesitates, leaving the rest unsaid, though his meaning is clear.

“Fine, we’ll offer them an incentive. One wen per trip!”