Chapter 18: Principal and Interest

Chapter 18: Principal and Interest

Xianjin, as she had promised, spent five consecutive days in the private room on the second floor of Changqiao Hall.

On the first day, only one person came, from a restaurant in Jing County known as "Little Rice Fragrance," with a receipt bearing the flamboyant signature of Zhu Ganglie.

Xianjin: ...

She was truly adept at predicting the future.

"Steward Zhu drank three times at our place, totaling two strings of cash in credit. The people from Chen Ji Paper Shop have never been ones to dodge their debts; we've never pushed for payment..."

The visitor was no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, a pale-faced young man, timid. "But my father fell ill the other day, and the restaurant couldn't operate. My mother rummaged through everything and found this receipt..."

What a tragedy.

It was truly a tragedy!

Xianjin's face turned cold, stiff like a washboard. She took the receipt from the boy's hands, calculated the interest at two points per month for high-interest loans, signed the document, and handed it to Auntie Zhang. Auntie Zhang fetched a small scale and weighed out the silver pieces, which she then presented to the boy with both hands.

"Hurry and get a doctor for your father and buy medicine."

Xianjin spoke sincerely. "I'm sorry, we're late."

The boy's eyes reddened. With one hand, he took the silver pieces, and with the other, he handed the receipt to Xianjin.

With the successful case of "Little Rice Fragrance" preceding it, the number of visitors increased over the next two days. There were local merchants in Jing County whose bills had been unpaid by Chen Ji, unlucky buyers who had pre-ordered paper but were endlessly delayed, and even more who had ordered top-grade products but received subpar quality...

As long as they had genuine receipts, all were paid!

If the buyers felt that the goods did not match the description, please bring back the remaining paper, and the full amount would be refunded immediately; if the paper had already been used up, simply present the purchase receipt, and Auntie Zhang would be sent back to the shop to fetch an equal quantity of paper of the same quality!

In this era, those who could afford Chen Ji's products wouldn't cheat you out of two sheets of paper.

If someone was willing to come and complain, wanting an exchange, it meant they still had a sliver of trust in your brand.

Those who were truly disappointed would blacklist you, never pulling out a single copper coin from their pockets again.

This was Jing County!

A ten-li-long street with eight paper-making businesses.

It was just that the Chen family started early, Old Lady Qu had guts, and she expanded several shops rapidly at the cost of leaving almost no ready cash in her accounts. Coupled with the favorable winds from the Chen family's elder master, her business was larger than those small workshops.

If one were to say there was a significant difference in the quality of the paper, it wasn't that big of a deal.

The goods that truly showed the Chen family's superior paper-making skills were beyond the reach of ordinary people.

Selling goods was always like this: the top of the pyramid was bought by the elite, rarely entering the market; the bottom was about making a modest profit from high volume sales; the middle was where the strongest profits and return on investment lay, and it was fiercely contested.

Moreover, the Chen family sold paper.

In this era, who needed paper?

Scholars.

Those who could afford to educate scholars had at least some surplus grain at home.

That was the middle of the market.

Judging from the situation over these five days, the Chen family was almost offending the entire middle market with their inferior products!

Not to mention the entrance to the market—the suppliers of raw materials. The stack of unpaid bills, roughly added up, amounted to over five hundred taels, with the longest overdue being a full three years! The smallest was merely two taels!

Two taels!

You dare delay payment on two taels!

Why don't you just die! Wretched capitalism!

Xianjin and Steward Dong cleared the day's accounts until dawn every day, continuing the next day with dark circles under their eyes, counting and settling accounts. The silver in the tray gradually dwindled.

Steward Dong didn't know how to work an abacus, fiddling with those twenty pitiful little sticks here and there, his brows furrowed as he lamented to Xianjin, "...eight hundred taels, pay six workshop workers one hundred taels, pay outstanding debts six hundred thirty-one taels and eight coppers, pay refunds one hundred forty-five taels and one copper, leaving...leaving..."

Xianjin leaned back, listless. "It's negative seventy-six taels and nine coppers."

This money came from the ready cash in the workshop's account.

These past few nights, after finishing work at dawn, Xianjin returned to the shop to tidy up the ready cash on the books.

She had never seen such a pitiful account.

A store with seven or eight employees had only seventy-eight taels in its account.

After filling the gap at Changqiao Hall, Chen Ji Paper Shop, a private enterprise that had thrived for thirty years in Jing County, stepped out of the town into the city, and was known alongside Qingcheng Academy as the twin beauties of Jing County, currently had only one tael and one copper in ready cash.

Quite auspicious.

Xianjin seriously doubted that the neighboring wonton shop had less ready cash than this.

How much was one tael and one copper? Seven hundred and seventy yuan.

Steward Dong was nearly laughing in frustration, his eyes drooping down and his mouth curling up. "In about ten days, it will be the first month of the year. Annual taxes, red envelopes for New Year's Eve, rent for the house next year, the annual replacement of the pounding equipment and plantain fiber...a rough calculation shows that at least several hundred taels will be needed..."

The residence of Chen Ji Paper Shop was actually rented?

This was Chen Ji's headquarters?

The Chen family hadn't bought their old base?

Xianjin raised her eyebrows.

Steward Dong, perceptive of Xianjin's changing expressions, maintained his bitter smile and subtly remarked, "…that shop is the private property of the government office; it cannot be bought or sold."

Xianjin: Oh.

A different form of tax.

Only this "tax" directly benefits the officials of the local government office.

It had to be paid.

Merchants needed to be sensible not to be exploited.

Xianjin furrowed her brows, flipping the abacus upright, causing the beads to clatter down one by one. She then turned the abacus in another direction, the beads slamming against the opposite side with a similar sound.

Oddly enough, the noise was rather stress-relieving.

Steward Dong was subdued. "Don't worry too much. The matriarch wouldn't have placed Third Master in Jing County only to push him into a corner… It's just a matter of a few hundred taels of silver. Have Third Master write a letter home, soften his stance as mother and son, how much money could he not secure?"

Xianjin shook her head. "I wasn't thinking about that."

"What were you pondering then?" Steward Dong asked.

Xianjin smiled, laying the abacus flat, finally placing the beads where they belonged.

"I was considering how much I should extort."

-----

One of the "two fools" mentioned by Chen Fu, Zhu Ergu, was pacing back and forth in his spacious and well-lit two-compound courtyard, unable to shake off his anxiety. Every now and then, he would summon a servant to inquire, and after waiting for a long time, he finally saw Mr. Chen Liu enter through the main gate with a sullen face, hunched over.

Zhu Ganglie hurried to meet him, tears streaming before he even spoke. "That pig…"

Recalling the tip of the pen pressed against his throat a few days ago.

"That burden went too far!"

Zhu Ganglie cried as he pulled out a slip of paper from his hand. "Tuesday Dog delivered this this morning. Please take a look!"

Mr. Chen Liu took the slip and squinted his eyes.

On the slip, it read:

"According to Great Wei law, those who embezzle or illegally occupy private property shall receive fifty strokes and serve thirty years in prison."

There were words on the back of the paper.

Mr. Chen Liu flipped it over.

"One thousand taels of silver within three days can buy fifty strokes and thirty years in prison; the price rises to one thousand two hundred taels within five days; if no silver is seen after five days, we will meet you in prison."

Fifty strokes…

He'd be dead already!

Forget meeting in prison, let's make an appointment at the mass grave!

Zhu Ganglie sobbed, "Mr. Chen Liu, should I run? Where would I find one thousand taels! Even if I sell this house and myself, I couldn't gather that much money!"

Run?

What good would running do!

Great Wei had strict population control measures. Ten households formed a neighborhood, and entering or leaving the city gates required a travel permit. Additionally, a certificate from one's trade guild, family, or neighborhood chief was necessary for passage.

This one thousand taels, combined with the eight hundred taels they had previously paid, was precisely the amount of private funds they had withdrawn from the shop over the past five to six years, plus interest at two points.