Chapter 28

Chapter 28

"This... if you hire them, will they actually be useful?" Zhu Mingli is a young lady. Even though she runs a well-known pastry shop, they figured she just messed around with recipes, looking for approval before selling her goods—not like she was trying to make a buck—more like a hobby.

They couldn't grasp Zhu Mingli's ambition, yet they still acknowledged her kindness: "Nice words aren't as good as a nice heart; short-term gains aren't as wide-ranging as long-term benefits. To think of disabled soldiers and the families of fallen soldiers is truly not easy. Having such a heart is an act of benevolence."

Zhu Mingli was a bit surprised. She'd expected them to bring up profit, taxes, supervision, and the like, but their reaction made it clear they saw what she was doing as a small, sweet charity project.

"Disabled people can still work, but because of how they look, hardly anyone's willing to hire them," Zhu Mingli explained. "The elderly, weak, women, and children face similar fates. Even an elderly woman with failing eyesight will do washing and needlework to survive (like that old lady who wrecked her eyes today); young girls may seem frail, but noble households are full of young maidservants—they're not weak or useless—they just don't have a way to make a living." In modern factories, women workers are everywhere. Heck, back in the last century, the Northeast was practically run by women workers.

If women are supposed to farm, cook, clean, and take care of the whole family, why are they seen as useless when it comes to "labor"?

When she said this, Yan Hongzheng sat up straight, the alcohol wearing off, looking at her with surprise.

Cui Jingzhao's already grim face got even darker.

The Capital Governor—he is responsible for the livelihood of the people in the capital region. But even in modern times, poverty alleviation remains a tough battle, let alone now. The famine years had not long passed, and the shock of the refugees was just starting to fade. To care for even more impoverished people, he didn't have the energy or the resources.

In theory, the court should be looking after these disabled soldiers and the families of the fallen, but they're not covered by the usual relief programs. Providing three years of grain and cloth to the families of the fallen is already considered generous. What happens to them afterward is beyond reach, as the lives of the common people are always extremely difficult. The military camps could usually stick them in farming, government workshops, or weapon factories, but in the capital region, such positions are hard to find.

On these issues, great families would show benevolence and act together with the court. For instance, when refugees reached the outskirts of the capital, wealthy families would distribute grain for relief. Even kinder families, like the Zhu family, would take in the displaced. As for compensating and comforting the disabled or the dead, military commanders would also offer help, such as the Shen family, a meritorious noble clan.

"It's great that you want to do good, but you need a plan." Cui Jingzhao pondered for a moment before speaking first. "First, if you hire skilled workers who aren't your servants, how are you gonna manage them? Second, are you gonna pay them by the day, by the month, or by the piece?"

Those are the rules in government workshops, where the craftsmen—free or indentured—actually know their stuff. The law even specifies apprenticeship periods, quarterly skill assessments, and annual examinations by supervisors... So for Zhu Mingli to just jump into this like that—yeah, it looks like a small, half-baked idea.

Upon hearing this, Zhu Mingli put on a panicked face: "I haven't thought that deeply. For now, I'm just hiring people to help me cut bamboo and make bamboo boxes."

First she's "benevolent," then she's "frank," and now she looks confused and helpless—both Yan Hongzheng and Cui Jingzhao softened up.

Such juniors are worth their guidance. Besides, even though they weren't personally friends with Zhu Mingli's grandfather, they had read many of his poems and writings, which had this ideal of "giving shelter to all the poor scholars under heaven," something both Cui and Yan greatly admired.

Yan Hongzheng patiently explained: "If you're gonna sell what you make in the market, you gotta follow the law—no junk, no shorting people. The market officials will set a price, and you've got to pay taxes fair and square."

Zhu Mingli had already made preliminary preparations. Her workshop would start off just serving her own needs: if she needed bamboo boxes today, they would make them; if she needed clean chicken feet today, they would wash and trim them... Then, gradually, she would produce batch quantities of food, drinks, and seasonings. That'd make it a food shop, not a workshop, right? As her workforce grew, she'd slowly branch into handicrafts. By then, other people might copy her, making the road a little easier.

But faced with Yan Hongzheng's patient teaching, she just nodded and listened carefully.

Cui Jingzhao, though, was thinking ahead. If she could take in the old, the weak, women, and kids for work, he—as the local magistrate—would be all for it. So he hoped Zhu Mingli's workshop could get bigger—or even better, that the rich families in the capital would follow her lead and help the poor.

"Don't bite off more than you can chew. I live right next door to your place; if you don't understand something, come ask me." He continued from Yan Hongzheng's words: "Things like bamboo weaving and sewing—they can give those a try." Simple stuff, but someone's got to teach them. Poor folks barely getting by can't afford to buy materials to try things out, then haul them to the city to sell. Government workshops don't mess with these tiny profits, so no conflict.

Yan Hongzheng also realized this: many tasks are simple and only require strength, but the poor lack the means. A place that can organize and manage them properly would suit their livelihood and also boost tax revenue. People who get to those positions are usually all-rounders—politicians, economists, sociologists all in one. Commerce is developing rapidly, and the flourishing of private workshops is only a matter of time.

He and Cui Jingzhao exchanged a look, and they both got more interested in this. They had found a topic for their all-night debate.

With wine, snacks, and good talk—what could be better?

In a good mood, he tossed a few perks Zhu Mingli's way: "Don't be scared. Just go for it. Who's gonna blame a kind-hearted young lady for a few slip-ups? If anything comes up, don't hesitate to write to me." Zhu Mingli had money, time, and a good heart; she wanted to help the poor—nobody should get in her way.

Yan Hongzheng knocked back another cup of wine, then turned to Yan Qiniang: "Seventh Lady, keep an eye out. If you get a letter or an invite from Zhu San Niang, make sure to remind me."

He then instructed Zhu Mingli: "Once you start seeing some results with helping the poor, come tell us about it. We'll be happy to hear." This sounded more like encouragement from an elder to a younger.

Finally, he tapped the table and joked: "But when you come, you can't show up empty-handed."

Zhu Mingli smiled and played along: "Of course! I won't forget your taste buds!"

With the conversation reaching this point, the evening drums started up, a sign it was time for Zhu Mingli to go.

She stood up, and Yan Qiniang, without needing Yan Hongzheng's prompt, voluntarily saw her out.

Zhu Mingli nodded at her politely, and Yan Qiniang's usually stiff face forced a faint smile.

They walked in silence to the beat of the drums.

It was Yan Qiniang who broke the silence first: "You already had a plan. It wasn't just a small workshop making bamboo boxes." As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt it was presumptuous. Then she thought—last time it was the same. Why was it that every time she ran into Zhu San Niang, this kind of thing happened?

Before she could apologize, Zhu Mingli replied casually: "Yes. Their wages will be lower than those of workers you'd hire from an employment agency—just enough to get by. I can make a profit, increase my workforce, and they can have food to survive. Why not?"

In the midst of the evening drums, Yan Qiniang stopped in her tracks, forcing Zhu Mingli to turn back. Her previous words could be considered "outspoken." Yan Qiniang was clearly a well-read lady, and if she were old-fashioned, this profit-seeking argument might have displeased her.

But unfortunately, Yan Qiniang's expressionless face showed no emotion, and her severely nearsighted eyes revealed no change. She merely stared fixedly at Zhu Mingli, lost in thought.

Just as Zhu Mingli was about to continue walking, she finally spoke: "Government workshops are supervised by the Shaofu Jian and the Jiangzuo Jian under the Ministry of Works. The Langzhong of the Jinbu, a subordinate official of the Ministry of Revenue, oversees the markets in the two capitals, mutual trade, and state trade. But the Taifu Si also controls trade, and there are offices like the Lihou and the Pingzhun. Prefectures and counties also have officials in charge of trade—yet there is no fixed officer specifically governing private workshops. The workers or monthly hires you employ cannot be considered artisans. You've opened a crack, and there are plenty of loopholes to exploit."

Zhu Mingli was stunned.

This time, Yan Qiniang began to walk slowly ahead, leaving her standing there to recover.

"I've been at my grandfather's side since childhood. When it comes to books, I dare say nine out of ten of the capital's young men can't match me. When it comes to statecraft, from chancellors to county magistrates, I've listened to their debates from the sidelines." After this boast, her ears reddened slightly, and she finally revealed her purpose: "If you ever have something you don't understand in the future, you can drop me a note. For stuff I don't know, I'll pretend I'm debating policy and ask for you. That way, you won't have to beat around the bush like today, full of concerns."

Zhu Mingli stared above Yan Qiniang's head, wondering what kind of talent label her system would display.

Alas, the master-servant system didn't work on her.

Her motion made Yan Qiniang a little uneasy. Zhu San Niang was bold, so she followed suit. Had her earlier words been too rash and arrogant? After all, they had only met twice—why should she be trusted with her abilities?

But then Zhu Mingli said: "Alright." Crisp and decisive. "But I'm not as ambitious as you think, nor do I harbor a grand aspiration to save the world." Feudal rites and laws did interfere with and restrict merchants and craftsmen, but the lack of regulations also granted them considerable freedom. This era was more suitable for expanding business scale than in the West at the same period. However, that was far, far in the future. Her small workshop hadn't even started yet!

Yan Qiniang suddenly laughed heartily, a laugh very incongruous with her bookish temperament: "I understand."

Zhu Mingli found this young lady quite peculiar. Given that the three hundred evening drumbeats were about to end, she simply nodded to Yan Qiniang, hurriedly bid farewell, and walked away swiftly.

Yet Yan Qiniang took a few more steps, watching Zhu Mingli leave until she disappeared.

She never let go of her books, for they contained profound principles. She also enjoyed observing people—people were like books, full of mysteries and revelations. That was why she had always written notes for her grandfather.

Zhu San Niang, Mingli. Warm and lustrous as jade—benevolent; fine and dense as grain—wise... What kind of book was she?

*

To the sound of the final drumbeats, Zhu Mingli hurried back to the Shen residence.

Yang Xiniang had been waiting for her. Seeing her return, she quickly followed.

But Zhu Mingli had no arrangements to make and said, "You've had a long day. Go and rest. The workshop's hiring can wait a while; there's no hurry."

Yang Xiniang was a little tense: "Lady, I can start as soon as possible."

Zhu Mingli's steps were brisk, her skirt fluttering, her silhouette looking very spirited: "Rushing won't get things done. If you start looking for workers tomorrow, how will you sign contracts with suitable ones? After you meet a few, how will you arrange their lodging and meals? Who will assign and manage them? A steward or an estate manager won't be suitable. For now, the few people at the estate are temporarily managed by the Shen family's artisans, but we can't handle more than that."

Zhu Mingli rattled off a long list, overwhelming Yang Xiniang. She had talent in socializing and recognizing people but little experience in management.

The bottom line was still a lack of hands.

But Zhu Mingli already had a plan: "This includes you. Where you go each day, who you meet—whether they are disabled soldiers or women and children—where they can be placed and what they can do—all of this needs someone to decide. I need to find a person who can coordinate to assist you."

Yang Xiniang nodded, trying to keep up with her pace.

Back at the third branch of the mansion, the maids, having been informed by the gatekeeper, had already prepared bathwater. They thought: the lady has been busy all day; she should rest now.

Then she was about to leave, but Zhu Mingli instructed, "I will find suitable people for you as soon as possible."

The maids prepared food, change of clothes, and lit incense... Lv Qi arrived with this month's accounts, while Jiao Wei was giving pointers to her apprentice nearby.

Zhu Mingli's gaze fell on Jiao Wei. "Jiao Wei, pass the word that tomorrow all stewards and those training apprentices are to come to me for a roll call and questioning session. Anyone who has questions or ideas from recent days can prepare in advance. If any maid under your charge has performed outstandingly, report that to me as well."

The first step of the workshop had already begun, and the restaurant's plans for the Double Ninth Festival and late-night snacks had been decided—this put them two steps ahead of schedule. So now, the progress of "finding talent," "improving the comfort and efficiency of the Shen residence," "pre-holiday arrangements for major festivals," and "autumn work deployment" needed to be pushed forward.

Conveniently, these four could be handled together.

The Shen residence's first quarterly report was beginning.

Watching the mistress's seamless arrangements and effortless management, Yang Xiniang was dumbfounded.