Chapter 14: Planned Economy and Market Economy
Chapter 14: Planned Economy and Market Economy
Yang Xin and Huang Ying, one behind the other, slowly navigated the sampan through the reeds. Huang Zhen vigilantly scanned their surroundings.
All three remained silent.
This was a business punishable by beheading…
Well, for Yang Xin, it did not matter. Smuggling illicit salt meant getting a noose once. He already had one hanging over his head; he did not mind another. As for Huang Zhen and his daughter, they probably already had many nooses. No wonder neither Huang Zhen nor Huang Ying cared about his status as a fugitive convict on death row. That minor trouble was indeed something illicit salt smugglers could dismiss. It also explained why Huang Zhen welcomed him so warmly. For a salt smuggler, a fugitive death row convict was undoubtedly the best employee. Combined with his fighting ability, he was a treasure.
Yang Xin looked at Huang Ying’s sexy little back with a complicated expression.
Her father was ruthless.
He brought his daughter along to smuggle salt, not caring if one day they were caught and hanged. His son, however, was sent to relatives to study and take the Xiucai exam. The gap was huge. Yet Huang Ying seemed to accept this as natural, living this life with her head on the line, striving only to support her brother’s studies for the Xiucai exam.
This was a traditional woman!
Traditional women were good!
Huang Ying ahead uncomfortably twisted her slender waist; clearly, she knew what Yang Xin was doing behind her.
At that moment, the sampan quietly turned into a water lane framed by reeds. A small sandbar appeared ahead, where a stilted thatched hut stood as if on a deserted island, but it was shaking rhythmically. On the sand in front of the hut, a naked little girl was happily building a sandcastle. Seeing them, she cheered and immediately jumped into the water, swimming to the boat like a little frog.
“Sister Yingzi!”
She looked up at Huang Ying and said.
Huang Ying smiled and took out a packet of white sugar wrapped in oiled paper, handing it to her.
This item was not very expensive in the Great Ming Dynasty, at least not a luxury. Commoners could afford it. At current prices, one jin cost about six fen of silver, equivalent to over seven jin of good flour. However, in this era, flour was more expensive than rice. One jin of flour cost eight li, while rice was much cheaper. Even premium rice was only a little over seven qian per dan, equivalent to about four and a half li per jin. Of course, rice prices varied greatly by region. In Guangzhou, one dou of rice cost twenty wen, just over one qian of silver. At this time, one tael of silver could be exchanged for over one thousand five hundred wen. Wanli Tongbao coins weighed four grams, and one jin of copper was worth nine fen and four li of silver.
But rice prices in Liaodong had already reached over two taels.
However, eight li was the price of flour.
At this time, premium white flour included too much labor cost, making wheat cheaper than rice.
“Boss Huang, this brother looks unfamiliar!”
A burly man, draped in a tattered jacket, spoke as he jumped out of the hut. Behind the grass curtain, a woman could vaguely be seen putting on clothes.
Huang Ying quickly turned her head.
Then she saw Yang Xin’s knowing smile.
Her face reddened even more.
“Hurry up with the business!”
Huang Zhen said helplessly to the man.
The latter shouted into the hut, then jumped onto his own sampan. The little girl, holding the sugar, quickly returned to the beach and scurried to the hut, climbing up like a monkey.
“The sky as a blanket, the earth as a bed. This uncle lives freely!”
Yang Xin remarked.
“Uh, I’m actually just poor!”
The man replied, taken aback.
“Young sir, are you literate?”
He then asked.
“I can recognize about eighty to ninety percent of characters, but I can write even fewer!”
Yang Xin answered.
Reading traditional characters was not too difficult; at least most could be guessed. But writing them was truly hard. In fact, not just traditional characters—even simplified ones were largely forgotten due to typing. At least, the stroke order required thought.
“That’s still impressive!”
The man said.
“I am Yang Xin!”
Yang Xin said, cupping his hands in greeting.
“Miao Er. I’m not much older than you. We can address each other as brothers!”
Miao Er said.
As they spoke, the two sampans continued one after the other through the reed marshes. Soon, the outside brightened, and smoke filled the sky. When they turned a corner, the salty smell of the sea breeze hit their faces. On the vast, gentle coastal mudflats, sections of seawater enclosed like fields were exposed to the sun. Among these salt fields stood dilapidated thatched huts, almost all with chimneys smoking. Between the huts and salt fields, salt-boiling households busily worked. In some salt fields that were almost dried, men, women, old, and young scraped grayish plant ash with salt crystals from the hardened ground. Other salt-boiling households, having scraped the ash, poured it into stone containers, added sun-dried seawater again, letting the salt crystals dissolve into concentrated brine that dripped down. This brine was then further filtered.
After filtering, it was sent to those thatched huts for the final salt-boiling process.
This was salt production by sun exposure.
To be precise, it was half sun exposure and half boiling.
“Why not just use sun exposure?”
Yang Xin asked, puzzled.
“There is that method. It just started in Cangzhou, but not many know it. Most still use this old method. That kind of salt field needs separate construction. The Lianghuai region uses more sun exposure!”
Huang Zhen said.
“These salt-boiling households are not much better off than trackers!”
Yang Xin remarked.
The busy salt-boiling households looked disheveled under the scorching sun, with salt crystals like snow in their hair and beards. Most wore only a simple loincloth, their bodies tanned black and cracked. Many bore various scars. Concentrated brine harmed their bodies too; seawater contained more than just sodium chloride. While producing salt, all sorts of impurities were concentrated.
And they were all skinny.
If trackers were merely mechanically exhausted, salt-boiling households endured both exhaustion and corrosion.
Trackers were like walking corpses.
And they were like a group of walking corpses slowly corroding!
“The most suffering among commoners are the salt-boiling households!”
Huang Zhen said.
Yang Xin turned to look at him.
“I didn’t say that; it was an official of the court who once said it.
Actually, during the Hongwu era of Emperor Taizu, salt-boiling households lived their best days. Back then, they received grain for their labor for producing salt, one dan per certificate, and were exempt from all taxes and corvée. For boiling salt, the government allocated them designated grassland, which they could reclaim themselves. Salt fields had official granaries with stored grain year-round to support salt-boiling households. Even merchants collecting salt had to pay extra silver to the salt field for relief. Salt-boiling households who committed crimes received reduced sentences; even those deserving hanging were only caned.
The only prohibition was privately selling surplus salt.
After completing the court’s quota, any extra salt produced had to be given to the salt field, still receiving grain for labor based on the amount, not allowed for private sale.”
Huang Zhen said.
“So, it was like state-owned salt field employees?”
Yang Xin said.
“You could say that. Salt-boiling households only needed to produce salt. The salt they made was handed over to the official granaries. Typically, there were two types of granaries. Salt merchants with salt certificates went to the regular granary to collect salt directly. Their salt certificates were obtained by exchanging grain at border garrisons, ensuring the garrisons had no grain shortage. Salt-boiling households did not sell salt. They just produced salt and handed it over to officials, receiving grain from the official granaries. They could also reclaim land for farming or fish, but only after completing their quota. After that, they were free. Willing to continue producing salt meant handing over surplus salt to the official granaries for grain; unwilling meant farming or fishing.”
Huang Zhen said.
“And now?”
Yang Xin asked.
“It’s all about silver now. The salt laws changed repeatedly over two hundred years, each time harming salt-boiling households. By the forty-fifth year of Wanli, the gang salt system was implemented. Salt merchants with certificates collected salt from salt-boiling households. Salt-boiling households sold salt themselves for silver, then used silver to buy grain. The original quota salt was changed to paying silver as compensation. Those with other livelihoods fared better; those without, relying solely on selling salt to buy rice, had no bargaining power with salt merchants. When officials arrived with shackles to collect the quota silver, did they have any choice?
In short, the fate of salt-boiling households was left to heaven.”
Huang Zhen said.
“This is the market economy!”
Yang Xin said with a smile.
“Hmm, that term is quite fitting. Everything based on market economy, but in essence, it’s an economy of unscrupulous merchants and corrupt officials. From salt-boiling households, one tael of silver could buy over a thousand jin, but by the Capital City, it was five li per jin—a fivefold increase in less than four hundred li. And this was with convenient waterways near the Capital City, buying from salt fields with good water transport. In remote salt fields, one tael could buy nearly two thousand jin, and inland areas with poor waterways could see a tenfold increase over four hundred li.
Do you know how much the price of official salt could increase when Huaizhou salt reached Huguang?
Sixty times.
Huaizhou salt costing one tael per thousand jin at the salt field could sell for up to six fen per jin in Huguang.
And they could mix in up to thirty percent sand.
But without this, we wouldn’t have this path to wealth. They increase prices five, ten, sixty times; we only need to increase three to four times, and we don’t mix sand! If it were all like in Taizu’s time, with both quota and surplus salt going to official granaries, and salt-boiling households living well by handing over salt, who would risk beheading to sell salt to us? The market economy is good; the market economy gives us a chance. Without it, we’d have nothing!”
Huang Zhen said.
“What if caught?”
Yang Xin asked.
“Caught? By whom? From Tianjin to Yuanjiakou, every checkpoint along the way knows I’m a salt smuggler, but no one will catch me. Just give them benefits. I transport salt to places where official salt costs ten times more, sell it for four times more, use one portion for bribes, and still profit twofold. In the Great Ming, at least seventy percent of salt is illicit salt. Salt merchants with certificates smuggle salt; local gentry smuggle salt; even officials under the salt Censor smuggle salt. My small boat is nothing. Lianghuai salt smugglers form fleets of hundreds of boats like a navy to rush checkpoints; the court’s soldiers dare not stop them. Remember, the government doesn’t need attention. With silver, the path is clear. In the Great Ming, there is no road silver cannot open.
But beware of competitors. Competitors are the real enemies.
What is smuggling?
Smuggling means lawlessness!”
Huang Zhen said, patting Yang Xin’s shoulder.
At that moment, Miao Er had already gone ashore. He was actually the contact person for this salt-boiling household village. Although salt-boiling households were not afraid of salt field officials knowing—they also had to bribe them—such matters were not aboveboard. For smuggling, a guide or contact was essential; such a person was called a lead.
Miao Er’s role was to guide.
His broken hut was located at the throat of this waterway. However, Huang Zhen was a regular customer, so it wasn’t too troublesome.
Newcomer merchants didn’t have it so easy.