Chapter 11: Sell, Sell, Sell
A “Tu Cang” is somewhat like a pawnshop in China, offering loans against collateral while also buying and selling various luxury goods, purchasing at low prices and selling at high ones, usually backed by a temple.
Indeed, lending businesses in Japan are basically run by monks, and they also possess armed forces, maintaining a large number of warrior monks who can confiscate property if someone defaults on payment. Their strength is usually greater than that of ordinary local lords, and they can sometimes even beat down Daimyo to force them to repay debts.
There were no customers in the shop. As Yuan Ye and his two companions entered the earthen floor room, the shopkeeper, with a discerning eye, looked up at him and rose to greet them, pushing aside the employee who had come to attend to them, and enthusiastically said repeatedly, “Lord, please come in, please come in!”
After speaking, he also instructed the employee to take good care of Momorokuro and Ichishiro, and to pour them water to drink.
He was experienced; people like Yuan Ye, clean-cut and respectable, likely had good items. He wanted to negotiate privately, otherwise, these people would be too embarrassed to pawn their ancestral possessions.
He invited Yuan Ye to sit on the earthen seat, poured him tea, and then asked enthusiastically, “What is this Lord’s name? Are you looking to borrow money, or to select some pleasing artifacts?”
“Yuan Ye, I’m short on cash, selling something,” Yuan Ye said, looking around the earthen seat, which was adorned with ink wash paintings and appeared quite elegant. He slowed his speech and used simple words.
“So it’s Lord Yuan Ye.” The shopkeeper recalled, but couldn’t remember a family named Yuan Ye nearby. However, it didn’t matter; if he wasn’t borrowing money, there was no need to pry. He then asked with interest, “Then, would you trouble yourself to enlighten this humble servant?”
Yuan Ye took out two hard plastic bottles from his hiking backpack, the same ones he had used earlier to hold purified water and sports drinks. He tore off the packaging paper and scraped off the production date on the cap, intending to sell them for money, making it seem like a scam.
There was no other choice. The medicine in the first aid kit was likely life-saving, and he didn’t intend to sell it unless absolutely necessary. The taser, signal flare gun, power bank, mobile phone, and flashlight couldn’t be sold. Biscuits, Snickers, seat cushions, and quick-drying clothes were unlikely to fetch a good price or be easy to sell. In the end, only these two bottles seemed capable of bringing in some money.
This was quite similar to how Western colonists sold glass beads in Africa and America, except he was doing it out of sheer necessity and was relatively conscientious; at least plastic was an absolute rarity at this time.
The shopkeeper, being in charge of a “Tu Cang” here, was naturally knowledgeable, but this was his first time seeing a plastic bottle. He held it carefully, examining it back and forth for a long time before asking Yuan Ye, “My eyesight is poor, please forgive my ignorance, but may I ask, what is this…?”
“Southern barbarian tea set,” Yuan Ye began to hawk the glass beads. “It’s probably not common in Japan; it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it’s unique.”
“The design… is quite ordinary,” the shopkeeper said noncommittally to his self-praise. He squinted, looking at the bottle repeatedly, then weighed it, and asked, “May I ask how much Lord is prepared to sell it for?”
“How much is your esteemed establishment willing to offer?”
The shopkeeper thought for a moment and then asked with a smile, “How about one koku of coins?”
This offer was abysmal, far below Yuan Ye’s expectations. He patiently began to bargain, “This is a rare and precious treasure, it should be at least fifty koku.”
If they were impolite, he would be even more so, making a huge demand.
The first sale of the most famous tea ceremony artifact in Japan, the “Kyūjūkyū-hatsu Nasubi,” only fetched ninety-nine koku. That was an antique with a clear provenance, a favorite of several Ashikaga Shoguns, immensely famous and holding a very high status in tea ceremony. Even if these two plastic bottles were novel, they shouldn’t be worth half that. However, these were industrial products from four to five hundred years in the future, and made of heat-resistant, food-grade plastic, so they should at least be worth the price of four or five packhorses.
The shopkeeper’s expression was a half-smile. He didn’t say much about Yuan Ye’s counter-offer, but instead put down the bottles, got up, and went to the back through a side door. In a moment, he returned carrying a brocade box. He carefully opened it, lifted the Ming Dynasty brocade lining inside, revealing a pale green, semi-transparent long-necked glass water pitcher and three matching glass cups. His face remained enthusiastic, and he smiled, saying, “If Lord Yuan Ye likes similar tea ware, this set of Southern barbarian items, the ‘Goose Neck Drink,’ is priced at 5 koku. I can make the decision to keep it for you, and you can pick it up when you have the funds. What do you say?”
A businessman doesn’t speak ill, but his meaning was clear: they weren’t country bumpkins. They had seen transparent bottles many times. To ask for such a price for something new – did he think they were idiots, throwing money away for something they’d never seen before?
Nowadays, Southern barbarian goods were flooding in. In places like Sakai, new products appeared every few months that no one had seen before. As long as it was something new, they had to treat it as a treasure and buy it like fools, or they would go bankrupt.
Therefore, fifty koku was absolutely impossible!
Yuan Ye had anticipated this and did not become angry.
Colored glass windows had begun to become popular in Europe as early as 1330 AD. By the 16th century, transparent glass was everywhere, and even the Ming Dynasty had imported a considerable amount. He had this historical knowledge.
Therefore, if he had traveled back to before 1300 AD, he would dare to sell these two broken bottles for a thousand taels of gold. But now, it was around 1550. Magellan had been killed in the Philippines decades ago. It was the Age of Discovery, and with the competition from glass products, his bottom line was fifteen koku. As long as he could bring his foolish son and smoothly get through this initial period of having nothing and no means of sustenance, that would be enough.
He picked up the “Goose Neck Drink” and looked at it, then smiled at the shopkeeper, “The craftsmanship is very exquisite, it’s indeed good, but glass products are not hard to find. Such lightweight and transparent Southern barbarian bottles are rare.”
After saying this, he put away the plastic bottles and prepared to leave, acting as if the other party was ignorant. He shook his head and said, “If we can’t reach an agreement, then so be it. Shopkeeper, until next time.”
“Lord Yuan Ye, why the hurry? Please have a cup of tea first.”
The shopkeeper was no longer calm. Although the design of these two bottles was not good—in Japan at this time, the “light, sharp, and eccentric” style was popular, including for tea ware; the more twisted and strange the style, the better. In any case, it had to clash with the traditional Confucian ritual vessel style, be different, have character, be bizarre, have incomprehensible patterns, exude mystery and madness, be a bit Cthulhu-esque. Therefore, Southern barbarian items were very popular in Japan during this era.
So, although these two bottles had a too-rigid design that didn’t fit the current fashion trends and were hard on the eyes, their material was excellent. They were as transparent as glass but felt almost weightless in the hand, and were slightly soft when squeezed. They were indeed quite rare items. At least in transit hubs for Southern barbarian goods like Sakai, he had never seen or heard of them.
Originally, he had intended to use the “Goose Neck Drink” to provoke the other party. If the other party was more thin-skinned, more naive, and felt ashamed, perhaps the pricing power would fall into his hands, and he could get them for a great bargain, three to five koku. Then he could take them to Sakai or Kyoto, find a celebrity to show them off at a tea party, hype them up, and easily sell them for dozens of koku, making a huge profit.
But the other party was clearly experienced, thick-skinned, and resolute, not a prodigal son who didn’t understand the hardships of the world and was easily swayed. So, they would have to negotiate slowly.
Striving to acquire them for under fifteen koku should yield a good profit. In any case, he couldn’t let his competitors make this money!
