Chapter 26: The Power of Money Moves Even Spirits and Gods

Just like Fan Kaishan and Ye Zhi, many believed it was utterly impossible to complete all the works within three months. Even Ye Dan, after attending to other affairs and hearing Ye Chang mention it, could not help clicking his tongue in disbelief.

“Eleventh Young Master, building houses, constructing bridges, and paving roads are matters of utmost caution. To accomplish all in three months is near impossible. Unless you can summon the arts of the immortals—but to employ such powers for these mundane tasks would be a waste…”

“Great Uncle, have you forgotten how I diverted the rainbow canal? You all thought it would take a month to complete, yet I finished it in just three days.”

“That was a clever trick…”

“This too can be done with a clever trick,” Ye Chang replied with a sly smile.

“Then tell us how you plan to do it,” Ye Dan said with interest. “Let the old man learn a thing or two from you.”

“It’s still about dividing into groups and sections, balancing everything as a whole,” Ye Chang explained. “But first, we burn the fields. This year’s drought makes burning dangerous, so it must be carefully arranged. Great Uncle, look at this map—I’ve divided it into fifteen sections, and all those willing to help are grouped accordingly.”

There were fifteen groups, each with ten able-bodied men—one hundred and fifty in all. In addition, twice as many women, elders, and children were organized into another fifteen groups. Ye Chang had arranged for everyone in Wuze Pond who was willing to help to be included. That made thirty groups in total, each with its own leader. Ye Chang also selected five reliable men as overseers, responsible for inspecting the quality of each group’s work to prevent errors. He then announced rewards: every able-bodied man would earn three copper coins per day; able-bodied women and men over fifty would earn two; all others would receive one. Every seven days, progress would be evaluated, and the top three groups would earn an extra day’s wages, while the bottom three would lose a day’s pay.

With this, the funding for the project increased substantially, with more than one string of cash spent daily—not including the cost of materials. Ye Dan immediately objected, knowing full well that Ye Chang’s family could not support such expenditures.

“Don’t worry, Great Uncle. Someone will bring the money,” Ye Chang replied confidently.

“Who would simply give you money for nothing?” Ye Dan shook his head. “Eleventh Young Master, I know you have talent, but money cannot be squandered—”

“There will be someone, as agreed,” Ye Chang said with assurance.

No sooner had he spoken than someone called from outside, “Ye Eleven, Eleventh Young Master of the Ye family?”

“Coming, coming!” Chunming hurried to open the door. It was quickly opened, and in came Qin Qinshou and Lin Xicheng, leading a sturdy but docile horse.

“Manager Qin, you’re here so soon!” Ye Chang rose to greet him.

“How could I not hurry? The other day, you gave me three days to find the funds, promising that if I was late, you’d seek another partner,” Qin Qinshou said with a troubled sigh. “Do you know how difficult it is to raise fifty strings of cash in three days?”

“I appreciate your effort. My matter is indeed urgent,” Ye Chang laughed heartily.

Before they had visited the county seat to see the constable, Ye Chang had detoured to the market and told Qin Qinshou he had a lucrative idea, and if Qin could bring fifty strings of cash within three days, he would share it.

Had anyone else said this, Qin would have taken it as a joke, perhaps even had Lin Xicheng beat the speaker. But this was Ye Chang, whose abilities were already worth much more than fifty strings. Even so, it was a tall order, so Ye Chang gave him three days.

Ye Chang was confident that during those three days, Qin would inquire about his recent activities.

“I heard you managed to invite the Bodhisattva to judge a case—truly admirable,” Qin said after some polite words. “The affair of the Bodhisattva’s judgment at Shifang Temple is known throughout the county. Your fame, Eleventh Young Master, now rings like thunder.”

Had it not been for this, Qin would not have decided so quickly. The “Bodhisattva’s Judgment” was the key event that prompted him to bring the fifty strings. Ye Chang had foreseen this. With his experience in market dynamics, he knew the power of momentum and influence. The immortal’s guidance, the rainbow canal, and the Bodhisattva’s judgment were all about creating a stir. Befriending the constable Yuan Gonglu was about leveraging power. In this small county, Ye Chang had already amassed considerable influence, and Qin, a shrewd businessman, knew investing in Ye Chang was a sound bet.

“These fifty strings were not easily gathered—I nearly emptied my coffers. If your idea doesn’t work, Ye Chang, I’ll be coming for you,” Qin joked.

Ye Chang casually handed him a folding fan. “Take this to Yangzhou, Chang’an, and Luoyang—fifty strings are nothing.”

Qin took the fan, only to be startled. Yuan Gonglu and Qian Qi might have noticed that the fan was somewhat crude, with brushwork and calligraphy carrying the air of a craftsman, but Qin did not see that. What he did see was the immense reaction such an item would elicit among the scholars.

Scholars prized elegance, and most who could study and attain rank had some wealth. If one became a presented scholar, one’s fortune was assured. The saying of “catching a son-in-law at the examination halls” was a Song Dynasty anecdote, but in the Tang, prominent families were likewise eager to forge ties with new scholars.

For them, using such a fan to display their refinement was only natural.

“This…”

“I’ll teach you further. Hire skilled craftsmen to make five hundred fans. Distribute a hundred and fifty to the successful candidates and classical scholars for free. Sell the remaining three hundred and fifty for at least five strings each. Then make another fifteen hundred, to be sold after the first batch at one string each—they needn’t be as fine. When imitations appear on the market, lower the price to sell off the rest…” Ye Chang continued instructing him.

This segmentation considered advertising, scarcity marketing, and price undercutting to defeat rivals. Common in later times, but in the Tang, no one had yet combined these methods. Qin stood dumbfounded, forgetting to breathe, his face turning red as he finally recovered.

He was shrewd enough to know the cost of a fan was almost nothing—perhaps not even a single copper. Yet it could be sold for five strings?

“Of course, if your first five hundred fans are made with jade frames and the finest Xuan paper, they could fetch ten strings each,” Ye Chang explained.

“I understand…” Qin’s voice was hoarse, his mouth dry. He nodded, signifying complete comprehension. Then, bowing low, he said, “All my life, I thought I knew the art of buying low and selling high. Today, I realize I was but a frog at the bottom of a well. Meeting with immortals, it must be true for you, Young Master Ye!”

Qin was truly convinced. He believed Ye Chang must have encountered an immortal; how else could a country youth not only invent the folding fan but also possess such business acumen?

He knew Ye Chang’s plan would succeed—and not merely succeed, but yield astonishing results. By Ye Chang’s calculations, the first batch could earn one thousand seven hundred and fifty strings, the second another fifteen hundred. After costs, the Qin family would net at least three thousand strings in profit.

Even if not seeking enormous profit, simply selling paper fans with bamboo frames would provide a stable income from the family’s bamboo groves—one or two hundred strings a year would be a significant gain.

“Is it worth fifty strings?” Ye Chang asked with a smile.

“It’s worth five hundred!” Qin replied solemnly. “I am but a minor figure in my clan; fifty strings is my limit. But with your guidance, I can see this through. When it’s done, there will be a greater reward for you!”

“We’ll see,” Ye Chang waved him off. “No time to waste; I’m busy, and I’m sure you’re eager to get started. No need to stay.”

Qin and his companion left the money, bowed, and departed. Lin Xicheng followed, never having seen him so serious. As they left the village, Qin suddenly remembered something and told Lin, “Wait—let’s go back.”

He returned, startling Ye Dan, who thought perhaps Qin had come to cause trouble over a fan the county constable had dismissed. But Qin approached and said, “Several times I’ve seen you go to town on foot. This horse may be ordinary, but it’s gentle. Please accept it to spare your feet.”

He tied the horse at the gate and hurried off as though being chased.

Such decisiveness made Ye Chang respect him all the more. He had never ridden before, but learning on such a gentle beast would be a pleasure, so he accepted.

“Chunming, take the horse to the backyard, wash it well, and cut some grass to feed it,” Ye Chang instructed.

“Oh, we have a horse now!” Xiang’er cheered. “Master, may I help Chunming cut grass?”

Chunming knew how to care for livestock—Ye Chang had heard as much from his previous owner. Seeing Xiang’er so happy and the horse’s bright eyes so like her own, Ye Chang smiled and patted her head. “All right, learn from Chunming what grasses are safe and which are not—he knows. Be careful feeding the horse, though; don’t startle it and get hurt.”

“Don’t worry, Master!” Xiang’er and Chunming led the horse away.

Ye Chang shook his head, amused by the child’s fondness for animals. Turning back, he saw Ye Dan regarding him with a strange look. When their eyes met, Ye Dan shuddered violently and took several steps back.

“What’s the matter, Great Uncle? Are you unwell?” Ye Chang asked in surprise.

“It’s nothing, nothing…”

“Then why do you look at me so? Do I have something on my face?” Ye Chang was even more puzzled.

“It’s just… did that Manager Qin fall under your magical arts?” Ye Dan asked, stammering.

Ye Chang burst out laughing. Ye Dan had seen Qin not only give money but also a horse, and thought perhaps Ye Chang had used some sorcery to cloud his mind. He had kept his distance out of fear that Ye Chang might do the same to him.

Before Ye Chang could respond, another voice called from outside, “Is the Eleventh Young Master of the Ye family here?”

“So many visitors…” Ye Dan muttered.

With Chunming and Xiang’er in the back, Ye Chang went to the gate himself. He was momentarily taken aback, then greeted, “I am Ye Chang, Eleventh Young Master—is the Daoist seeking me?”

Before he finished, Ye Dan squeezed in, now unafraid. “Why, it’s Master Luo himself! Eleventh Young Master, how can you not recognize Master Luo?”

Ye Chang scratched his head—he truly did not know this Daoist. Usually, Xiang’er would whisper reminders, but she was not there.

The Daoist, with his flowing white beard and immortal bearing, gazed at Ye Chang and saluted with a Taoist gesture. “Boundless heaven’s blessing, Eleventh Young Master. I am greatly comforted to see you well.”

“Ah, Master Luo—I remember now.” Ye Chang recalled he was the abbot of the Apothecary Temple, said to be a disciple in the line of Sun Simiao, renowned for his medical skill, especially the Ghost Gate Thirteen Needles, the true transmission of the Medicine King.

But why had the old Daoist come now? Ye Chang remembered that the former Ye Chang had been keen to seek immortals and almost became this Daoist’s disciple, often foraging for herbs in the mountains. Since Ye Chang’s soul had crossed over, he had not visited the Apothecary Temple, even though rumors spread that he had met the Medicine King’s immortal. Perhaps this was why the old Daoist was suspicious, coming to see for himself.

This thought irked Ye Chang—a new problem just as he had settled family affairs. Now the Daoist had come, and who knew what tricks he might play.

“No harm, no harm. When I examined you before, I saw your soul might be injured,” Luo Shouyi said, seeing Ye Chang’s expression. “Is it not so, Young Master Ye? Are you somewhat absent-minded these days?”

Ye Dan shivered again at his words.

“There are indeed things I can’t recall clearly,” Ye Chang said, for he could hardly admit to being a soul from a thousand years in the future.

“I suspected as much. Let me take your pulse again,” said Luo Shouyi, reaching out. Ye Chang intended to dodge, but the old Daoist moved with surprising speed and seized his wrist in an instant.

The old Daoist is skilled in martial arts! Ye Chang’s heart tightened as he looked up, seeing the Daoist’s eyes glinting sharply.