Chapter 53
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Cheollak, the Mid-Autumn Festival, was just around the corner.
The farmers in the golden fields were sweating away as they harvested the perfectly ripe rice, leaving no idle time.
Two old men watched from the bunds by the paddy fields.
“Aigoo! When will you finish harvesting it all?”
“That’s just a worry, old pal.”
“You don’t seem worried at all. Everyone’s saying the harvest is done.”
“That’s why I told you not to worry.”
“Was it just me? You said the same, didn’t you?”
“Then why are you so happy about it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I clearly said, didn’t I? I won’t do it even if I die.”
“When did I ever say that? I never uttered a word. Hmph!”
The stubborn old man turned to leave, but the sharp-tongued one grabbed his shoulder with a sharp “Tak!”.
“Whoa! Where do you think you’re going?”
“Going somewhere? Just to rest a bit because I’m tired.”
“You’ve been watching the whole time. Why would that make you tired? You’re just pretending to be busy. The yield is overflowing.”
“Fine, fine. But only half. I can’t give more than that.”
At the start of the year, the two old men had bet on the transplanting method.
If the harvest was lower than last year, he’d keep half; if more, they’d split it evenly.
Yet even rough estimates showed the yield would be at least double last year’s.
That’s why they fought every single day.
And whenever they ran into villagers, they’d quiz each other whether they’d heard the bet or not.
That’s why villagers avoided them, and only now could they harvest peacefully.
“Great. Very good. But invest the whole thing.”
“Where?”
“I heard there’s going to be a district built on the way to the government office. You know about that?”
“Who doesn’t know?”
“It says a shop owned by that greedy fellow will open there.”
After the wide road called Sinseo was built, the district—or provincial district—went up.
Yi Yeon had ordered that shops be built here where common people could do business.
Various goods would bring more visitors, he said.
He also told them to charge only ten percent rent of the profit.
It made calculations easy, he reasoned.
Soon, whenever a district or provincial district appeared near the village, young men without capital rushed to set up shops.
Most of them were cash-strapped youths.
“Should we invest in that guy?”
“Why not? He’s reliable.”
“I’m not saying no, but who knows if he’ll run off with the money? People are different at the outhouse—coming in or leaving.”
“Don’t worry about that. The Joseon Bank handles all investment matters for us.”
“They even do that?”
“Of course. How else will we know the real profit?”
“True, but why go through all this hassle? What’s left for us?”
“How would I know? As long as we grab the dividends and don’t get ripped off the principal, we’re golden.”
Yi Yeon had fallen into deep worry because coin circulation wasn’t as lively as he’d expected.
He’d assumed paying officials and soldiers in coins would work, but it hadn’t.
People were hoarding coins at home or only buying what they needed at the districts.
‘If this keeps up, we won’t even be able to issue paper money.’
He knew issuing paper money would be fine once coin circulation picked up, so this situation was driving him crazy.
Then he heard the Ho Pan’s warning about rice prices crashing due to the bumper harvest.
‘That won’t do.’
In the old world, where people only cared about eating and living, there would have been no problem.
There were no peasants complaining about surplus rice, and if necessary, they could sell to the Jurchen or Japanese.
But that wasn’t the case now.
Because there were luxury goods like sedan chairs and glass mirrors that sold for a fortune, and because the extra labor from the transplanting method produced all kinds of specialty items.
Rice-price collapse would hit the still-growing economy hard.
So Yi Yeon ordered the Joseon Bank to buy up all the surplus rice.
Pay two hundred fifty won per stone when buying, and three hundred when selling.
This wasn’t about instituting a rice-based currency.
The amount was calculated with storage costs and natural loss in mind, to prepare for possible future famines.
‘Only when the cost of living is stable will the people’s hearts be stable.’
Yi Yeon didn’t trust the commoners’ hearts, which he called the will of heaven.
Now they shouted for the good king who would rule for a thousand years, but they’d turn if living got hard.
That’s why he wanted to stabilize rice prices first.
And because of that, people kept coming to the Joseon Bank with surplus rice, without end.
This overflowed the market with coins and made commerce flourish.
‘So the government bought up grain even though it lost money.’
He’d thought it was just a policy to protect farmers, but it was more.
With sudden piles of money, farmers went around spending, which made commerce boom every day.
‘Still, too much coin circulation could cause problems.’
So Yi Yeon had the Joseon Bank connect investors to those short on funds.
That way they could reclaim the hoarded coins and the excess flooding the market.
But there was a problem.
Just like 21st-century banks—
taking deposits and paying interest,
lending out and charging interest,
wanting to skim fees in the middle—
he couldn’t find staff to handle the calculations.
Of course, such people existed in every trade guild.
But he couldn’t pull them out.
There weren’t enough, and helping the still-growing guilds would only mean stepping on them.
‘It would be like cutting your own flesh.’
So he told them to handle investments only.
Grouped by tens, of course.
That way calculations would be simple, and every Joseon could live on finance alone.
He also started teaching royal cousins, who lived like scholars, about finance.
They were too precious to waste, and neglecting them would only bring trouble, not good.
* * *
Once again, Yi Yeon boarded a houseboat at Seogang Ferry.
It was far more satisfying than before.
The Seogang Ferry, tangled with rotten wood, had undergone a complete rebirth.
With ganghwa cement docks built like the Yellow River docks, it looked clean and safe.
As the houseboat passed the northern tip of Ganghwa Island, countless ships came into view.
Yi Yeon asked the Ministry of War’s Panseo, Jeong Da-nyeom, whom he’d brought to show the multi-barrel gun facility.
“Is that Gyodongdo?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Then those ships must be merchant vessels from Ming China.”
“Not all. We have many of our own people’s vessels as well.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Since word spread that business is booming there, more and more commoners are coming with specialty goods. That’s why we discussed with the Trade Minister and decided to install provincial districts there.”
The Trade Minister, Sim Tong-won, had surveyed the Han River mouth and Gwangdaejin after hearing the king’s words.
The result was agreement to build provincial districts instead of districts on Gyodongdo.
*
“Minister, this place seems ideal. Close to Hanyang, and being an island means no worry about plague spreading.”
“True, but what if they cause trouble?”
“Since it’s only for commerce, we can install districts and station troops.”
“Districts? Won’t that work?”
“Are you saying we should build provincial districts?”
“That’s right.”
“That’s too many troops, isn’t it?”
District troops were at most fifty.
Provincial districts could station three hundred to nearly a thousand.”
“Your Majesty said to root out everything at the start. The better solution was to make it impossible to even think of building more. So let’s do provincial districts.”
Foreign merchants sometimes showed up without fear at the northern border and Busanjin in the south.
Because they’d been crushed every time, no one saw them anymore.
“But the cost…”
“Don’t worry. We can set the trade tax however we like at the Trade Bureau. Just raise it a little more and we’ll cover provincial district costs.”
“Ah, I see. Then please handle it.”
Yi Yeon left the trade tax entirely to Sim Tong-won.
His greed for wealth was whale-level, so he’d handle it well.
As trusted as he was, he was already coordinating perfectly.
He couldn’t touch the ten percent court tax, so he gave regional differences to make trade active everywhere.
‘The foreign place, receive only two percent extra; the place with too many merchants, raise five percent more.’
Even in ordinary markets and designated trade districts, selling prices were the same.
That’s why Ming and Jurchen merchants hunted places with lower taxes.
Yet they still flocked to Gyodongdo because of the efficiency of shipping by sea.
Even if taxes were a bit higher, they could carry huge amounts, so the Gyodongdo trade district was exploding with growth.
*
Yi Yeon watched the ships constantly coming and going and nodded.
“Hmm, excellent work.”
He’d received the report from Trade Minister Sim Tong-won that Gyodongdo would become a trade district with provincial districts, but he hadn’t asked why.
He had other matters to look into and lacked time, but he assumed there was a reason.
Yet in just a few months, the muddy Gyodongdo had been neatly cleaned up and transformed into the largest trading hub dealing with Ming and all kinds of goods.
‘So that’s why countries that did maritime trade became rich.’
The sudden royal treasury growth had come from sedan chairs and glass mirrors.
But the sedan chairs had been monopolized by Ming eunuchs.
Glass mirrors weren’t even enough to fill the waiting orders.
That’s why they couldn’t trade them at Gyodongdo.
Yet countless merchant ships still kept coming.
At first, they came for sedan chairs and glass mirrors.
But now they crowded in to buy salt, paper, pencils, soap, candles, ginseng, and lacquerware—goods unique to Joseon.
Panseo Jeong Da-nyeom bowed his head in gratitude for the king’s praise and asked.
“Your Majesty, but what are soap and candles? I asked the Trade Minister, but he just laughed and said it was embarrassing for me to ask.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
‘Damn! Talking too well always causes trouble.’
Artisans at the guild were producing soap and candles, but material shortages meant small quantities, so they were sent only to the Trade Bureau for export.
He’d also ordered them to keep quiet until production increased.
Because rich people would get noisy if they knew soap and candles existed.
Yi Yeon hadn’t minded; he didn’t think it important.
Yet Sim Tong-won had apparently kept it secret even from the Panseo who’d toured the Gyodongdo trade district with him.
“The oil pressed from the abundant wild rapeseed flowers (plum blossoms) growing nearby is used for soap and candles. Soap is for washing hands and body like Yellow River docks, and candles are for lighting lamps instead of fire.”
“Ah, now I understand.”
Jeong Da-nyeom nodded as if finally understanding.
“What do you mean?”
“The Trade Minister said if I couldn’t sell sedan chairs and glass mirrors, profit would be low. But since there are luxury goods like soap and candles, it’s okay.”
“Luxury goods?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. They’re not strictly necessary, but once you try them, you’ll have to buy again. The more expensive, the more people crave them, so he called them luxury goods.”
Now Yi Yeon was curious.
‘How much are they selling for?’
He’d received accurate prices for sedan chairs and glass mirrors, so he’d told them to set prices for soap and candles accordingly.
Since quantities were small, he thought it wouldn’t amount to much.
p>Yet they set prices high enough to be called luxury goods, and they were selling well.
The oil pressed from wild rapeseed flowers that grow everywhere in Joseon is high-nutrient canola oil.
Adding juicy, refreshing mountain plum oil would make excellent soap.
So he’d told them to make and sell it that way, and it seemed to be turning out even better than expected.
‘I should try it myself. And give some to my mother and Cho-hui.’
After exchanging various words, they finally arrived at the port.
This time the port wasn’t the Yellow River dock.
It was a newly built Hwado port far below it.
Located in Hwado-myeon, that was why it was named that, but since the second steel mill and shipyard were there, the name suited it perfectly.
Yi Yeon stepped off the pier at the southern tip of the muddy coast.
Just like before, the army corps members raised their fists with fierce enthusiasm.
“We greet Your Majesty!”
Their cries were far louder than before, and with twice the number of men, the entire port trembled with the resounding cheers.
* * *