The Big Hand of Peixian (3)
With the basic concept of cheap labor secured, it was time to flesh out the actual business plan. I led Liu Bang out of the market and toward the stream just outside Peixian where the local women gathered to wash clothes together.
“So what exactly are you planning to do?”
The distant sound of water bubbling over stones finally prompted Liu Bang to speak. I kept walking, only tilting my head slightly to glance at him.
“My lord, when crafting goods, what would you say is just as important as the raw materials?”
“As important as the materials… skill?”
“Close. The precise answer is ‘labor force.’”
“Labor force, huh…” Liu Bang stroked his chin and nodded. “True enough. Without people, nothing gets done.”
“Exactly. The lower the labor cost, the cheaper the finished product becomes. Unlike raw materials, which have a fixed minimum price, labor costs can be reduced almost without limit.”
“That’s right. Wages have always been flexible.” Liu Bang’s expression turned slightly odd. “So you’re saying you intend to wring people dry, Zhi.” His voice carried a trace of reluctance, as though I had suddenly become some heartless, bloodsucking landlord.
“That’s not it at all.” I shook my head firmly. After all, I was a twenty-first-century citizen who understood the preciousness of the fifty-two-hour workweek and minimum wage in my very bones.
I jerked my chin toward the women chattering in the distance. “What I’m targeting is the labor of women.”
“Women?”
“Yes. More precisely, I intend to organize the idle labor currently being wasted in every household.”
The putting-out system—the flower of early capitalism and the most efficient mode of production before the Industrial Revolution. I would supply the raw materials and capital; the village women would process them at home. I would buy the finished goods directly and sell them in the market. A clean, direct-delivery system with no room for middlemen.
“Organize…” Liu Bang pondered for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Weaving, sewing, braiding straw sandals—that sort of thing, right?”
“Correct. We’ll be commercializing ‘domestic labor.’”
That structure imposed no restrictions on them for being women, and there was no need to teach specialized skills. These were tasks they could perform blindfolded; it was simply their daily routine. All I needed was organization and quality control—precisely my area of expertise as a fifth-year assistant manager.
I pulled out the length of rope I had purchased on the way here.
“You bought that at the stall where you were talking for so long,” Liu Bang said, recognizing it at once.
I nodded. “The merchant told me a rope of this length goes for roughly one to three wen. Daily sales fluctuate anywhere from one or two pieces to as many as ten.”
One wen per length (roughly 2.4 meters). At an average of five sold per day, that came to five wen. The raw materials—hemp or straw—could be obtained from the countryside for practically nothing.
“First, we purchase the raw materials directly from the villages. Cutting out the middlemen lowers costs immediately.”
“Xiahou Ying can handle the cart.”
“Exactly.” I smiled faintly and continued. “Next, we distribute those materials to the women and have them braid rope at home. Payment will be performance-based, according to quantity produced.”
“Then we collect the ropes and sell them in the market.”
“Yes. Not retail—we’ll sell wholesale to established merchants. Time is money, and I have no intention of sitting on the dirt all day just to earn an extra copper or two.”
Did delivery drivers fry the chicken themselves? No—they provided the platform. Small margins, high volume, rapid turnover: that was the secret of distribution.
“Naturally, before selling any of the ropes we collect, I will personally perform quality control. Thickness, length, tensile strength—we’ll establish clear standards so customers can trust that ‘goods from Lady Lü’s company are reliable.’”
As the textile merchant had told me earlier, the concept of quality control barely existed in this era. It was a haphazard system: sell cheaply what turned out poorly, charge more for what turned out well. If we could achieve standardization with a little extra effort, that alone would put us ahead of the competition.
“Once we’ve built that credibility, we’ll gradually expand. Baskets, mats, straw sandals, woven seats—there’s no limit to what these women can produce.”
“I see…” The explanation had been somewhat complex, but Liu Bang seemed to have followed along well enough; he nodded thoughtfully.
“You really are…” He looked at me with open admiration, then suddenly asked as though the thought had just occurred to him. “But to do all that, won’t you need to recruit the women first?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I intend to show you now.”
I took a handful of coins from the pouch at my waist and let them clink together. It was the agricultural slack season; most of the village men had been conscripted for corvée labor and were away. At the washing area, a large group of women had gathered to do laundry and gossip. Among them were several perched on large rocks, their hands never stopping as they wove.
I approached the women braiding straw sandals. The shoes were ordinary, but their fingers moved with mechanical precision.
“Excuse me,” I said with a bright smile. “Are you selling those sandals?”
Every gaze snapped toward me. The sudden appearance of a young wife in neat silk robes caused the chatter at the washing spot to die down at once.
“Selling them? No, we’re making these for ourselves.”
“If someone wanted to buy them, would you sell?”
“Who’d buy these ugly things? The market’s full of straw sandals.”
“I’ll buy them.”
“Huh?”
The women’s eyes widened. I produced the coins I had prepared in advance.
“One wen per pair. How does that sound?”
“You’re serious…?” Their eyes grew even rounder. For women whose husbands had been taken for corvée and who were raising children alone, every single coin was precious.
“Yes, I’m quite serious. Even if you make ten pairs a day, I’ll buy them all. Ten wen.”
I nodded and pulled out the rope. “The same goes for rope—I’ll purchase every piece. I’ll pay one wen for every two lengths.”
“All of it…” Murmurs rippled outward like waves. Suspicion, hope, and astonishment mingled in their eyes. Soon the woman weaving sandals looked up at me, incredulous.
“Miss… are you truly sincere? You’re not teasing us, are you?”
“I am completely sincere.” I stepped closer, took her rough, wind-chapped hands reddened by the chilly autumn air, and pressed warm coins into them.
“My name is Lü Zhi, wife of Liu Ji, chief of the Sishui Pavilion.” Then I raised my voice so every woman at the washing area could hear. “I wish to purchase your excellent craftsmanship at a fair price.”
After that, I squatted down among the women and chatted with them about all sorts of things—what they usually made, how much time they could spare each day for weaving. At first they remained skeptical and hesitant, but the moment I actually accepted their ropes and handed over real coins, their attitudes flipped completely. The promise of “unconditional full purchase” seemed to be a far more powerful lure than any sweet words.
It looks like this is the first time they’ve realized housework done for survival can actually become money.
Naturally, in this era it was nearly impossible for women to engage in economic activity outside the home. In a world where a woman braiding straw sandals to save on living expenses wasn’t even considered “work.”
“Zhi.” On the way home, the setting sun painting everything crimson behind him, Liu Bang called out to me.
“Yes, my lord.”
When I turned, I saw him smiling gently.
“You truly are an extraordinary woman.”
A line I seemed to have heard several thousand times lately. I nodded silently, and he continued.
“You said you were doing this to make money, right?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“But what I see is something more.”
“Something more…?” I tilted my head, genuinely puzzled. What else could he possibly see besides money?
Liu Bang gave a small chuckle and stepped closer.
“That you’re trying to help those women in the village.”
“…Help them?”
“Yes. They’re in a difficult position. Their husbands and sons have been dragged off for corvée labor, leaving them struggling. If they can earn even a little by braiding rope, it would be an enormous help.”
“……”
His eyes were utterly sincere.
“I believe you made the proposal with that in mind as well. You really do have a warm heart, Zhi.”
For a moment I was at a loss for words. To be completely honest, humanitarian considerations had not entered my mind even for a single gram. I had simply followed cold capitalist logic: secure cheap idle labor, reduce prime costs, and secure a margin. That was the entirety of my business plan.
Well, I suppose it can be interpreted that way.
It seemed Liu Bang had mistaken me for some flawless saint. There’s no need to correct him and lose points.
I nodded with an appropriately modest expression.
“My lord.”
“Yeah?”
“Please summon General Xiahou tomorrow.”
“Understood. To discuss the business?”
“Yes. Starting tomorrow I intend to visit the nearby villages every day to recruit more women. We’ll purchase not only rope but straw sandals and baskets as well.”
I had originally planned to break into the market with rope alone, but the women’s enthusiasm was far stronger than expected. The raw materials were the same, the distribution network was the same. When the tide comes in, row hard.
“All right, we’ll do that.” Liu Bang nodded, then stopped walking and looked at me seriously. “But may I ask one thing?”
“What is it?”
“Why are you going to such lengths? It doesn’t seem like it’s merely to eat and live well… you look almost desperate.”
I hesitated. To make money? Of course that was part of it. To feed Liu Bang and his men? That was true too. But the fundamental reason beneath it all was—
“To survive.”
I answered honestly. It seemed he had already sensed something.
“I have a premonition that a great upheaval is coming. An ominous feeling that the world will be turned upside down and this fragile peace will shatter.”
“……”
“So I believe we will need power to survive that time. Money, people, supplies—everything required to protect my own.”
“Upheaval,” Liu Bang murmured softly.
“It’s nothing more than a woman’s intuition. Still… I want to be prepared.”
Liu Bang remained silent for a long while. He gazed deeply into my eyes as though trying to read something hidden there. Then, at last—
“I’ll remember that.”
He nodded quietly. With a light smile he placed his hand on top of my head.
“If you’re preparing for something, I’ll help. Tell me anything you need.”
Pat, pat. The touch was gentle, as though he were handling fragile porcelain. I watched him silently for a moment, then slipped away from the strange tickle that raced up my spine.
“Ahem! In that case, let’s stop by General Fan’s butcher shop on the way back. I’ll prepare a meat dish tonight.”
I was willing to tolerate a certain amount of head-patting between business partners, but it still felt odd. Having my head stroked at my age somehow felt… awkward.
“Oh, really?” Fortunately Liu Bang showed no sign of disappointment; his face lit up honestly. “Haha, then let’s buy some good wine too. It’s the third day, after all.”
Even after I had raised the heavy subject of upheaval, Liu Bang quickly recovered his usual hearty cheer. Whether that carefree attitude was simply his nature or a deliberate attempt to reassure me, I couldn’t tell. I let out a small inward sigh of relief and smiled faintly.
“Only for tonight. Things will get busy starting tomorrow.”
In the sky, the autumn sunset was slowly sinking toward the horizon.