Chapter 14
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Let's Prepare for Winter
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“Get in line!”
“Hey, you there, sir—don’t cut in. Go to the back.”
“Hey now, even if things are rough, there’s still a proper order to these things. How can a gentleman like me stand behind slaves? I rushed here at dawn without even washing up, so give me a spot.”
“The folks up front have been camped out in front of the shop since last night, enduring the frost. If you slept cozy at home, you wait your turn.”
“You oughta know better... I get where you’re coming from. Here, take this and let me switch places.”
A nameless gentleman who’d spent the last decade or so studying Neo-Confucianism but apparently skipped lessons on public decency pulled a neatly folded piece of cotton cloth from his bosom.
Eopbogi scowled at the sight and said,
“Tch. We don’t take bribes. Go to the back and wait your turn.”
Why would slaves who’d spent all night in the frost lining up have nothing better to do or spare coin to buy books? It screamed “slave from a well-off house.”
He didn’t know the exact status of the gentleman right in front of him, but the slaves ahead looked more intimidating than some random noble who’d wandered up on his own two feet.
And if you’re gonna bribe, do it on the sly from behind.
The guy had zero tact. Wearing his gat hat and silk robes, just stand in line already.
“Go to the back.”
“Tch, so the Hanyang Merchant House really is raking it in. Even a midday errand boy turns down cotton cloth.”
Eopbogi just nodded at the noble’s grumbling.
No sense arguing; the man wasn’t wrong.
The Hanyang Merchant House was currently in the midst of an unprecedented money-duplicating—no, wealth-multiplying festival.
“First Reader Token plus the book comes to two bolts of cotton cloth.”
“What? That pricey? It looks printed on cheap mulberry paper, not even proper white paper.”
“Sir, look at the line behind you. If we printed all those books for that crowd on white paper, we’d need every sheet in the eight provinces of Joseon.”
We only used mulberry paper to keep costs down.
“What does the paper have to do with the price? If it’s cheap mulberry paper, the price should match, right?”
“Aigoo, do you know how many scribes we’d need to hand-copy all these books? You’ve got to factor in their labor costs.”
Vernacular books didn’t cost much in scribal labor anyway.
“Even so. Two bolts could buy a proper book on white paper.”
“If you bring just the First Reader Token next time, the next volume’s free. Effectively two books.”
We’re just splitting one book in half and selling it twice.
“Sir, we’re selling at a loss, really. Trust us.”
“What nonsense...”
Kim Suchan wanted to retort to the clerk spouting bald-faced lies even a dog wouldn’t buy, but unfortunately, the timing slipped away. Too many people waiting for chit-chat.
“If you’re not buying, step aside!!”
“Hey, Kim Suchan! You spent at least five bolts of silk on Hwahyang House’s Lady Account this year alone. Don’t be so stingy over one piece of cotton.”
“That guy’s always tight-fisted with writing supplies. Wonder how he passed the exams.”
Finally, under the barrage of mockery from all sides, Kim Suchan waved the white flag.
“Fine! I’ll buy! Here’s your token.”
“Thank you, sir. We’ll visit your home on the first of next month.”
“Whatever! Just hand over the book.”
“Yes, sir! Here’s your First Reader Token and book. Next!!”
And from the back, watching it all, Kim Deok-su grinned with satisfaction.
After maxing out discounts on production costs and setting aside Heo Gyun’s cut, the Hanyang Merchant House’s profit from that one exchange was exactly one bolt of cotton cloth.
The initial three hundred copies were long gone, and even now, new ones were rolling off the presses. The line still stretched long, and the franchise fee from Yeonggwang Pavilion hadn’t even arrived yet.
How much would they rake in by the end of this wealth-fest?
At minimum, a thousand bolts? Two thousand if luck held?
And they could do this again soon? The party never ends?
“Whew... My heart’s pounding.”
Gaesong’s Song merchants lording it over ginseng monopolies.
Uiju’s Man merchants with their noses in the air from rice smuggling.
Dongnae’s Nae merchants cozying up to the Japanese for silver.
Pushing past those giants of Joseon commerce, the Hanyang Merchant House had seized the top spot.
“You—start tallying the final payment for Young Master Heo Gyun. We’ll deliver on the first of next month. Exact figures, no skimping. If it’s close, round up and throw in an extra bolt.”
“Understood, Head Clerk.”
We can’t let this slip.
Gut, gall, whatever it takes—we make this renewal happen.
Kim Deok-su vowed it again and again.
“Ugh, what’s with this chill? Dori, wanna grab some roasted rice cakes before we go?”
“Sounds good to me. Want a piggyback?”
“Nah, I’ll walk.”
The weather had turned biting.
Frost replaced dew, and fallen maple leaves swept into piles. Winter was coming.
I tucked my numb hands under my arms, shivering as I headed to the market.
“How much for firewood?”
“Selling window paper! Buy now or it’ll cost more!”
“Send ten sacks of rice to my place. I’ll pay on the spot in the yard.”
“Sell me that rice straw piled in your field. I can starve, but not my ox.”
“?”
Trailing Dori briskly to the market as usual, I was met with an unfamiliar bustle.
What’s with all the crowds? Hanyang was always busy, sure, but this was packed. No gaps to squeeze through.
I asked Dori,
“What’s today? Why so many people?”
“It’s Lidong, the Start of Winter. Everyone’s prepping to survive it.”
“Didn’t see this in Gangneung.”
I’d lived five years in Joseon, endured four winters.
But in Gangneung, markets quieted down around now with the cold.
Dori gave a simple explanation to my puzzled look.
“Gangneung’s sparse on people, surrounded by mountains—no need to stock firewood early. Chop some on a nice day. Plus, fishing peaks in winter, fish don’t spoil, so no starvation. Just hoard grain. Gangneung storehouses stay warmer through winter.”
“Ah, got it.”
No wonder Samgaksan looked thinned out lately—everyone prepping for winter.
In Hanyang, you buy grain and firewood at Lidong for winter. Note to self.
Useful knowledge, but not exactly practical.
As I pondered pushing through for roasted cakes, a voice called from afar.
“Young master! Gyun young master!”
“Uncle Haksae?”
“Knew you’d be here. Academy said class ended, but you weren’t home. I searched everywhere. Snacking?”
“Yeah, roasted cakes. Why?”
“Madam’s looking for you. Hanyang Merchant House folks are at the house.”
“Hm?”
Why were those guys here?
Already demanding the next installment?
I’d written it, sure, but give a breather.
Not ready for volume three.
Luckily, my fears missed. Uncle Haksae spread his arms wide.
“The yard’s piled high with bolts of cotton. Go see!”
“Gyuni’s here.”
“Welcome back, young master!”
“I’m home, Father. And hello, Head Clerk.”
“Hoho, come here, lad.”
At Father’s gesture, I scampered to the yard.
As Uncle Haksae said, two massive chests overflowed with snowy white cotton cloth.
Business boomed, huh? Quite the pile.
“Hoho, Gyun. This is the wealth from your writing. Impressive, eh?”
“Three hundred bolts for now. Sales are strong—we’ll bring at least this much again on the first of next month, young master.”
“That’s...”
I stared blankly at the stacked bolts.
Honestly? No thrill. More honestly? Felt like eyeing an apartment clothing donation bin from my past life.
If it were gold, silver, even coins, it’d feel like real money. Five years in, I still couldn’t vibe with cotton cloth as currency.
Imagine laboring all day in freezing fields for a day’s wage of torn shirt scraps.
What kind of lives did Joseon folk live?
“...A lot, yeah.”
Father roared with laughter at my soulless reply.
“Kahaha! That’s all? For all that wealth?”
“Yeah... uh...”
“Y-Young master... Is the cotton less than expected?”
“No, not that...”
I’d said plenty for a donation bin view. What more?
Why was the head clerk sweating bullets?
Possession into Joseon is tough.
Father spoke, seeing my utter blankness.
“Heh, befitting the boy who scarfed two sacks of rice at five. So, Gyun—what’ll you do with it? Planned any uses?”
“Uh... dunno.”
I knew cloth was money, even if it didn’t feel real.
Problem: nowhere to spend it.
No banks for savings,
No stocks for investing,
No urge for real estate.
No Bundang land set to boom like past life, and anyway, Imjin War flips the country—land’s just flushing money down the drain.
So what now?
How to burn this cloth in a way that earns rave reviews?
As I mulled, an idea hit.
“Buy grain and firewood?”
“Grain?”
“Firewood?”
“Yeah, saw tons of folks at market today scrambling for it.”
Right—let’s prep for winter.
Father’s suffered enough because of me, and the rice incident’s fact. Time to spruce up the household. I straightened proudly.
“Winter’s coming soon. Better prep early.”
And far off, a man watched the scene.
“Is that true?”
“Saw it with my own eyes. Hanyang Merchant House hauled a mountain of wealth to Minister Heo Yeop’s! They were all chummy.”
“How can a scholar stoop to profiting off his son’s scribbles? Tsk tsk, no shame!”
“Minister! You must step in personally!”
Hearing the Westerners’ clamor, Yulgok Yi I nodded.
“Very well. I’ll petition His Majesty myself.”