"Ah, right, still have to sell it..."
With Harano’s question, Ah Man snapped out of her happy daydream of bathing in fine sake—after all, soy sauce alone is useless, you can’t bathe in that. She had to turn it into cash before she could revel and really start living life.
Since it concerned her grand plans for pleasure, she wanted to step up and pat her chest, promising this was totally on her, selling it would be no problem—but just as her hand went up, she couldn’t bring herself to slap her chest down—because this was nothing like what she’d imagined!
Harano had just asked if she could sell soy sauce if she had it, and in her mind it was just three or five barrels. She could track down her grandpa’s rchant friends—whether selling directly or on consignnt, she could definitely handle it.
But obviously that wasn’t the case here. Harano could brew several barrels in just a week or so—and this was only the beginning, not even at scale yet. In the future, a hundred barrels a month would be a breeze, maybe even more, to the point of bankrupting all the soy sauce makers along the East Sea Road and even across the whole world.
That amount, she totally couldn’t handle. There was no way she’d dare slap her chest and promise.
This was big. She hesitated for a mont, scratched her face, and said awkwardly, "Sell it, huh... the amount’s too big. There’s no way I can sell this much soy sauce—you’ll have to find the old monk yourself."
"Old monk?"
"Yeah, you gotta talk to the old monk! The Lower Four Prefectures of Owari Province are all under Caodong Zen control. You’ll need to find the old monk from Guanyin Temple, one that really calls the shots, and get his permission if you want to move that much soy sauce." After she finished, Ah Man added, "You’re not just selling these few vats, right? Planning to sell long-term?"
"Of course!" Harano was planning to completely renovate his new house—he’d even designed for central air, just waiting for enough money to get the ball rolling. Otherwise, he’d be roasted alive in sumr. There’s no way he could do that without selling three or four thousand vats of soy sauce, but he hadn’t expected Guanyin Temple would be involved. He couldn’t help but ask, "What’s it got to do with them? Don’t you know any rchants? Can’t I just sell straight to a rchant?"
Ah Man didn’t even have to think before shaking her head. "No way, too much! Three or five barrels, or even a little more, it’s fine—if you secretly sell to so rchant, nobody will notice, and even if soone does, they won’t care. But if you’re moving dozens or even a hundred barrels per month, it’s impossible to keep that quiet. Without the old monk’s okay, no rchant would dare take your stuff—if they really did, their shop would get raided by the monks, and they’d never be able to do business again. The loss would be huge—they’re not that dumb!"
Harano was totally lost. Why did it sound like monks were basically the "Bureau of Industry and Comrce," managing the whole market? What kind of nonsense was this?
He protested, "What’s all this about? Explain it properly! Anyone listening to this with no context would be lost!"
He was getting annoyed, and Ah Man wasn’t his lackey—she imdiately pushed back, "It’s not my fault you don’t have any common sense, is it? I feel like I’ve explained it pretty clearly!"
"Not blaming you, not blaming you!" Harano still needed her right now—only the wise survive—so his attitude softened right away, shoving the soup bowl into her hands, turning respectful again, humbly asking, "But I really don’t get it. The monks actually manage the rchants?"
Ah Man was satisfied, slurping a mouthful of radish-and-soy-sauce soup. She had to admit, the soy sauce was pretty good—boil up even bland dried radish with it and it turns out tasty and savory, not bad at all.
After a couple more sips, she scrunched up her bean-shaped brows and, slightly self-conscious, said, "Well, this is a long story—it goes back a few hundred years..."
"Then keep it short—skip the ancient gossip and just give the summary," Harano cut her off. He made it clear he only wanted the highlights; useless historical background in a novel just bore the readers, and he wasn’t interested either.
"Alright, fine!" Ah Man was, after all, eating his rice, so she listened obediently and after so thought, began: "Back in the day, the kuge... you know what kuge are, right? The imperial family and nobility up at court. Back then, they ran the world—every family got a piece of the pie, with each clan having a monopoly over one or several industries, complete with exclusive trading rights and tax exemptions.
For example, there was once a case in Kyoto where a court noble monopolized the fish market—he didn’t just run his own fish market, everyone else selling fish had to pay him a cut. If they didn’t, he could just ban them from the fish business. Another noble monopolized the salt industry, so all salt sellers had to pay him too—otherwise, they couldn’t do business.
Then one day, the noble running the salt business noticed that salted fish was selling well, and there were salt grains visible in it, so he announced that salted fish now counted as "salt" and everyone had to pay him. That pissed off the fish guy, who insisted that salted fish was still fish and the money should go to him.
The two sides argued like crazy; neither won, so they called in their samurai and started a brawl in Kyoto. Tons of people died, it caused chaos, and eventually the Emperor had to step in to settle it."
Harano was speechless—he got the gist, but this was way too simplified. There wasn’t even a single na or date, plus it sounded outright surreal. Is this really how the Japan Court managed business, like kids playing pretend? The court back in old-ti Japan really was just one giant improv troupe!
But since Ah Man said so, he decided to believe her for now—he couldn’t resist asking, "So, in the end, who won?"
"The one running salt won," Ah Man didn’t keep him guessing. "He was the Emperor’s uncle, otherwise he wouldn’t have been in charge of salt, so even today salted fish isn’t fish—just like rabbits being counted as birds."
Harano nodded; he rembered that even in modern Japan, that was still the case—salted fish was considered a condint, not fish.
He gestured for Ah Man to go on, and she recalled, "Then the samurai rose to power and pushed the kuge aside—they couldn’t manage the country anymore. Those monopoly rights basically beca empty titles, so they just sold them off to the temples. For example, the first iron monopoly was sold to Todaiji Temple. Todaiji got into exclusive iron slting: if a blacksmith didn’t pay them off, Todaiji could kick him out of the trade, even seize his tools."
Now Harano was starting to get it. He nodded slightly, "So, you’re saying the exclusive trading rights of all these industries are now in the hands of the monks?"
"And also the tax exemptions—they don’t pay taxes, at most just send a token little sothing to the kuge every year." Ah Man’s envy at the rich started acting up again—seeing others make money was even more aggravating than losing her own. She said, annoyed, "The kuge have no muscle now—they can’t ss with samurai, and the local stuff is out of their hands. But the monks have tons of followers, a private army of Monk Soldiers, and a pile of brainless believers. The local dog-shit samurai don’t dare ss with them, and taxing them is even more of a dream. So the monks just get richer and fatter, they’re all like wild boars, shitting grease right out of their butts!"
She paused and, for reinforcent, added: "There’s a nursery rhy that goes, ’Of all the world’s wealth, a whole koku: gods and Buddhas get nine to, the warriors take three to, the Emperor and nobles lick the scraps, half a to of cold gruel just to keep their mouths wet.’ This song is sung all over, and the gods and Buddhas are of course all the temple bigwigs. So monks managing rchants? Everybody knows that’s basic common sense."
Harano nodded lightly, signaling he understood, but then comnted, "Isn’t there a mistake in that rhy? That’s one koku and two and a half to."
"You’re forgetting us!" Ah Man pointed at herself, looking annoyed. "We miserable commoner scum, the folks lower than cattle—we still owe them two and a half to!"
Really has that modern flavor, Harano thought. In this area, Japan really was ahead of the tis—reaching ’cattle-and-horses debt peonage society’ five centuries early.
He roasted them in his mind, but finally understood what was going on. He also rembered back at Hosokawa Guanyin Temple, old monk Hai Xin had once said that most of the rchant licenses in Owari Province’s Lower Four Prefectures were handed out by him.
At the ti, Harano had wondered what that ant—now it turned out the old monk really was "one of the branch chiefs of Owari Industry & Comrce Bureau," or at least an "executive deputy chief," holding the majority of monopoly trade rights in his hands. rchants really did have to co to him for "business licenses," pay him his cut, and wouldn’t dare go buying large batches of goods without his blessing, for fear of unnecessary trouble.
And now he finally saw it—this was how the Japan Middle Ages ran. The kuge held the moral high ground and legitimacy, the temples managed comrce and trade, the samurai handled land, grain, and raw resources, and the rest—the commoners, rchants, scoundrels—were just the beasts of burden...
Everyone had their piece, roles were clear, cooperation all around—kind of logical, and it ran smoothly!
Harano was finally speechless when he got it. "So basically, if I want to sell large volus of soy sauce, there’s no going around Guanyin Temple. I have to go there to get their blessing to sell, and pay them off too?"
Ah Man scratched her face, hesitated, then said, "Judging from how they’ve handled this kind of thing before, probably not just a one-off paynt. If you’ve got sothing good, Guanyin Temple will probably just buy your whole batch, then distribute it to their affiliated rchants as exclusive dealers, maybe even flip it in other regions for profit."
Harano fell silent. So even the smallest business has to be skimd by the monks first, and not just any monks—a bunch of shaless ones, too! That’s way too stifling, isn’t it?
He thought it over, unwilling to concede, and asked Ah Man, "There’s really no other way?"
Ah Man could see Harano was annoyed at Guanyin Temple, so she asked, "Did they offend you or sothing? Having them cut in on your profits is definitely a pain, but there’s really no way around it. And honestly, being in their club isn’t all bad. As long as you help make them money, they’ll count you as one of their own. They’ll bankroll you, help collect on debts, even offer so protection—nobody sses with you lightly."
Harano didn’t deny it, just said, "Offend? Not exactly, I just don’t like them much. So, any alternatives?"
Ah Man didn’t really get it, but explained anyway: "If you don’t want to deal with the Guanyin Temple crew, your only option is to go to the Upper Four Provinces’ Zhengde Temple group."
"Zhengde Temple crew?"
"Yeah, the Dharma Flower Sect temples—their overall power is actually a notch above Caodong Zen and Guanyin Temple."
Harano nodded slightly, thinking maybe Shengde Temple would be easier to deal with than Guanyin Temple—he could try negotiating with them first. But before he could decide, a dull bell sounded outside, giving him a start and sending a chill through his heart.
Ah Man clearly heard it too—she jerked up like a shot and exclaid in alarm, "That’s the warning bell—enemy attack!?"
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