Chapter Eighteen: The Debtor Is the Boss
“Oh,” He Chong’an said, “I’m not sure what it is.”
“Master He’s crafted music boxes that have greatly pleased the princess, especially the new melodies. The Imperial Workshop can now produce the cylinders, but the new melodies are not yet available. We humbly ask Master He for guidance.”
Eunuch Qin had considered seeking others’ help. This music box could be seen as a new instrument; even veteran musicians would need time to study it, and the music must suit the instrument. The music box's tone could accommodate most piano pieces, but ancient music relied mainly on silk and bamboo instruments, which did not suit the music box well. As for composing new tunes, most musicians lacked the ability; they merely inherited their masters' repertoires.
After much thought, Eunuch Qin decided not to trouble multiple masters and found it best to consult He Chong’an. Yet he harbored some apprehension toward He Chong’an, wary of falling into his schemes. Now that He Chong’an had come to him, it was an excellent opportunity.
He Chong’an barely hesitated and said, “No problem.”
It was just a tune—and securing a team of craftsmen’s assistance was a bargain. Moreover, He Chong’an increasingly saw the top artisans at the Imperial Workshop as invaluable; many of his ideas depended on them for realization. He was also willing to help Eunuch Qin.
After all, they were already acquaintances and easy to negotiate with. Introducing another eunuch would only complicate matters. Besides, once there was one tune, there could be a second and a third, ensuring that Eunuch Qin would remain indebted to him.
Wasn’t that advantageous?
Soon, He Chong’an summoned Lei Qianjun, pondered briefly, then guided him in crafting a new cylinder. The tune was the classic “Jingle Bells” melody: “Ding ding dong, ding ding dong, jingle bells ring.”
It was completed in half a day.
Thinking of He Rou, He Chong’an smiled faintly and had the craftsmen produce an extra cylinder, packed in a wooden box and sent to He Rou.
Eunuch Qin was also straightforward, immediately writing a note to dispatch a batch of craftsmen to assist He Chong’an.
He did not mention money—after all, as before, money was merely an object to people like them.
He Chong’an could also keep the labor costs down.
Everything was set.
He Ziqi took charge with technical support from the craftsmen and sufficient manpower. He quickly produced a batch of coal briquette stoves and manual coal briquette presses.
The press was a mold with an iron rod on top. The prepared coal would be pressed into the mold by hand, producing a briquette.
Though there were still production issues, the briquettes were ready for sale.
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Because of his busyness, He Chong’an had stayed at the stables for several days. At first, he sent someone back to the mansion to report, but later he forgot amid the hectic work.
Lady He grew worried and sent He Ziqi to check on him.
When He Ziqi arrived, he barely recognized the place.
The stables were packed with hundreds of people working fervently.
Numerous loose coal pieces were mixed with clay, shaped, and dried, then piled behind the stables in a dense black mass, impossible to estimate at a glance.
He Ziqi was shocked.
He thought to himself, “Madam did not give the third young master a penny.”
“How did the third young master manage to create such a massive operation? Not to mention everything else, just the daily meals for so many people must cost a fortune.”
Lady He, having heard of the large enterprise He Chong’an was running, was worried and asked He Ziqi to inspect it.
He Ziqi grew concerned and inquired about He Chong’an’s whereabouts, then rushed over.
He found He Chong’an with several craftsmen designing a machine—an unrecognizable large iron contraption with many gears.
Seeing He Ziqi, He Chong’an told the craftsmen, “Keep trying. I’ll check back in a couple of days.”
“Yes, sir,” they replied.
He Ziqi pulled He Chong’an aside to a quiet spot and whispered, “How did you get into such a mess? Do you have your own savings?”
“Yes,” He Chong’an said, pulling out his purse and showing two silver ingots. “This month’s allowance.”
He Ziqi frowned. “That’s not what I meant. I’m asking where the money comes from for employing so many people and buying so much coal.”
He Chong’an called to Xiong Dali, “Dali, let Seventh Uncle look at the accounts.”
Dali immediately produced the ledger from his pocket.
He Ziqi took it and saw debts of two thousand taels for coal, three hundred for iron, and various other debts, including wages and meals for over three hundred workers at the stables.
He Ziqi was stunned to learn that He Chong’an even had nearby taverns deliver meals here, costing 150 taels of silver monthly.
That was one thing.
What truly overwhelmed He Ziqi was that He Chong’an had given away over a thousand coal stoves and more than ten thousand briquettes. While briquette production continued, stoves were essentially given away one for one.
Altogether, the debts totaled 6,300 taels.
He Ziqi felt dizzy and nearly collapsed, exclaiming, “Third Young Master, you know the mansion has no funds to spare, especially with the New Year coming. The last 3,000 taels must not be touched. And you’ve made such a huge hole.”
“You’re reckless, but not this reckless! You’ve made all these things just to give them away?”
“You—”
He Ziqi was too anxious and angry to speak coherently.
“Seventh Uncle, please calm down,” He Chong’an hastened to support him, fearing He Ziqi might have a stroke. “Don’t worry. Owing this amount is no big deal.”
“I’m trying to open the market faster.”
He Ziqi’s face was icy. “No one does business like this.”
“There was no one before, but now there is,” He Chong’an said.
He Ziqi had no retort, sighed, and said, “Fine. I still have 800 taels of my own savings. Take it. But you must never give things away like this again.”
He Chong’an felt a warm glow in his heart—He Ziqi truly treated him like family.
“Keep those 800 taels for yourself. Seventh Uncle, if you’re worried, come with me,” He Chong’an smiled.
“Go? Where?”
“To the main gate,” He Chong’an said. “Let me show you my methods.”
The so-called main gate referred to the southern gate area of Beijing’s outer city. In the Ming dynasty, it was the bustling heart of the realm, and under the Daxia dynasty, with its flourishing power, it had become even more prosperous.
Even in the depths of winter, countless shops were open to customers.
Wearing a cotton-padded jacket under a blue robe, looking like an ordinary scholar, He Chong’an, accompanied by He Ziqi, Xiong Dali, and several carts loaded with briquettes, first arrived at a teahouse.
He greeted the proprietor, “Shopkeeper, may you prosper.”
The teahouse owner, upon seeing He Chong’an, exclaimed, “Brother He, you’ve finally arrived! The coal stoves you sent are fantastic. We’ve burned all the briquettes; if you didn’t come soon, my business would have been ruined.”