Rise of the Poor

Chapter 422: Cashing Out Gold

Treasure Island?Who would have thought that the so-called barbaric, uncivilized Land of Wa—the distant islands of Eastern Japan—would carry the title of “Treasure Island”? Such a name implied that Japan was literally paved with gold and silver. And not only that—just moments ago, Zhu Ping’an had mentioned that Japan had even cast Buddha statues more than ten zhang tall entirely out of gold. Tsk, tsk—back in the Ming, our gilded Buddha statues were impressive enough, but they were only gold-plated. To think that the Land of Wa had Buddha statues made of pure gold… the audacity, the extravagance!

Zhu Ping’an’s remarks stirred a flicker of curiosity among the assembled officials in the grand hall.

“Nonsense!” Li Mo scoffed. “If the Land of Wa were truly abundant in gold and silver, why would its people be ragged and starving, resorting to piracy along our coasts?” He didn’t trust Zhu Ping’an’s claims one bit.

“It’s quite simple,” Zhu Ping’an replied softly, his voice calm and measured. “The islands of Wa are rich in gold and silver mines, but their natural resources are scarce. The nation is composed of several large islands, with very little arable land. Natural disasters strike frequently, and food supplies are insufficient. As the saying goes, people live by their stomachs. No matter how much gold and silver exist, without food, it is worthless.”

His reasoning was compelling. For instance, in the event of a flood, only two people might survive clinging to the tips of trees as the waters below swell into a vast, merciless sea. One of them might be a landlord clutching ten taels of gold, the other a beggar with only ten steamed buns. Clearly, it would be the beggar who survives—the gold is useless when there is no sustenance.

“So you’re suggesting using the wealth of Wa’s gold and silver for exchange?” an official asked thoughtfully.

“The price of gold in Wa is far lower than in our Ming,” Zhu Ping’an explained with a subtle smile. “If we were to acquire their gold, the profit would be astronomical.”

Historically, before Japan’s Meiji Restoration, Western nations had exploited this exact discrepancy, purchasing gold at Japanese domestic prices far below the international market. They amassed enormous fortunes, returning home laden with treasure.

Remove AdsIf Europe could do it, why couldn’t Ming China? Why leave such an opportunity to future European powers centuries later?

This, perhaps, was the rudest form of financial warfare.

“Absurd!” a silver-haired elder burst out after Zhu Ping’an suggested profiting from Japan’s gold. “The Ming, the great and righteous Middle Kingdom, cannot stoop to such unscrupulous methods! We, descendants of Confucius, must not commit such acts.”

Truly, this elder considered himself the moral compass of the realm! The Japanese pirates were already raiding our coasts, yet merely mentioning profiting from Wa’s gold was enough to provoke outrage. So much for the Middle Kingdom and the virtue of Confucian descendants!

One almost wished to send him to the coast to lecture the pirates on morality—perhaps they would be so moved they’d bow in apology, even resorting to harakiri!

“Your proposal is indeed a way to enrich the treasury,” another official interjected, weighing the pros and cons. “But are you aware that silver is scarce in our Ming? Our empire spans thousands of li, yet produces very little silver. It is already difficult to maintain the functioning of the state. To exchange our silver for gold would endanger the livelihoods of our people. Silver is the lifeblood of the realm; depleting it for gold could have catastrophic consequences.”

Before the Ming, coins were mainly copper; silver and gold were auxiliary. Only under the Ming did a silver standard take hold. Without enough silver, the entire economic system would collapse.

Though the official may not have fully understood the mechanics of a silver standard or financial strategy, he grasped the principle well enough.

“You are correct, Your Excellency,” Zhu Ping’an nodded. “But exchanging gold does not rely solely on silver. There are other methods. Our Ming produces fine porcelain, tea, and textiles—items the Land of Wa lacks. By trading these for gold, we can achieve dual gains.”

In truth, Zhu Ping’an had never intended to exchange Ming silver for Japanese gold. His elaborate reasoning was a strategic ruse—to broaden the vision of Ming scholars, urging them to look beyond the borders of the empire. Beyond the Ming lay a vast, uncharted world.

Europe was already catching up with and surpassing China. If the Ming opened its eyes to the wider world now, there were still abundant opportunities. Ming was not yet inferior to the West.

Yet history had taken a different path: maritime restrictions, closed borders, isolation… and eventually, Western cannons would batter open our gates. Zhu Ping’an was determined not to allow the humiliations of modern China to repeat. He sought to expand the vision of his countrymen, gently guiding them to observe the world beyond their shores.

“Heh,” Li Mo sneered, “after all that talk, after circling so grandly, you’re still advocating loosening the sea ban! Hmph! Maritime restrictions are ancestral law; no vessel may sail beyond the limits. Loosening the ban is forbidden.”

Li Mo glanced at Yan Song, Yan Shifan, and the others, who seemed to have anticipated this, then cast a scornful look at Zhu Ping’an. To Li Mo, Zhu Ping’an was clearly one of Yan Song’s allies.

It was easy to see why. Most of Yan Song’s faction, especially Yan Shifan, were the loudest advocates for relaxing the sea ban. In Li Mo’s eyes, Zhu Ping’an’s elaborate arguments—about enriching the treasury without burdening the people—were nothing but smoke and mirrors, all leading to one end: loosening maritime restrictions.

The little trickster Zhu Ping’an was working hard to rally support for Yan Shifan, no doubt aided by the favors Yan Song had granted him in his career.

Remove AdsLi Mo steered the debate back to the question of maritime restrictions. The hall erupted in argument again. Advocates for relaxation grew bolder, while the prohibitionists refused to yield.

However, the Jiajing Emperor gave them little opportunity to continue. After listening briefly, he ordered Huang Jin to dismiss the attendees, calling out a few names and retaining only five: Yan Song, Li Mo, Xu Jie, and a couple of others. The rest were escorted out by the minor eunuchs.

Zhu Ping’an was among those led out of the Western Gardens. Though he had performed respectably before the emperor that day, he had not yet earned the right to remain.

By the time he arrived at the Hanlin Academy, word of his promotion had spread. Zhang Siwei offered heartfelt congratulations, while the rest wore expressions of envy, jealousy, and resentment—especially Yuan Wei, whose face seemed as if it could drop to the floor from frustration, deepening his grudge against Zhu Ping’an.

“Congratulations, Lord Zhu,” they murmured.

Even Zhang Juzheng’s gaze had lingered on Zhu Ping’an with something unreadable, but it quickly disappeared, replaced with a smile as he stepped forward to congratulate Zhu Ping’an on his elevation.