Chapter Nineteen: Seeking New Ways to Make Money!

Under the dual measures of both kindness and authority, Li Zhao smoothly assumed the post of Chief of the Irregulars. Yet whether he could firmly hold this position remained uncertain. After all, even the Emperor wouldn't allow his soldiers to go hungry, and the lives of the Irregulars were far too bitter. If he wanted them to devote themselves wholeheartedly to their duties, he would first need to ensure that they and their families wanted for nothing, with enough coins jingling in their pockets for daily expenses.

This government office was in utter disrepair and required complete reconstruction; otherwise, proper administration would be impossible. The uniforms and weapons of the Irregulars were similarly in dire need of replacement. Dressed like beggars and wielding nothing but battered iron rulers, how could they hope to capture thieves and maintain order?

All these problems pointed to one fundamental issue: money— and a great deal of it. But where would the money come from? The Jingzhao Prefecture certainly wouldn't allocate any funds, and applying would be futile. Li Zhao himself had some personal savings, but using his own money for official matters was not a long-term solution. Moreover, when the Irregulars grew into a vast organization with tens of thousands of members and branches across the country, his little stash would be woefully inadequate.

At present, he desperately needed to find a lucrative source of income to serve as the economic foundation for the organization’s expansion. And where better to seek fortune than in the bustling marketplace? On his second day in office, Li Zhao, accompanied by White Bun, White Day Mouse, and his four bodyguards, headed straight for the Western Market.

Chang’an was home to both Eastern and Western Markets. The Eastern Market, situated closer to Xingqing Palace, was frequented by the rich and powerful, and thus specialized in luxury goods and rare treasures from all corners of the empire. The Western Market, on the other hand, was more down-to-earth, peddling daily necessities such as tea, medicinal herbs, cloth, and salt.

“Come and see! Finest refined salt from Bashu, pure as snow, no impurities—buy now before it’s all gone!”

“Fresh sea salt from Shandong, cheap, cheap!”

After wandering through the Western Market, Li Zhao paused in the salt district, his curiosity piqued by the goods for sale there. It turned out that in the feudal era, just as people were divided into classes, salt too was categorized into three grades based on origin and quality.

The first was refined salt, also known as well salt, mainly produced in the Bashu region. It was obtained by drilling vertical wells and extracting deep underground brine, which was then boiled to produce salt. This method required a massive investment of time, effort, and money, with low yields. Sinking a salt well could cost thousands, even tens of thousands of silver taels, and sometimes tens of thousands more with nothing to show for it. However, well salt was almost entirely free of impurities, dazzlingly white, delicious, and rich in natural minerals—long-term consumption was beneficial to health. With such high quality and limited quantity, the price was steep: about four thousand copper coins per dou in the Guanzhong region, affordable only to the affluent and noble families.

The second was fine salt, produced by sun-drying seawater or brine from salt lakes, then subjecting it to a complex purification process. Its purity, whiteness, and taste fell far short of well salt, but it was produced in much greater quantities and thus sold for less—about eight hundred coins per dou.

The third was coarse salt, unrefined sea salt with large grains and many impurities, carrying a bitter taste that made it unsuitable for regular consumption. Instead, it was used as livestock feed, for pickling vegetables, or as a pigment ingredient. Yet its output was the highest and price the lowest—just two hundred coins per dou, or even less in bulk.

“What a stroke of fortune!” Li Zhao thought. “I’ve searched far and wide for a way to make a fortune, only to have it fall into my lap so effortlessly. Why did I never notice salt before? If I had, I’d have struck it rich long ago—far more than selling cheap liquor. Salt is an absolute necessity!”

To the common people, the difference between refined and coarse salt was like night and day, but to Li Zhao, their main component was identical—only the latter contained more impurities. Remove those, and the coarse salt would become refined salt. The purification process was simple, requiring only a few basic tools, some straightforward materials, and several elementary chemical reactions—nothing beyond a high schooler’s abilities.

And the profit margin? A full twentyfold difference! This was a path to immense wealth.

Now that he’d found a way to prosper, he needed to devise a concrete plan. After all, he was unfamiliar with the salt market and lacked both supply and sales channels. It would be best to find a partner.

As he pondered this, he unexpectedly ran into an acquaintance at the market.

“Well, if it isn’t Young Master Zhao! What a surprise to meet you here. I heard you’ve been appointed Chief of the Irregulars—so young and already an official. Your prospects are truly limitless!”

“You flatter me, Manager Zhou.”

“If you don’t mind, Young Master, would you honor my humble shop with a cup of tea?”

“Gladly, thank you.”

This acquaintance was Li Zhao’s landlord, the uncle of the Wu sisters, whose name was Zhou Youren. Honest and upright, he was polite to everyone, earning him the nickname “Honest Zhou.” The Zhou family had once enjoyed great prominence, producing several high officials in succession, but had since fallen on hard times, with only the ancestral home and a salt shop remaining—just enough to scrape by.

Li Zhao was eager to gather information about the salt business, so he and his companions joined Zhou in his shop. It was small, with only seven or eight assistants, and a young girl at the counter keeping the books.

On closer look, it was none other than Little Wu. Unwilling to laze about at home, she had come to help her uncle at the shop. In the Tang Dynasty, women enjoyed high social status; it was quite normal for them to appear in public.

“Qing’er, serve tea!”

“Yes, Uncle.”

Little Wu brewed a pot of tea, serving each guest in turn. She sneaked a glance at Li Zhao, her cheeks reddening before she hurried back behind the counter to continue her calculations. Yet the sound of her abacus was noticeably less steady.

Truth be told, Little Wu was a beauty in her feminine attire—bright eyes and white teeth, skin like snow, graceful and elegant, with a noble air. Out of every hundred men, ninety-nine would be moved by such a woman; Li Zhao was the lone exception.

It wasn’t that he was uninterested in women or of an unusual inclination. Rather, his sixteen-year-old body concealed the mind of a thirty-year-old man, and he naturally had no romantic thoughts about a girl of fourteen or fifteen—an age that, in modern times, would be that of a middle school student. Pursuing her would be both improper and criminal.

His tastes ran to tall, curvaceous, mature women.

Moreover, while Little Wu appeared gentle and kind, she harbored a latent ferocity. Otherwise, she would not have bitten off a chunk of flesh from a thug at the Laoshui wharf. In this, she resembled her great aunt, the Empress Wu Zetian. Such a disposition might remain hidden in peaceful times, but if crisis struck and that inner violence was awakened, the results could be terrifying. Li Zhao was keenly aware of this and thus wary.

But enough digression—back to the matter at hand.

As Li Zhao chatted with Manager Zhou, inquiring about the salt trade, he observed the shop and was surprised to find only coarse and fine salt for sale—no refined salt.

“Manager Zhou, why don’t you sell refined salt here?”

“Ah, Young Master, you may not know. Refined salt is mainly produced in Bashu. It must be transported across the perilous mountain roads of Daba and Qinling, then downriver to Chang’an. But since April, heavy rains have fallen in Bashu for more than a month without respite, causing floods that destroyed the mountain paths. Merchants can’t travel, so refined salt can’t be shipped out.

Right now, six or seven out of every ten salt shops in Chang’an are out of refined salt, and the rest are barely holding on. Many households can only buy fine salt, or even coarse salt, which tastes dreadful.”

“I see. Thank you for enlightening me.”

After gathering this information, a gleam appeared in Li Zhao’s eyes. He thought for a moment and made a decision.

“Manager Zhou, I have a friend who specializes in salt trading. He happens to have a batch of refined salt for sale. Would you be interested?”

“Are you serious, Young Master? How much refined salt does he have, and what’s the price?”

“There’s quite a lot—three or four hundred dou could be delivered first. As for the price, how about the usual market rate?”

“Of course! Thank you, Young Master! If you really have a supply of refined salt, you’ll have saved my humble shop. You’re truly our benefactor—thank you, thank you so much!”

Manager Zhou stood up, bowing repeatedly, his words of gratitude flowing like a torrent.

Due to the broken trade routes, the price of refined salt in both the Eastern and Western Markets had skyrocketed, more than doubling and still rising. Buying at the normal price meant a windfall.

Now, he only doubted whether this youth could really procure such a large amount of refined salt. Was it just empty talk?

Li Zhao could see his doubts but offered no explanation. Once the goods were delivered the next day, all suspicion would vanish.

As for the refined salt, he didn’t have any on hand—but he could easily refine it.