Ordinary liquor ran about ten to thirty wen per jin.
Common households rarely drank it — only at New Year's or on certain special occasions would they buy a small amount. If a typical family had the misfortune of producing a genuine drunkard, the household would fall apart within a few years.
Qingniu Town was home to many small merchants and peddlers. Wealthy families and rural gentry from villages within a dozen li or so also chose to settle there, drawn by its relative bustle compared to life in the countryside. These were the people who truly drove the liquor trade.
In the largest room at the back of the middle courtyard, a great iron still so wide that three men linking arms could barely encircle it stood in the corner, a roaring fire blazing beneath it. Clear, sparkling liquor poured steadily from the spout.
Jinxiu's mother tended the furnace alone — adding fuel, swapping out the bucket when it neared full — unhurried and at ease, far less taxing than the work she did at home. The room was warm, but with the doors and windows open it was bearable enough.
The women from the three families took turns working the shift, earning seven wen a day.
"Jinxiu's mother, is the batch ready yet?"
"Coming, coming — what's the rush? If you think I'm too slow, come do it yourself!"
Jinxiu's father walked in looking sheepish, set down a bundle of firewood, and held his tongue. The two men with him chuckled quietly and did the same.
The small gate connecting to the back courtyard swung open and Jinyi stepped through. "Is the order ready?"
Everyone quickly wiped the smiles from their faces, and Jinxiu's mother dropped her sharp manner at once.
"Miss Jinyi, just about done — we only need to seal these last few jars."
Jinyi gave a small nod without pressing them further. The men, reading the room, stepped forward to help.
"Are we still getting enough firewood and base liquor?"
Jinwen's father spoke up at once. "The base liquor is holding up for now — Steward Fang's side can still supply us, and they're ramping up production."
"But firewood is running thin. All three families have been cutting every day, and the deadwood nearby is nearly gone."
Jinyi nodded again. "I see. It looks like we'll have to start buying fuel — charcoal would work too, though the cost would run higher." She paused. "I'll discuss it with the master when I get back. For now, let's get this batch to town."
There was only one shop in Qingniu Town dedicated to the spirits trade. Ordinary liquor was available at any number of larger establishments, so while the business was certainly profitable, windfall profits were out of the question — perhaps a hundred to a hundred and eighty taels a year, all told.
Then Zhao Baihui had taken his distilled liquor and gone to negotiate a deal with Boss Zhang of the local tavern. He spoke of the merits of his Immortal's Stupor, outlined its bright prospects, and by the time the conversation was over, the tavern had effectively changed its surname to Zhao. After deducting operating costs, Zhao Baihui took seventy percent of the profits.
And after Zhao Baihui invited the local gentry for a complimentary tasting, the name Immortal's Stupor exploded across Qingniu Town overnight.
The cheapest ordinary liquor was ten wen a jin, two wen a bowl. Immortal's Stupor was a hundred wen a jin, twenty wen a bowl. Its selling point could be summed up in one word: fierce. Even immortals would be brought to their knees by it — ever since Immortal's Stupor had come along, the legend of the thousand-cup drinker had become ancient history.
One jin of Immortal's Stupor required three jin of base liquor as raw material. Add in the cost of fuel and transport, and expenses climbed close to fifty wen. In Zhao Baihui's view, the margins were thin — but what he needed right now was a reputation, not profit, and a little less income for the time being was a price worth paying.
Once the name was made, a hundred wen a jin would itself become history. If Immortal's Stupor ever reached the capital someday, anything less than a full tael of silver per jin would be too embarrassing to mention in polite company.
The cart was packed from end to end with jars of all sizes, and a small chair sat among them. Jinyi climbed aboard, settled herself upright on the chair, picked up her little notebook, and leafed through what Zhao Baihui had taught her the day before. Of the men from the Sun, Wang, and Li families, one led the horse while the other two walked behind the cart, and together they set off toward town.
They arrived on the main street of Qingniu Town, and the cart drew to a halt beneath a large banner bearing the character for "wine." A portly middle-aged man came out and, upon spotting Jinyi, quickly arranged his face into a broad smile.
"Miss Jinyi, you've arrived."
"You're too kind, Boss Zhang."
Two young shop hands came out from the tavern to carry the jars inside. As they passed Jinyi, they kept their heads down and didn't dare look at her; only once they were safely past did they steal a few glances.
The men from the Sun, Wang, and Li families caught those sidelong looks and exchanged amused grins. In another two years, Miss Jinyi would be fifteen — of marriageable age. But with her abilities and the esteem in which Master Zhao held her, a pair of ordinary shop boys could never hope to be worthy of her. Quietly pining was all they could do.
Meanwhile, Jinyi and Boss Zhang went inside the tavern and settled into a private room. A server hurried over with several small dishes. Then Steward Fang brought the ledger and handed it to Jinyi.
Jinyi went through the accounts while writing and calculating in her own little notebook. Boss Zhang and Steward Fang both watched the notebook and the oil pen with barely concealed envy. Such a small pen, yet it produced such small, clear characters — what a remarkable thing.
Boss Zhang's children were all in school, and he had once asked Jinyi what such an item cost. She had only said that it was expensive and scarce — her master had gone to considerable trouble to procure a small supply from far away, barely enough for household use, and none was available for sale.
Selling notebooks and pens would certainly yield far higher margins than rice, but the risk was too great — not worth it. As long as he kept a low profile, everything would come in time.
Now that the liquor business was up and running, he had stopped selling rice altogether — he had already driven the price of milled rice in Qingniu Town below the twenty-wen threshold. For a refined grain like that, even the entire town's combined consumption was never very large.
"There's a discrepancy here. Steward Fang, would you take a look?"
Steward Fang quickly took the ledger and set the abacus clicking and clacking.
"Miss Jinyi, you have a truly discerning eye — I did indeed make an error."
He admitted the mistake without hesitation.
When Jinyi had first come to audit the books, Steward Fang had been rather dismissive. A thirteen-year-old girl, coming to find errors in the work of a man who had spent half his life as a steward? He had even thought that if he doctored the numbers, the girl would never spot the holes.
He had been proven spectacularly wrong.
The girl had taken out paper and pen, written and calculated for only a short while, and turned up several errors. They were all small ones — the larger the discrepancy, after all, the easier it is to catch.
From that day on, Steward Fang's admiration for Jinyi was absolute and wholehearted. Had she not been a girl of thirteen, he might well have knelt down, kowtowed, and begged to be taken as her student.
"By the way, Steward Fang, there is one more matter."
"Immortal's Stupor cannot keep up with demand right now. Given the limits on production, we have no choice but to raise the price."
"To how much?"
Jinyi showed a flash of small white canine teeth and held up two slender fingers. "Two hundred wen a jin retail. One hundred wen wholesale to the shop."
Boss Zhang drew a sharp breath. Straight to double — this was daylight robbery!
Current daily output was roughly a hundred jin. At two hundred wen a jin, that came to twenty taels of silver. Of course, those twenty taels had little to do with him directly. The shop still had to pay for stock — ten taels for the wholesale purchase alone. The profits from ordinary liquor covered all the running costs; his thirty-percent cut of Immortal's Stupor came to about three taels. He also owned his own distillery, which supplied three hundred jin of base liquor a day at eight wen per jin — over two taels. But those two-plus taels carried costs; actual profit was barely half a tael.
Tallied over a year, supplying base liquor brought in over a hundred taels; the tavern share came to over a thousand. Compared to his previous annual income of a hundred-odd taels, it was a tenfold leap.
But people are never satisfied. Boss Zhang put on his most ingratiating smile. "Miss Jinyi, now that Immortal's Stupor is going up in price, I was wondering about the purchase rate for the base liquor…"
The professional smile slowly faded from Jinyi's face.
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