Chapter 413 - 377: Subduing

Chapter 413: Chapter 377: Subduing

Jingshan County Town.

Liben Silk Shop.

The shop, once ransacked and left in shambles by the Iron Alliance, was now bustling with feverish repairs.

Craftsmen hammered away while shop assistants bustled in and out.

At the shop’s entrance, Qian Laibao sat in a wheeled chair. Both his arms and legs were still secured in splints and wrapped with thick bandages.

Although his injuries weren’t fatal, the bones and tendons in his limbs were severely damaged. He could barely move now and was still a long way from a full recovery; most of the time, he had to rely on the chair to get around.

The physical pain, however, hadn’t dampened his spirits.

His face was still pale, but his eyes were sharp and alert, betraying an almost frenetic energy.

After learning from Patriarch Chen Li that the matter had been settled and the Jiang Family would provide compensation, a great weight was lifted from his shoulders, and he insisted on returning to Jingshan.

The reason was simple: he couldn’t bear to sit idle.

He felt the enormous losses were entirely his fault for underestimating the Iron Alliance’s strength, a miscalculation that had led to this disaster. His heart was filled with guilt and self-reproach.

Although Chen Li hadn’t berated him, instead consoling him and telling him to focus on his recovery, Qian Laibao couldn’t rest with a clear conscience.

His anxiety, fueled by the current frenzy in the Jiangzhou Silk Market, grew more intense with each passing day.

’Time waits for no one!’

Especially in the silk trade, this was a critical time when every moment was precious.

Since the beginning of May, the silk market in Jiangzhou had gone completely wild.

To fulfill the quota demanded by the Court, the Jiangzhou Textile Bureau had started frantically buying up stock at any price. This caused silk prices to skyrocket, now breaking the astronomical price of sixty taels per bolt—and even then, there was no stock to be found.

Silk had even begun to circulate in large quantities on the Jiangkou Black Market. A popular joke was even making the rounds: "Forget Opium, flipping silk is where the real fast money is!"

Though a jest, it highlighted just how scarce silk had become.

Drawing on his years of merchant experience, Qian Laibao predicted that this abnormal frenzy of demand would quickly subside once the Textile Bureau met its quota, which he estimated would be by the end of June at the latest. After that, prices would inevitably fall.

Whether such a market would exist again next year was anyone’s guess.

Therefore, this brief window of one to two months was this year’s golden opportunity to sell off inventory and cash in.

Every day wasted meant a colossal loss.

As soon as he returned to Jingshan, he endured the pain and first dealt with the inventory at his own Qian’s Silk Shop, quickly liquidating the stock to take advantage of the high prices.

He then poured all his energy into the Chen Family’s silk business.

Qian Laibao felt a pang of anguish whenever he thought about the Chen Family’s losses.

The silk shop had been looted and smashed, resulting in a direct loss of over two thousand bolts of high-quality silk and more than forty-seven thousand taels of silver. When factoring in shop repairs, staff compensation, and other miscellaneous expenses, the total loss was estimated to exceed one hundred and sixty thousand taels of silver.

But what Qian Laibao truly considered the greatest loss was the disruption to their business.

Since the Lingxi Textile Workshop had begun its initial production, the Chen Family’s silk output had indeed increased significantly.

But the new workshop had its share of problems. Despite having over a thousand looms, a severe shortage of skilled female workers kept the monthly output hovering at around eight hundred bolts.

In contrast, the old textile workshop in Liyang Commandery City, managed by Zhou Shuwei, had long been operating smoothly. Running at full capacity, it could consistently produce three thousand bolts of silk per month.

Chen Li had given Qian Laibao full authority over the output from the Lingxi New Workshop, while Zhou Shuwei was responsible for the silk from the Liyang Textile Workshop.

Due to the unstable output of the eight hundred bolts of silk he managed each month, Qian Laibao hadn’t partnered with the powerful gentry families who had high demand. Instead, he targeted wealthy households and small-to-medium-sized merchants across the various counties.

Even so, releasing eight hundred bolts of silk into the market each month was like a drop in the ocean.

The goods often had only just arrived at the shop; less than a day after the sign was put out, they would be completely bought out by customers who had caught wind of the delivery. Demand far outstripped supply.

During the time he was bedridden, the Lingxi Textile Workshop hadn’t stopped production, and had accumulated another eight hundred-plus bolts of silk.

Combined with the inventory he already had, he was now sitting on a stockpile of over three thousand bolts.

And now, it was already late June.

The price of silk had peaked.

It was poised to drop, and this huge batch of silk was waiting to be sold. A single day’s delay could mean a price collapse.

How could Qian Laibao not be frantic?

He felt too ashamed to face Chen Li. Therefore, even though every inch of him was in pain, he forced himself to summon every ounce of his energy to supervise the repairs, hoping only to reopen a day sooner and liquidate his stock that much faster.

As he was busy, a clamor of carts, horses, and shouts from down the street broke his train of thought.

He looked up toward the sound to see a vast procession of mule carts, dozens of them, slowly approaching. They stopped in front of the silk shop, completely blocking the already narrow street.

The curtain of the lead carriage was lifted, and a man in a dark blue, long-sleeved robe jumped down. His face was hidden by a plain wooden mask.

His gaze swept across the scene and landed on Qian Laibao, who was surrounded by a crowd in his wooden wheeled chair. The man walked straight toward him.

"Might you be Shopkeeper Qian?"

The masked man’s voice came through his mask, tinged with courtesy. "I have come to offer my apologies and make amends for our previous error. I hope that you will be magnanimous and understanding, Shopkeeper Qian."

Qian Laibao narrowed his small eyes, sizing the man up. ’He must be from the Jiang Family,’ he knew.

Chen Li had sent word that the Jiang Family would be sending someone soon to formally apologize.

It was just that whenever he thought of his own injuries and the shop’s losses, the bitter anger in his chest was difficult to quell.