Chapter Twenty-Two: Bargaining

Several days later, Mi Zhu arrived at the Pavilion of the Yellow Gate.

Ordinarily, Mi Zhu kept a low profile, never flaunting his wealth, but on this occasion, the true extent of the Mi family’s resources was on full display. Carriage after carriage moved slowly along the post road, accompanied by two thousand servants before and behind, proceeding in stately formation, blocking the road entirely.

The elders of the Deng and Shen clans, along with Shen Chen and others, were already waiting by the roadside. It was only as the train drew near that the gathered crowd realized Mi Zhu had not brought such a retinue to show off his wealth, but for a thorough survey.

Most of the carriages were filled with bamboo slips, and half the servants were clerks charged with tallying the fields, while the other half were farmers, field laborers, and attendants tasked with inspecting the quality of the land.

Some wielded brushes and ink, others spades—over eighteen thousand mu of land was no small sum, amounting to nearly a tenth of the Mi family’s holdings.

“Steward!”

Shen Chen, along with Deng Mao, Deng Hong, and others, stepped forward to greet him with utmost respect.

Truth be told, the Deng and Shen families were merely minor landowners, not even ranking among the powerful landlords, let alone the great aristocratic clans. By contrast, Mi Zhu was not only the richest man in Xuzhou and a major landlord, but also an official of the provincial government—his status was far above theirs. The only reason he accorded any notice to the elders of the Pavilion of the Yellow Gate was because Shen Chen’s talents had earned the appreciation of Tao Qian and Liu Bei.

Had this been under more ordinary circumstances, even if the elders wished to sell their land, Mi Zhu might not have come in person.

Now, stepping down from his carriage, Mi Zhu approached with a warm, affable smile and clasped his hands in greeting. “You gentlemen must be the elders of the Pavilion of the Yellow Gate.”

“Deng Mao, Deng Hong, at your service, Steward.”

“There is no need for formality. I have heard you plan to migrate southward—Lord Tao is greatly saddened, for Xuzhou will lose many of its people once more.”

“Alas, the times are harsh, and we do so out of necessity.”

“Then I can only wish you a smooth journey.”

“Many thanks, Steward.”

A few courteous words were exchanged, Mi Zhu expressing his regrets over the elders’ departure, though the smile never left his face. If they had sought to sell their land when Cao Cao was ravaging Xuzhou, Mi Zhu would never have considered buying then—for if Cao Cao took Xuzhou, no one could say who the land would ultimately belong to.

But now, the situation seemed greatly improved. Trouble had erupted in Cao Cao’s rear, and Yuan Shu to the south had not invaded Xuzhou; both fronts had grown peaceful. Xuzhou’s main problem had not been a lack of seasoned troops, but rather capable generals. Tao Qian’s Danyang soldiers were formidable, but his use of tactics and command had been wanting against Cao’s forces.

With Liu Bei’s arrival to fill this gap, Mi Zhu believed that if Tao Qian was given more time to reorganize the provinces and recruit new soldiers, peace would return to Xuzhou. As order was restored, the value of land would soar. Now was the moment to buy up tracts around Shan County—each parcel a future fortune.

The Pavilion of the Yellow Gate was selling a great quantity of land at this opportune moment: close to Shan County, fertile, and highly desirable—Mi Zhu was greatly tempted.

Tempted as he was, he still intended to negotiate the price.

At Deng Mao’s invitation, Mi Zhu entered the Deng ancestral home, while his servants, led by Deng Zhao and Shen Zhen, went off to verify and tally the lands.

From mid-morning, the work continued until near sunset, lasting nearly three and a half hours. With so many servants, efficiency was high—each had only to inspect ten mu. Had it been any lesser family, lacking so many retainers, the task would have taken days.

Within the Deng ancestral hall, the hosts kept Mi Zhu company, sharing a meal at midday. At last, when the tally was verified and the quality confirmed, they could turn to serious negotiations. Both sides sat facing each other in the central chamber, with neither party taking the seat of honor. The Deng and Shen clans sat on the right, Mi Zhu and his party on the left. Each side had four representatives: Deng Mao and Deng Hong for the Dengs, an elder named Shen Xian and Shen Chen for the Shens. Mi Zhu brought a clansman—either his brother Mi Fang or another relative—and two stewards responsible for accounts and land assessment.

Once seated, Deng Hong cleared his throat and began. “Steward, the survey is complete. Are you satisfied?”

One of Mi Zhu’s stewards whispered to him. Turning, Mi Zhu replied with a smile, “Indeed, it is 18,762 mu, not a single mu more or less. What price do you gentlemen propose?”

Deng Hong, Deng Mao, and Shen Xian exchanged glances, took a deep breath, and Deng Hong spoke. “For lower-grade fields, a thousand coins per mu; for medium, three thousand; for the best, eight thousand. How does the Steward find this price?”

“Hmmm...” Mi Zhu stroked his chin thoughtfully, tension mounting among the others.

After a moment, he shook his head. “A bit steep. In ordinary times, this would be fair, but now...”

Deng Hong quickly interjected, “The price is negotiable. Please, Steward, what would you consider reasonable?”

“Half,” Mi Zhu said coolly.

Half?

At this, the faces of Deng Hong, Deng Mao, and Shen Xian darkened.

According to historical records, land prices in Han times fluctuated greatly: poor lands could be bought for a few hundred to two thousand coins per mu, while the finest fetched three thousand to fifteen thousand. Yet these so-called poor lands were often just vegetable plots or odd corners, not true fields, and included essential resources like vegetable gardens, mulberry groves, and ponds.

The 18,000 mu at the Pavilion of the Yellow Gate included such resources, but this was prime land on the Huai north plain of Xuzhou, unlike the poor mountain soil of the southwest. Even the lesser fields here were dry croplands on flat terrain, worth at least 1,500 coins per mu, with the best commanding prices up to ten thousand, especially for mulberry groves and fishponds.

By normal market value, these lands would fetch over a hundred million coins, not including the houses and pavilions thrown in for free. The elders’ asking price was already very low—yet Mi Zhu wanted to cut it in half again, reducing it to a third of its original worth. What should have been worth a hundred million was now only thirty million, nearly a giveaway. It was no wonder the elders were outraged.

“Steward, this price...”

“This price is more than fair.”

Deng Hong was about to refuse when Shen Chen suddenly interrupted. “But I have one request: would the Steward be willing to pay, at market value, in grain, pig iron, and salt? With the wealth of the Mi family, surely this is not too much to ask.”

“Oh?” Mi Zhu mused, shaking his head. “These are precious commodities.”

Shen Chen smiled. “If that is the case, so be it. Recently, the Miao clan of Lanling, the Wang clan of Xiangben, the Cao clan of Shan City, and the Chen clan of Xiapi have all expressed interest in these lands. If you think our migration will leave the fields ownerless, you are mistaken, Steward.”

“Hmm.” Mi Zhu fell silent. At first, he had assumed he could delay or push down the price, reasoning that the Deng and Shen families, desperate to leave, would sell cheap and he could buy at a pittance without risk.

But among the great clans of Xuzhou, the Mi family had wealth but not the highest standing. The Miao and Wang clans were middling, but the Cao and Chen clans—relatives of Cao Hong, Cao Bao, Chen Gui, and Chen Deng—were favorites of Tao Qian and outranked even Mi Zhu. These families would not let such land go cheaply, nor would the elders simply abandon it to be seized by others. Even if the Mi family did try to seize some, how much could they really get? Better to buy it outright, with proper deeds.

Shen Chen’s proposal to accept payment in goods was shrewd. This year, Xuzhou had suffered devastation—not from natural disaster, but from the wars brought by Cao Cao’s repeated invasions. Yet Tao Qian had appointed Chen Deng as Agricultural Inspector, greatly promoting farming, so Xuzhou was not short on food; moreover, its proximity to the coast and Guangling’s renowned salt fields made it rich in grain and salt, with prices stable and not too high.

Later historians would record that only regions such as Yanzhou, Yuzhou, and southern Huai suffered famine due to drought, with Xuzhou’s only notable famine occurring years later during the “Army of Bei at Guangling” when, beset by starvation, the soldiers cannibalized their own ranks. But that was due to later disasters caused by Zuo Rong, and even then, Liu Bei’s army did not plunder the people, but survived on their dead.

Thus, present-day Xuzhou, untouched by drought or war from Yuan Shu and Lü Bu, had stable prices for grain and salt. If Shen Chen were to convert the land sale into these goods, their local value would not be high. Yet the Deng and Shen families were migrating—once these goods left Xuzhou for places like Henan, their value would multiply tenfold, even fiftyfold. With Cao Cao and Lü Bu locked in stalemate in Yanzhou, both sides short on provisions, grain prices soared as if on wings.

So Shen Chen’s demand for goods, not money, was clearly the wiser move. However, grain prices in Xuzhou, though stable now, would skyrocket if Cao’s army returned. Landed families like Mi Zhu’s would hoard grain and wait to sell at a profit. If Mi Zhu paid now in goods and prices rose later, he would lose a great deal—this deal might not be so favorable after all.

Yet with so much land...

After long contemplation, Mi Zhu sighed, “You are truly astute, Shen. To demand payment in grain rather than coin—money can be mere scraps of copper, but grain is real. Once you transport these goods out of Xuzhou and sell them elsewhere, their value will multiply tenfold or more.”

Shen Chen replied, “These are times of chaos; merchants dare not travel, and the lack of trade means prices vary wildly between regions. I too risk my life to do this. Would you, Steward?”

“You are right—a great profit requires a great risk. I’ve heard that in Yanzhou, grain now sells for over six thousand coins per dan, yet I dare not send my grain there. That is the difference between us.”

Mi Zhu nodded, admiring Shen Chen’s courage. “Very well, let it be as you say. I will pay for the land with grain, pig iron, and salt.”

Although he might earn less in the future, land would always yield more grain—this was a bargain he could not refuse.