On the seventeenth day of the ninth month, the sun shone bright and warm. A carriage pulled to a halt by the wharf situated diagonally behind the Tianfei Palace.
A vast array of vessels lay moored in the harbor, their masts rising like a dense forest stretching all the way to the distant horizon.
Beginning yesterday, the spring grain transport fleets had been returning one after another, packing the sprawling port of Liujiagang to the brim. Before their arrival, the fleets dispatched by the Shen and Ye families to engage in overseas trade in Srivijaya had only just set sail. Liujiagang truly never had an idle day, bustling with an astonishing level of activity.
Zheng Fan, Shao Shuyi, Liang Tai, and Yu Yuan stepped down from the carriage. After instructing Cao Tong to wait at the dock, they made several inquiries and finally located the vessel named the *Frankincense Route*.
However, the ship was anchored in the distant deep-water roadstead. To board her, one had to hire a small lighter boat.
There were boatmen in Liujiagang who specialized precisely in this kind of business.
Their boats were modest in size. The larger ones held only a few dozen passengers, while the smaller ones accommodated merely a handful, shuttling constantly between the great seagoing vessels and the quays to ferry passengers and lighter cargo.
After Zheng Fan handed over some paper money, the four men climbed aboard. Yet the boatman made not the slightest move to pull the oars, merely craning his neck toward the shore.
"Boatman, was the money not enough?" Zheng Fan asked, growing somewhat impatient.
"Coming, they're coming! Bear with me a moment, masters," the boatman replied with a grin, bowing repeatedly with hands clasped.
Even as he spoke, two oxcarts appeared by the water's edge. Without a word, the carters unloaded the freight on the spot and hauled it into the boat's cabin.
"The ship you gentlemen are heading to was still short a bit of silk fabric. They rushed it along and only managed to get it here today," the boatman explained. "They gave me word last night to lighter it over to the great vessel."
"And you still took on passengers?" Zheng Fan said, speechless.
The boatman smiled sheepishly, offering no direct answer, and merely remarked, "This red silk is destined for Mindoro in the Philippines, so we have to handle it with great care."
Zheng Fan let out an amused snort and asked in a condescending tone, "A boatman like you knows of Mindoro too?"
"Aye, I do," the boatman replied as he lent a hand. "I've been lightering here for thirty years. I've heard tell of quite a few foreign ports."
"Let's hear them, then," Zheng Fan said.
The boatman gently set a bolt of red silk beside Shao Shuyi's feet and turned back to Zheng Fan. "This here is red silk. If it's small red silk, it gets shipped to Terengganu in Malaysia.
"Mountain-red silk goes to Martaban at the mouth of the Salween River in southern Burma.
"Dyed silk generally goes to Srivijaya around Palembang on Sumatra.
"And if it's five-color polychrome silk, it sells to Nagapattinam in Tamil Nadu, India, facing Sri Lanka across the water."
Even as the boatman spoke, his hands worked briskly. In no time at all, bolt after bolt of silk fabrics was stacked neatly in the hold.
Zheng Fan and Shao Shuyi exchanged a glance, both somewhat surprised.
"Boatman, with knowledge like that, you could head out to sea and conduct foreign trade yourself," Shao Shuyi chuckled.
"I've only picked it up in bits and pieces over thirty years of listening to seafarers," the boatman replied. "Aren't they all just working hands on the ships, anyway? I haven't seen many of them ever rise to become shipmasters."
Zheng Fan laughed heartily. "There's truth in that."
Shao Shuyi smiled as well, then asked, "Boatman, the foreign ports you just mentioned—do folks from the Central Plains travel to them often?"
"Plenty of them do," replied the boatman, who looked to be in his fifties yet hauled cargo without breathing hard. "Just a few days ago, I lightered some glossy silk damask over to the Zhu family's great ship. They're heading all the way to the Maluku Islands to buy spices."
"I see," Shao Shuyi said, nodding.
From what he understood, maritime trade under the Yuan dynasty had flourished tremendously, advancing well beyond the foundations laid by the Song to reach astonishing heights. Both the number of voyagers and the size of the fleets had reached unprecedented levels in history.
Even so, most Chinese merchants were accustomed to doing business only around the Bay of Bengal and Southeast Asia.
Far fewer merchants ventured westward past India and Sri Lanka.
As for those reaching the Persian Gulf, the Gulf of Aden, and the East African coast, they were extraordinarily rare—the farthest on record being Wang Dayuan, who had sailed all the way to the Mozambique Channel, flanked by Mozambique and Madagascar with South Africa to the south.
Yet this grand, prosperous spectacle remained breathtaking.
Extracting money from the pockets of high officials, noble dignitaries, powerful gentry, and wealthy burghers was never an easy task, yet they were precisely the primary consumers of foreign goods. The imperial court had entered the fray directly through the government-capitalized trading ship system to take a cut of maritime profits, while also levying taxes via the Maritime Trade Supervisorates. In doing so, it reached indirectly into their purses to swell state revenues, all while fostering a whole class of merchants, shipmasters, and senior mariners who grew wealthy through sea trade—making it all the more convenient to shear them later when the time came...
The crew swiftly finished loading the cargo. On the quay, the oxcarts turned and departed, while a lone man stepped aboard and took a seat quietly in a corner without uttering a word.
Naturally, Zheng Fan and Shao Shuyi had no interest in bothering with him.
"Cast off!" The boatman worked the scull, steering toward the deep water.
From time to time, folk on passing boats shouted greetings across the water. The boatman invariably roared hearty answers back, exchanging typical banter about how business was going, how many boatloads of goods he had hauled today, and how many passengers he was carrying.
Before long, the tall, imposing hull of the *Frankincense Route* loomed directly ahead.
The vessel was truly distinctive.
Upon each of its three masts hung a short yard, rigged with triangular lateen sails that seemed designed to pivot with remarkable agility to catch shifting winds.
*So this is an Arabian ocean-going dhow?* Shao Shuyi stared in wonder, thinking to himself that it was indeed vastly different from the river craft built by the Zheng family boatyard. *When will I ever possess a true seagoing ship of my own? Will I ever have the chance in this lifetime?*
"We're here," the boatman said, wiping away a smear of sweat to alert them.
***
Inside the largest cabin of the *Frankincense Route*, Ali sat upright in the center. Five or six men sat cross-legged on the floor to his left and right.
When Zheng Fan, Shao Shuyi, Yu Yuan, and Liang Tai walked in, every eye turned toward them in unison.
After a moment, one of the men stood up, fetched four small pouches from behind him, and tossed them down before the newcomers with dull thuds.
"Speech is leaves; action is fruit," Ali said first in his native tongue, then switched to the Wu dialect. Pointing at the four pouches, he said, "Open them, guests."
Zheng Fan and Shao Shuyi looked at each other, then sat down cross-legged and untied the pouches.
"Frankincense." Zheng Fan weighed his pouch lightly in his hand and found it held roughly four or five jin. It was no meager gift.
Shao Shuyi also opened his pouch. It too held frankincense, but nestled inside were several gleaming objects. He immediately looked up at Ali.
"Do not grow complacent beside the wellspring of honor, young man," Ali said, winking at him. "This is a small reward for you, because you brought me assistance."
With that, Ali clapped his hands.
A servant behind him opened the cabin door and brought over a thick stack of parchment sheets.
"Hand them to our guests," Ali instructed.
The servant stooped before Zheng Fan and Shao Shuyi, spreading the parchment sheets out on the deck planks one by one.
"The first few pages are noble coats of arms. As long as you can fire them into porcelain, I can sell them," Ali said. "The ones behind are the shapes and wares I need you to produce."
Zheng Fan and Shao Shuyi examined them with rapt attention.
Setting aside the family crests, most of the rest depicted utensils commonly used in foreign lands.
For instance, one piece resembled an oil lamp and exuded an intensely exotic flair: traditional oil lamps of the Central Plains were mostly shaped like dishes or mounted on tall pedestals, whereas this design featuring a long spout that could be handheld or hung was exceedingly rare, and its decorative patterns bore no resemblance to Chinese style.
Another depicted a goblet with a tall stem, a flared rim, and intricate scrolling floral motifs. On it was depicted a scene of foreigners sitting cross-legged in a gathering, along with a proverb inscribed in foreign script: *He who has no friends is like a solitary wild goose parted from the flock.*
There was also the inkwell Shao Shuyi had suggested before, likewise inscribed with an Arabic proverb: *Adorn not your garments, but enrich your wisdom.*
And there were yet more...
All told, there were over a dozen varieties of vessels serving different purposes, each required to be fired strictly according to the illustrations.
"I will leave two men behind here; you can conduct the detailed discussions with them," Ali said, gesturing to the two men at his sides. "As for the required deposit... that presents a problem."
Zheng Fan gathered the parchment sheets.
This foreign merchant gave off a rather haughty air of dictating terms as he pleased, which irked Zheng Fan slightly. Still, in business, personal likes and dislikes mattered little; turning a profit came first. Since Third Young Master believed that while pursuing overseas trade they must not abandon their foundational trade, and that both paths ought to advance in tandem, this enterprise had to be undertaken.
Besides, he too believed the prospects were bright and that this was a promising deal. Xiaohu always possessed curious inspirations that struck people with sheer admiration.
"To be honest, I have no spare funds left to pay a cash deposit," Ali said with an air of helpless resignation. "The cargo I brought has essentially all been sold off and converted into your porcelain, silk yarn, and brocade. However, I still have some goods that your Maritime Trade Supervisorate classifies as 'fine goods,' which I had planned to take and sell in Quanzhou, having missed calling there on the way here. If you are willing to accept them—"
As he spoke, he clapped his hands again. Several servants entered, each carrying a bolt of fabric to display before Zheng Fan and his companions.
Zheng Fan rose to his feet and inspected each piece thoroughly.
Shao Shuyi stood up as well.
Jibei cotton cloth, checkered foreign floral cloth, camel-hair fabric, kapok cloth, stocking cloth, shoe cloth...
"Several decades ago, foreign textiles took the market by storm..." Zheng Fan leaned in close to Shao Shuyi's ear, offering a brief explanation.
Shao Shuyi understood.
From what Zheng Fan meant, thirty or forty years ago, foreign cotton textiles had flooded into the Yuan Empire in vast quantities—perhaps several dozen varieties—all enjoying great popularity for a time. By now, however, the tide had gradually turned: cotton textiles produced within the Great Yuan had come to occupy a substantial share of export goods, climbing rapidly through the ranks as an unexpected rising force.
Zheng Fan even suspected that in the realm of cotton textiles, the Great Yuan's exports already surpassed its imports, which was why the cotton fabrics brought by foreign merchants no longer sold easily.
Yet these fabrics were by no means impossible to unload. The Zheng family ran dedicated fabric shops that also handled sea trade; their flagship merchandise was silk, supplemented by cotton and linen goods.
"If you are not satisfied with these," Ali added, taking out a wooden box from beside his feet and popping it open with a clatter, "name an appraisal for this."
Shao Shuyi looked toward the sound and saw over a hundred silver coins resting inside the wooden chest. It was not an enormous sum, likely meant for distributing bounties along the voyage. For him to produce even this showed that he was genuinely sincere—and genuinely anxious.
"How much fine cloth do you have?" Zheng Fan asked, looking at Ali.
Ali raised one hand, spreading his fingers. "One bolt per roll, five hundred rolls in total, slightly more than five hundred of your standard bolts."
Zheng Fan knitted his brows in contemplation.
"If that is still not enough, take these as well." Ali unfastened two daggers from his waist and tossed them across.
The scabbards and hilts were densely encrusted with gems, dazzling the eye.
"Take these too." Ali also had his men take down two pairs of decorative elephant tusks hanging on the cabin wall.
Having done all this, Ali sat calmly in his place and said, "The final deposit I offer is my friendship."
Both Zheng Fan and Shao Shuyi looked at him.
"The tax farmer Sun Chuan demanded that I not purchase your porcelain and silk, and I agreed," Ali said. "If you accept my friendship, then when my fleet arrives at Liujiagang next year, I will give priority to purchasing your goods."
"Next year?" Shao Shuyi was somewhat startled.
A round trip between Basra and Liujiagang in a single year seemed remarkably efficient.
"I grew up in Basra, and my first long voyage began there as well, but Basra is no longer my home," Ali smiled and said. "I live in the place you call Laway, in Johor. I will return very soon, my boy."
*So that's how it is.* Shao Shuyi understood now. No wonder so many Southeast Asian countries in later generations adhered to Islam—it had all been brought over by Arab merchants.
The South Seas region was essentially a crossroads where three great civilizations—Chinese, Indian, and Arab—interacted with one another, mingling with the native inhabitants in an ever-shifting ebb and flow among the four forces.
"And now—" Ali said, looking finally at Zheng Fan, "bearer of the seal, the time has come to make your decision."
"Agreed." Without much hesitation, Zheng Fan gave his consent.
Chapter 44