The oil mill in Cenjia Village.
“Sigh. Business gets harder by the day.”
“Tell me about it. Even the people in our own village go all the way to Zhangjia Village now. Just to save two or three wen, they’re willing to walk dozens of li to have their oil pressed. Isn’t that going out of their way?”
“Well, you can’t really blame them. Two or three wen less for each bowl adds up. They can have a bigger batch pressed in one trip, or carry oil back for other people at the same time. Oil keeps a long while, so it’s worth the effort.”
“Hey! Whose side are you on?!”
“I’m only telling the truth! Do you think I don’t want our mill to do well? I’ve worked here for four or five years!”
“Stop arguing. Someone’s here. Go tell A-Yu to attend to him.”
The oil press workers looked at one another, then reluctantly stopped loafing around and returned to the pressing room to wait for the young attendant to receive their guest.
On entering the mill, He Yi was surprised by how unusually quiet it was. He had put the improved vertical-press model he finished in a rush the previous day into a wooden chest. It was rather heavy, so he set it to one side before following the attendant farther inside.
The attendant, A-Yu, had assumed He Yi was an ordinary customer coming to have oil pressed. Instead, the man immediately asked to see the owner.
“Might I ask what you wish to discuss?” A-Yu inquired.
“I’ve come with a proposal to improve the vertical press at your mill. I also brought a model. It’s in the chest outside.” He Yi indicated his locked wooden box and spoke calmly.
“…” The man certainly did not look as though he was joking, but his arrival at such a difficult moment seemed almost too much of a coincidence. Still, they could not afford to slight him. What if he really could turn the mill’s fortunes around? The owner might even reward A-Yu for his trouble. “Please sit here for a while, sir. I’ll go and inform my master. He isn’t at the mill just now; he should be at home.”
He Yi nodded and sat down without wandering about or looking around.
The owner was led back to the mill by the attendant, wiping sweat from his brow and muttering the whole way. Surely the Zhang family hadn’t sent someone to interfere with them? Was stealing their customers not enough? Were they trying to destroy the business from within?
After He Yi introduced himself, the mill owner, Cen Ju, found the name strangely familiar. He felt certain he had heard it somewhere, but could not remember where. He scrutinized the young man from head to toe without finding anything unusual.
He Yi was then shown to a second-floor room. A-Yu brought a pot of tea and withdrew, leaving He Yi and Cen Ju alone.
“Is what you’re saying really true? You claim you can improve our vertical press without replacing the entire system with a horizontal one, yet increase its oil yield by that much?” Cen Ju was skeptical. He Yi’s composed appearance was convincing, but Cen Ju had run his mill for more than eight years and seen a great deal. He did not consider himself easily fooled.
To his surprise, He Yi merely smiled, unlocked his wooden chest and lifted out a rather intricate model onto the table.
Before the model was even operated, Cen Ju’s expression changed. His gaze moved uneasily between the unfamiliar mechanism and He Yi’s face.
“…This…” Cen Ju could certainly recognize what the device was intended to be. But he had never seen a structure like it, despite having encountered several varieties of both horizontal and vertical presses.
“Which expert gave you this model?” he could not help asking.
He did not mean to offend He Yi. He simply could not believe that such an ingenious vertical-press model could have been made by someone so young who did not look as though he had ever worked in an oil mill.
He Yi answered with gentle firmness and a modest expression. “I developed it myself. Carpenter Zhou in town gave me some guidance about model-making techniques, but I did most of the work personally.”
Cen Ju badly wanted to believe him. Yet he owned the mill, employed numerous craftsmen, and depended on it as his family’s most important business. He simply could not set his guard aside.
He Yi could see that the man was wavering, yet he refused to commit, leaving He Yi’s presentation stalled. He had other business suggestions as well, but he could not reveal all his cards before an agreement was reached.
Seeing Cen Ju staring as if determined to burn the model’s structure into his memory, He Yi sighed, returned it to its chest, locked the lid, and met the stunned owner’s gaze.
Cen Ju was caught in a dilemma. He might appear utterly inflexible, but inside he was already tying himself in knots.
“This model can actually reproduce the stage of pressing the oil cake, but since you don’t seem particularly interested, I won’t demonstrate that part for now.”
Cen Ju’s heart jolted. The model could actually move? He had already glimpsed some of its principles just from its structure. He began to wonder whether he had shown too little sincerity and was about to say something to persuade He Yi to stay.
But He Yi spoke first. “Perhaps we should calculate the cost. Improving the press isn’t simply a matter of adding more parts. After all your years in business, I’m sure you care whether the investment will pay for itself.”
He Yi proceeded to work through the costs. Improving the vertical press would chiefly require load-bearing timber, such as structural beams, which would be a major expense. Stone was also necessary, but most of that cost would come from transportation.
“If we cooperate, I’ll direct the construction myself. I’ll provide both the design and the labor, so you won’t need to hire craftsmen. I may need some help from the mill’s workers, but the work shouldn’t take very long.” He Yi deliberately left his own payment unmentioned, making it sound as though the owner would pay little beyond the timber and stone.
“The three-room rammed-earth house with a tiled roof at my home was built by me, with my family helping with the labor. It’s mostly complete now. Only the wooden doors, partitions, boundary walls and interior work are left. If you think I’m exaggerating and don’t trust me, come to Chongzi Village and see for yourself.”
Cen Ju knew little about rammed-earth construction. In their village, able-bodied men were expected to take part in projects such as temple building, but always under craftsmen’s direction. Someone who could erect his own house was plainly more capable than most, and He Yi’s construction knowledge could hardly be dismissed.
As the owner’s expression grew more convinced and lost its hedgehog-like prickliness, He Yi mentioned that Cen Pu in their village could supply the timber. His materials were good and his prices reasonable. He Yi took the opportunity to recommend his friend.
At those words Cen Ju froze. He finally remembered where he had heard He Yi’s name. Hadn’t Cen Pu repeatedly mentioned this good friend at the banquet some time ago? He had said that He Yi encouraged him to restart his timber business and that, thanks to He Yi, even the Wu family had apologized and made concessions, allowing his business to get back on track.
He Yi had not expected Cen Ju to be so close to Cen Pu’s second uncle. Although Cen Pu’s family did not enjoy the best reputation in Cenjia Village, Cen Ju had always trusted Cen Pu. He and Cen Pu’s second uncle had doted on the boy since childhood and thought highly of him.
Thus the negotiations took a turn for the better!
Cen Ju finally softened and showed genuine willingness to discuss the proposal further. He Yi reopened the chest, lifted out the model and demonstrated how the improved vertical press was intended to work.
First, he turned the roller handle to lower the carrying beam, then placed a weight, represented by a stone, in position. The rope running through the center of the mechanism set the lever above the oil cake in motion. On the left was a fixed, exceptionally heavy mass, such as a boulder or solid wall. With the lever arranged in this way, pushing down on the right side applied force to the oil cake below, squeezing out oil.
The model operated smoothly. Since it contained no real oil cake, they could not see any oil being extracted, but the effect was so clear that even someone unfamiliar with oil milling could understand it. Cen Ju was deeply shaken by what he saw.
“…This, this really can improve the pressing efficiency by twenty percent?”
“I can’t guarantee it. But what I can’t guarantee isn’t whether it will improve. It’s whether the improvement will stop at twenty percent. I think there’s a good chance of reaching thirty percent. If we keep costs down, the profits won’t be small. And once we’re working together, I can offer advice on running the mill too. I’m confident it will help.” Cen Ju drew in a sharp breath at He Yi’s seemingly outrageous confidence. But business required a certain boldness. Someone afraid to take risks would never earn much. Besides, He Yi had been poised throughout the conversation, handling negotiations less like an inexperienced youth than a seasoned merchant, which actually reassured him.
The benefits and possibilities He Yi described were irresistible. Cen Ju nearly agreed on the spot, then caught himself and calmed down. “I need to discuss this with others first. Things at the mill have changed recently, and I need to look through the accounts. Could you come back tomorrow?”
He Yi paused, then nodded. “…I can.”
To show his sincerity, Cen Ju instructed the oil workers to press two bowls of oil for He Yi without charging him.
He Yi had brought his own earthenware jar. After talking for more than half a double-hour until his mouth was dry, he thought the oil was a reasonable reward and accepted without standing on ceremony.
*
The following day.
He Yi was still a little apprehensive, unsure whether the mill owner might have changed his mind overnight. What he did not know was that his visit had come at a moment when the Cenjia Village oil mill was struggling. Cen Ju desperately needed to lower production costs to compete with the newly opened mill in Zhangjia Village.
After a night to think, Cen Ju was even more eager than before. He Yi finally felt somewhat at ease, but refused to be carried away. Although Cen Ju readily accepted his conditions and treated him warmly, He Yi insisted that they summon the village head the following day to witness a written agreement. No work would begin until both parties had signed.
Cen Ju found the caution reassuring. Anyone willing to involve the village head was unlikely to be deceiving him. In small rural communities, a ruined reputation meant contempt from one’s neighbors and the inability to hold one’s head high.
“To be clear, I’m not asking for all my payment in one lump sum. You can pay for the improvements over three years. I only want ten percent of the oil mill’s profits.”
Cen Ju wondered whether he could really be hearing such a favorable offer, but suspicion was written all over his face.
He Yi smiled. “It’s not that I don’t care for money, of course. You know I’m trying to earn a living for my household. I won’t beat around the bush. Let me explain why I’m asking for ten percent of the profits rather than a single cash payment.”
“If I demanded thirty taels of silver for this improved model, you’d probably think I was mad. That would be impossible.”
“Well, not necessarily… but paying that much at once would be difficult. And there’s no guarantee the investment would pay off, especially when we’ve already been losing money recently…” Cen Ju wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Exactly. I expected you to look at it that way, so I’m proposing a three-year contract. Ten percent of the profits over that period would be my payment for improving the vertical press.”
Cen Ju’s curiosity had been thoroughly stirred, and he waited for He Yi to continue.
He Yi’s meaning was simple enough. He had calculated that oil yield and pressing efficiency might increase by twenty to thirty percent. Here he subtly substituted one concept for another, casually presenting it as though the profit margin would rise by twenty to thirty percent too. He was only asking for ten percent, and only for three years. Afterward, every bit of the profit would belong to the mill.
Cen Ju had initially thought he could never accept such an arrangement. At first glance, surrendering so large a share of profits sounded hardly worthwhile. But once He Yi explained that the payments had a fixed end date, it seemed far more reasonable. Moreover, they would only pay He Yi if the mill actually earned money. That was much less risky than handing over a large sum without knowing whether the investment would ever pay for itself.
To He Yi’s surprise, Cen Ju agreed before long.
The next day, He Yi brought a black-boned chicken to the village head’s home. Together they went to Cenjia Village and formally signed the cooperation agreement for improving the oil mill’s vertical press.
Standing beneath the blazing sun, He Yi allowed sweat to run into his eyes. Only when the sting made him squint did the moment feel quite real.
He had done it.
He had negotiated the first genuine business deal of his life, not a simple purchase or exchange, but work that would actually bring money into his household.
In fact, the figures he had presented to Cen Ju had glossed over certain important points. He had not worked out aloud how much he himself might earn.
Edible oil cost five or six wen per bowl in the village and sold for eight wen in town. In busier markets, the price could rise to ten, eleven or twelve wen, but those later stages of distribution had nothing to do with the mill’s own profit.
On sales to people from Cenjia Village and nearby villages, the mill made roughly two wen per bowl. According to Cen Ju’s records, these accounted for ten to thirty bowls a day. Sales shipped to town were much greater, about sixty to a hundred bowls, and after deducting transport and labor the mill earned five wen per bowl. Its total daily profit was therefore around four hundred and forty wen. At ten percent, He Yi could make more than forty wen a day.
In other words, he could earn almost fifteen taels of silver in a year and forty-five taels over three years, far more than the thirty-tael one-time payment he had first mentioned. Even if they realized that later, they could not undo the bargain. The contract was signed.
As He Yi tucked his copy of the contract inside his collar, his chest seemed to fill up too. He wanted to share the news so badly that the impulse was almost impossible to contain. Yet the person he most wished to tell first was not at his side, nor in the home they shared.
Unless he wrote it in a letter. Unfortunately, he had already sent his reply to Xue Ci, and the patrol inspector said delivery could take seven or eight days.