Chapter 15: Business Investment

Guo Kang and Wu Han displayed the devices with an obvious ulterior motive. Sun Shiwan was wealthy, with connections to many affluent merchants across various nations. If they could persuade him to invest, they would surely secure more abundant funding.

However, Sun Shiwan was a shrewd man. After years in business, he could easily discern their intentions. Though he expressed some admiration, he ultimately declined to invest in the Steam Reliquary, tactfully telling Guo Kang that unless a clear application with returns significantly exceeding costs could be identified, merchants would not be interested.

Moreover, the returns had to be not just slightly higher, but several times greater, to ensure that after covering costs and expenses, the profit margins remained attractive enough for people to willingly spend money and effort on replacing equipment.

“You don’t understand how tough business is,” Sun Shiwan sighed. “People see our wealth but don’t realize the risks we face. At sea, anything can happen—these dangers don’t need me to elaborate. Even land-based workshops aren’t much better off.”

“To be honest, with places like Java and Borneo, trying to compete with the Ming Empire makes us uneasy ourselves. We've lasted this long mainly because the Ming haven’t fully exerted their strength—or perhaps simply couldn’t,” he shook his head. “You probably know how their bulk trade operates.”

“There, when trading with foreign merchants, prices and quotas for imports and exports are strictly mandated by the imperial court. Smuggling is increasingly cracked down upon, and trade volumes no longer compare to the past. We have to rely on puppet states, masquerading as tributaries, just to procure goods.”

“If this concept were fully realized, it would probably establish a... global command-and-control trade system,” Guo Kang mused.

“That term fits perfectly,” Sun Shiwan paused, then nodded. “In such an environment, we have no chance to compete with the Ming. Zhu Tianping could snap his fingers and slash the price of silk exports during tribute by half, instantly squeezing us out.”

“Of course, no one has done this yet. In my view, it’s because the Ming Empire is so vast. Its enormous size increases its power but also fragments its internal factions.”

“To reduce prices, someone has to bear the cost. The emperor’s treasury alone can’t do it. If the burden falls on the Ministry of Revenue or local governments, someone will object. Historically, this either results in successive layers of levies pushing several times the pressure onto artisans and merchants, or forces the workshops and traders themselves to foot the bill.”

“Which merchants pay is a matter of intrigue. In practice, it’s never an equal burden shared by all. A few unlucky ones end up ruined, while others remain unaffected and even seize their assets,” Sun Shiwan sneered. “Who ends up bankrupt or wealthy depends on the power struggles among officials.”

“There’s a saying: governing a great nation is like cooking a small fish—you can’t stir it too much. The larger the state, the more you must avoid frequent interference. The court should disturb the people as little as possible. That’s how the Han Dynasty prospered. Conversely, conflicting policies exhaust the populace, causing fatigue at best, and doubt in the court’s capability and credibility at worst.”

“Even benevolent governance requires careful strategy. Everyone knows how the New Policies under Chancellor Wang in the Northern Song ended,” he cited an example.

“To achieve ‘non-action yet nothing undone’ is extremely difficult. Since the Song and Yuan dynasties, most officials haven’t even grasped the basic threshold to understand this—they don’t know what to do or not do,” Guo Kang shook his head. “Your expectations, Sir Sun, are too high.”

“Ha! When I was younger, my elders told me not to neglect my studies for business. So I hired a tutor who followed me around daily, telling me stories from past dynasties,” Sun Shiwan chuckled. “I still remember the tutor saying Emperor Hui of Jin was a fool, yet the first ten years of his reign were peaceful and prosperous—known as the ‘Yuankang Era.’”

“I was puzzled, thinking the old man was talking nonsense. How could a fool govern a country? The tutor explained that the world isn’t ruled by the emperor himself, nor does it require the emperor to rule. The emperor only needs to appoint the right people to do the right tasks and refrain from meddling.”

“Though Emperor Hui was a fool, he was kind-hearted, knew who was loyal to him, and whom he should favor. How many normal rulers possess such qualities?” Sun Shiwan sighed. “A fool already surpasses more than half of the monarchs—then what exactly do those kings do? Sometimes these stories defy any simple judgment.”

“You see, this left a deep impression on me,” he shook his head. “I’m no scholar and forget many historical anecdotes, but this one remains crystal clear.”

“In that sense, Zhu Tianping and He Han are self-aware,” Wu Han commented. “And frankly, they have no choice. Not everyone can be like their father, who casually dealt with opponents by drawing a blade.”

“Definitely,” Sun Shiwan smirked. “If every Ming emperor were like him, we wouldn’t have lasted more than a few generations.”

“With the current situation, surviving is already difficult.” He gestured at his ornate clothes. “Guess why I’m dressed like this?”

“This is...” Wu Han was momentarily at a loss.

“This isn’t just clothing; it’s a billboard,” Sun Shiwan explained. “I don’t want to look like some unsophisticated nouveau riche. The flashy reds and greens might be too gaudy for young ladies, but wearing this out is the best advertisement. Look at those Greek nobles—they can’t take their eyes off me. That’s the effect I want.”

“I want them to know our Javanese silk is no less impressive than Ming silk, so we can open up the market,” he shook his sleeve.

“Then your key product...” Guo Kang pondered, suddenly enlightened. “Oh, no wonder you buy so many slaves every year.”

“Exactly. Our only advantage is that slaves are cheap,” Sun Shiwan nodded in agreement. “Honestly, it’s tough to surpass the Ming in other industries. Only in cultivating Southeast Asian specialties do our plantations enjoy a significant cost advantage. We’re confident they can’t beat us there anytime soon.”

“I see,” Wu Han understood.

“Ah, today’s exhibits stirred me up; I ended up saying so much,” Sun Shiwan concluded. “I’m older than you two by a few years; just take this as advice from someone with experience. Consider it my compensation for not investing in your project.”

Guo Kang and Wu Han hurriedly clasped their hands, thanking him for his kindness.

Although the best outcome would have been him decisively declaring, “I, Sun Shiwan, will invest in this project!” they knew that was unlikely.

As a renowned merchant, Sun Shiwan was indeed wealthy, but that didn’t mean he spent recklessly. On the contrary, he was acutely sensitive to input and output, and their presentation wouldn’t easily convince him.

Still, despite refusing to invest in the steam device, he expressed his views candidly. His demands and suggestions for improvement aligned closely with Guo Kang’s historical knowledge. This was indeed the most reasonable judgment a merchant could make based on experience.

At present, such a toy-like contraption held little persuasive power to attract investment. Whether in the Central Plains or Europe, whether officials or merchants, it would be dismissed as a useless novelty. Perhaps only religious organizations could consistently invest in such seemingly impractical devices.

For now, they could only continue under the guise of religious artifacts, hoping the Empress’s temple would keep allocating funds. Otherwise, even his foster mother might complain about his extravagance.

—His foster father, however, didn’t mind. He would support his whim without hesitation since it didn’t interfere with other affairs. Unfortunately, the family finances were not under his control...