The "Earth Store" is somewhat akin to a Huaxia pawnshop, offering loan services against collateral, while also trading in various luxury items, buying low and selling high, with a temple usually backing them.
Hmm, in Japan, the lending business is mostly handled by monks, and they also maintain armed forces, employing a large number of monk soldiers, ensuring that if one defaults on a loan, they can confiscate assets—often more powerful than the local clans, sometimes even beating daimyo to force them to repay debts.
With no customers in the shop, as Nozawa's group of three entered the earthy room, the highly observant manager glanced at them briefly before rising to greet them, pushing aside the clerk who was about to greet them. He warmly and repeatedly said, "Sir, please come inside, quickly, please come inside!"
After speaking, he instructed the clerk to look after Tao Liulang and Jing Qilang and to serve them water.
He was experienced; people like Nozawa, who appeared neatly dressed, likely had good items on hand and preferred private discussions to avoid the embarrassment of pawning family heirlooms.
He invited Nozawa to sit in the earthy seat, poured him tea, and then warmly asked, "How should I address you, sir? Are you here for a loan (which is borrowing money, directly mentioning money is unpleasant) or to select some favorable utensils?"
"Nozawa, short on cash, selling things." Nozawa looked around the earthy seat, elegantly adorned with ink paintings, slowed his speech, and said simply.
"Ah, it's Lord Nozawa." The manager recalled for a moment but couldn't remember any family named Nozawa nearby; nonetheless, it didn't matter—it wasn't a loan, so no need to dig deeper—and he curiously asked, "Then may I trouble you to show me, sir?"
Nozawa took out two hard plastic bottles from his hiking pack, the kind previously used to contain purified water and sports drinks. He had removed the packaging paper and scraped off the production date on the caps, intending to sell them, making it appear almost fraudulent.
This was a last resort; the medicines in the emergency kit could potentially save lives, and he didn't plan to sell them unless absolutely necessary. He couldn't sell the electric stick, signal gun, power bank, phone, flashlight, and biscuits, Snickers, seat pads, and quick-dry clothes wouldn't fetch a reasonable price either. In the end, only these two bottles seemed able to bring in some money.
This was similar to Western colonizers selling glass beads in Africa and America, only he had no other option and was somewhat conscientious; at least plastic was undoubtedly rare at this time.
The manager, accustomed to overseeing an "Earth Store," had seen much but was handling a plastic bottle for the first time. He held it cautiously, examining it for a long time before asking Nozawa, "I am unskilled in this; forgive my blunder, may I ask what this is, sir?"
"Southern Barbarian Tea Ware." Nozawa began to market the glass beads, "It should be rare in Japan; calling it unique is not an exaggeration."
"The design...is very ordinary." The manager was noncommittal about his self-praise, squinting as he examined the bottle repeatedly and weighed it, asking, "How much are you planning to sell it for, sir?"
"How much is your establishment willing to offer?"
The manager thought for a moment, then smiling, probed, "How about one kan of wen?"
This offer was as low as the eighteenth level of hell, far from Nozawa's expectations, so he patiently bargained: "This is a rare treasure, worth at least fifty kan."
The other party wasn't polite, so he wasn't either, quoting an exorbitant price.
The first sale of Japan's most famous tea ceremony item, the "Ninety-nine Shots of Eggplant," only fetched ninety-nine kan, and that was an heirloom cherished by successive Ashikaga Family shoguns, renowned and highly esteemed in the tea ceremony. Even if two plain plastic bottles were novel, they couldn't be worth half of that. Nonetheless, these were industrial products from four to five hundred years later, made of heat-resistant, food-grade plastic, they should fetch the price equivalent of five or six packhorses, surely?
The manager's expression was pseudo-smiling; he didn't comment much on the counteroffer, merely setting the bottle down and stepping through the side door to the backyard. Shortly, he returned with a brocade box, carefully opened it, and lifted the Ming Country weaving over it, revealing a light green, semi-transparent long-neck glass kettle and three matching glass cups, still wearing a welcoming smile, saying, "If Lord Nozawa likes similar tea ware, this set of Southern Barbarian Item 'Goose-neck Drink' is priced at 5 kan of wen. I can decide to reserve it for you, waiting for you to revolve the funds; what do you think?"
A businessperson never speaks harshly, but his meaning was clear: they weren't bumpkins, they had seen transparent bottles before, such outrageous pricing wasn't acceptable—do you take us for fools? Are we to splurge on something just because it's unseen?
In these times, Southern Barbarian Items flooded in crazily; in places like Kaido Town, a new product surfaces every few months. Treating everything unseen as a treasure and collecting it like fools would have bankrupted them long ago.
Thus, fifty kan was absolutely impossible!
Nozawa anticipated this, not exploding into embarrassment and fury.
Colored glass windows had started to become popular in Europe by 1330, and by the sixteenth century, transparent glass was widespread—even the Ming Dynasty imported a considerable amount; he knew this piece of history.
Therefore, if he were transported to 1300 AD or earlier, he'd dare to sell those broken bottles for a thousand taels of gold, but now it was around 1550 AD; Magellan had been killed in the Philippines decades ago, it was already the Age of Exploration—facing competition from glass products, his bottom line was fifteen kan. As long as it allowed him and his silly son to wade through the initial stage of empty-handedness and lack of food and clothing, that would suffice.
He took a look at the "Goose-neck Drink," smiled at the manager, and said, "The craftsmanship is exquisite, indeed impressive, but glass products are not hard to find. Southern Barbarian bottles this light and transparent are quite rare."
Saying this, he put away the plastic bottles and prepared to leave, appearing as if the other party lacked insight, shaking his head and saying, "If we can't agree, then never mind, dear manager, we'll meet next time."
"What's the rush, Lord Nozawa? Have a cup of tea first."
The manager was unsettled; although the shapes of the two bottles were not favorable—currently, in Japan, the "Kimpaku Tengure" style was popular, favoring twisted and bizarre aesthetics even in tea ware, countering traditional Confucian ceremonial utensil styles. Everything had to be different, have character, be bizarre, exhibit unreadable designs exuding mystique and madness, in a Lovecraftian way, so Southern Barbarian Items were very welcome in Japan at this time.
Although the two bottles were too rigid in form, not fitting the contemporary fashionable trend and difficult to attract the eye, their material was exceptional. With glass-like transparency but nearly weightless in the hand and slightly softer to the touch, they were rare objects; at least he had neither seen nor heard of them in places like Kaido Town - hubs for Southern Barbarian items.
Originally, he wanted to take out the "Goose-neck Drink" to stimulate the counterpart—should the man be a bit more shamefaced and naive, the pricing power might fall into his hands, allowing him to snatch a bargain at three to five kan, send it to Kaido Town or Kyoto, have an expert flaunt it at a tea ceremony, hype it a bit, and easily sell it at dozens of kan, reaping a hefty profit.
But the counterpart was clearly experienced, thick-skinned, and firm-willed, not an unaware spendthrift who could be easily swayed—the price must be negotiated slowly.
Aiming for fifteen kan or less should be profitable—anyway, they couldn't let this opportunity fall to competitors!