Chapter 318 — Inspection Price

CHAPTER 318

Inspection Price

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Lin Langtian was knocking on the Qiao house's east warehouse with the butt of the banner pole. It was a big warehouse. It stood beside the dry canal behind a gate of black wood, and a guard with a short club was asleep against the wall.

The guard woke on the third bang. He saw the red banner, the gold characters and Lin Langtian's smile, and he stood up so fast the club rolled into the ditch.

“Inspection,” Lin Langtian said pleasantly. “Open up.”

The guard stammered that the manager wasn’t there.

“Then he’ll be along,” Lin Langtian said, pushing the gate. It swung open on its own. “Junior Brother, Attendant, Little Zhu, come in. Touch nothing until I say.”

“Why not?” Zhu Liu asked.

“Because I want to find the fault before he hides it,” Lin Langtian replied. “Keep your eyes open, Little Zhu. You’ll need to record what we see.”

Inside, the warehouse was dim and cool and stacked to the rafters. Shi Feng counted the stacks of bar iron and the bronze piled like firewood. Four hundred bars of iron, he thought. A hundred and twenty of bronze. Maybe more behind. Each bar was as long as his forearm and grey with dust.

Lin Langtian drew one finger along the top of an iron stack and held it up. The finger was grey.

“Look at this dust,” Lin Langtian said, showing Shi Feng his finger. “Manager Qiao hasn’t been keeping his precious stock very carefully.”

“Inspector!” Qiao Shou came through the gate at a half-run, holding his robe. Behind him two clerks were carrying their abacuses like shields. “Inspector, what is this? Without notice?”

“That's why it's called an inspection,” Lin Langtian said. “Attendant, the scale.”

Sima Lan walked to the big steelyard that stood by the wall. She hung Zhu Liu's small brass scale on one side, and a hundred-catty bar of iron on the other. She read the beam without expression.

“The warehouse steelyard reads ninety-one catties for a hundred,” Sima Lan said. “It's bent at the third notch.”

“That’s—an old scale!” Qiao Shou protested.

“It is crooked,” Lin Langtian agreed. “Which side does it favour when you buy, and which when you sell?”

Qiao Shou didn't answer. One of the clerks coughed.

“And the stacks,” Lin Langtian continued, walking along the wall, “reach the rafter. The sect's fire code requires three feet of clear space between stored ore and the wall, so the fire watch can pass.” He kicked a bar. “I see eight inches. Irregular storage. Dust. A bent scale. A grave matter, Manager Qiao.”

“This is the tributary charter,” Qiao Shou said, with the first tremor in his voice. “I have a Martial Palace letter—”

“Charter, article nine. Any warehouse in the tributary towns may be placed under sect inspection when found defective,” Lin Langtian said, turning to face Qiao Shou. “I find it defective. This warehouse is under inspection. Nobody moves a bar.”

Zhu Liu was already writing. “Under inspection,” Zhu Liu whispered. “Time: noon.”

“And as the inspector,” Lin Langtian said, “I must make sure the goods don't spoil. So I'll buy them.”

“Buy?” Qiao Shou said.

“All of it, at inspection price,” Lin Langtian said. He waited until Qiao Shou understood that he meant the whole warehouse.

“What is—what price?” Qiao Shou demanded, losing his polite manner.

“Dust-covered goods are sold as dust,” Lin Langtian said kindly. “Three coppers a sack. I count each bar as one thin sack. Four hundred iron, one hundred and twenty bronze, say five hundred and twenty sacks. Less the scale error, less the storage fine, less my courtesy. Thirty-one stones for the lot.”

There was a long silence.

“Thirty-one!” Qiao Shou's voice cracked. “It cost fourteen hundred!”

“Then you bought badly,” Lin Langtian said.

“It’s worth fifty times that!” Qiao Shou shouted.

“You should have stored it properly, then,” Lin Langtian said. “I’m buying what your own warehouse shows me.” He untied a heavy cloth bag and poured it onto the nearest crate. Spirit stones clinked. “Count them. Thirty-one, and I'm adding a copper for the gate.”

Qiao Shou stared at the pile. A clerk leaned in and whispered. Qiao Shou's face turned a deep, ugly shade of green.

“These are Qiao house stones,” Qiao Shou said. “They're stamped from our own counting room.”

“From your brokers, in fact. They lost them to me at dice,” Lin Langtian said. “It seemed fitting.”

“Martial Palace will hear of this!” Qiao Shou threatened.

“I hope so. Please send my best,” Lin Langtian said with a broad smile. “Tell them I'm buying their dust.”

Behind him, the warehouse porters were gathering at the gate. The smiths had followed the banner down the street, and a crowd of apprentices pressed against the black wood.

“He's buying it?”

“For thirty-one stones?”

“Is that allowed?”

“It's the charter! Article nine!”

“Heaven has eyes! He just took the whole warehouse.”

“…”

Sima Lan put the warehouse ledger under her arm without being asked. Lin Langtian saw it and nodded in approval.

Shi Feng stood a little back, with Zhu Liu's receipt book open on one palm. He had written in the margin as the chief disciple spoke, small and neat:

One. Find a fault the other man can't deny. Two. Name the price of the fault. Three. Pay at once, in front of witnesses, with his own money.

Shi Feng read the three lines again. Lin Langtian had used real faults to trap a merchant who relied on other people having no choice. Yesterday’s failed negotiation had shown him why the pressure mattered. He could learn this method without copying his senior brother’s shameless grin.

Qiao Shou had stopped sputtering. He stood very still, and the smile came back slowly onto his face, thinner than before.

“Congratulations, Inspector,” Qiao Shou said. “You've emptied a warehouse.”

“Thank you,” Lin Langtian said.

“A warehouse,” Qiao Shou said again, softly. “As the saying goes, a gentleman’s revenge is not too late even after ten years.” Then he bowed. Then he walked out of the gate, past the crowd.

Shi Feng wrote one word in the margin and underlined it.

One.