This time, Yao Xingjuan was not merely impressed. He was genuinely shaken.
As his ship glided into the Huangpu River, he found both banks lined with banners that fluttered proudly in the winter wind, their messages painted in bold characters as if the river itself had decided to learn how to speak.
"Welcome to Shanghai."
"We strive to ensure every merchant finds fair trading opportunities here."
"Proceed fifty zhang forward, then turn right."
And then the one that made him blink twice.
"Warm and Sleepy wool sweaters, keeping you warm all winter long."
The official slogans were already unusual enough, but that final banner struck him like a clever slap to the face. A commercial advertisement displayed openly alongside government proclamations, without shame, without secrecy, almost as if profit and policy had decided to shake hands in broad daylight.
"Incredible," he muttered to himself. "This advertisement is hanging right next to official notices. No wonder those wool sweaters sell so well."
For a man who measured the world in margins and arbitrage, this was artistry.
He followed the directional signs carefully, steering deeper into the river traffic. Ships of varying sizes moved in disciplined order, and the entire scene felt less like chaos and more like design.
Then a voice rang out from a nearby vessel.
"Well, well. Isn't that the Demon Star Yao Xingjuan? You, a pirate, pretending to be a respectable merchant?"
Yao Xingjuan jolted and turned sharply, instinctively scanning for danger. When he saw the speaker, his tension melted into amused recognition.
It was Zheng Zhihu, second in command of the powerful Zheng clan.
"Ah, Python Two," Yao Xingjuan called back with a grin. "As if your Zheng clan is any different. Merchant on land, pirate at sea, official when convenient. You people cover all three realms."
Zheng Zhihu laughed heartily but did not deny it.
"What brings you here?" Yao Xingjuan asked. "Anything you consider worth buying must be top tier. Give a brother some guidance."
Zheng Zhihu snorted. "Do you take me for a fool? If I tell you how to make silver, you will steal my profits."
Yao Xingjuan clasped his hands theatrically.
"How can one man swallow the entire ocean? Second in Command, with your legendary generosity, teach me a little trick. I will remember your kindness for life."
Zheng Zhihu shook his head in mock exasperation.
"Fine. I am buying soy sauce."
"Soy sauce?" Yao Xingjuan frowned. "What kind?"
"Specialty seafood soy sauce."
With a flick of his wrist, Zheng Zhihu tossed a porcelain bottle toward Yao Xingjuan's ship. Yao reacted instantly, scooping it up with his robe before it could strike the deck.
"Careful!" he protested. "If it shattered, that would be a tragedy."
"Boil some shrimp," Zheng Zhihu said calmly. "Dip them in that sauce."
Yao had no shrimp at hand, and no patience either. He uncorked the bottle, dipped a finger in, and tasted.
His eyes widened.
"Well?" Zheng Zhihu asked.
"It is excellent," Yao admitted. "This will sell fiercely in Japan."
Zheng Zhihu nodded. "Their cuisine is similar to ours. They adore soy sauce. Transport this there, and you can sell it for three to five times the price. But remember, commoners there are poor. The Daimyo, the generals, the samurai are the ones with silver. Do not bother with cheap bottles. Buy the expensive ones, packaged in exquisite porcelain. Those self proclaimed cultured lords will happily pay for the bottle alone."
Yao Xingjuan bowed slightly.
"I have learned."
They docked while continuing their conversation, and once Yao set foot in Shanghai Port, he understood immediately that the shopkeeper at Nanhui Mouth had not exaggerated.
This market dwarfed the old one several times over. Goods from inland provinces were stacked in organized rows, each stall loudly declaring its specialty, each merchant hungry yet disciplined.
"What is this?" Yao asked at one stall.
"Embroidery from Chengcheng County in Shaanxi," the shopkeeper replied cheerfully. "Horse cloth. Beautiful draped across a fine steed. High officials adore it."
"I will take it."
He knew well that Japanese Daimyo loved to display prestige through their horses.
"And this silk fan?"
"A scented silk fan from Sichuan. Seventy two intricate steps in its making. Newly arrived."
"I will take that as well."
Ming silk had long enchanted foreign elites. There was no reason these would not follow the same path.
Another merchant beckoned eagerly.
"Esteemed sir, come look. Immortal Wine from the heavens."
Yao laughed.
"Do you think I am some country fool who believes in immortals?"
Before finishing his sentence, he took a small sip of the 53 proof sauce fragrance liquor, an unbranded specialty from Maotai Town.
The effect was immediate.
He froze, eyes unfocused for a heartbeat.
"This… what is this?" he whispered. "The aroma is overwhelming."
"As I said," the shopkeeper replied with a mysterious smile, "Immortal Wine. Rare. Not much left."
"I will take all of it."
The price was named. Yao did not haggle. Some things were clearly worth their silver.
As he supervised the loading, a group of Westerners approached, accompanied by a Ming translator. They asked the price for a bottle of the same liquor.
The figure quoted was significantly higher than what Yao had just paid.
He raised an eyebrow but remained silent.
After the foreigners left, he turned to the shopkeeper.
"You are not entirely honest. The price for me and the price for them differ. I know adjusting prices by buyer is common, but this port claims fair dealing. Be careful, or the supervising officials may expel you."
The shopkeeper smiled calmly.
"You misunderstand. The different pricing is based on regulation. Our local Left Vice Minister Lian set the tax rates."
"Tax rates?"
"Ten percent for Ming buyers. Twenty percent for Western buyers. We simply add the tax into the final price. Naturally, we cannot absorb it ourselves."
Yao blinked.
"So ten percent of what I paid was tax?"
"Indeed. But even with that, you will double or triple your investment elsewhere. Why quarrel over such a small fraction?"
Yao said nothing. He calculated quietly and concluded the man was right.
He finished loading a substantial cargo. After bidding farewell to Zheng Zhihu, he guided his vessel down the Huangpu River toward open sea. Ships flowed constantly in both directions, and on the banks countless carts delivered goods toward Shanghai Port, transforming it into a beating commercial heart.
This place was no temporary experiment.
It was a system.
Once his ship exited the river and passed beyond the effective jurisdiction of the Ming naval patrols, Yao Xingjuan changed.
He removed his merchant robes and donned martial attire. He fastened an eye patch over one eye for dramatic effect. A flintlock pistol rested at his left hip, a curved saber at his right.
The respectable trader vanished.
In his place stood the Pirate Demon Star.
"Nagasaki," he roared toward the horizon, laughter echoing over the waves, "here I come!"
And far across the sea lay Nagasaki Port, waiting unknowingly for a storm wrapped in silk, soy sauce, and Immortal Wine.