Chapter 47: Prospects for the Coming Years

... Chen Xi, hailing from another dimension, naturally understood which ventures in this era could swiftly generate wealth. Of course, these industries required sufficient military might to sustain them; otherwise, one would merely be courting disaster with such riches in hand.

Papermaking, in this age where books were treasured like life itself, was akin to seizing treasure. Printing, glassmaking, and lime production were similarly lucrative. These fundamental crafts were the surefire paths to riches. Do not be deceived by the destitution of common folk at the end of the Eastern Han; wealth certainly existed in this era.

The accumulated fortunes of aristocratic families over centuries were enough to elevate one to the status of a warlord with just a fraction of their wealth. Consider how Cao Song amassed sufficient wealth in a single generation for Cao Cao to raise an army; the riches amassed by noble clans over a millennium were beyond mere monetary measure.

Moreover, given the scarcity of resources in this time, Chen Xi had ample means to extract funds from these aristocratic families. Frankly, he was quite satisfied with these families, who prized benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness. While there were certainly scoundrels among them, many exhibited admirable character, especially in their unwavering fidelity—a trait that deeply impressed Chen Xi.

This was why Chen Xi dared to entrust the method of salt evaporation—virtually equivalent to printing money—directly to the soldiers, who would then pass it on to Su Shuang and Zhang Shiping. Though some errors might arise, the era’s ingrained sense of honor and trust was fundamentally different from the later times that scorned poverty but tolerated vice.

Chen Xi was confident that Su Shuang and Zhang Shiping would thoroughly study the salt evaporation technique during their visit. They even sold their possessions and eagerly sought to become Liu Bei’s subordinates. Most importantly, they would preserve Chen Xi’s technology as a collective asset, never seeking to profit unfairly, and would be magnanimous to a degree that even surprised Chen Xi himself.

Chen Xi felt that aside from the poor quality of food, this era was truly far better than the previous one, rife as it was with material greed. The famed Five Cauldrons’ cuisine paled even in comparison to simple stir-fries. Spices, however, remained a persistent headache.

In short, there were countless money-making technologies in this era. Even if Chen Xi could not invent them himself, merely knowing the general direction and commissioning craftsmen to research would suffice. The beauty of the time was that craftsmen were at his beck and call, as opposed to scholars like himself—called upon when needed and dismissed just as easily. Moreover, the mere hint of official appointment would attract craftsmen in droves, especially when their importance was yet unrecognized.

What might seem to Liu Bei as the quagmire of Taishan Commandery was, to Chen Xi, a grand opportunity. Even if it were a morass, Chen Xi believed his existing money-making plans could smooth it over with wealth.

As for wasting money, Chen Xi was utterly unconcerned. With half a million souls, any investment would eventually pay off. The only pity was that Taishan was landlocked; had it been coastal, making money would have been even easier.

That Taishan belonged to Yanzhou was of no consequence to Chen Xi. Nor did he feel any unease about sharing a border with Cao Cao. Cao Cao would surely focus first on consolidating Yanzhou and would not confront Liu Bei prematurely. Given the current situation, Liu Bei even seemed stronger than Cao Cao.

In other words, Liu Bei’s restraint in not attacking Cao Cao was already a gesture of goodwill; for Cao Cao to attack Liu Bei now would be courting death.

Furthermore, Chen Xi estimated that after Cao Cao acquired Xi Zhicai, his strategy would be to solidify most of Yanzhou, quietly absorb Sili, cautiously give Yuan Shu leeway, then gradually annex Yuzhou. As for the Yellow Turbans in Qingzhou, Cao Cao would covet them but knew that to seize them would be fatal.

Frankly, the Yellow Turban presence in Qingzhou was a deadly trap. Though undeniably containing a powerful elixir within, no warlord at this time was fit to swallow it—doing so would only lead to ruin. The Yellow Turban rebels in Qingzhou numbered at least two to three million mouths; no lord could sustain that.

Even Chen Xi postponed dealing with Qingzhou for two years, betting on amassing enough money and grain within that time; otherwise, it would have to be deferred further. As for how many would perish from starvation in those two years, Chen Xi had no remedy.

Though two years was a long stretch, Chen Xi nonetheless prepared early to pacify Qingzhou—a nearly inevitable strategy. No matter what, Qingzhou had to be swept clean.

To be frank, Chen Xi understood better than anyone that if he could absorb those two million able-bodied men in Qingzhou and acquire women through trade, once they endured the first critical year, steady, methodical progress without fatal errors would set the path to unify the realm.

Of course, this assumed Yuan Shu continued on his historical reckless path. Had he been as diligent as Cao Cao, given the robust foundation of the Yuan family’s holdings—Nanyang and Runan Commanderies, each almost a province unto itself with a combined population near five million—he might have already secured dominance. Instead, Yuan Shu’s foolishness squandered this solid base, complicating any other warlord’s attempts to challenge him.

Thus, Chen Xi also included Yuzhou in his strategic considerations. Yet this was merely speculative. Because he required a complete Yuzhou, not a ravaged one, his timing had to be early enough—meaning that while absorbing Qingzhou, he would need to withdraw defenses from southern Taishan to lure Yuan Shu into a trap.

Of course, these were only Chen Xi’s musings. But he knew that once Liu Bei commenced his campaign in Qingzhou and Yuan Shu set sights on Taishan, Cao Cao would seize the opportunity without hesitation. This would be Chen Xi’s greatest chance.

Chen Xi was well aware of Cao Cao’s daring disposition and Xi Zhicai’s unparalleled strategic vision. Such an opportunity would never be passed by. So even if preparations began far in advance, Chen Xi would fine-tune his plans over the next three to five years, confident he could confound even a strategist of Jia Xu’s caliber. A fool may err a thousand times but still find success; Chen Xi knew he was no fool.

Seated atop his horse, pondering grand strategies for the coming years, Chen Xi remained unaware of how profoundly his actions would shake the warlords of the realm. They would not scrutinize his arrangements or schemes but would focus solely on his character—designing their own stratagems based on his temperament. Plans might have oversights, but who could truly see through a man’s nature? And even if they did, who would dare to doubt it?