CHAPTER 276: CHAPTER 203: WANJIN PAPER CURRENCY

When Okabe Iyayama’s whole family was brought to New Wanjin, it was already nighttime.

New Wanjin now could be considered the "capital" of the Chita Peninsula, and was a city primarily focused on industry and commerce. Naturally, it absorbed a great deal of population. Even though the Chita Peninsula had suffered disasters over the past two years, the population still surged, and the urban area had expanded more than threefold. Even at night, it remained quite bustling.

Especially in the wharf district—here, loading and unloading never stopped day or night, having long since broken away from the traditional rhythm of "work at sunrise, rest at sunset." Inevitably, a "night market" sprang up. Countless lanterns hung overhead for illumination, hawkers sold snacks, others peddled all kinds of small goods, and there were variety plays, kyogen performances, acrobatics, and such for entertainment. It was noisy and lively.

In terms of market activity, this place already had the flavor of the Northern Song night markets: "The night market doesn’t close until the third watch, and reopens at the fifth. For those who want excitement, there’s never a dull moment." The only difference was scale.

Okabe Iyayama and the others had never been to New Wanjin before. They were quite shocked at the dazzling lights, for even at Atsuta Port, scenes this lively were hard to come by—at least, Atsuta Port didn’t squander lamp oil like this, and commoners didn’t have spare money to "waste" on such things.

It’s rarely mentioned in the history books, but during medieval Japan, wealth concentration was extremely severe—far more exaggerated than modern Japan, where 90% of the wealth sits in 1% of hands. For commoners, having enough to eat took all their effort; spending money outside on food, drink, and entertainment was basically reserved for the Warrior Nobility—ordinary people couldn’t even dream of such extravagance.

Harano was unfazed by this, and personally saw to the Okabe family’s temporary lodging at the "Wanjin Guesthouse," giving them their own little courtyard, and kindly urged them to get some rest before bidding them farewell.

The "Wanjin Guesthouse" was similar to the "XX Hotel" that every locale in modern China has—state-run, generally used for hosting important guests from all over, with very good service and facilities. Even though it was already past eleven at night, they could still "order food"—which meant buying dishes fresh from the night market, but with plenty of variety.

Beyond food and drink, there were also hot baths and massage services, where one could soak and completely relax their body and mind.

The Okabe family had never enjoyed anything like this—they felt these weren’t things for commoners, so at first they acted like country bumpkins in the city, nervous and cautious. Once they realized it was Harano footing the bill, they mustered the courage to try it. Afterward, their goodwill toward New Wanjin shot up, since they’d arrived bracing for hardship—expecting to be "slave labor," ready to sleep in shacks and gnaw on yams. The contrast was something else.

Indeed, when working for the Oda and Matsuo families, they usually slept in construction shacks and had terrible food: yams, wild greens, buckwheat, beans—the daily fare. Not a soul cared if those craftsmen were happy or not.

That night, the Okabe family dined and slept in great comfort.

The next morning, Ah Man arrived with her crew. Now that Okabe Iyayama was under Harano’s authority, he didn’t dare show her attitude anymore; he hurriedly and politely went out to greet her, then respectfully asked, "Lady Ah Man, do we need to see Lord Nozawa Saburo now?"

"No, he said you’ve just moved here, so you need to get settled and familiar with the environment. He’ll arrange to meet you in the afternoon." Ah Man was herself a beneficiary of Harano’s respect-for-all approach, well used to this routine. With a wave, she beckoned her people to bring things over. "He asked me to bring you some things, so you’re not scrambling to buy stuff after just moving in."

At her words, several people brought over daily necessities: homemade soap, kneaded towels, fashionable cloth, thick work clothing, hemp gloves, lacquered bamboo flasks, paper, ink, brushes, inkstones... Even cloth shoes and straw sandals. All items useful in daily life—a standard welcome package for new employees. Most Wanjin "public servants" got this basic kit; it wasn’t special treatment.

Beside these employee perks, Ah Man also pulled out a stack of "Shopping Vouchers"—a personal gift from Harano to Okabe Iyayama’s family. When shopping, they could use these vouchers in nearly every shop in New Wanjin to buy goods of equivalent value. In short, when his family went shopping, Harano would pick up the bill.

Finally, she had someone bring up a small chest. When opened, it was packed with thick bundles of paper currency. "This is your annual salary. We pay monthly now, but he worried you weren’t familiar with Wanjin and might get anxious, so he gave you the whole year’s pay at once. You can count it yourself, and then sign here."

"Uh, this...His Lordship pays us a salary?" Okabe Iyayama hesitated on the surface, but his hands honestly accepted the chest—after all, he had a whole family to support. Owari had suffered disasters lately and there’d been no grand construction or temple work, so money was indeed tight.

"I told him there’s no need, but that’s just how he is... You’ll see soon enough. If he gives you money, just take it!" In fact, Ah Man didn’t want to hand it over. Now that Okabe Iyayama was under her watch, not stringing him up was already doing him a favor—let alone giving him money! If he wanted payment, he could go ask Oda Nobunaga!

But Harano was always as generous as a sieve, spending money like water, just as good at earning it. Ah Man was too lazy to argue and simply pointed at the bills: "You’ve probably seen stuff like this before? There’s a thousand kan here. Take this ’paper currency’ to a place called Wanjin Bank and you can exchange it—for copper coins, gold, or silver, whatever you need."

Japan at this time already had similar "silver notes." Harano had previously gotten some from Oda Nobunaga, but they were more like "remittance slips"—the denominations were enormous, making them very impractical for daily use.

The paper currency Harano had introduced was meant for day-to-day use. Okabe Iyayama wasn’t stupid—he could guess what these were for. He examined them and found the "one kan," "five hundred wen," "one hundred wen," and "fifty wen" notes all remarkably well-designed—vivid colors, finely printed, crisp patterns on the front and clear "Wanjin" lettering on the back. You could see the intricate craftsmanship put into the woodblocks.

Ah Man regarded him as a clueless bumpkin and casually pointed things out: "No one’s been brave enough to try counterfeiting yet, but just in case, if you tilt the notes to the light—here, here, and here—see how the surface reflects? That’s how you know it’s real."

See, for anti-counterfeiting, Harano had used modern lacquer pigments in printing. The paper itself was specially made—more cloth-like than paper really—and the production process was complicated enough that large-scale forgery was impossible in this era.

His main purpose in issuing paper currency was to stimulate the economy. After all, copper coins were stupidly heavy and impractical, and making change with gold or silver was a pain. On another level, it was to make money—credit currency is the perfect tool for "leeching" labor for free. He’d wanted to do this for ages. At present, though, the paper money had just started circulation—only within New Wanjin. For now, it was used solely to pay monthly salaries to "public servants," very few merchants accepted it, and almost no one wanted large notes. Even the "public servants" didn’t trust them—once they got paid, they’d run straight to the bank to exchange every last bill for copper or gold before nightfall. No one kept the paper overnight.

In a sense, launching paper currency right now was a losing proposition, and Wanjin Bank—the financial backbone of Wanjin’s administration—had become the hardest post in the city, with tellers worked like dogs every day.

But Harano wasn’t worried. Credit isn’t established in a day—he was ready to spend ten years on this. Even if the exchange rate were as high as 99.99%, he’d still benefit: for example, paying wages to people like Okabe Iyayama. A thousand kan of cash weighs several thousand catties—it’d take multiple ox carts to deliver! Now, he saved every cart, and if Okabe had trouble hauling it all in one go, Harano got to utilize the funds for a few more days.

Ah Man couldn’t care less about all Harano’s financial schemes; to her, it was just another eccentric project. Whether Okabe exchanged the bills or not, as long as she delivered them as instructed, her job was done. She didn’t care about the rest—after all, the guesthouse had Eastern Depot agents stationed there, so everything the Okabe family did would be watched anyway. She had no fear of Oda family spies among them.

Okabe Iyayama politely sent her off, then immediately had his son take several apprentices and hired hands to the so-called "Wanjin Bank" to exchange the notes. He started sorting through the things Ah Man had brought, falling silent in thought.

Harano kept pestering him—supposedly about wanting to build ships. Since the other side was so courteous, he had to show some real skill in return. He’d have to do a good job!

Well, New Wanjin wasn’t nearly as bad as the rumors, and Harano wasn’t the brutal bastard other Samurai had described—so he ought to put in a good effort!

But just in case... better keep my wife and daughters hidden away!