King's Landing, on the main street.
The crowds in King's Landing were bustling, each attending to their own duties, as if no one cared that the war raging outside had anything to do with them.
At this moment, Joffrey Baratheon was inspecting the economic situation of King's Landing with Petyr Baelish.
"Lord Baelish, I would like to hear about the economic policies you have implemented."
After all, Petyr Baelish truly had talent in this regard; Tyrion had once said: Petyr Baelish could take two gold dragons, rub them together, and produce a third.
"Your Grace, my policy is very simple. It is nothing more than investment and lending. I use the information at my disposal to lock onto targets in advance. When I see people preparing to sell or transfer their shops, I buy them at a low price and convert these shops into restaurants, brothels, and so on. I also issue loans, and then roll the interest, though the interest rates are within a range that the common people can bear."
"Buy at a low price? Why can't these people keep their businesses running?" Joffrey Baratheon asked with some confusion.
"Your Grace, you may not know this, but in a center of national political power like King's Landing, one cannot do business with just money; one must also have power." Seeing this, Petyr Baelish smiled slightly and continued:
"The secret to all thriving businesses under heaven is nothing more than connections and worldly wisdom. As long as you have the right contacts and relationships, why worry about not making money?"
"So, the rich in this world get richer, and the poor get poorer." Joffrey had seen through this; indeed, it was the same everywhere.
Hearing these words from King Joffrey, Petyr Baelish's eyes lit up, and he said:
"Your Grace, your words capture the underlying law of economic operation for thousands of years. If labor could make one rich, then the donkeys pulling the millstones in the backyard would be the richest in the world."
"Then how do you obtain the information about these people who want to transfer their businesses?" Joffrey narrowed his eyes at him.
"Hehe, I just know a few friends in the palace." Petyr Baelish said vaguely.
Joffrey knew that among his collaborators, that fellow Varys must be included. After all, when it came to being well-informed and having eyes and ears everywhere, one had to look to the master of whisperers, Varys, who had countless little birds.
The two chatted along the way until they reached a blacksmith shop.
"How are the prices of these ironwares determined?" Joffrey asked, pointing to the ironwares displayed in the blacksmith shop.
"Your Grace, these all depend on market prices; it's not up to us to decide."
"And what about salt?"
"It is the same." Although Petyr Baelish did not know what the connection between iron and salt was, he still answered Joffrey's question.
Joffrey thought for a moment and said: "Lord Baelish, after we return, I will draft a policy in the name of the Master of Coin to nationalize salt and iron, prohibiting private businesses from operating them. It will be up to you to handle it then."
Salt and iron were highly profitable industries; how could they be left to market allocation? Joffrey decisively brought them into the state treasury for state macro-control.
"Yes, Your Grace." Petyr Baelish knew that Joffrey was clearly pushing him to the forefront to attract fire; after all, cutting off people's livelihood was not good for the King's reputation.
Since ancient times, it was the farmers who rebelled; he had never heard of merchants being able to turn the world upside down.
"Littlefinger" Petyr Baelish had no other choice but to agree.
Besides this, Joffrey also told Petyr Baelish about implementing a state monopoly on alcohol, stating that the state must plan and regulate the development of the alcohol industry.
Encouraging the development of low-alcohol products while restricting high-alcohol products.
Especially imposing high taxes on non-local alcohol products in King's Landing to avoid the intrusion of industries from other regions, the most typical being House Tyrell of Highgarden.
Moreover, the production and sale of alcohol products would require a state-approved license, prohibiting private unlicensed production and sale.
The benefits of doing this were also obvious: the government would operate salt and iron, embedding taxes into the prices, so that people could neither avoid the taxes nor feel them, which would reduce many social conflicts.
At the same time, Joffrey decided to promote capable officials from commoner backgrounds to avoid the old aristocracy monopolizing the discourse in economy, politics, and other areas.
In a while, his uncle Stannis Baratheon would lead his troops to attack King's Landing, and he would have a life-and-death confrontation with him around the Blackwater Rush.
Before that, he had to urgently assemble an army in King's Landing. Otherwise, relying only on the three thousand Gold Cloaks currently in the city, he wouldn't even know how he died when the time came.
At the same time, he had to consider a suitable military system: a merit-based system? A military colony system?
Joffrey thought a lot, but many of these systems required the prerequisite of a unified state to be implemented.
What a hassle...
If only he could freely use his cheat, the Mera Mera no Mi, then he wouldn't be afraid of Stannis at all!
Were those three dragons across the Narrow Sea dead? Why hadn't they hatched yet?
As long as those three dragons hatched, the red comet streaked across the sky, and magic returned, he would be able to freely use the magic power within his body.
But according to the timeline, shouldn't those three dragons have hatched long ago?
Joffrey Baratheon could not figure it out.
...
Yi Ti.
The port of Yi Ti was surrounded by towering mountains on both sides, contrasting with the blue sky and clear sea, creating a picturesque scene. Lush green willows, nestled fishing boats, busy docks, and exquisite buildings formed the unique scenery of the port.
Entering the port, one could see people coming and going on the busy docks, with ships carrying cargo in and out.
Maritime merchants wore robes of various colors, carrying bags embroidered with patterns from different places, while peddlers noisily called out for various goods, showcasing a wide variety of merchandise.
The sounds of singing and dancing conveyed the prosperity and vitality of the port.
The architectural styles of the port were diverse, featuring simple and elegant pavilions, as well as huge and magnificent warehouses and dock buildings.
Stone-paved roads wound downwards, the hardened surface making walking easy and pleasant, and the shops on both sides of the street were filled with dazzling arrays of exquisite goods.
Multilingual signs and shop labels highlighted the port as an important place for trade and cultural exchange.
Street performers displayed their talents, and performances such as ballad singing, traditional opera, and dance attracted many spectators, who came in droves to watch and interact.
Aegon Targaryen and Jon Clinton got off the ship and prepared to go up and take a look.
Due to the concern that the Golden Company was too large a target, Aegon Targaryen left them near Slaver's Bay. He and Jon Clinton sailed across the Jade Sea and arrived in distant Yi Ti.
Aegon looked at all this, took a deep breath, and his eyes lit up.
He felt as if he had arrived in ancient China; the customs and practices of the Golden Heavenly Dynasty were very similar to various Asian countries.
Just as he was intoxicated by the exotic atmosphere, several Yi Ti soldiers wearing black armor and holding long spears walked over.
"What are you doing? Don't you know that ships staying in the port need to be reported?"
They spoke in standard Mandarin Chinese, which left Jon Clinton stunned, as he didn't know the Yi Ti language at all.
However, Aegon Targaryen, who was beside him, spoke up.
"My friends, we have come from distant Westeros. We do not know the rules, and we hope for your understanding."
Hearing this foreigner with silver hair and purple eyes speak fluent Yi Ti, the soldiers were inevitably startled.
But after all, they had seen the world, so they quickly calmed down and said:
"We will watch your ship for the time being; now hurry to the port office over there to report."
The soldier pointed out a direction for Aegon, who understood and left, expressing his gratitude.
"Your Grace, when did you learn to speak Yi Ti?"
"If I said I learned it in my past life, would you believe it?"
"I don't believe it."
"Believe it or not."
"..."
The two chatted as they arrived at the port office the soldier had pointed to.
The port office covered an area of about fifty or sixty square meters and looked very dilapidated; even the only small iron door for people to enter and exit was rusty.
However, this reminded Aegon Targaryen of a law from his past life: the more official a place was, the more unpretentious it appeared. He knew he had come to the right place.
"My friend, we are from..." Aegon Targaryen walked up to the window and asked.
The person at the window was old with white hair, and a pair of black eyes stared straight at them, or rather, at the money bags at their waists.
"I don't care where you are from: Dothraki, Tyrosh, Qarth, Slaver's Bay, or Westeros. I don't care about any of that; I only care if you have money on you."
The old man spoke very directly and got straight to the point: he wanted a toll fee.
"We do." Saying this, Aegon Targaryen handed over the money bag.
The man weighed the money bag in his hand, listened to it by his ear, and said with a satisfied smile: "This is more like it."
Subsequently, the old man tossed the bulging money bag to a young man behind him who looked honest and simple.
"Wang Xinzhong, the old rules, you take one-third."
"Ah, this, Old Nie. I..."
"What 'I'? If you don't take it, how can I take it? If I don't take it, how can we all progress? Be obedient, take it quickly."
In the end, the young man named Wang Xinzhong could not resist the greed in his heart and took a portion of the money.
Only then did Old Nie nod with satisfaction, turn back contentedly, pick up a pen and paper, and ask Aegon Targaryen:
"What is your name?"
"My name is Aegon." Aegon Targaryen blurted out the name from his past life without thinking.
"Who?! Young man, you must not joke with an old fellow like me!"
Unexpectedly, after hearing this, the old man looked at him in shock, his gaze like he was looking at a fool or a madman.
Unlike the West, where many people share names, in the Eastern Continent of Yi Ti, names of ancestors were extremely taboo; descendants could not have the same name as their ancestors.
"Young man, do you know the red god, rhllor?" the old man asked softly.
"Of course I do."
Aegon Targaryen knew that the people of Yi Ti generally worshipped the Goddess of Light, the Night Lion, and rhllor.
"Young man, do you know that Aegon is the original name of rhllor, the red god?"
After saying this, the old official pointed his hand towards a tall humanoid statue in the distance for Aegon Targaryen.
A slightly dazed Aegon Targaryen followed the direction of his finger, looking from bottom to top, but then Aegon froze on the spot.
Aegon Targaryen looked at the statue, his mouth agape in shock, his eyes widened, because the statue's face was exactly the same as his!
To be precise, it was exactly the same as his face in his past life, as if they were the same person!
"The red god, rhllor, is Aegon?!"