In the grand narrative of Chinese history, tales of emperors, battles, and dynasties often take center stage. Yet behind the throne and beneath the banners of conquest lay an equally powerful force: commerce. Among the myriad trades that flourished in imperial China, one stood above all in terms of profit and power—not silk, not tea, but salt.
While monopolistic ventures like the Canton Thirteen Hongs of the Qing Dynasty dazzled with their international connections and staggering wealth, it was the enduring and essential salt trade that truly shaped China’s economic and political landscape for centuries. From the reforms of ancient statesmen to clandestine smuggling operations and the rise of merchant magnates, salt wasn’t just a seasoning—it was a symbol of power, rebellion, and astonishing profit.
Let’s explore how this humble crystal became the lifeblood of empires and the engine of both statecraft and sedition.
The Rise of Trade Guilds in Imperial China
In popular lore, the phrase “Qiao luo mai tang, ge gan yi hang” (“beat the gong and sell candy, each person has their own trade”) speaks to the wide diversity of professions in ancient China. By the Tang dynasty, it was commonly said that society comprised “thirty-six trades,” a figure that later expanded to “seventy-two” and even “three hundred and sixty.” These numbers were more symbolic than statistical—there were far more occupations than these tidy expressions suggest.
Among these trades, certain professions came to dominate not just the market but the national economy. And none more so than the salt merchants.
Salt: Ancient China’s White Gold
In a world without refrigeration, salt was indispensable. It preserved food, enhanced flavor, and was vital for human health. Beyond its culinary uses, salt was a strategic resource. Its importance to daily life and its scarcity in inland regions made it a commodity of enormous value.
Unlike rice or cloth, salt couldn’t be grown or woven—it had to be mined or harvested from salt lakes or coastal flats. These sources were geographically limited, making the resource both rare and highly sought after. In essence, salt in ancient China played the role that oil plays in the modern world: a resource critical to survival, trade, and state revenue.
And like oil today, where salt was found, wealth followed.
From Free Trade to State Monopoly
The enormous profitability of salt didn’t go unnoticed by rulers. As early as the Spring and Autumn Period (770–476 BCE), the state of Qi gained tremendous strength through the reforms of Chancellor Guan Zhong, who introduced the “official monopoly over mountains and seas” (guan shan hai) policy. This strategy allowed the state to control profits from salt and fisheries, enriching its coffers and expanding its influence.
Later, during the Warring States period, Shang Yang’s reforms in Qin mirrored these ideas. But it was under the Han Dynasty that salt policy took on imperial significance.
Initially, the Han allowed private merchants to trade in salt, which led to the rapid rise of extremely wealthy salt traders—men whose fortunes rivaled those of nobles and regional lords. Concerned about the growing power of these commercial giants, Emperor Wu of Han instituted the “Salt and Iron Monopoly” policy. From then on, salt production, transport, and sales were all strictly under state control.
The reason was simple: war.
Constant military campaigns, especially those against the Xiongnu in the north, drained the imperial treasury. Salt, with its consistent demand and enormous profit margin, became a lifeline for the government. The state-run salt monopoly not only funded armies but also curbed the power of regional warlords and wealthy families who might challenge central authority.
Smuggling, Rebellion, and the Perils of Private Salt
But where there is monopoly, there is black market.
Despite the risk of capital punishment, salt smuggling flourished across dynasties. The profits were too tempting. According to The Continued Comprehensive Mirror in Aid of Governance (Xu Zizhi Tongjian Changbian), during the Northern Song Dynasty, government-controlled salt from Qinghai was sold at forty-four wen per jin (roughly 500 grams), while the same salt at the production site cost just five wen—a ninefold markup. And that didn’t include the even lower production cost.
These margins were irresistible. Smugglers, rebels, and even future kings made their start with salt.
The infamous rebel leaders Cheng Yaojin (Sui-Tang transition), Huang Chao (late Tang), and Zhang Shicheng (late Yuan) all began as salt merchants or smugglers. Their fortunes funded militias, and their militias became movements. In a twist of irony, the state’s greatest source of revenue also became a recurring cradle of rebellion.
The Canton Thirteen Hongs: Monopoly in a Different Form
While salt’s influence permeated domestic markets and politics for millennia, international trade found its own darling in the Qing dynasty: the Thirteen Hongs of Canton.
Under the Qing’s haijin (maritime prohibition) policy, all foreign trade was restricted to the port of Canton (now Guangzhou). Here, thirteen officially sanctioned merchant firms—known as the Thirteen Hongs—handled all dealings with foreign powers. This arrangement was not just monopolistic; it was hyper-monopolistic.
The leading figure among these was Wu Bingjian, known in the West as Howqua. By the 1830s, his assets totaled over 26 million silver dollars—equivalent to 20 million taels of silver. For comparison, the Qing government’s total annual revenue at the time was roughly 40 million taels. The Wall Street Journal would later call him “the richest man in the world.”
Yet even Wu’s staggering wealth paled in historical comparison to the systemic, century-spanning profits generated by the salt trade.
The Salt Merchants of the Ming and Qing
In later dynasties, especially the Ming and Qing, the salt monopoly transformed once again—from direct state control to a system of licensed private enterprise.
Enter the yan yin—government-issued permits that allowed designated merchants to purchase salt from producers and sell it in specified regions. In exchange, these merchants were obligated to provide services to the state, such as transporting grain to remote military outposts. This quasi-public-private partnership created a powerful new class: the licensed salt merchants.
But there was a cost. Corruption became endemic.
The official in charge of regional salt affairs—the salt circuit intendant, or yandao—became the most coveted (and lucrative) bureaucratic post in the empire. Salt merchants paid enormous bribes for favors, route control, or simply the right to maintain their licenses. The result was a tightly woven web of government-business collusion, especially in prosperous cities like Yangzhou.
How Salt Made the Rich Richer: The Case of Yangzhou
Yangzhou, located along the Grand Canal, became the beating heart of the salt economy. There, the salt trade was dominated by the Huizhou merchants (Hui shang), famed for their savvy, and the Shanxi merchants (Jin shang), renowned for their financial acumen.
These businessmen knew how to work the system and how to work the court.
The Qianlong Emperor’s southern inspection tours—seven in total—were lavishly funded by salt merchants. One notable figure, Bao Zhidao, served as the general manager of the Huai Salt Administration for two decades. During his tenure, he donated over two million taels of silver and more than 120,000 bushels of grain to the government, earning imperial accolades and solidifying his economic dominance.
Serving emperors well meant protection, and protection meant profit. In a society where official favor was currency, the Yangzhou salt merchants became untouchable.
Final Reflections
Salt shaped China in ways that few other commodities ever could. It fed armies, financed empires, inspired rebellions, and created fortunes vast enough to rival royalty. It is a lens through which we can better understand ancient China’s economy, class dynamics, state power, and even the birth of modern corruption.
While today’s billionaires build tech empires and media conglomerates, in ancient China, the richest men salted the earth—not with bitterness, but with silver.