Chapter 121: Guangzhou Trip (Part 1)

Xiao Zishan had returned from Guangzhou.

The expedition had not been about selling goods or earning silver—quite the opposite. They had functioned as a proper "Purchasing Delegation to Sheep City," carrying an extensive procurement list compiled from every department's urgent requirements. Chief among these was pig iron.

Hainan possessed some of China's finest and largest high-grade iron ore deposits, but whether at Tiandu or Shilu, the transmigrators currently lacked the capacity to develop either site. Moreover, Hainan suffered a fatal deficiency as a coal-and-iron complex: there was no coal.

The rise of industrializing nations had often hinged crucially on establishing such complexes. Britain had become the world's first industrial power largely because abundant iron ore and coal deposits existed in close proximity. America had the Great Lakes region—paired resources and cheap water transport combined. Russia had the Urals; Germany, the Ruhr. The Committee had understood all this on paper, but upon actually attempting to build an industrial base in Lingao, they confronted a stark reality: without solving the steel problem, industrialization was empty talk. They had brought complete equipment sets, machine tools, and precision measuring instruments. They had built power generation capacity and produced cement. Yet they remained stuck on steel. Without the most basic wire rod and rebar, even ordinary reinforced concrete slabs were impossible—to say nothing of steel nails or hammers. The ship's hold contained tons of steel ingots, but these were all special steels they couldn't reproduce in the short term. No one dared touch them.

After much deliberation, the Industrial Committee's main group leaders reached a decision: since ore development was currently impossible, they would skip the blast furnace stage entirely and proceed directly to steelmaking. Regardless of quality, they would produce the crude steel most in daily demand. Steelmaking required large quantities of pig iron, so they would attempt to purchase it from Guangdong.

Pig iron could serve as steelmaking feedstock and was useful in its own right—many bulky components could be cast from it. The Metallurgy Group's procurement list called for fifty tons, supposedly the bare minimum. With their small converters—even running just the smallest one-ton unit—fifty tons wouldn't last a month.

On paper, this was entirely feasible. Ming-era Guangdong's pig iron production was staggering. Based on the Jiajing 13 (1534) Guangdong Provincial Administration's iron tax records, the estimated annual output stood at 6,127,500 jin—roughly 3,100 tons. To the modern perspective, 3,100 tons represented a small mill's output for a few days. But in 1670, Russia's total steel production had been only 2,700-odd tons. The transmigrators' fledgling steel industry, built on imported pig iron, at least had some foundation to work from.

(Note: Steel production figures are heavily debated. This is purely novelistic—don't take it literally.)

For Xiao Zishan, however, matters were far from simple. Though he knew nothing about steel, he understood economic history. In Ming-era Guangdong Province, probably no single ironworks held fifty ready tons available for purchase. More likely, he would need to scrounge from multiple sources. And after scrounging, how would he ship them out? He vaguely recalled that pig iron was prohibited from export. Loading fifty tons onto a ship—what would the officials do if they discovered it? The whole thing was headache-inducing.

Headaches or not, tasks had to be completed. Beyond procurement, this expedition aimed to establish a Guangzhou intelligence network—penetrating Guangdong's wealthy merchant circles and eventually its official ones as well. The personnel roster, therefore, was formidable. Besides Xiao Zishan himself as overall commander, Xi Yazhou had originally been scheduled to accompany them as military affairs specialist, but his salt village mass mobilization work couldn't be interrupted. Bei Wei was pulled from the salt village as a substitute, a switch Xiao Zishan found equally satisfactory—having a reconnaissance soldier as bodyguard was reassuring anywhere. Bei Wei brought four of his best recon squad trainees along; the Guangzhou trip would serve as their graduation assessment.

Also accompanying them was the personnel designated to establish the Guangzhou forward station. Yan Maoda, formerly a jewelry company manager, specialized in luxury goods. His proposal to the Committee was to use their existing Guangzhou property to open a luxury goods trading house as cover for the intelligence base. Such trading houses offered several advantages: first, they required substantial capital, so large cash flows and personnel movements wouldn't arouse suspicion; second, the clientele consisted of wealthy families' wives and daughters, providing easy access to "enemy" inner circles; third, the building could be openly fortified.

Lu Rong had just returned from Li minority territory and immediately joined the expedition. He spoke multiple southern dialects fluently, read classical Chinese texts like Guwen Guanzhi and Wenxuan with casual ease, wrote passable brush calligraphy, possessed a robust physique, and knew both horsemanship and martial arts—making him ideal for covert deployment.

Another key figure was Guo Yi. His assignment stemmed from a simple fact: everyone else's understanding of covert operations came from movies and novels—he alone possessed actual experience. One transfer order later, Guo Yi found himself promoted from Security Group errand boy to Forward Station Chief, traveling to Ming-era Guangzhou for espionage work. The assignment reminded him of life's unpredictability: barely three months ago, in another timeline's Guangzhou, he had been conducting counter-espionage...

Beyond the dozen-plus transmigrators, they needed some locals. The returning Bairren production team workers were either Lingao natives or Fujian seasonal migrants—many had never even visited the prefectural capital, let alone Guangzhou. The Gou Manor prisoners included Guangdong natives, but vetting wasn't complete, so they couldn't be rashly employed. The breakthrough came from the salt village.

Salt Village Vice-Chairman Tan Guihuang—the Chairman being his cousin Tan Guiqiong—learned that the short-hair masters needed reliable companions for their Guangzhou journey and recommended the Leizhou salt merchant Liu Gang. Liu Gang maintained close ties with the salt village through his salt trading business. When Tan Guihuang had crossed the strait to recruit salt merchants, Liu Gang was the first to come, even bringing urgently needed grain and cloth. Tan Guihuang judged this man loyal and dependable. Moreover, though settled in Leizhou, Liu Gang was a genuine Nanhai County native from Guangzhou Prefecture who frequently traded around Guangzhou and knew the routes intimately. He was the ideal companion. When Tan Guihuang broached the subject, Liu Gang readily agreed—refusal wasn't really an option. Word had spread: these short-hairs were the salt village's backers, and they had eliminated the salt field's overlord, Landlord Gou. Such power—no seasoned merchant dared offend it.

Transport would be by ship, the fastest and most convenient method. This expedition carried considerable cargo: beyond the necessary provisions, weapons, and silver, there was radio equipment, hand-crank generators, solar panels, and other gear for the intelligence station. Additionally, they brought various merchandise samples in search of Guangzhou buyers—the fencing work that Gou Manor hadn't completed, they would now handle themselves.

The transmigrators' ships, however, were too conspicuous. Whichever vessel they sailed would cause a sensation. Better to maintain a low profile. Tan Guihuang was asked to purchase a "Lingao towing sail" from local fishing masters—a twenty-two-meter, seventy-eight-ton vessel that was a genuine large fishing boat, perfectly adequate for short-range Guangzhou trading.

(Note: The Lingao towing sail is a famous traditional Hainan fishing boat, though its appearance was relatively recent.)

With a ship secured, they needed sailors. Ordinary people couldn't handle such a large sailing vessel, and among the transmigrators, that talent was scarce. Wu De, though a fisherman, had grown up operating motorized boats. Finally, Lin Chuanqing volunteered as captain. This fisherman-turned-smuggler's-guide could handle all manner of maritime work. Several sailing enthusiasts from the North American contingent then signed on as crew.

The North American faction had found no suitable positions since arriving. Qian Shuiting, working in survey statistics, was assigned to the Planning Committee crunching numbers. Qian Shuixie and Zhou Weisen served in the Military Group, where daily guard duty was driving them to distraction—unlike Lin Shenhe, who could spend his off-duty hours at the Machinery Group developing weapons. Hearing that the Guangzhou trip needed sailors, they all volunteered, partly just for recreation. The group also nursed ulterior motives: they had brought personal weapons and recruited Lin Shenhe, planning to try their hand at piracy if opportunity arose.

Lin Chuanqing was no saint either. They hit it off immediately, scheming to act when circumstances permitted.

One difficulty remained: piracy required sailing skill. The Lingao towing sail was a hard-sail vessel, but these twenty-first-century sailing enthusiasts knew only soft-sail techniques. Though trial runs had taught them the basics, their proficiency remained uncertain. After discussion, they approached Xiao Zishan with a proposal: for easier handling and safety—after all, coastal Guangdong was dangerous—it would be best to retrofit the ship for motor-sail operation. The North Americans knew Xiao Zishan was extremely cautious, particularly regarding personal safety. The proposal was immediately approved, and the Industrial Group was authorized to retrofit the hard-sail vessel with two 12-kilowatt single-cylinder diesel engines from Changchai. They had brought many of these—simple in structure, easy to maintain, and extremely versatile. Except for aircraft, these engines could power almost anything.

(End of Chapter)