Chapter 136: East Gate Market Police Station (Part 1)

The skies over Lingao stretched clear and cloudless as winter crept closer, bringing merciful relief from the sweltering summer heat. With the autumn harvest nearly complete, the common folk finally had time to breathe—and to wander.

Bairren's population had swelled considerably, and the simple road that once lay empty now bustled with pedestrians drawn by its convenience. The commercial activity at East Gate Market had done wonders for relations between the transmigrators and locals. Beyond the salt trade, the rice mill had become a particular draw—it produced clean, attractive rice through honest operations, showing customers exactly how much rice, bran, and husks resulted from each batch. No skimming, no cheating. The place was far superior to the shabby village workshops, and best of all, payment was flexible. Silver was welcome, of course, but unhulled rice, milled rice, bran, even straw could offset processing fees. This attracted grain households from across the region. Outsourced processing now accounted for sixty percent of the mill's operations, with daily fees alone bringing in over ten shi of rice plus considerable husks.

Convenient processing, good roads, and no taxes—East Gate Market was rapidly becoming Lingao County's grain processing and wholesale center. During routine inspections, Dongmen Chuiyu discovered grain merchants from neighboring counties making the journey here to trade. The lure of profit, it seemed, could always convince people to brave unknown dangers.

Along East Gate Street, the roadside plots had been partially sold, and several shops were under construction—most opened by county gentry. These businessmen saw twin opportunities: not only the commercial prospects, but also the chance to cultivate connections with the short-hairs. If problems arose later, shopkeepers with established relationships could negotiate directly. Construction materials came readily available—bricks, tiles, and timber flowed continuously from the Gou Manor demolition site at Damei Village. Whatever the transmigrators did not need themselves was sold cheaply to lot buyers.

Lin Quan'an, the first peddler to ever trade with the short-hairs, had risen to become the area's largest food supplier. After the Gou Manor reconnaissance mission, he had earned a twenty-tael reward, and when the mass migration to Bairren Fortress began, his supply operation doubled in scale. He had built a shop at East Gate Market, hired an accountant, and employed four or five workers who spent their days carting through the villages to collect live pigs, poultry, eggs, and vegetables. Lin Quan'an was already dreaming of the future—soon he would return to Fujian for his wife, or perhaps build a house in his hometown and take a concubine for his time in Lingao. Such glorious prospects made him feel like he was floating on clouds.

There was, however, one annoyance: his workers ate too well. His heartache stemmed not from the short-hairs' money—theoretically, well-fed workers made him more money—but from the bad example it set. Several workers had already quit to join the short-hairs directly. Though Lin Quan'an earned handsomely, his capitalist instincts still made him resist improving employee conditions. There would always be someone willing to work.

But recently, the situation had shifted. The autumn harvest was nearly finished, and Lingao did not grow wheat, so post-rice-harvest peasants usually sought short-term work during the off-season. In the past, day laborers required no wages—just meals. Now, however, the short-hairs were recruiting en masse at East Gate Market. Off-season laborers flocked to them instead, and mainland migrants arriving in Lingao mostly became long-term workers for the short-hairs. The result was unprecedented tightness in the labor market. Under the short-hairs' benchmark effect, wages across the entire region began to rise.

The wage increases made markets livelier still. Peddlers from neighboring counties were drawn by the activity. Beyond the merchants, locals who were not starving brought their families to Bairren simply to gawk. They could not enter the fortress, but walking around the trenches and barbed wire, glimpsing the wonders from a distance—that was enough. They marveled at the button-front short clothes, the strange rattan helmets, the long bayonet-mounted muskets, the buildings on the beach with giant pipes running beneath them. The more adventurous visitors followed the simple roads all the way to Bopu Harbor to see the legendary steel ships with their own eyes.

As the common folk's fear of the short-hairs diminished, Dongmen Chuiyu observed that Chinese commoners possessed remarkably strong commercial instincts. It was not just the merchants at East Gate Market—roadside tea vendors had begun appearing along the routes. All three blockhouses along the way now had tea stalls. Military Group soldiers frequently faced merchant harassment, dealing not only with vegetable and poultry sellers but also having to chase away flirtatious women. Not that their revolutionary will was particularly strong—they simply could not afford such fortune.

Naturally, security issues followed close behind. Busy places attracted all sorts. Beyond the overt and covert prostitutes, gambling stalls appeared. Then came pickpockets and thieves, then beggars. Various underworld trades gradually surfaced from the shadows.

Theft proved the most serious problem. Every day, several unlucky victims lost money or goods. Even Li Mei's Welfare Society shop was burglarized. Dugu Qiuhun's "East Gate Market Comprehensive Law Enforcement Squad" caught thieves daily, but they were not professionals. All Ming commoners looked alike to them, and language barriers compounded the difficulty—their efforts were basically futile. On the rare occasions when they caught someone, the prisoner would drop to their knees and gabble in incomprehensible dialect, sometimes wailing and rolling on the ground until the enforcers eventually had to release them. Brawls arising from gambling disputes added to the chaos.

Soon, the first bloodshed alarmed the transmigrators: the market witnessed scenes they knew all too well—street fights.

Seventeenth-century gang fights were not so different from their twenty-first-century counterparts, just more dangerous-looking. There were no watermelon knives, but fire-hardened bamboo spears, sharpened wooden clubs, and naturally, bricks. In an instant, the bustling market descended into chaos—people fleeing, chickens squawking, dogs running wild, wails rising through the air. A cluster of bamboo sheds near East Gate Street caught fire. By the time Dugu Qiuhun's enforcement squad had donned their full equipment and Military Group reinforcements arrived, the crowds had scattered. Seven corpses remained amid the devastation, and over ten stalls had burned to ash.

Dugu Qiuhun's mouth twisted with fury. The other Committee members who arrived were equally shocked. Since its opening, East Gate Market had been nothing but positive news—more peddlers, more customers, people buying lots. It had been the shining example of transmigrator-native harmony.

Now that example lay in ruins. The damage itself was not catastrophic, but market brawls with fatalities would certainly damage their reputation. Most embarrassing of all: after half a day's investigation, Dugu Qiuhun could not identify the perpetrators. He could not even determine cause and effect. Defeated, he approached the Committee with a request for police training.

"This enforcement squad isn't working," Dugu Qiuhun admitted, finally recognizing the core problem. "We can't communicate with locals. We can't understand ground-level situations."

"Can the Security Group assign people for patrol?" Xiao Zishan asked, clearly unenthusiastic about training local police. He felt the locals could not yet be trusted.

"Security Group can't spare anyone for us." Dugu Qiuhun knew this well—he had visited several times. Seven or eight people were already overwhelmed with prisoner interrogation, personnel vetting, and file organization. They had no time for patrol assistance, and besides, they would face identical language barriers.

"We really can't spare anyone," Ran Yao confirmed with a helpless sigh. "The Security Group is basically handling internal security now. But training police—I think it's entirely feasible. As our controlled population grows, we'll need law enforcement institutions to maintain social order."

Thus was the transmigrators' first police institution established: the East Gate Market Police Station. Dugu Qiuhun served as station chief. Mu Min became station instructor—meaning she would instruct station operations. She had experience with security work, and East Gate's main problem was exactly that.

The station reported to the Security Group for oversight, while funding came from site management—specifically, the East Gate Industrial-Commercial Bureau.

"But I have no money!" Dugu Qiuhun pleaded to Xiao Zishan, who handled civil affairs. "The station even uses our Industrial-Commercial Bureau offices. East Gate Market doesn't collect taxes—we can't fund expenses!"

"Then collect some security fees. Current police stations charge businesses too."

"How can that work? That's arbitrary fee collection! Besides, we're in the key phase of attracting investment—"

"Heh, stop crying poor." Xiao Zishan snorted. "What about your Industrial-Commercial Bureau's land sales income? You didn't give those shop lots away for free."

Dugu Qiuhun fell momentarily speechless. The Industrial-Commercial Bureau's slush fund did indeed hold over one hundred taels from lot rentals. The Committee had not yet issued a land policy, so transactions used "land-lease" terminology, keeping prices low. Theoretically, these funds should be remitted to central accounts—but with unclear policies, the Financial Department could not book them properly. The money simply sat at the East Gate Industrial-Commercial Bureau.

"But that's embezzling public funds," Dugu Qiuhun protested. "And without a land policy, spending can't be properly reimbursed."

Cheng Dong thought for a moment. "How about this—your Industrial-Commercial Bureau first fills out a deposit slip. Clearly state the income source. I'll book it as non-routine income. Then I'll return the full amount as East Gate's operating expenses. You won't need to carry silver back and forth."

"Okay, that works. Let's do that." Dugu Qiuhun left happily with his problem resolved.

"You really do have solutions," Xiao Zishan remarked.

Cheng Dong shook his head repeatedly. "Our fiscal system needs reform too."

(End of Chapter)