Chapter 202 - Li Huamei Falls from the Sky
While Wen Desi and the Superior of the Jesuits haggled over missionary matters, the others scattered about in search of romantic adventures of their own. Many had been deeply influenced since childhood by tales of the Age of Exploration, and some began clamoring to find taverns and beautiful barmaids the moment they set foot on shore.
After wandering about for a while, everyone was sorely disappointed. Though this was a Portuguese stronghold, there were not actually that many Portuguese people. Most pedestrians on the streets were still Chinese. Portuguese men were scarce enough, let alone Portuguese women of the statuesque variety. Occasionally they would spot an elegant Portuguese noblewoman or an ordinary Portuguese woman, but aesthetically speaking they looked nothing like the tall Western beauties the group had imagined—short in stature, with dark hair and dark eyes, lacking the signature voluptuous figures.
Someone suggested checking out the dockside area, proposing they simply go straight to a brothel and skip the pretense of bar-girl romance. The dock area certainly had brothels aplenty, with sailors of various complexions coming and going in a lively bustle. The men drumming up business appeared to be local Chinese, quite unscrupulous about their clientele. Seeing several oddly dressed transmigrators peering curiously at the entrance, they immediately called out in a jumble of unknown languages, enthusiastically inviting them inside.
Half-heartedly, the group entered a dim interior courtyard ringed by a row of crude small rooms, each doorway curtained. The heavy panting of men combined into a great chorus of human desire. Even these long-deprived men could not help but feel a physiological response. Then several women emerged from the small rooms, putting on what they considered their most charming smiles and pulling their clothes open to reveal their chests—though to this group of moderns numbed by adult videos, they might as well have been flat-chested. Worse, each was as small and slight as a child, their small, pinched faces appearing somewhat puffy in the dim light, their eyes narrowed to mere slits. Their bodies also gave off some unidentifiable smell. The group's ardor, which had been running high, immediately cooled by nine-tenths at the sight. Pleading lack of funds, they slipped out one by one.
With no women to woo, their spirits naturally dampened. There was not much to do in Macau anyway—the famous tourist attractions of later eras either had not been built yet or were military restricted zones. Though the Portuguese residential quarter had its distinctive character, it was ultimately just a small place, and they grew bored after a few circuits. In their boredom, they actually discovered a genuine tavern near the dockside. A cup-shaped sign hung outside the door.
The group of would-be romancers' eyes lit up and they hurried in. The moment they entered, a wave of noise, the heavy smell of alcohol, and tobacco smoke assaulted them. Their eyes watered from the smoke inside, and they could just make out sailors of various complexions puffing away, paying no attention whatsoever to these newcomers.
"What the hell—I thought sailors chewed tobacco?" Meng De said.
"That's because they cannot have open flames on ship, so it's a substitute. Once they're ashore, don't you think they'd want to smoke properly?" Ye Yuming was unimpressed. He was here as a representative for the Agriculture Department. He had just made a circuit of the market and had not found any varieties they did not already have—in fact, all of Macau's supplies came from local Guangdong, so naturally there was nothing special. Ye Yuming had been instructed to try to find out if there were potatoes available locally. But the market clearly had none. There were some sweet potatoes, though.
"Speaking of tobacco, when will the tobacco you're growing be ready?" The speaker was Ma Jia. This person had been quietly blending into the crowd until now. He had graduated with a law degree specializing in international economic law—a skillset that was essentially useless for the transmigrators, who obviously were not in any hurry to establish international economic law. He had only managed to join the Macau expedition by waxing eloquent about the importance of maritime law in his application, thereby weaseling his way into the delegation. His purpose was to "investigate international maritime law." Behind his unremarkable office-worker appearance lay an ambitious plan to become the future chief of the Maritime Court and personally draft an entirely new maritime code and maritime commercial law.
"Tobacco needs to be planted in spring—it's not something you can plant and harvest immediately," Ye Yuming said dismissively. "Besides, the curing process is a technical challenge. If you want to smoke, the earliest would be year's end."
"Why not just buy some tobacco?" As they talked, the group sat down and someone immediately ordered a bottle of rum—drinking this was true seafaring spirit!
The rum came in a rough ceramic bottle wrapped in rattan, the wax seal on the cap still intact. Meng De examined the seal with feigned expertise, then opened the bottle.
Ye Yuming was puzzled. "Can you actually read that seal?"
"Of course!" Meng De declared boldly. "This seal here—one look and I can tell it's Puerto Rican rum!"
The moment those words left his mouth, a clear tsk of laughter sounded from somewhere in the smoke—there and then not there. Everyone looked around, but the room was so thick with haze they could not see who it might be.
"What the devil!" Ye Yuming felt a bit uneasy.
"Whatever. Let's drink." Meng De poured everyone a glass. "It's my treat."
Everyone took a sip. Rum was considered a strong liquor in Europe and America, but at an average of forty percent alcohol, it was merely low-proof baijiu to this group. The liquor had a distinctive aroma and a sharp bite. It suited the tastes of the drinkers among them.
As they drank, they pricked up their ears to eavesdrop on the conversations around them. Unfortunately, most transmigrators only knew half-baked English. No one understood Portuguese, and even for Spanish they had to consult their Venezuelan guest. After listening for a while, the only useful thing they heard was a few Chinese sailors chatting in Hokkien about mundane matters.
Just then, someone suddenly pushed through the door and stood there shouting loudly, cycling through several languages. They understood the last one:
"Who's willing to sail on Lord Aragonés de Sidonia's Countess of Scarborough?"
"Hey, this really feels like Age of Exploration," Ma Jia whispered, nudging Meng De.
"Exactly—if only there were a barmaid, that would really set the mood." Meng De was in high spirits, fiddling with a phone charm embroidered with tourist-souvenir motifs that he had brought—originally intended to charm barmaids. Unfortunately, the only person serving drinks in this tavern was a strange, sullen-faced fat man of indeterminate nationality.
"Shh!" Ye Yuming suddenly became alert. "Get your heads down!"
"What is it?" Ma Jia was puzzled.
"Didn't you read the enemy intel briefing?" Ye Yuming whispered.
"Who reads that stuff—"
"That Spanish ship that attacked us before the New Year! It was called the Countess of Scarborough!"
"What?!" Everyone was stunned. Xiao Bailang, here as a representative from the Machinery Department, reached to yank the Derringer pistol from his belt. The people beside him immediately held him down.
"Are you crazy?! This is Macau—if we start shooting, we're definitely coming off worse!" Ma Jia hissed at him.
"I'm not afraid of those bastards—"
Several people pinned him firmly to the table. Everyone's hands were gripping their pistols. Meng De even unscrewed the cap of his grenade, ready to serve them a "bamboo-cased watermelon" if things turned violent.
"Who's willing to sail on Aragonés de Sidonia's Countess of Scarborough? One silver peso up front! One peso every week after!" Seeing no takers, the recruiter called out the terms.
After shouting for several more minutes with still no volunteers, the recruiter gave up and left. Only then did everyone release Xiao Bailang.
"The Countess of Scarborough is in Macau—we need to tell Director Wen immediately!"
"Right." As everyone was about to get up and leave—
"Bartender, a gin." A clear female voice reached everyone's ears. Someone was actually speaking Mandarin, and it was a girl at that. Meng De's gaze immediately swiveled over. A young woman wearing trousers and a loose Spanish-style shirt, her hair in a ponytail, appeared in view. "My God!" She was the first Chinese woman they had seen in months who fit modern aesthetic standards. The would-be romancers exchanged glances, each seeing the flames burning fiercely in the others' eyes. They promptly forgot all about reporting the Countess of Scarborough.
"Miss, would you give me the honor of buying you a drink?" Meng De, assuming the manner of a gentleman, was the first to approach. Before the young woman could answer, the expressions of the several men around her—short but clearly far more formidable than the transmigrators—had already turned unfriendly. Ma Jia hurried over to smooth things over. "Haha, sorry to bother you. It's so rare to hear someone speaking Mandarin here—my friend just got a little excited."
"Then pour me a glass of your rum." The girl was completely at ease. Looking at her more carefully, the group judged her to be in her early twenties. Though her overall features were good, her skin was somewhat rough and her complexion dark—likely a woman who had spent a long time at sea. Between the Malay kris at her waist and the fierce-looking men around her, she might well be a pirate.
A Chinese woman pirate! The phrase sent another wave of excitement through the group, naturally calling to mind the character Li Huamei. This inexplicable association, combined with the girl's good looks, greatly increased the transmigrators' goodwill, and they struck up conversation even more eagerly.
"Might I ask the young lady's name?" Meng De deployed every gentlemanly flourish he had seen in movies.
"My name is Li Huamei."
Everyone was dumbfounded! Now this was truly bizarre! Had they not traveled through time and space, but rather into some video game? They could not help pinching themselves and staring at her in disbelief.
Seeing their peculiar expressions, Li Huamei seemed puzzled. "Is my name that strange?"
"No, no, not strange at all." Ma Jia, the most composed of the group, hurried to smooth things over. "Please forgive us—your name happens to be exactly the same as someone they know."
"It's a very common name. Coincidences are bound to happen." Li Huamei smiled radiantly, and the would-be romancers' hearts raced.
"Might we ask what this Miss Li whom you know is like?"
(End of Chapter)