Chapter 258 — The Unexpected Ending of a Romance
"Whistling arrow!"
Everyone jolted to attention—they were under attack.
The exploration team had long prepared for roadside ambushes. Those with guns drew them instantly; those without unsheathed machetes. Within seconds they had formed a defensive circle. Shopkeeper Wang, who had been leading the way, scrambled behind them for cover.
"Hold the cows! Don't let them bolt!" Xiong Buyou shouted, pulling a Derringer from his pocket and thumbing a percussion cap into place.
At a bend in the river ahead, twenty young men materialized. Their dress marked them as Meifu Li. Each gripped a hook knife; some carried crossbows. They blocked the path, their posture openly hostile.
"Road blocked up ahead!" Huang Zhuazi bellowed. "All hands on alert!" He blew his whistle in three sharp bursts.
"They're Li people!"
"Impossible." Mu Min pushed her way to the front. "Li people never engage in highway robbery."
"Hmph. I doubt they're after money or goods." Huang Zhuazi cast a pointed glance at Bida behind them. "I suspect they're here for that treasure." The woman, who had seemed listless before, now looked restless, her eyes darting toward the blockade.
"Stay calm!" Mu Min called out, stilling the men reaching for their weapons. "They haven't ambushed us—they've shown themselves openly. There's room to negotiate."
"They're almost certainly here for Bida," Cui Yunhong whispered. "What do we do?"
Mu Min's thoughts raced. Could this be Bida's lover—the Zhen Huan that Li Benqing mentioned? A man who would stage an armed standoff to rescue the woman he loves... The romantic in her stirred. Thinking of her own husband, who possessed precisely zero sense of romance, she felt a pang of wistful bitterness.
"If it really is Zhen Huan," she said, "we should simply return Bida to him."
"How can we do that? We promised to take her away—"
While they debated, several figures broke from the opposing line and walked forward. One stood out: handsome features, clothing finer than the rest, pheasant feathers adorning his headband. He carried himself with unmistakable authority. Stopping about fifty paces away, he began to shout.
This time Xiong Buyou understood—the man was speaking Hainan dialect. The accent was off, but the meaning was clear enough.
"Damn. It really is Zhen Huan." Xiong Buyou's jaw tightened. "He wants us to hand over Bida."
"What do we do?" All eyes fixed on Cui Yunhong and Mu Min—the captain and the officer responsible for Li and Miao affairs.
"Hmph. Trying to block our road with a handful of rusty blades." Huang Zhuazi muttered as he cocked the hammer of his Remington shotgun. "Let me show them what we're made of."
"No—hold your fire," Cui Yunhong ordered quickly.
"There are only twenty of them. One volley and it's over."
"We're strangers in a strange land. Yes, we'd win the fight—but if we enrage them? They could harass us all the way back, ambush after ambush. Even with guns, we might not reach Changhua Fort in one piece."
"Mn. Fair point." Huang Zhuazi conceded grudgingly.
Xiong Buyou added, "Besides, these men are all from Zhen Dui Stockade. If we kill even a few, how can we ever cooperate with them again?"
Mu Min spoke decisively. "Let her go. Bida is of no practical use to us—we only took her to save her life. Now that Zhen Huan has proven himself so devoted, why should we insist on keeping her?"
Seeing no objections, Xiong Buyou stepped forward unarmed and called out in Hainan dialect: "Clear the road, and we'll release her once we've passed!"
Zhen Huan shook his head. "Send a hostage over first. After you pass, we release the hostage. Only then can I trust you."
Xiong Buyou's blood ran hot. Since D-Day, the Transmigration Group had imposed unequal terms on others—when had they ever been the ones threatened? At less than thirty meters, murderous calculation flickered through his mind: one shot from the Derringer and Zhen Huan would drop where he stood. Even if the others loosed arrows, at seventy or eighty meters their aim would be uncertain. Combined with his brothers' shotguns, they could cut down every last one.
Sensing his intent, Mu Min shouted in Mandarin: "Don't do anything rash! If a fight starts, there's no clean ending." She turned to Cui Yunhong. "I'll go as a hostage so he clears the road."
Before Cui Yunhong could respond, Bida—who had been crouching silently—rose to her feet. She called out something in the Li tongue, then spoke rapidly to Guide Wang. The guide translated: "She says she's willing to go and speak with Zhen Huan herself. She'll ask him to clear the way."
Mu Min nodded slowly. Perhaps this would make things easier. "Tell her: once they clear the road and we pass, we will naturally let her go."
Guide Wang relayed the message. A strange expression flickered across Bida's face. She shook her head and spoke again.
"She says... she wishes to stay with the Bahas."
Mu Min blinked. For a moment she thought the guide had mistranslated—but the determination in Bida's eyes was unmistakable. After a pause, she untied the rope and let her walk forward.
Seeing the captive released, a cheer rose from the opposing ranks. Men waved their bows, crossbows, and knives in celebration.
Cui Yunhong watched Bida approach Zhen Huan. The man reached for her hand; she pushed him away. Surprise crossed his face, and then the two began speaking in low, urgent tones. As the exchange lengthened, Zhen Huan grew visibly impatient—gesturing sharply, occasionally shoving her, raising his voice. Bida stood immobile, head bowed, speaking softly, shaking her head again and again. Her resolve was absolute.
This silent tableau played out between the two groups for a full ten minutes—long enough for the cattle to lower their heads and graze. At last, Zhen Huan's expression twisted with fury. He spun on his heel and strode away without a backward glance. Within minutes, every Li warrior on the riverbank had vanished, leaving only Bida standing alone in the clearing. Suddenly, she collapsed to her knees and burst into loud, wrenching sobs.
The exploration team stared in stunned silence.
"What in the world was that about?" Xiong Buyou muttered.
Mu Min exhaled slowly. "Let's keep moving."
Half a month after their departure, the exploration team returned to Changhua County seat. After bidding farewell to Shopkeeper Wang outside the city walls, they made their way back to Changhua Fort. Li Haiping had been overseeing basic construction for more than two weeks. The fort had begun to take shape; cannons were now mounted on the gun emplacements, though to avoid provoking the local authorities, they remained concealed inside buildings—ready to be rolled out only when needed.
Seeing the exploration team return fully laden, Li Haiping's face showed both relief and concern. The fort could not accommodate ten cattle—and these were no ordinary beasts. They were exceptionally large water buffalo, almost half the size of elephants, of unknown breed. He immediately ordered the marines to erect a simple cattle pen outside the walls and assigned a few men with farming experience to oversee the herd. The trade goods and gifts held little interest for anyone; they were piled directly in the warehouse to await the next ship.
The team settled into an idle routine at the fort. Beyond daily baths in a branch of the Changhua River, they passed the time drinking tea and gossiping beneath the kapok tree outside the walls. They did make some improvements: erecting a bamboo-woven partition at one end of the river branch for the private use of Mu Min and Bida. The expedition's encounter at Zhen Dui Stockade became the favorite topic of conversation—what had begun as speculation about hidden truths gradually evolved into entertainment. This rustic version of a palace revenge drama grew ever more elaborate under the relentless embroidery of daily gossip, until people began volunteering to play background characters in their collective fantasy.
Bida herself, the heroine of these events, remained silent. She threw herself into chores around the fort—cooking, washing clothes, sweeping, feeding the cattle—but spoke not a word. Since no one at Changhua Fort understood the Meifu Li language, Mu Min could never truly communicate with her.
As for what use the Zhen Dui Stockade would prove in the coming years, no one could say with certainty. The soap beans were indeed a valuable resource, though not urgently needed by the Transmigration Group. At Changhua Fort, however, they were put to immediate use; everyone from top to bottom bathed and laundered with them daily, finding the scent fresh and the cleansing effect excellent.
The Changhua County seat became their sole place of recreation. The city was small, and after many visits nearly everyone recognized them—even if they found their hairstyles strange. The soldiers grew familiar with the bailiffs at the city gate. It emerged that the county lacked even a proper magistrate; a vice-magistrate served in an acting capacity. As for the Battalion Commander of the local Wei-Suo, he simply resided on his farm outside the walls. The few government offices were deserted and dilapidated—little wonder they had walked past those modest tile-roofed buildings several times without realizing they housed the local administration.
Shopkeeper Qian of the Guangzhou warehouse effectively became their agent in Changhua County. Through his connections, the transmigrators at the fort could purchase fresh vegetables, poultry, and grain directly from the Commander's farm beyond the walls. The Commander and his subordinates saw nothing improper in doing business with these foreigners of uncertain origin—especially when the goods on offer were white sugar and distilled spirits, both sorely lacking in the region. Xiong Buyou also bought several dozen sheep from the farm: partly for their own consumption, partly to ship back to Lingao along with the cattle.
Each day, the 15W radio received telegrams from the fleet and the Lingao main station. Occasionally messages arrived from the Guangzhou Station as well, all parties reporting their safety. Through these dispatches, they learned that the exploration fleet had reached Yulin Harbor and was now inspecting another key objective of the expedition: the Tiandu Iron Mine.
Yulin Harbor was the finest natural port on Hainan. Moreover, it lay less than twelve kilometers from the high-grade Tiandu iron ore field—far superior to Shilu in terms of mining accessibility.
A direct voyage from Lingao to Yazhou along the coast took only four days. The exploration fleet, departing from Changhua, needed just two. They stopped periodically to conduct shore inspections—each requiring half a day to a full day—and made a special survey of the Yinggehai Salt Field in Le'an, Yazhou. In the future, Yinggehai would become Hainan's largest salt field and the greatest sea-salt producer in southern China. The seawater concentration here reached 3.5 degrees Baumé, making it one of the world's saltiest waters after the Red Sea—aptly named the "Bitter Sea." For now, it remained a desolate coastal marsh, devoid of inhabitants. Ming Qiu, who knew Hainan's developmental history intimately, told the others that preparation for the Yinggehai Salt Field had begun in 1955, entering a phase of rapid expansion in 1958 with the arrival of more than 5,600 professional soldiers.
Ideally, this vast repository of sea salt would become the foundation of their chemical industry. From Wang Luobin onward, everyone gazed covetously at the barren tidal flats. Hainan Island was truly a treasure island.
The fleet conducted on-site surveying at Yinggehai, then pressed on. On the sixth day after leaving Changhua, the lookout aboard the Zhenhai noticed they were sailing into a vast bay. White sand gleamed on the beach; coconut palms swayed gently; the sea shimmered an impossible blue. All signs pointed to their approach to Sanya.
"This is Sanya Bay," Chen Haiyang announced, checking the latitude and longitude measurements the naval cadets had recorded. "We're not far from Yulin."
Sanya Bay in this era appeared even more beautiful and pristine than its future incarnation. A few scattered villages huddled at the foot of the mountains; grid-patterned salt fields lined the coast.
After several more hours of sailing, the masthead lookout sighted the distinctive 213-meter hill on the Luhuitou Peninsula.
Arriving at Luhuitou meant arriving at Yulin Harbor. In the future, the Luhuitou Naval Port would serve as a vital base for the South Sea Fleet. Standing on deck, Ming Qiu gazed at the familiar scenery, memories flooding back—those days and nights of combat readiness in 1974. He could not help murmuring the Vietnamese phrases he had once crammed in haste:
"Ya di! (Halt!), Lao song kong ye! (Drop your weapons and we won't kill!), Zhong dui kuan hong du bian! (We treat captives leniently!)."
Mont ambled over, curious. "Master Ming, what are you saying?"
"Vietnamese." The temperature here was brutal—over thirty degrees Celsius on deck. Many had stripped to undershirts or gone bare-chested entirely, but Ming Qiu remained impeccably dressed in his Type 87 naval summer uniform. Standing ramrod straight at the railing, he put to shame every otaku who had ever fantasized about becoming an admiral of a transmigrator nation.
"In the spring of 1974," Ming Qiu said, pointing toward the distant Luhuitou headland, "our troops were stationed there, participating in pre-war mobilization before the assault on the Crescent Group of the Paracel Islands. The Americans couldn't hold on in Vietnam any longer and had begun withdrawing. That ungrateful North Vietnam was seizing the opportunity to push south—South Vietnam was on the verge of collapse. To avoid complications after the war, the brass ordered us to retake the Paracels. I was just a common soldier then—"
"You participated in the recovery of the Paracels?" Mont's voice was reverent.
"Not exactly." Ming Qiu shook his head. "I was on standby here in Sanya the whole time. That autumn, our detachment transferred to Lingshui for anti-landing exercises. We even filmed a movie."
Mont hungered to hear more about those events, but Chen Haiyang had already ordered the sails lowered in preparation for entering Yulin Harbor. The boy hurried back to his post.
Yulin Harbor was far superior to the adjacent Sanya Bay, whose open waters left vessels exposed to fierce storms. For this reason, ships bound for the South Seas often anchored here temporarily for shelter. As the fleet rounded Luhuitou Cape, they spotted numerous vessels scattered across the bay—some with tall masts, clearly merchant ships engaged in Southeast Asian trade.
Note: This annotation is outside the 4,000-word main text and is not charged.
Baha is a respectful term for a learned person in the Li language.
(End of Chapter)