Chapter 265 — Leizhou's White Sugar
Seeing Dingding thoroughly defeated, the fatty rose and said amiably, "Comrade, good principles can only be effective in the right environment. Don't apply them rigidly." He handed her a document. "This is a guideline from Internal Affairs concerning such reports. Take it back, revise the article, and if it can't run in the morning edition, it can still go in the evening edition. If you have further concerns, we can discuss them in detail."
Watching her leave with the document, the fatty stood a moment longer, that gentle smile still on his face, then returned to his office.
The official nameplate read: "Internal Affairs Committee Policy Research Office." The title represented nothing concrete—merely a post that satisfied his preference for political studies over operational work. In essence, an advisory position for the committee.
The office itself was clean and tidy. A Holy Ship brand whitewood desk was piled with homemade filing racks and bins. A large bookshelf stood against one wall, stacked with many books. The only modern items were a laptop computer and several CD cases.
Behind the desk stood an ornate, elegant screen—strikingly out of place with the surroundings. Behind it lay a simple whitewood cot with a mosquito net, a clothes rack, a small cabinet. The quintessential setup of an old-fashioned bachelor living in his office.
Judging from the furnishings, this person held no particularly elevated position among the Executive Committee's departments. There was no hand-crank telephone on the desk—the symbol of authority that was standard issue for department heads.
He settled into his worn rattan chair and took a document from the basket labeled "In." It was folded like a letter, a red "Secret" stamp across the seal. He opened it; inside lay a translated telegram from Guangzhou.
The telegram concerned the background investigation of Li Huamei in Macau. He read it very carefully.
Background Investigation Report on Li Huamei Classified
To: Center
Upon receiving instructions, I immediately began investigating Li Huamei's origins and background.
In Guangzhou, almost no information could be obtained about her or her vessel, the Hangzhou. Comparatively more information exists regarding Li Siya, though most of it remains hearsay; we have achieved no substantial breakthrough beyond prior knowledge.
I therefore decided to dispatch Zhang Xin to Macau for direct investigation. In trade dealings between the Guangzhou Station and Macau, he has played a very important role and established a relatively solid personal relationship with Huang Shunlong. Huang Shunlong has long dealt with various maritime factions in Macau and is knowledgeable about local power structures. Until we establish our own intelligence network in Macau, I believe utilizing the Huang Shunlong channel is feasible.
Zhang Xin traveled to Macau under the guise of trading liquor. I authorized him to conduct the following activities: He disclosed to Huang Shunlong that he had recently encountered a female pirate at sea and described the vessel and flag. From Huang's on-the-spot reaction, Zhang Xin judged that Huang knew something. Initially, Huang was reluctant to discuss the matter, but under further probing, he revealed the following:
He had seen a ship resembling the Hangzhou docked in the harbor on multiple occasions. However, he could not say who the ship belonged to. The only thing he knew with certainty was that the captain was a woman. We showed him a computer-generated portrait based on Li Huamei's photograph. He again demurred, claiming he had not looked closely enough to recognize her. However, Zhang Xin believes: the person Huang saw was Li Huamei.
Zhang Xin noted: In conversation, Huang Shunlong was extremely reluctant to mention any ships or captains that docked locally, claiming ignorance on all such inquiries. We speculate: this reticence is directly connected to his business dealings with pirates—he fears inadvertently revealing their secrets. However, his unfamiliarity with Li Huamei specifically should be credible. We therefore infer: Li Huamei is probably not a pirate, or at least her piratical activities do not occur near the Chinese coast. From this perspective, Li Huamei's claim of trading with Goa has a degree of plausibility.
The next day, Zhang Xin directly investigated sailors and dock personnel. From these sources, he confirmed the periodicity of the Hangzhou's appearances in Macau. Every year around June, the ship arrives and then makes irregular voyages to various regions of Southeast Asia, each lasting about a month. The Hangzhou departs for good in December. This cycle matches the Macau–Goa trade cycle. Furthermore, through photo identification, port personnel again confirmed: Li Huamei is indeed the captain of the Hangzhou. They know little else about her—not even where she stays when in port.
Regarding Headquarters' specific request to investigate any connection between Li Huamei and Li Siya: almost no intelligence source exists on this matter. Due to language and network limitations, Zhang Xin's investigation could only be conducted within Chinese circles. However, most local Chinese had never heard of such a person; few even knew that a female captain visited regularly. Some confused her with Li Siya. Incidentally: local Chinese hold a kind of "curiosity" about Li Siya. Rumors abound, but knowledge of her actual circumstances is scarce. Rumors mainly focus on her killing and arson; based on compiled information, we infer she has participated in multiple attacks on Moon Harbor in addition to robberies at sea.
We believe it cannot be ruled out that the two Lis are acquainted, collaborating, or share some deeper relationship. After all, both have significant ties to the Portuguese. If Li Siya's connection derives from bloodline, then Li Huamei—as a pure Chinese woman—displaying so many Portuguese elements seems strange. She could not have acquired such traits from thin air.
This is all we have collected so far. Per instructions, we will continue gathering intelligence on her and report any new developments immediately.
Signed: Ziyan, Guangzhou Station
The fatty stamped the telegram "Reviewed" and picked up another document.
This was a telegram from the Hangzhou, encrypted with the "Internal Secret" cipher. Only a few lines, but the information was critical: Li Huamei had infiltrated the Zhenhai's engine room in the middle of the night. She was inside for at least ten minutes.
"You are truly a unique woman." The fatty murmured to himself. After pondering a moment, he took out a file folder, placed both telegrams inside, and noted the document summary and number on the cover. Then he placed it in the "Out" basket.
Xuwen County, Leizhou.
Two sedan chairs, each borne by two carriers, made their way down a dusty road. About a dozen servants in blue attire followed on foot, along with five or six mounted escort guards. Each guard was armed—some with bamboo staves, others with fast blades at the waist. The security was tight; small gangs of bandits along the road gave them a wide berth.
Wen Tong dozed inside his sedan chair. He had grown somewhat accustomed to the swaying and jolting; his first time riding in one, he had nearly vomited. On television, the wealthy made sedan travel look luxurious. Initially, he had found it rather interesting too. But after a while, it became unbearable—inside the sedan was no sofa, just a hard-backed chair. After hours, one's back and waist ached terribly.
Since the sugarcane harvest had begun at the end of the previous year, Wen Tong had been dispatched to Leizhou as the Lingao Grain and Oil Company's Sugar Industry Special Envoy. His sole mission: inspect and supervise local white sugar production, identify the manufacturing process best suited to the area, and develop Leizhou into a hub for the transmigrators' sugar exports.
Ming-era Xuwen County, in what would become Zhanjiang City, remained one of China's largest sugar production bases even in modern times—on par with Guangxi and Yunnan. Wen Tong, hailing from a sugar industry family, was naturally familiar with all of it. Back when the Agriculture Ministry had debated whether to grow sugarcane in Lingao, he had been vehemently opposed. Lingao could grow sugarcane, true, but it was not an ideal production zone. Sugarcane was a cash crop that devoured water and soil nutrients; promoting it would seriously impact local grain production. Xuwen, just across the strait, was a traditional sugar-producing region. Why duplicate efforts in Lingao rather than leverage an established base?
For this reason, beginning in the winter of 1628, the Guangzhou Station—while establishing overland routes and networks in Leizhou—had launched large-scale acquisitions of sugarcane fields and sugar mills. By the start of this crushing season, Lingao Grain and Oil Company had secured, in Haikang and Xuwen counties, nine sugarcane estates totaling 2,600 mu of cane fields plus five sugar mills.
The ambitions of Lingao Grain and Oil Company did not stop at 2,600 mu. Wen Tong's instructions were: whenever possible, acquire local sugarcane or raw sugar and employ the advanced sugar-making technology mastered by the transmigrators to mass-produce low-priced white sugar and rapidly capture the market.
"Advanced sugar-making technology—that's a bit of a pipe dream," Wen Tong had thought bitterly when he received these instructions. He had no specialized factory equipment. How could he claim advanced technology? The transmigrators' only advantages over ordinary cane farmers were the capacity to manufacture some specialized processing machinery, higher labor productivity, better utilization of sugar by-products, and lower overall costs.
Upon landing, Wen Tong's first step was a rapid tour of the main sugarcane production areas in both counties, observing planting, harvesting, and processing. He had a general idea of what traditional sugar-making equipment looked like, but those impressions came from Qing Dynasty relics. He had never actually seen Ming Dynasty equipment in operation.
To ensure Wen Tong's safety, the Executive Committee had assigned Zhou Shizhai, a police station consultant, along with an apprentice to serve as personal bodyguards. Zhou and the Qiwei Escort Agency shared similar backgrounds, making coordination easy. In addition, another transmigrator, Chang Shide, accompanied him. Chang had nothing to do with sugar or sugarcane, but he was tall and powerfully built—a military enthusiast who had trained for several months and handled weapons competently. He could even swing a demon-head sword. He had been sent not for combat prowess but companionship; with only natives around, the two transmigrators would at least have someone to talk to.
Thanks to Qiwei's extensive network in Leizhou, Wen Tong's sugarcane journey was both convenient and safe. After landing at Denglong Point, the manager of Qiwei's Leizhou Haikang branch awaited with sedan chairs and escort guards already arranged.
(End of Chapter)