Chapter 278: Sweet Port Turbulence – Vietnamese Rice

Zhang Dabala didn't know where they were going either. The Quang Ninh area wasn't a target for pirates—only those small-time sea bandits, neither truly Vietnamese nor Chinese, part-time fishermen who also robbed fishermen, had any interest in operating here. Zhang Dabala looked down on that lot. From him, Chang Shide confirmed a principle he had long suspected: every social group had its hierarchy.

Still, Zhang Dabala was familiar with these waters. When starting out in his career, whenever things grew too hot, he'd slip away to Jiangping to lie low for a while. The place sat right on the Sino-Vietnamese border, technically under Vietnamese jurisdiction, populated by people who were half-fishermen, half-bandits.

This was when the first dispute arose. Bei Kai wanted to go to Hongji—his mission was to find coal. Only then did Chang Shide learn the man was from the prospecting team. Chang Shide, meanwhile, wanted to sell the sugar as quickly as possible. Though he knew nothing about ancient Vietnamese geography, Hongji clearly wouldn't have any sugar buyers.

"You want to dig for coal—that's fine. You can take your time surveying. But what about the sugar on the ship?"

In the end, Chang Shide prevailed. The bags of sugar under the South China Sea's blazing sun obviously couldn't hold out for long.

Under Zhang Dabala's direction, the ship headed north. More vessels appeared on the water—mostly two-masted fishing boats. Zhang Dabala told everyone to ready their weapons and take up positions along the gunwales and at the high points.

"Pirates?" Chang Shide felt a flicker of nervousness.

"When they can't beat you, they're fishermen," Zhang Dabala spat. "Those monkeys have sharp eyes. If they can't rob you, they'll steal from you. They'll take anything."

"What's the Lê Dynasty's attitude toward Great Ming merchants?" This was Chang Shide's first venture into foreign trade, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

"A trading license costs 1,000 taels of silver a year—naturally they welcome us." Zhang Dabala was dismissive. He knew something of the Australian merchants' background and couldn't understand why, with guns, cannons, and iron ships at their disposal, they were content to squat in Lingao playing landlord. "Let's head somewhere more remote. We probably won't have to pay as much there."

"Go where?"

"What's with all the questions? You'll find out when we get there." Zhang Dabala waved his hand, showing no deference toward his employer.

Still the same old pirate swagger. Chang Shide cursed silently. Then he suddenly grew worried—Zhang Dabala surely had plenty of former pirate associates. The 1,000 shi of sugar on the ship was worth several thousand taels of silver. What if he got ideas...? He broke into a cold sweat, touched the pistol at his waist, and hurried off to find Bei Kai, whispering urgently about whether this fat black pirate could be trusted.

Bei Kai shrugged. "Trustworthy or not, what can I do about it? Wasn't he recruited by the Foreign Affairs Ministry? We've got our New Army brothers on board—thirty or forty guns. Can't handle one of him? We're fine."

Before long, a town appeared on the coastline. It looked quite similar to a small Chinese county seat, but without walls. This seemed to be the mouth of a major river. Along the riverbank stretched stone wharves and wooden jetties, packed with vessels of all sizes. Some were clearly large ships from China.

Zhang Dabala told everyone to stow the rifles and cannons below deck—Lê Dynasty officials were stationed here. Before they'd even docked, a small boat rowed over. A shifty-eyed, small-statured man in a blue-green official robe resembling a Great Ming official's garb, wearing a black gauze cap, scrambled aboard with surprising agility. Zhang Dabala hurried over to meet him. The two jabbered at each other in a language no one understood. Then Zhang Dabala turned to Chang Shide.

"He says he can register our ship under another Chinese vessel that's already paid its fees. Only costs 200 Spanish dollars."

"Damn—crows are black everywhere." Chang Shide cursed. Seeing the big man's unfriendly expression, the Lê official couldn't help puffing out his small chest and adjusting his black gauze cap to display his "authority."

"Fine, pay him. Are there any other fees?" Chang Shide knew that unless he brought a fleet to bombard this place, there was no way he'd get ashore without paying.

"There are also import and export duties on the goods," Zhang Dabala said. "A little extra and we can pay less."

"Son of a—" Chang Shide's cursing escalated. But this was actually advantageous—at least they could save some money. "Deal."

Zhang Dabala turned and haggled some more. In the end, they settled at 310 Spanish dollars—the larger share for private kickbacks, the smaller for actual taxes. As for what goods were on the ship and what they planned to take away, this monkey-in-man's-clothes official didn't care. Not only that—he even issued entry and exit bills of lading, all written in Chinese. Everyone seemed satisfied, except the Lê Dynasty government.

The ship entered the harbor. According to Zhang Dabala, this place was called Hai Duong. It was a naturally formed trading port where Chinese merchants frequently came to trade. They brought large quantities of salt, porcelain, sugar, cloth, ironware, and all manner of other goods, and took away mainly raw silk and betel nuts.

Chang Shide asked curiously, "How do you know all these ins and outs?"

Zhang Dabala scratched his scalp. "Back in the day, our boss was also a sea merchant..."

"Ah, right, right." Chang Shide remembered—sea merchants and pirates in this era were essentially the same people.

Bei Kai leaned in and whispered, "This should be Hai Phong."

"How do you know?"

"The map." Bei Kai opened his notebook and pointed. "This river should be the Bach Dang River, located on the northeast side of the Red River Delta, on the northwest shore of the Gulf of Tonkin. Comparing the terrain features, this is the only place it could be."

Le Lin wandered over. "That's right. I just calculated the latitude and longitude—"

"Give it a rest. Yesterday you said we were near Saigon."

"Yesterday I made a mistake! Today's calculation is correct—" Le Lin tried to argue.

"Alright, alright, let's just go ashore."

Chang Shide and Bei Kai went ashore under Zhang Dabala's guidance, accompanied by ten soldiers in civilian clothes for protection. Though the buildings here were small and crude, the market looked quite prosperous. People came and went, most wearing russet-colored rough cloth. Except for their features and build, their clothing and style were quite similar to the Great Ming. Some were clearly Great Ming subjects. Like everywhere else in Southeast Asia where Chinese merchants traded, this was a city of mixed Chinese and Vietnamese population. Chinese merchant ships brought goods in an endless stream. Large quantities of straw-rope-bundled cargo were piled on the docks in staggering amounts.

"There are many Great Ming subjects here," Zhang Dabala explained enthusiastically. "Some have taken local women as wives and have lived here for generations. Sea merchants who come here like to take concubines—women are cheap, and it's nice to have a cozy nest when you come to do business."

Chang Shide couldn't help thinking again of his old Vietnam vacation plan, tragically killed by his wife at the planning stage.

He had no interest in sightseeing. He was a stranger here and could only trust Zhang Dabala. They inquired at several trading houses about sugar prices. The going rate was between 7 and 8 taels. Then he asked at a grain trading house—rice was 0.5 taels per shi. He was absolutely satisfied with these prices. But then he immediately discovered a critical problem: local trading houses operated on credit. After delivering the sugar, they wouldn't settle accounts until the following year. Buying rice, however, required cash.

Moreover, the merchants at these trading houses looked at his unfamiliar face with obvious distrust, taking forever to answer any question.

"What kind of rule is this!" Chang Shide was annoyed. He was about to say "these monkeys," but then noticed that the owners of these trading houses, judging by their clothes and features, were all Great Ming merchants.

"Let's go look at the grain market prices."

Zhang Dabala said, "Shopkeeper Chang doesn't necessarily need silver. Rice would work too?"

"That's right. I came mainly to buy rice," Chang Shide said.

"That's easy then," Zhang Dabala said. "Hai Duong is a small place. Apart from Great Ming merchants, probably no one can come up with 8,000 taels of silver. But there are quite a few local landowners who can produce rice for trade. Just swap the sugar directly with them."

"Would they be willing?"

"Of course they would. Think about the sugar market. The Giao Chi people aren't fools—they just don't have that much silver and can't get a piece of the action."

So they rested briefly at a tea house on the street corner and replenished their water. Zhang Dabala said that next they'd need to go about seven or eight li inland, where an estate belonging to a major local landlord named Vu Ngoc Giap was located.

"Vu Ngoc Giap's ancestors were also Chinese," Zhang Dabala explained. "I hear they came here to escape the chaos at the end of the Yuan Dynasty. They've been here for over three hundred years now. His family has vast lands and maintains several thousand retainers. Even the so-called Lê Dynasty emperor treats him with great courtesy."

"Ridiculous pretension! Only the Great Ming has the right to call its ruler Emperor!" Chang Shide was already in a foul mood, and now he exploded.

Zhang Dabala found this strange—these Australians shouldn't have any particular attachment to the Great Ming. He remarked casually, "He calls himself emperor behind closed doors. Just for the thrill of saying it."

After a brief rest, the party continued inland. It was now spring, and the subtropical Tonkin landscape was bathed in glorious sunshine. On both sides of the dirt road stretched vast expanses of verdant and golden fields—green from the rice seedlings swaying in the warm breeze, golden from crops not yet harvested. Under the hot sun, the air was fragrant with the scent of grain and young plants. Farmers in purplish-brown homespun were transplanting seedlings and reaping the harvest.

A land that could yield three rice crops a year truly was a natural granary. Chang Shide couldn't help revealing a covetous expression. Scattered villages lined the roadway—low and crude, but peaceful in appearance. Around the villages grew clusters of lush bamboo, banana and papaya trees, and the remarkably tall and slender betel palms, their flag-like leaves swaying above all other vegetation.

From time to time, peasant women could be seen working in the fields. They wore triangular bamboo hats and patched, close-fitting purplish-brown cloth garments, their heads, foreheads, temples, cheeks, and chins tightly wrapped in brown cloth scarves. Chang Shide couldn't see their faces, but they all had the typical physique of Champa women: a longer waistline, slender and supple waists, and low, wide hips. Not his preferred voluptuous type, but they possessed their own distinctive charm. Chang Shide's heart began to stir again.

Here's another overlooked resource, he thought. He wondered how much it would cost to buy a woman.

Others apparently shared similar feelings:

"What a great place." The soldiers were whispering among themselves.

"To be able to farm and live in a place like this—it'd be worth dying for."

"You'd need your own land though. Being a tenant farmer means a lifetime of suffering."

Chang Shide turned back to the soldiers. "If we distributed land to everyone here, would you be willing to come?"

The soldiers all laughed. "Of course!" "My whole family would be willing!"

"What if the people here tried to drive you out?"

"Then drive them all out!" came the collective reply.

"Wait—keep the women! I don't have a wife yet," some hothead interjected.

The group burst into laughter, drawing stares from farmers in the nearby fields.

Zhang Dabala could more or less understand some Mandarin, and he laughed too. "Shopkeeper Chang, are you planning to buy land here?"

"Something for the future." Chang Shide had actually just said it casually, to boost morale—always dangle a not-too-distant carrot in front of soldiers and workers.

As they bantered, an elephant came ambling slowly down the road. Most of the soldiers had never seen such a behemoth and shrank back in alarm.

"Don't be frightened—it's just an elephant. Very timid. Nobody startle it!" Chang Shide ordered.

Zhang Dabala said quietly, "Don't worry, Shopkeeper. That's one of Vu Ngoc Giap's estate managers out on patrol."

"Riding an elephant just to stroll around? Quite a spectacle."

"Shopkeeper Chang, those two pisses you took just now were on Vu Ngoc Giap's land."

"..." Chang Shide was instantly deflated. This landlord's reach was truly something.

The elephant rider wore black clothing and a conical hat, carrying a long whip. Though small in stature, he looked quite imposing. Behind him followed over a dozen black-clad retainers.

Zhang Dabala ran over and appeared to be speaking with them. After a while, he came back and said, "The manager invites the Shopkeeper to come sit at the estate. This is promising!"

Though he still harbored doubts about Zhang Dabala's reliability, with things at this point, he couldn't very well refuse on grounds of security concerns. So he steeled himself and went along.

Chang Shide's party was led by the manager to the estate. The compound had a somewhat peculiar Chinese-style courtyard—carved beams and painted rafters, quite elaborate, but somehow not quite right. Neither Chang Shide nor Bei Kai received the expected lavish hospitality. They waited until their tea had gone tasteless before a middle-aged man finally appeared, looking respectable enough. After communicating through Zhang Dabala, Chang Shide learned this person was merely a household steward. He couldn't help feeling slighted—after all, he was now a major figure shouldering responsibilities for the Transmigration Collective, and he couldn't even get an audience with some Vietnamese country squire?

(End of Chapter)