Chapter 298: Sweet Port Turbulence — Severing an Arm
The longer Lin Zhuang listened, the colder his heart grew. He hadn't expected things to shift so dramatically in a single week. Just as he was fretting over how to resolve the situation, a quarrel erupted between the master sugar-boilers and the laborers. The two factions argued over whether to riot, who should initiate it, and whether to demand the "restoration of ancient methods."
These two groups had always been at odds due to the disparity in their wages, united only temporarily by a common foe. After Chen Tianxiong's masterful work of "turning the masses against each other," the laborers had reasoned that since they needed employment regardless, working at South China Sugar was no different from anywhere else—there was no point in insisting upon "restoring ancient methods," which wouldn't benefit them anyway.
Lin Zhuang weighed his odds: Chen Tianxiong's stratagem of cutting off their fuel had scattered everyone's resolve. Carrying out the incense ceremony on schedule was now impossible. If he couldn't act in time, he would have nothing to report to Third Master Zhu; the Haiyi Guild would never trust him again. For the sake of his own future, he might as well defect to South China Sugar—at least he could still claim his twenty-percent kickback on settling-in fees. Whether he remained in Xuwen or not, he would possess capital for whatever came next.
His mind made up, he sought an audience with Chen Tianxiong at the factory that very night.
Once a lackey turned traitor, he proved tireless in selling out his former master's interests. With his vigorous cooperation, the factory's pacification of the unemployed sugar workers proceeded smoothly. Liao Daxing, following Chen Tianxiong's instructions, had already prepared a large batch of blank employment contracts stamped by the county yamen's Revenue Office, complete with guarantors and witnesses. Workers needed only to inscribe their names and press their thumbprints to finalize the agreement. The entire process took less than half a day.
A brewing storm was thus swiftly quelled. The laborers, needless to say, finally secured stable livelihoods; even the master sugar-boilers—the fiercest opponents of South China Sugar—submitted to the prevailing tide. After all, if the riot failed, "traditional sugar-making" would never be restored, and they and their families still needed to eat. Practical necessity always carried the greatest weight. In the end, save for a handful of individuals who refused to join, most signed contracts and became employees.
Each person, upon signing their work contract, immediately received one Spanish silver dollar and half a shi of rice as a settling-in allowance. They were then granted a month's leave to return home and put their family affairs in order.
Wen Tong's purpose was to avoid suddenly adding too many strangers to the factory. Though they had removed a major threat, the situation remained unsettled, and there was no guarantee that some of these workers weren't Haiyi Guild plants infiltrated to sabotage operations. Even without such agents, new workers with nothing to occupy them, their minds restless, could easily stir up trouble.
Better to dispatch them all homeward and deal with them at leisure once matters had settled.
The few workers who were homeless or whose native places lay too far distant were taken in by South China Sugar and provided with lodging and meals. But Wen Tong had work for them too: helping construct houses on the empty land outside the factory near South Gate Pond, building a rudimentary "workers' village." Ma Sanqiang, having earned considerable prestige among the group, became the leader of this batch.
The smooth resolution of this affair brought relief even to the county magistrate—after all, had any serious "clan brawling" erupted, it would have marred his performance evaluation. Moreover, the unemployed workers had right on their side. South China Sugar's willingness to take a small loss to settle matters earned the factory considerable goodwill with the magistrate.
Third Master Zhu smashed a teacup. For several consecutive days, the entire Zhu residence lay deathly silent; not so much as a cough could be heard from anyone, high or low.
Lin Zhuang vanished completely from Xuwen. Some claimed he had collected two hundred silver dollars from South China Sugar and fled far from Xuwen to escape Third Master Zhu's vengeance. Others said he was already dead—his body discovered at the county border between Xuwen and Haikang, without a single coin on his person. As for who killed him, rumors abounded: some said Third Master Zhu, enraged by his betrayal, had dispatched assassins; others claimed South China Sugar had disposed of him after burning the bridge behind them. Or perhaps he had simply flashed his newfound wealth and been robbed by bandits.
Sugar from Leizhou continued pouring into the company's warehouses. The atmosphere within the Haiyi Guild had grown extremely tense. The shop owners and managers who had previously obeyed Third Master Zhu's every command now questioned him openly. Though no one had challenged him directly yet, Third Master Zhu knew that day was not far off.
If he could not deal with South China Sugar, not only would his own reputation be ruined, but the Haiyi Guild itself would collapse in an instant.
Zhu An's composure shattered. This was his first encounter with such a tenacious and formidable opponent. The only measures that could take immediate effect were murder and arson—a swift resolution that might end the South China factory's existence in one stroke. But the vast shadow looming behind them made him hesitate again and again before ultimately abandoning the idea. If the South China group suffered such a heavy blow, the forces that backed them would never let it rest. This was not the same as killing some minor out-of-town merchant who collected sugar privately, nor the same as burning down some small shipping firm that opposed him.
News from Guangzhou offered some meager comfort: silver was tight in that city lately, and assembling one or two hundred thousand taels proved difficult. Perhaps South China Sugar's silver reserves had reached their limit as well. If he could just grit his teeth and endure, perhaps the situation might yet turn in his favor.
He immediately instructed Qiuhan to send another five thousand taels to Gu Dachun, urging him to purchase more cannons, add more ships, expand his forces, and completely blockade Hai'an Harbor. As long as sugar ships couldn't depart and silver ships couldn't arrive, the South China enterprise would still be finished.
Zhu An's calculations were estimated with considerable accuracy by the transmigrators at their factory meetings—roughly seventy or eighty percent correct. The task of breaking the naval blockade now lay in the Navy's hands and was beyond their direct concern. The key was defending against arson and similar destructive attacks. For people of this era, the simplest, most effective, and hardest-to-prevent form of retaliation was setting fires. Tenants and servants who rebelled against their masters invariably resorted to arson. Arson was a capital offense, yet in this age, it was nearly impossible to trace. The entire factory grounds brimmed with flammable materials—it would certainly burn spectacularly.
Fortunately, the terrain favored them. The factory stood alone on open ground: one side bordered the river, another the main road, and much of a third side was screened by South Gate Pond. The fourth side had been empty land, now under construction as the "workers' village." The number of points requiring heavy defense was substantially reduced. Mei Lin tirelessly directed ongoing construction: firebreaks in all four directions, firewalls, and fire trenches—especially one between the workers' village and the factory proper. Water reservoirs were dug within the compound for firefighting. The yard for drying sugarcane bagasse was separated by firewalls from workshops, warehouses, and living quarters, ensuring that even if a fire broke out there, it would not spread. Wen Tong also had Liao Diahua prepare torches, lanterns, pike poles, buckets, axes, and other firefighting equipment, plus two hand-pumped fire engines. The militia doubled as a fire brigade and drilled daily.
Beiwei refined the existing security protocols and trained the militia. He arranged nightly patrols and emergency communication methods, established emergency assembly signals for all able-bodied men in the factory, and conducted several nighttime assembly and firefighting drills. After a few days of this, the hastily formed militia began to look somewhat disciplined.
Beyond defense, preparations for offense were also underway. With Xiao Zhanfeng's local knowledge, intelligence gathered by the Qiwei Escort Agency, and information extracted from newly recruited workers, Chen Tianxiong compiled a highly detailed intelligence dossier. This included a map of Hai'an Street, the locations and approaches to key targets, and even the layout of the Haiyi Guild headquarters and Third Master Zhu's residence—Lin Zhuang had contributed the most to this effort. Zhu An's personal habits and activity patterns were now thoroughly understood. Using digital cameras equipped with telephoto lenses, they had photographed the Haiyi Guild's principal members, their families, and key subordinates, compiling individual dossiers.
A hall within the trading firm was completely sealed off and transformed into Beiwei's operations command center. He and his special reconnaissance team members worked inside to develop several contingency plans: Plan A—ambush and assassinate Zhu An on the road; Plan B—raid his residence; Plan C—set fire to the Haiyi Guild headquarters; and the near-genocidal Plan D.
Plan D was the most terrifying: the special reconnaissance team would, within twelve hours, eliminate all principal members of the Haiyi Guild—shop owners, managers, stewards—and even their families.
"This is too brutal. The body count would be enormous," Wen Tong objected.
"It's merely a contingency plan," Beiwei explained evenly. "Better to be prepared."
"I absolutely refuse to endorse such a bloody approach."
Beiwei offered no response. He saw no need to explain to someone who didn't grasp what "contingency plan" truly meant, nor could he make them understand. In truth, while developing these offensive plans, he had also drafted a set of "Earthly Branch" contingencies for potential retreat scenarios, labeled Zi, Chou, Yin, and Mao. Seeing Wen Tong react so strongly to mere plans, he decided there was no point in showing him those—it would only invite more commotion.
Lingao, Bopu Harbor.
The Great Whale lay moored in the harbor. Its deck and hull, blackened from transporting coal, had been scrubbed spotlessly clean with seawater by diligent naval servicemen and shipyard workers.
Chang Shide's operation in Vietnam had consumed nearly two weeks before finally identifying several promising open-pit mining sites. Originally, they had intended to return laden with coal, but the Great Whale's structure was ill-suited for loose bulk cargo, so they brought back only about a hundred tons.
This discovery greatly excited the Industrial Department but presented a considerable challenge for the Foreign Affairs Department—how to claim Hongji? Simply sailing over with a few cannons and conquering a country remained beyond the transmigrators' reach. The Leizhou sugar enterprise wasn't even settled yet; opening another front felt like overextension. A special Executive Committee discussion was underway regarding how to fully exploit the Hongji coal deposits.
Chang Shide naturally was not participating in the Committee's deliberations, nor had he returned directly to Leizhou—he was still pondering his rice stockpiled in Vietnam. This stroke of timing worked in Gu Dachun's favor: he had managed to intercept the Guangbing. Otherwise, the Gu family pirates might have cursed their ill fortune.
At present, the Great Whale was preparing to execute a special mission—specifically, a fishing expedition. The target was the Gu family pirates. The Great Whale served as the bait—a bait substantial enough to swallow the fisherman.
On the dock, fat burlap sacks awaited loading. Thanks to the Mechanical Department's efforts, Bopu's mechanized loading and unloading capabilities had steadily improved. Not only had the number of manual cranes increased to four, but a large steam-powered crane had also been installed. To meet Bopu's high-volume bulk cargo demands, the Mechanical Department was developing belt conveyors and grab buckets. Once installed, handling efficiency for salt, rice, iron ore, and coal would increase tenfold—even a hundredfold—freeing up substantial dock labor.
The cargo destined for Xuwen consisted of two hundred shi of rice, directly allocated from reserves by the Planning Committee for the South China factory. With a reliable source of Vietnamese rice now established, Ma Qianzhu had grown more generous with grain allocations. According to Navy estimates, the pirates likely maintained informants in Xuwen ports like Hai'an Street, so the risk of incident during port entry was relatively low. This meant they could safely transport rice along the way.
The Navy had debated how to clear the pirates from the waters around Hai'an Street. Everyone agreed that dispatching warships to actively sweep the area would prove ineffective—unless they attacked indiscriminately, firing upon any ship in sight. Otherwise, the enemy could simply disguise themselves as civilian vessels and evade detection.
Given the transmigrators' naval strength, dealing with such low-grade pirates was effortless. The only considerations were minimizing their own losses and ensuring thorough eradication.
The optimal method was to strike directly at the nest for complete annihilation. But the transmigrators lacked intelligence sources for this approach.
Thus, the most effective option was "fishing"—and this was precisely Chen Tianxiong's suggestion. Fortunately, the enemy's intentions were transparent, making entrapment quite straightforward.
Using the Great Whale as bait made excellent sense: its distinctive profile was instantly recognizable to pirates as a South China vessel—an easy target to identify.
Wu De had assumed command of this mission. All professional naval officers had sailed off on exploration voyages. He was essentially the only former naval officer remaining in Lingao, so the burden naturally fell upon his shoulders.
The operational plan was fishing, but landing the catch cleanly required seizing the initiative.
The transmigrators operated in the open; the enemy lurked in shadows. The Navy was unfamiliar with the waters around Xuwen. The enemy would likely strike in coastal waters, where the coastline was riddled with islands and crisscrossed by reefs—terrain the enemy knew intimately. They could exploit the natural environment to conceal themselves, observe the transmigrators' movements, and choose the optimal moment to strike at the Great Whale.
The initiative! This problem troubled him deeply.
(End of Chapter)