Chapter 357 - The Foshan Journey (Part 10)
"Crude they may be, but the scale is genuinely impressive," Huang Tianyu observed. Every foundry he visited pulsed with frenetic energy—flames roaring, workers bustling, bronze and iron alike taking shape beneath hammers and bellows. The operations had already grown to considerable size. In the open yard of just one workshop, dozens of cannons in various sizes and lengths stood arrayed—bronze sentinels and iron giants alike—leaving Huang Tianyu momentarily dazzled by the sheer abundance.
The cannon-casting in these workshops still relied on traditional clay-mold methods, though the craftsmanship was admirably refined. In Huang Tianyu's estimation, however, these remained old-fashioned guns—Hu Dun cannons that crouched like tigers, Francophone pieces, and even the largest were merely Great General cannons. None bore the hallmarks of the legendary Western-style red barbarian guns.
"There are many foundry workers here, and their wages are surprisingly meager," Huang Tianyu reported quietly once they'd returned to their room. "I made inquiries—only the lead craftsmen earn one or two taels per month. The ordinary workers are paid by the day, and many cannot even afford to marry. Life is exceedingly hard. With the wages we offer, recruiting shouldn't prove difficult."
"And what of the ceramic workers you intended to recruit?"
Liu San was not a member of the Industry Committee, but as the leader of this expedition, all matters required his consultation before action.
"Even worse off." Huang Tianyu's expression grew somber. "I shall not mince words—today I witnessed my first mass grave. Near one of the larger kilns, at the bottom of a pit, bones lay piled like cordwood. Workers who die with no kin to claim them are simply tossed in. In the half hour I stood there, several fresh bodies were added. The living workers appear scarcely better—soot-covered specters, each one looking like a little ghost escaped from hell. I hear many are currently unemployed. Recruiting them should prove even easier than the foundry workers."
"Proceed with recruitment, then." Liu San nodded. "But we're strangers here, without official status. We cannot operate openly. Should officials come asking what we're recruiting workers for, what answer do we give?"
"We likely cannot post a recruiting sign, but we can work through personal connections." Huang Tianyu had already considered this. "First, we approach one or two workers. Then have them recruit others willing to relocate to Lingao. The initial batch needn't be large—a dozen or so will suffice. Once they've experienced the benefits, we can send them back to quietly recruit more."
"Very well. Let us proceed that way." Liu San withdrew a fifty-tael note from his robe. "Tomorrow I'll visit Yang Runkai Hall to exchange this for smaller bills; then you can begin paying settling-in fees. Two taels of silver to each worker willing to make the journey. And don't forget—ensure they press their thumbprints on the contracts!" He opened a small jewelry case reserved for important documents and extracted a stack of pre-printed contract forms.
"Qiwei maintains a branch office here in Foshan," Liu San continued. "Once you've gathered the workers, deliver them there in batches to establish contact. Someone will arrange their departure." He handed Huang Tianyu an ivory chit. "Here's the token."
The two were deep in their clandestine discussion when a commotion arose outside. Chen Tong hurried in to report: "Master Liu, there's a beggar who insists on seeing you."
"A beggar?" Liu San frowned, turning the matter over in his mind. Likely the young beggar he had treated earlier that day. "Give him a few hundred wen and send him away."
"I gave him money, but he refused it," Chen Tong said. "He claims you saved his life and wishes to meet you in person to kowtow his thanks."
"Very well. Bring him in." Liu San sighed with resignation. Good deeds sometimes bred inconveniences.
Moments later, a sturdy young man strode into the room. It was indeed the man Liu San had treated that afternoon—but in just a few hours, he had recovered completely. His walk was powerful and vigorous, bearing the unmistakable stamp of a martial man.
Upon seeing Liu San, he immediately dropped to his knees: "Huang Andé thanks Doctor Liu for saving my life!"
"No need for such formality. Please rise." Liu San helped him up, privately resolving that a bath would be essential before sleeping tonight—the fellow gave off a pungent mixture of odors that defied ready identification.
Huang Andé rose to his feet. He possessed Mongolian eyes, high cheekbones, and a straight nose—features distinctly different from the local physiognomy. His eyes, though not large, were bright and spirited. His manner and bearing suggested neither a professional beggar accustomed to fawning in the streets, nor a typical timid countryman. Liu San found himself somewhat favorably impressed. He instructed Chen Tong to bring five hundred wen and a bottle of Plague-Repelling Powder to give the man.
"No, no—I couldn't!" Huang Andé shook his head repeatedly. "I came specifically to kowtow to my benefactor in thanks. The pharmacy assistant said that without your immediate treatment, I would have lost my life."
"Saving lives is a physician's duty. There is no need to speak of benefactors." Liu San assumed a sincere expression, neglecting to mention that his true purpose had been advertising. "You have no money now, and the summer heat is at its peak. Take these to have on hand, just in case."
Huang Andé said nothing further, but bowed deeply once more before turning to leave.
Liu San noticed his muscular arms and the scars marking his hands. A thought stirred in his mind, and he quickly called out:
"Might I ask, Brother Huang—what was your former occupation? How did you fall into such straits?"
"I used to work at a foundry here," Huang Andé answered gruffly. "Had no real skills—just sold my strength for food. The foreman said I ate too much and had too foul a temper, so he dismissed me a few days ago."
A foundry worker—how convenient. Liu San and Huang Tianyu exchanged meaningful glances. They shared the same thought: keep him. This young man had strength and foundry experience. With proper training back home, he could become a fine worker. At the very least, with that physique, he would make an excellent soldier—recruits standing 1.7 meters remained quite rare.
Huang Tianyu spoke up: "Brother Huang, I have a property in Qiongzhou Prefecture that happens to need workers. Since you have nowhere to go, why not accompany me to Qiongzhou?"
"Go to Qiongzhou?" Huang Andé's eyes rolled in thought. "No! I've heard that place is rife with miasmas and plagues. Go there and you'll likely perish."
His refusal was blunt. Liu San laughed: "This property is jointly owned by myself and Master Huang here. With me there, what is there to fear? I guarantee your safety."
Huang Andé hesitated at this, then after a moment asked: "Will there be meat to eat?" He quickly added: "Even once every ten days or half a month would suffice! I'm not a greedy man."
"Yes." Liu San's answer was direct. Currently, the New Army and heavy laborers in the Industry Department received a dietary standard that included fish daily and meat weekly. Not large quantities, but absolutely guaranteed.
"Then I shall go with you!" Huang Andé nodded decisively, then knelt again to kowtow: "Master!"
"No more kowtowing." Liu San found this fellow charmingly straightforward. A pity he wasn't suited for studying medicine, or Liu San would have kept him by his side. "Just sign the contract."
"Must I sell myself?" Huang Andé looked reluctant. "If it means selling myself into bondage, I refuse. I have no wish to be anyone's slave."
"It's not selling yourself—it's a labor contract. Don't you sign a contract when you work as a long-term laborer?"
"Very well!" He nodded.
He pressed his thumbprint to the document. Liu San asked whether he had any family here who should accompany him, or if he preferred two taels of silver as a settling-in allowance.
"I'm a bachelor with no family here. No need for silver. Following the master means there will be meat to eat." Huang Andé grinned broadly.
"Where are you from?"
"Human feces?" Huang Andé scratched his head in confusion. "I'm not human feces."
"I mean—where is your hometown?"
"Ah! I'm from Shandong, born and raised in Dengzhou." Huang Andé's expression shifted. "Couldn't make a living in Dengzhou anymore. I heard a buddy of mine was transferred to Guangdong for garrison duty, so I came to seek him out for a meal. But then..." At this, he suddenly fell silent.
So this Huang Andé harbored hidden circumstances. "Transferred"? Combined with his manner and bearing, Liu San surmised he was likely a deserter from the government army. A deserter was a deserter—as long as he could work, it mattered little.
Liu San instructed Chen Tong to take the man for a bath, find a barber to trim his hair, and purchase two sets of clothes from a secondhand shop. He also directed Gao Di to air out their formal attire in preparation for the next day's banquet at that Mr. Lin's residence.
That day happened to be Madam Lin's twenty-eighth birthday. The entire household hummed with festive energy. Nearly every prominent merchant and gentry member in the vicinity had come to pay respects. A steady stream of guests offered congratulations, rendering the Lin residence extraordinarily lively.
The Lin family were neither merchants nor gentry. The reason everyone valued them so highly—fawning over them with such enthusiasm—was that Lin Ming held the position of Probationary Centurion at the local Embroidered Guard Centurion's Office, effectively the second-in-command. The actual Centurion, old Centurion Liu, was elderly and befuddled. Apart from collecting his monthly stipend, he had long since ceased involving himself in the office's affairs. In modern terms, Lin Ming served as the de facto chief administrator.
After the midday meal, Lin Ming saw off the morning's guests and ordered tables of fruits, cakes, and refreshments arranged in the inner courtyard, inviting close relatives and friends to enjoy the opera together.
On the temporarily constructed stage in the courtyard, performers were presenting Kunqu opera. They had engaged Zhang Qiao, a celebrated Kunqu performer from Nanhai County—excellent in both appearance and voice. The audience watched, thoroughly enraptured.
In the place of honor below sat the guest of honor herself: Madam Lin. In Foshan, her appearance had long been a subject of local discussion—the high nose, deep-set eyes, and slightly curly hair. Her eyes held a brownish hue, lending her the air of a Persian beauty. Madam Lin was indeed a descendant of the Semu people. Her ancestors had served in the Embroidered Guard for generations, holding middle- and lower-rank positions such as Bailiff, Minor Flag, and Sub-Flag. In terms of social standing, she was well-matched for the Lin family.
According to the laws of the Great Ming, Semu people were not permitted to marry among themselves. After three centuries of intermarriage with Han Chinese, they had become virtually indistinguishable from ordinary subjects. Women with such distinctively Semu features as Madam Lin were quite rare—a source of particular pride for Centurion Lin, who had married her despite her being a year his elder. Everyone agreed that Centurion Lin possessed rather unique tastes.
(End of Chapter)