Chapter 587 - Liaodong Population
"If that's the rationale, we should diffuse light industry. Why on earth would we diffuse a gun factory? Ordinary people won't be visiting armories on their leisure days."
"My position is that we sell Li Luoyou a complete silk-reeling setup—"
"Processing supplied materials is the wiser path. We earn money and raw materials while letting our apprentices get hands-on experience!"
"Horseshit—"
The two factions had found little to quarrel about on technical matters, yet the question of whether to sell equipment—and on what terms—had nearly come to blows.
"Enough! Everyone, cease this pointless bickering!" Huang Tianyu appeared at the office doorway, his expression curdled with dismay. "The man doesn't want it anymore."
"What?!" The room went silent. Regardless of where any man had stood on the question, this news hit like ice water dashed in the face. Of all the products manufactured by Lingao industry, some sold like wildfire and others moved at a crawl, but never—not once—had anyone outright refused them. In every Elder's mind, "Lingao Manufacturing" carried the same mystique as "German Engineering" from the old spacetime.
And now this native tycoon had simply... declined?
Even those who had most fiercely opposed the sale felt a strange sense of loss. It was rather like a woman you didn't fancy pestering you relentlessly for intimacy, offering herself entirely to your pleasure—only to suddenly refuse even a modest advance. The emotional deflation was palpable.
"Why won't he buy?"
"Apparently the price was too steep." Huang Tianyu slumped onto a crate of parts.
"Says who?" Those who had originally championed blocking the sale now appeared most crestfallen—fifty thousand taels of silver, evaporating!
"Liu San told me. The formal notification should arrive any moment."
Minutes later, the telephone in the Mechanical Factory rang. The secretary from the Manufacturing Director's Office informed Zhan Wuya that Secretary Chuyu of the Planning Agency had officially cancelled the simplified gun factory equipment order.
The Political Security Bureau burned bright through the night. This particular courtyard kept its lights ablaze even past midnight—secret police, in any spacetime, gravitated toward nocturnal hours. The compound hummed with ringing telephones, murmured conversations, and the heavy percussion of Chinese typewriters.
Ufo held the latest wiretap report, freshly organized and typed before the stroke of midnight. In an adjacent room, over a dozen indigenous clerks sat in cubicles partitioned by thick glass panels and sound-absorbing kapok insulation. Every monitor was fluent in at least two dialects: Cantonese, Hainanese, Leizhou dialect, Hainan Military dialect, Hakka, Lingao dialect—whatever tongue was spoken in this region, someone here understood it. They listened with fierce concentration to voices captured by various devices: computer microphones, tape recorders, recording pens. The sounds poured from cheap computer speakers purchased in bulk for barely ten yuan each, carefully housed in protective wooden boxes. As they listened, the clerks dipped iron-tipped pens in ink, transcribing every word into notebooks.
Once transcribed, the wiretap reports traveled to the typing room for formal transcription. The typewriters were heavy, clunking Chinese models—not imported from the old spacetime, but locally imitated. Inferior materials made them even more unwieldy than the originals: big, black, rough. Yet in speed, the indigenous typists quickly proved they could outpace the Elders themselves.
To preserve equipment, the Political Security Bureau installed listening devices only in select locations. Though installation sites remained officially classified, any Elder could hazard an educated guess: the Commercial Hall, certainly; the County Yamen; the County School; the Jasmine Pavilion; and that small teahouse directly across from the County Yamen—which was practically saturated with bugs. Runshitang's East Guest Courtyard could be monitored at a moment's notice.
Neither Yang Shixiang nor the distinguished guests lodging there suspected that their residence concealed interlayers and secret passages unknown to them. Monitoring equipment could be threaded into the walls whenever circumstances demanded.
Ninety-nine percent of wiretap reports proved worthless. Useful material regarding civilian sentiment was bound into volumes and forwarded to the Propaganda Department. Complaints against grassroots staff or evidence of corruption went to the Cheka. Common crimes were routed to the National Police. Reports flagged as "serious situations" landed on the desks of the General Bureau Investigation Division.
Even mundane gossip and domestic trivia, if they touched upon certain keywords, required processing by specialized teams. These keywords centered on Ming officials—the County Magistrate, local major landlords, names of pirates known to operate nearby. All such individuals had dossiers in the PSB, and any conversation mentioning them was filed under the "Rumors" category.
Regardless of outcome, every original manuscript was archived. Zhao Manxiong had emphasized this point repeatedly in work meetings: the foundation of security work is a complete database.
Ufo thumbed through the stack, first extracting the report from Runshitang's East Guest Courtyard. Li Luoyou's arrival had elevated the monitoring status there from "General Attention" to "Key Attention."
He read for several minutes, his frown deepening. This Advisor Han spoke with poisoned intent—clearly determined to sabotage the deal! He hurried to telephone the Ministry of Commerce.
"The Ministry of Commerce has closed for the evening," came the operator's sweet voice, still carrying an accent beneath her Mandarin. "Shall I transfer you to the duty room?"
"No, never mind." Ufo remembered then that it was midnight. Business discussions would have to wait.
Still, if the intelligence reached the right ears before workday morning, Li Mei might have time to recalibrate—adjusting transaction conditions or whatever else was needed. This transaction was Wu De's initiative, and the relationship between the First Deputy Director and Wu De ran deep. Ufo dared not be careless; he reached for his mobile phone to dial Wu De directly.
Wait. He hesitated. The optics were wrong. This was Wu De's project, but plenty of people opposed it. Reporting directly to him would appear too nakedly partisan.
He reconsidered. Rather than contacting Wu De, he would call Li Mei. She was the direct supervisor responsible for this transaction and had considerable personal stake in its success. She would surely coordinate with Wu De and devise a plan to salvage the deal.
From a procedural standpoint, this was unimpeachable.
But her phone was off. Li Mei was nearing sixty; she slept lightly and never left her mobile powered through the night—unless specifically instructed otherwise.
He ordered the report sealed and sent to the reception room. On the envelope he wrote: "Copy to Li Mei, Ministry of Commerce."
"Urgent!" He stamped it and handed it to the clerk. "Deliver by seven tomorrow morning."
What Ufo did not know at that moment was that Li Luoyou had already made his position plain to Liu San earlier that evening: he had no intention of purchasing the gun factory equipment. The Planning Agency had already cancelled the order.
After hearing Advisor Han's words, Li Luoyou had been struck by a realization that chilled him to the bone: he had not adequately considered what the future relationship between the Great Ming government and the Australians might become.
The government tolerated their existence now, but that tolerance would not last forever. Li Luoyou knew intimately the pattern of relations between the government and the various Europeans who arrived in Great Ming hoping to make their fortunes. Europeans invariably sought to establish a coastal foothold for long-term trade. Local officials would ignore them at first, but when matters escalated beyond what could be concealed at the provincial level, troops would be dispatched for expulsion.
Generally speaking, with the sole exception of the Portuguese, no foreign group had managed to hold coastal territory for long. The Dutch had occupied a portion of Taiwan, true, but they had ultimately been driven from Penghu.
This knot coiled in his mind, giving him no peace. He resolved that until the relationship between the Australians and the government clarified itself, prudence demanded minimal entanglement. The Australians could pack up and sail away whenever they wished—but he had a family; he could not simply flee.
In the end, he decided there was no need to rush into fervent displays of patriotic service. Better to avoid being branded an "Australian lackey" or "treacherous merchant" should hostilities erupt, lest he be forced to pour enormous bribes into Guangdong officialdom just to survive.
When Liu San learned the deal had collapsed, his first reaction was disbelief. Then he caught Advisor Han's expression—utterly calm, betraying nothing—and yet Liu San could feel the mockery radiating from that face.
He found himself uncertain whether to report that Advisor Han had visited to solicit a bribe and been refused. A gnawing suspicion told him that writing such a report would likely make him the scapegoat for the transaction's failure.
He had not reported the bribery solicitation at the time. If blame were assigned, he would clearly be the primary responsible party—even though no one in the Transmigration Group would ever have agreed to such bribery.
Liu San's mood curdled. After agonizing deliberation, he decided to omit that detail from his report, writing only that Advisor Han had visited to request a price reduction. Not lowering the price had been a directive from above; he had executed it faithfully. Besides, Advisor Han would never speak of his failed shakedown himself.
Although Li Luoyou's arms deal fell through, both parties departed reasonably satisfied with the overall transaction. From one perspective, more money was always preferable; from another, they had secured two new supply channels. Li Luoyou's pricing undercut both Gao Ju and Huang Shunlong, especially for bulk goods.
Most crucially, Li Luoyou had agreed that whenever needed, he could arrange for them to travel to Jiangnan and provide whatever covert assistance proved necessary.
However, this assistance could only be covert—never overt.
As for the capital at Beijing, that remained off-limits for the time being. The reason, Li Luoyou explained candidly: the transmigrators' accents were simply too strange.
"You must work to correct that accent. The dialect you gentlemen speak resembles the Liaodong tongue—far too conspicuous in the capital." Beijing swarmed with patrolling spies; the most trivial irregularity might be reported to the Eastern Depot. If some bored agent decided to interrogate them, Li Luoyou could not bear that liability.
As for venturing into Liaodong itself, Li Luoyou indicated that short visits for reconnaissance or trade were possible, but he could not guarantee their safety for any extended stay.
"Han people suffer grievously under Tartar rule! Even Fan Wencheng—that sycophantic pseudo-Grand Secretary who rendered the Tartars such service—was nearly killed by the Old Tartar simply for being Han. You would stand out immediately. Extended residence there is simply not possible."
Speaking of the plight of the Liaodong Han, Li Luoyou grew visibly agitated, sighing and lamenting their suffering. He spoke of the Wall being breached and the massive looting of the previous year, when over a hundred thousand men, women, and children had been hauled beyond the passes. How many still survived? Who could say.
"Incompetent generals, and the common people pay the price! Peasants eat chaff and weeds, sell their sons and daughters to pay the imperial grain tax—and for what? To feed a pack of useless parasites!" Li Luoyou's reverence for Supervisor Yuan had long since curdled into bitter hatred. His words brimmed with venom. Liu San thought that regardless of whether Yuan Chonghuan had died unjustly, public sentiment at the time had certainly turned sharply against him.
"...The Tartars simply lack the grain to feed so many mouths!" Li Luoyou said bitterly. "When the Old Tartar still lived, grain was perpetually short—so they simply slaughtered Han people to reduce the number of mouths. When Huang Taiji became Pseudo-Khan, he showed somewhat more leniency toward the Han, but grain remains insufficient—"
Insufficient grain meant they offered exorbitant prices to purchase from within the passes, willing to pay ten or even more than ten taels for a single shi of rice—several times the Central Plains market rate. Women and children deemed useless were sold directly to Mongolia in exchange for cattle and sheep.
This pain was personal to Li Luoyou. He had traded in Liaodong for many years; the wretched condition of both Liaodong Han and captives was something he had witnessed with his own eyes yet remained powerless to change. Speaking of it caused him immense anguish.
After unburdening himself somewhat, Li Luoyou suddenly recalled that he was in Lingao, speaking of such matters to a group of overseas people who were not even subjects of Great Ming. He stopped short, cupping his hands apologetically: "Forgive me—I lost myself! I beg your pardon."
Yet Liu San was thinking that since the Tartars were so desperate to sell captives due to grain shortages, the Transmigration Group might do well to purchase them. Women and children whom the Tartars didn't want and whom the Mongols wouldn't pay top prices for were precisely what Lingao needed. The Operation Willow meeting held before Li Luoyou's arrival had touched on this very subject.
"Regarding this matter, we are willing to relieve the suffering of the common people," Liu San said.
"Oh? What do you have in mind?"
"If the Tartars cannot feed so many people and wish to sell them, we will simply go and buy them—"
Li Luoyou's eyes brightened. This Master San spoke sensibly; the Australians, whatever else one might say of them, considered themselves descendants of Hua-Xia. Lingao was Great Ming territory. Arriving in Lingao would be a hundred times better than falling into Mongol hands.
Yet he shook his head. "This will prove difficult." He spoke cautiously. "The Tartars are exceedingly cunning. They will never sell young men—only women, children, the old, and the weak. With my modest connections, ransoming a dozen young men at once is manageable, but obtaining large numbers would be nearly impossible."
He said no more; the Australians were not running a charity operation, after all. They wouldn't necessarily spend substantial sums to transport women, children, and elderly who couldn't perform heavy labor from thousands of miles away.
"We want women, children, and the elderly as well. Saving one is saving one," Liu San replied, assuming the pose of righteousness incarnate.
Women—Lingao suffered from a severe gender imbalance; bringing in more women would help correct that ratio. Moreover, women were invaluable for light industry. As for children, they represented the human resources the transmigrators prized most highly. Nothing absorbed new ideas more readily than children raised on strong hatred.
"Master San is truly righteous beyond measure," Li Luoyou said admiringly. "However, what the Tartars value most are iron tools and grain. I noticed these appear among the thirty-one goods you guarantee to purchase. Presumably your own needs are not yet fully met. How can you spare resources for ransom? I fear this will prove difficult."
"Only grain and iron tools?" Liu San felt as if someone had doused him with cold water. He asked hopefully, "Can we not sell other items?"
"Though Huang Taiji is a Tartar, his shrewdness should not be underestimated," Li Luoyou replied. "Merchants who come to trade are welcomed only when selling materials essential for people's livelihood and state use. Grain and iron tools are preferred; cloth and silk are acceptable. But luxuries like your glass mirrors—items of pure enjoyment—I fear would be prohibited the moment they were shipped in."
"I see." Liu San found this problematic. Exporting strategic materials required Executive Committee approval. "Then we must approach this differently."
"If you have such intentions, I am willing to serve as your intermediary."
"We would be most grateful, Proprietor Li."
Both sides settled on a plan: within the next three months, Li Luoyou would arrange for a small group of Elders to secretly travel to Liaodong for firsthand reconnaissance, determining whether large-scale purchase of captives was feasible.
For communication, both parties would use Li Luoyou's branch in Lingao as the contact point, with Gu Baocheng acting as liaison. Beyond this channel, no other contact would be made. Li Luoyou produced a pair of patterned ox-horn seals that could lock together as one or separate into two halves. He left one half behind.
"Whenever there is a letter or message, use this seal pattern as proof. The seal speaks with my voice."
This was his customary method for maintaining secrecy in his regular operations. It was simple and effective. Apart from his wife, his inner and outer studies each held two trusted confidants who kept ox-horn seals of different patterns. Only he knew which seal corresponded to whom.
Ransoming captives brought Li Luoyou no direct benefit and might well fail, yet it eased something within him. His goodwill toward the Australians deepened measurably.
In the following days, Li Luoyou continued his tours throughout Lingao. Wu Nanhai's intensive farm left a particularly deep impression. He then visited the Catholic Church in East Gate Market—he had noticed its presence by accident, spotting people wearing wooden crosses on the street. Upon inquiry, he learned the church had existed there for some time. At his request, a visit to the church was added to his itinerary.
At the East Gate Market Church, he received a warm welcome from Wu Shimang and others. Although Li Luoyou could never quite shake an indefinable sense of awkwardness around this Australian priest. The man was dignified and well-mannered—far more presentable than that malodorous German priest Ma Yangchun who seemed allergic to bathing—yet his conversation simply didn't feel like that of a priest.
Father Bai, on the other hand, struck closer to the mark. Li Luoyou was favorably impressed that the Australians permitted the church to build here, and when he heard a monastery had been established as well, he was genuinely surprised. It seemed the Australians held the Lord in high reverence after all.
The church was modest: a pointed roof, a small bell tower, and long glass windows set into the walls. The architecture was simple yet beautiful. Li Luoyou took an immediate liking to it and donated circulation notes equivalent to one hundred taels on the spot. Wu Shimang expressed his thanks and presented a Chinese edition of the Catechism as a gift—an introductory text for Catholics, printed with exquisite care and beautifully bound. Li Luoyou appreciated it greatly and promptly donated another hundred taels of silver specifically for printing more copies. He further expressed willingness to purchase five hundred copies.
(End of Chapter)