Chapter 594 - Yu E-shui's Research
Jiang Shan's interest was piqued. "I think if we can secure this Prefect position, we might try transferring him to another post in advance. Spend money lobbying to have him reassigned to central departments in Nanjing or Beijing. Isn't it said that many in the Donglin Party are equally vigorous in selling offices—that everything can be arranged with sufficient funds?"
"The same question applies: who goes?" Chen Tianxiong shook his head. "In principle, planting such a person offers nothing but advantages. But we simply cannot identify such a person among the Elders."
"Is the danger truly that severe?"
"The danger stems from the fact that no Elder possesses the ability to pass as a qualified Great Ming official. The cover would be blown the moment they appeared in public. Setting aside the most obvious issues of accent and appearance, no Elder commands the basic qualities of a Great Ming intellectual." Lin Baiguang shook his head with evident regret. "This cannot be learned through a few months of cramming. The opportunity is genuinely excellent, but..."
"If this were the Great Qing, we'd be fine. Donation-purchased officials run everywhere—any riffraff can become an official." Wang Ding observed.
Lin Baiguang said: "I propose selecting a trustworthy indigenous person to impersonate the Prefect of Leizhou. This is the only path by which the Tang Monk Plan might succeed."
"Can indigenous people be trusted? Might they not become intoxicated with power and sell us out in pursuit of a genuine official hat? I don't fear much else—only that the Elder pulling strings behind the scenes might suffer. If something goes wrong when we're so far away, we might not even have time to mount a rescue."
"His own crime would be equally severe," Lin Baiguang pointed out. "I believe we can still control him. With sufficient ingenuity, methods exist. Yu E-shui was very interested in this matter at the time. I suggest you consult with him."
"This matter is extraordinarily difficult," Yu E-shui reiterated his familiar refrain. "The ideal scenario would be finding an Elder to serve as Prefect. But I've studied it. Even with intensive cultivation starting now—assuming this person is intelligent and studies diligently—two or three years minimum would be required."
He was responsible for historical data retrieval and compilation in the Grand Library and had ample idle time. During his leisure hours, he had devoted considerable energy to researching the feasibility of the Tang Monk Plan. More accurately, this was a recreational scholarly project rather than a genuine attempt to advance the operation—similar to the alternate history topics he had once pondered, such as "How a Modern Person Might Become an Official in Great Ming." The deeper he delved, the more fascinated he became, feeling rather like writing a thesis or undertaking a project.
Moreover, he possessed one significant advantage: he was actually living in Great Ming. Though the imperial examination tradition was not flourishing in Lingao, the county had produced one Jinshi, several Juren, and a batch of Xiucai. The imperial examination system existed living and breathing beside him. He didn't need to constantly speculate about books or verify authenticity.
Beyond perusing historical materials, he had also visited a number of imperial examination figures in Lingao County, soliciting their knowledge on all aspects of the examination. This included several Xiucai and Juren in the county, Instructor Wang at the County School, and even Liu Dalin—who had received him once. Liu Dalin, unaware of Yu E-shui's actual intentions, had assumed this young Australian was "inclined toward enlightenment" and intended to sit for the examinations himself. He immediately grew effusive, holding forth at length about his own examination experiences, then explaining numerous techniques for composing Eight-legged Essays and trial poems. He even recommended several contemporary masters of "White Posts"—mock examination papers—for Yu E-shui to copy.
"During the Palace Exam, the characters on your scroll should be large, lustrous, and round. A good hand of calligraphy surpasses a good essay." Liu Dalin instructed earnestly. "The Palace Exam is ostensibly administered by the Emperor personally, but in reality it depends on scrolls recommended by the Chief Examiner. The Emperor merely brushes in the rankings. The Palace Exam determines ranking in an instant—who actually reads your essay? The Chief Examiner recommends scrolls primarily based on calligraphy."
Finally, Liu Dalin produced several collections of examination essays newly purchased from Guangzhou, discoursing on recent shifts in literary style in the imperial examinations and his views on the court's current tendencies in selecting scholars through essays.
Though this knowledge was useless for Yu E-shui's research, it left him in considerable admiration. Indeed, the art of guessing and gambling on examination topics was as old as the examinations themselves.
But all this led Yu E-shui to essentially despair of the notion that a modern person could successfully impersonate a Great Ming official.
"...Our imposter Prefect needn't pass the imperial examination himself—which is marginally advantageous. But at minimum he must understand the ways of the examination. For instance, the composition and evaluation of Eight-legged Essays. Without this knowledge, he'll expose himself when handling educational affairs within the prefecture. Second, he must be able to write poetry." Yu E-shui explained. "I don't know who among our five hundred-odd people can compose genuine classical poetry, but for someone who came up through the imperial examination, it's normal not to possess elevated poetic skill—yet strange to be entirely ignorant. Imperial examinations require trial poems in addition to Eight-legged Essays. If you cannot write poetry and don't understand rhyme schemes, questions will be raised about how you ever obtained your scholarly credentials!"
Everyone's heart sank. Eight-legged Essays, trial poems—these might as well be ancient Sanskrit.
"...Then I must address the calligraphy issue." A peculiar smile played across Yu E-shui's face—the look of an intellectual relishing the opportunity to pose an impossible problem. "Modern people have mostly developed the habit of word processing by computer. Nowadays, even writing with fountain pens and pencils produces crooked, twisted results. Writing with a brush would probably be inferior even to a young shop apprentice. Calligraphy requires practice—and additionally, anyone who passed the imperial examination can write 'White Posts.' That's a separate skill requiring separate practice."
"If you put it that way, there's truly no hope whatsoever!" Wang Ding exclaimed.
Chen Tianxiong nodded with an expression of of course, that's what we said all along. "If not for these problems, why do you think the plan stalled?"
"There are many more problems! The accent, for instance. We're accustomed to speaking Putonghua—but this Putonghua is based on modern Beijing dialect, and modern Beijing dialect developed from Qing Dynasty Beijing dialect. How did Qing Dynasty Beijing dialect originate?" Yu E-shui assumed a mysterious expression. "Primarily from a mixture of Ming Dynasty Beijing natives plus the Eight Banners and the large numbers of Liaodong Han troops they brought through the passes. The accent amalgamated from these three sources."
"Are you saying our accent bears similarities to the Tartars'?" Jiang Shan's face went pale.
"Strictly speaking, it's more similar to the Liaodong Han troops," Yu E-shui clarified. "Of course, these two languages are not identical—the similarity may not be very high—but commonalities definitely exist."
"I feel the accent issue can be overcome; it's not too difficult." Lin Baiguang said. "I can now speak Great Ming Mandarin—similar to modern Nanjing dialect. If one is determined to learn, it's manageable. Three or four months should suffice. Besides, the accent issue isn't necessarily a critical flaw. Neither Guangzhou nor Leizhou have experienced leaks."
"The accent problem is comparatively the easiest to solve. An official learning Mandarin can generally muddle through." Yu E-shui said. "But the first two points are genuinely difficult. Especially the first."
"Two years remain. Crash training should work, shouldn't it?"
"According to Liu Dalin and the local Xiucai, it takes approximately ten years for someone to progress from beginning formal education to passing the Xiucai examination—and passing depends significantly on luck. The difficulty of passing the Xiucai exam substantially exceeds that of a Master's degree entrance examination." Yu E-shui said. "Although our imposter Prefect needn't actually take the examination, he must be familiar with the Thirteen Classics and possess slight proficiency in Eight-legged Essays and poetry. I fear this would require three or four years of effort—assuming this person is sufficiently diligent and genuinely interested in learning."
"To summarize: it's impossible for an Elder to serve as this imposter Prefect." Jiang Shan said. "Is that your conclusion?"
"I didn't say that. If someone is willing to study hard and is clever enough, perhaps two years might suffice. At least people capable of teaching this knowledge exist in Lingao." Yu E-shui said. "The imposter Prefect does have one advantage: origin and native place details are ready-made—no fabrication required. And there are no photographs in ancient times. Impersonation is readily accomplished."
"There are many people clever enough, but I fear none willing to study diligently." Jiang Shan knew perfectly well: asking this cohort of Elders to immerse themselves in the Thirteen Classics, Eight-legged Essays, and calligraphy practice—"burning the midnight oil and crowing with the dawn"—would be worse than dispatching them to the countryside as agricultural technicians. At least in the countryside, peasants would flatter them, and they might have the chance to court a small landlord's daughter.
"It seems if we genuinely want to implement the Tang Monk Plan, we must select indigenous candidates." Lin Baiguang recognized that while Yu E-shui's discourse had a whiff of showing off research results, his reasoning was entirely sound.
Jiang Shan said: "For an indigenous person to possess both the necessary abilities and sufficient loyalty, such a candidate—" His expression conveyed the difficulty.
"There is one person you might consider." Yu E-shui said. "Zhang Xingjiao. You can pull his file."
"Thank you." Jiang Shan said. "Our Foreign Intelligence Bureau intends to dispatch intelligence personnel to the mainland. In fact, many Elders are eager for field duty, but after hearing you, I'm somewhat hesitant."
"I understand," Yu E-shui nodded. "My suggestion is this: dispatching Elders is acceptable, but it's best they not assume official identities—unless they're being placed in desolate frontier military prefectures. Otherwise, once they socialize with local gentry, exposure becomes likely. Gentry maintain connections extending to the province and the capital. Even without formal reports, a joke or anecdote dropped into ordinary family correspondence might invite trouble."
"So dispatched personnel should continue following the Guangzhou and Leizhou model—merchants and the like?"
"Merchants, monks, Taoists are all acceptable. Landlords can work at a stretch. Impersonating intellectuals—and the fantasy of copying Chairman Mao's poetry or Nalan Xingde's lyrics to become a literary hero—should be abandoned immediately. Anyone harboring such notions cannot be trusted for field duty." Yu E-shui's tone sharpened with evident feeling. "All unauthorized infringement of ancient people's intellectual property rights must be severely suppressed! All use of such materials must be approved by the Grand Library! Otherwise it is plagiarism!"
Everyone was momentarily stunned, unable to fathom why Yu E-shui harbored such deep resentment on this point.
No one knew that Yu E-shui had suffered a rather embarrassing incident while consulting a certain Xiucai on examination knowledge just days earlier. This Xiucai came from a modest rural family without stringent etiquette rules, and Yu E-shui had accidentally glimpsed his daughter. Quite taken with her, Yu E-shui had seized the opportunity to recite a ci lyric by Yuan Mei to demonstrate his "talent." The other party's reaction was neither "prostration in admiration" nor "deep appreciation," but rather profound surprise—it turned out another transmigrator had already plagiarized this particular Yuan Zicai lyric to court the same girl long ago.
Recalling this, Yu E-shui gnashed his teeth. Naturally, he couldn't share this with anyone. He simply continued writing intellectual property memoranda to the Executive Committee, urging strict control over ancient people's intellectual property rights and prohibiting Elders from using them freely. All poetry, articles, and works from the late Ming onward must require application before use...
Jiang Shan joked: "Fortunately this is late Ming. Only Qing Dynasty literati remain as plagiarism targets. There aren't many Qing Dynasty poets worth plagiarizing..." He then coughed. "I think we must organize a training class ourselves for intelligence personnel—including not only indigenous people but also Elders willing to serve in the field."
"I strongly agree with this idea." Yu E-shui said. "Especially for Elders. Their appearance, mannerisms, living habits, and language differ too drastically from Great Ming natives. Without proper training, rashly undertaking field work easily leads to disaster. Unlike Guangzhou and Leizhou stations, which are close at hand—with Lingao capable of launching rescue operations within two or three days if something goes wrong—once on the mainland, one can only rely on oneself. Never mind the Northern Administrative Division or the Eastern Depot; even being locked in a county jail is sufficient for an Elder to lose several layers of skin!"
"Researcher Yu, you command such extensive knowledge of Ming social conditions—how about working at the Foreign Intelligence Bureau? You would be our Great Ming expert." Jiang Shan said. Most bureau positions remained vacant. If Yu E-shui agreed, the directorship of the Great Ming Division would be well within his qualifications. If he preferred something lighter, they could establish an Intelligence Personnel Training Center for him to direct. As for rank, concurrent appointment as Deputy Director of the Great Ming Division would solve that.
"Part-time consultant poses no problem. Full-time is out of the question." Yu E-shui refused flatly. He had settled comfortably into the Grand Library. Apart from assigned tasks, his time was almost entirely self-directed—ideal for research work that interested him. He had no desire to bury himself in paperwork at an operationally intensive office. "If historical data questions arise, please call anytime. I'll certainly do my best to answer—that's part of my job."
Failing to recruit this asset left Jiang Shan slightly disappointed. Yu E-shui perhaps intuited his thoughts and said: "I have a candidate in mind. He genuinely wants to work on the intelligence front. Are you interested?"
"Of course. I'm desperately short of personnel—" Jiang Shan left half his thought unspoken: ...especially personnel willing to sit in an office.
"You'll definitely be satisfied with this person," Yu E-shui said. "He's very interested in intelligence work. In our section, he handles literature retrieval and translation, and also assists the Ministry of Agriculture with bacterial cultivation on the side. His favorite amateur activity is translating and researching various trap-making and IED materials. He's personally tested several at the Bopu shooting range. He's extremely methodical in his planning."
"What's his name? I'll apply to the Organization Department for his transfer."
"Li Yan. PhD in Stem Cell Biology," Yu E-shui said. "He once wrote a memo on intelligence work. You can review it if you wish, though the memo addressed military intelligence—not quite aligned with your purposes."
"Oh? Is it Memo K/BW/290322.77?"
"I don't recall the number." Yu E-shui shook his head. "I even wrote a response opposing his proposal—his material essentially clones the US military system. Implementing that would bankrupt us now... Perhaps in the future."
Next, everyone discussed the next phase of station deployment. Planting stations on the mainland involved the Transmigration Group's future strategic layout—a matter on which no conclusions had yet been reached. However, eliminating Liu Xiang and Zheng Zhilong, seizing opportunities to occupy important strategic positions along the mainland coast, and opening mainland coastal communication lines had roughly formed a consensus.
"If we want to eliminate Liu Xiang and Zheng Zhilong, we must find ways to establish stations in Fujian. Only then can we effectively monitor Zheng Zhilong's movements." Yu E-shui said. "Zheng Zhilong's lair is Anping. He now holds legal status and spares no effort developing Anping. Anping contains his substantial property and his clan. Another key location is Zhongzuosuo. Ideally, we would establish intelligence stations in the Zhangzhou and Quanzhou areas of Fujian to maintain constant surveillance of Zheng Zhilong's and Li Kuiqi's activities."
As for Guangdong, everyone agreed no additional major effort was needed. Guangzhou and Leizhou stations were excellently managed. Combined with the Qiwie Escort Agency's coverage, substantial further investment in manpower and material was unnecessary. Simply smoothing the relationship between intelligence and trade would suffice.
Regarding Macau, everyone believed a base should be established there. Not only to collect Portuguese intelligence, but also to gather considerable information about Zheng Zhilong—the Portuguese maintained extremely close ties with him. This base could serve simultaneously as a foreign trade window and an intelligence collection point. Two birds, one stone.
"We should also focus on Jiangnan—or the Yangtze River Delta region." Jiang Shan said. "This will inevitably become the Group's second major target after occupying the Pearl River Delta."
Jiangnan's rich products, vast markets, abundant labor, and embryonic capitalist handicraft workshops made it a superior base compared to the Pearl River Delta of this spacetime. Voices in the Senate had long advocated "Take Jiangnan to Settle Under Heaven." The faction viewing Jiangnan as the primary strategic objective was ever vocal.
"Regardless of when the Senate or Executive Committee decides to take Jiangnan, we need access to resources and markets there. Station deployment is therefore absolutely essential."
"We can simultaneously nurture commerce while collecting various intelligence on the side. Multiple birds with one stone." Wang Ding's eyes gleamed as he spoke. "Whoever goes to Jiangnan as station head basically wins the lottery." He felt renewed regret over his shattered grand plan.
"I'm afraid every department wants a stake in that region," Chen Tianxiong observed. "Delung Bank also wants to extend into Jiangnan—absorbing deposits and engaging in finance."
Jiang Shan shook his head. "Delung Bank should ideally remain a separate system, not intermingled with the intelligence and commerce departments. Maintain it as an independent line."
(End of Chapter)