Chapter 607 - Deliberating War

He folded the letter with deliberate care, creasing each edge precisely before sliding it back into its envelope. Years in the bureaucracy had taught him well—he possessed an arsenal of techniques for deflecting and delaying any troublesome government business. After all, no matter how momentous or urgent the affair, nothing could withstand the simple art of procrastination. Given a few months, who could say what new political winds might be blowing through the court?

But this time, producing some tangible achievement in pacifying the seas was probably unavoidable. The Emperor had ascended the throne not long ago and still burned with enthusiasm for diligent governance. Through eunuchs close to the imperial person, Wang Zunde had learned that His Majesty was extraordinarily industrious. If he continued deflecting and delaying, he likely couldn't muddle through much longer. And if that hothead Gao Shunqing submitted an impeachment memorial, things would become exceedingly troublesome.

During his tenure rectifying governance in the two Guangs, he had offended quite a few people—men who all had old friends and fellow examination graduates in the capital. One misstep, one loss of imperial favor, and impeachment memorials would pile high as a mountain. His fate would be sealed: loss of office would be the lightest punishment.

Then there was the matter of Gao Shunqing, whose attitude remained maddeningly unpredictable. The man was young and held a position on the remonstrance circuit, which inevitably bred arrogance. Wang Zunde had once been a remonstrance official himself; he understood their temperament intimately.

Inspector Gao despised maritime merchants, sea pirates, and Westerners with equal fervor. He had approached Wang Zunde on several occasions, hoping to persuade him to prohibit trade with the Portuguese. Wang Zunde had always responded with vague non-commitments. Word had it Gao Shunqing was already quite dissatisfied with him.

The Inspector's hatred of the Portuguese stemmed primarily from their "towering ships and giant cannons"—vessels that "no one dared approach." The Portuguese also traded in various contraband goods. Yet Wang Zunde suspected the real source of Gao's resentment was simpler: here in Guangdong territory sat a place that "did not submit to imperial civilization."

For Wang Zunde's part, though the Portuguese occasionally stirred up local trouble, they were generally tactful. This tactfulness didn't merely mean paying their annual rent of five hundred taels to Xiangshan County on schedule—that sum was a drop in the bucket for all of Guangdong Province.

What mattered more was that recently, Portuguese merchants had been arriving in Guangzhou with increasing frequency, bearing generous gifts for various officials. Presumably they had caught wind of Gao Shunqing's recent machinations and were intensifying their lobbying efforts.

And then there was the matter of the Portuguese proposal to jointly suppress Liu Xiang with the Ming. They claimed Liu Xiang was colluding with the "Hollanders"—those same red-haired foreigners who had raided the coast during the Tianqi reign and occupied the Pescadores, building fortresses and scheming against the Great Ming. Whether any of this was true, only Heaven knew. Wang Zunde sighed to himself: maritime affairs were infinitely intricate and complex, yet the government knew virtually nothing about this mysterious world of the seas.

He paced through his study, pausing to admire the shadows cast upon the bamboo curtains. Then he called out in a booming voice: "Someone!"

A personal attendant materialized at the door.

"Go now and invite Advisors Lü and Li."

He had summoned these two because he wanted to hear their views on pacifying Guangdong's coastal waters. There was no point rushing to see Governor-General Li Fengjie—that man would simply proclaim "I follow the master's lead." Since the Governor-General handled military affairs while Wang Zunde as Governor focused on civil administration, such a statement wasn't entirely unreasonable.

As for the other provincial officials, large and small, they were slippery as eels that left no trace. Each was more skilled than the last at passing the buck and evading responsibility. After years in officialdom, Wang Zunde knew it wasn't just the two Guangs that operated this way—it was the same everywhere.

If he wanted practical advice, he could only turn to his private staff.

These two were his most trusted advisors. Lü Yizhong had served several terms as a prefect, while Li Xijue was a jinshi from the Tianqi reign who had never received an appointment and had been living in idle retirement at home. Both were in their forties—the prime of life when energy ran abundant. Both were well-read and deeply versed in practical governance.

Yet for the moment, even these two advisors could produce no brilliant ideas. Strategy required a foundation of intelligence, and without intelligence—when one couldn't even identify the enemy—where could strategy come from?

Since the late Wanli reign, various maritime lords had risen and fallen, their names legion. Government documents recorded dozens of major gangs. But the authorities knew precious little about their actual situations; most information was mere hearsay.

As for this Liu Xiang, he had merely risen as a force at the beginning of the Chongzhen reign. Only recently had his expansion accelerated to the point where he had become a genuine plague at the Pearl River estuary, finally attracting official attention.

Though Advisors Lü and Li were eager to share their master's burdens, they understood these sea pirates no better than Wang Zunde himself. How could they offer counsel? After racking his brains, Advisor Li could only dredge up the stale tricks that Hu Zongxian and others had employed against the wokou decades prior. Nothing innovative to speak of.

Lü Yizhong, however, remained silent throughout. In his view, Advisor Li's strategies were all theoretically feasible but couldn't address the fundamental problem. Their master had no intention of launching a large-scale campaign against sea pirates—and even if he wished to, he lacked the capability. The problem was simple: there was no money.

Whether one spoke of coastal evacuation, tightening inspections on shore-based goods exports, or training coastal and riverine militias—all these measures required both time and money. And the government's current situation was one of profound destitution. Without money, nothing could be accomplished.

The government lacked both money and time. And Governor-General Wang felt he personally lacked time. Lü Yizhong was more astute than others at reading his master's intentions. Combining recent court politics with the situation in the two Guangs and Fujian, he quickly divined his master's true thoughts.

The glory of suppressing southeastern sea pirates couldn't all go to Xiong Wenhan. Since Zheng Zhilong had accepted pacification, various major pirate forces along the southeastern coast—the gangs of Yang Liu, Yang Qi, Zhu Cailao—had been destroyed one after another within two years. Xiong Wenhan's reputation as a "capable official at pacifying the seas" was now recognized by both court and public.

Against this backdrop, Liu Xiang's continued entrenchment in Guangdong waters—indeed, his continued expansion—became an embarrassing contrast. The Governor-General of the two Guangs needed to demonstrate some accomplishment.

Though he understood his master's thinking, conjuring solutions was another matter entirely. Lü Yizhong pondered the situation: this wasn't the Jiajing reign, when the court still possessed ample funds to build ships and train soldiers. Now Wang Zunde had only limited resources at his disposal. He couldn't attack on multiple fronts; he could only identify one gang and crush them decisively, achieving a resounding victory and capturing the bandit chief.

Moreover, the court's navy had always proven ineffective in sea battles. Success must come from land combat.

"If only there were a place like Shuangyu or Tunmen," Lü Yizhong mused aloud.

Li Xijue, ever quick-witted, immediately grasped his meaning and nodded vigorously. "Exactly."

Wang Zunde naturally understood their implication, but where Liu Xiang's lair might be, they had no idea. As for other pirate gangs, that went without saying.

Just as they found themselves at an impasse, Lü Yizhong said quietly: "What about Lingao?"

All three nodded in unison. This place would indeed be excellent.

That the Australians had built a fortified camp at Lingao was no longer a secret in Guangzhou. Just as the three Purple-Character establishments being backed by Australians was also common knowledge.

"It should be Bopu—what the pirates have seized is precisely Bopu. Lingao County itself hasn't fallen," Li Xijue reminded them. "All taxes and grain levies have been paid in full."

"Precisely," Lü Yizhong nodded. "The imperial army attacking Bopu would remove a scourge from Lingao. It would benefit both the state and the people."

This wasn't merely a minor detail—it was crucial.

If they framed it as "suppressing sea pirates entrenched at Lingao," someone at court would inevitably raise questions about why Guangdong had never reported the county's fall. But by mentioning only Bopu, the narrative became watertight. Besides, Lingao truly hadn't fallen—this wasn't deceiving the throne.

Contemplating this, Wang Zunde felt as if clouds had parted to reveal the sun. He nodded repeatedly but said nothing more.

Lü Yizhong and Li Xijue understood: he had approved the idea in principle, but still needed to weigh the pros and cons. Their task now was to work out the details. Where would soldiers, ships, and provisions come from? How much would be needed? How would military pay and miscellaneous expenses be arranged? All these particulars required thorough consideration, with multiple contingency plans prepared. When the time came for execution, the Governor-General could choose.

Such matters couldn't be handled by themselves alone. Fortunately, the Governor-General's office maintained a large staff of advisors, ranging from retired officials who'd served as prefects to frivolous literati who only knew how to compose poetry and songs. Though a mixed bag, there were quite a few capable and talented men among them.

Lü Yizhong quickly gathered a dozen or so of Wang Zunde's most trusted advisors to discuss the matter.

But his "brilliant plan" soon met resistance.

"The Governor-General wanting to destroy the hair-shorn pirates at Lingao is certainly gratifying," one advisor ventured. "But I've heard they have connections in the Imperial Palace. I fear they can't be touched so easily."

Another chimed in: "The Australians have deep ties with Gao Ju, and I hear Gao Ju is connected to Eunuch Yang in the palace. These internal connections may be beyond our ability to untangle."

At the mention of eunuch involvement, the room fell silent. The days when eunuchs wielded overwhelming power weren't long past. The Emperor had removed the Nine Thousand Years upon ascending the throne, true, but the Prince's household eunuchs now occupied positions of power in their turn. If they offended some mysterious "inner chancellor," and that eunuch retaliated with malicious words whispered in imperial ears, everyone present would find themselves in deep trouble.

"No matter," Lü Yizhong said smoothly. "Gao Ju's backer, Eunuch Yang, isn't one of the eunuchs who followed the late Prince. During the days when Wei the Traitor held power, Yang requested an idle posting to avoid trouble. Since the Emperor ascended the throne, he wields little influence in the palace."

"Though he's a eunuch, he still has a voice from within the inner court. We shouldn't offend him lightly," someone still cautioned.

"That presents no difficulty," Lü Yizhong replied. "The hair-shorn pirates have no connection with Eunuch Yang—Gao Ju is Eunuch Yang's man, yes. The Australians merely do business with Gao Ju. Eunuch Yang has always been wise and principled. Why would he make trouble for a court official on behalf of a band of sea pirates?"

Gao Ju had extensive dealings with the Australians. Even without the Australians, the Gao family was famous for "colluding with foreigners." Finding evidence of their "consorting with sea pirates" would be child's play. Would Eunuch Yang really walk into such a trap and get things backward?

Eunuch Yang had little influence left in the palace. The Australians' destruction wasn't the same as Gao Ju's destruction. As long as Gao Ju remained unharmed, the benefits owed to Eunuch Yang would continue flowing, not one wen less, and no one would dare shortchange him. With the Australians—these sea pirates—destroyed, would Eunuch Yang personally confront Wang Zunde? Wang Zunde was a top-ranking court official with a reputation for integrity. Eunuch Yang wasn't a powerful grand eunuch—why would he wade into such murky waters?

As long as Gao Ju wasn't harmed—if the Gao family was allowed to pass through this affair unscathed—Eunuch Yang naturally wouldn't interfere. Lü Yizhong's calculation lay precisely here. When the time came, they could compensate part of the Australians' Guangzhou properties to the Gao family. Even if grievances lingered, nothing could be said—Gao Ju wasn't so lacking in tact as to oppose the entire Guangdong bureaucracy.

"Furthermore, the Australians building a walled camp at Lingao follows exactly the old Portuguese playbook for occupying Macau. Back then, the court permitted the Portuguese. Should they now permit the Australians as well?" Lü Yizhong reminded them. "This matter must be resolved sooner or later. Better sooner."

After his analysis, everyone found the reasoning quite sound. No one objected to attacking the hair-shorn pirates anymore.

"But how do we deal with the Australians' iron ships?" someone asked. "I've heard they're as tall as city walls—even taller than the great carracks of the Red-Hairs and Portuguese. Our navy has no ships to match them!"

"The so-called giant iron ships are merely street gossip. Not to be taken seriously," Lü Yizhong said dismissively. "Even if such massive vessels truly exist, the imperial forces can use fireships to drive them off. Moreover, the imperial campaign should advance by both land and sea. The naval force would merely serve as a diversion; the land force would be the main effort. Once their Hundred Fathom Camp is broken on land, with nothing left to rely on ashore, they'll have no choice but to weigh anchor and leave. The imperial forces can then claim victory."

This approach was still predicated on "driving them away" rather than destroying them. This wasn't born of mercy or friendship, but reflected local officials' accurate assessment of their own military strength. During the Tianqi reign, mobilizing seventy or eighty thousand troops and several hundred warships had only managed to "persuade the withdrawal" of a dozen Dutch ships. Complete destruction of the Australians was obviously even more impossible now. Still, expelling the Australians who had entrenched themselves at Lingao for years could certainly count as a significant achievement.

Lü Yizhong's calculation was to find a way to "force the Australians to retreat," achieving victory with minimal losses. The strength of the Australians at Lingao was somewhat known in Guangzhou.

"The true hair-shorn ones in Lingao number only about a thousand," Lü Yizhong explained. "The rest are local traitors who've shaved their heads and attached themselves—fake hair-shorn ones. Their total doesn't exceed several tens of thousands. But they're a mix of men and women, old and young, drawn to Lingao only by the pirates' petty favors. They absolutely won't fight to the death for the pirates. When the imperial heavenly troops arrive, they'll melt away like ice in the sun."

"Even with only a thousand, if they rely on their ships and fierce artillery, they won't be easy to handle," one advisor cautioned. "I've heard that besides the great iron ship, they have fast iron boats and repeating firearms. Whoever faces them is swept away. They shouldn't be underestimated."

"I would suggest borrowing troops," this advisor continued. "After all, the Australians possess formidable ships and guns, along with fast iron boats and repeating cannons to assist in battle. The Portuguese have always sought our favor and have been quite obedient to the court. They recently presented cannons. If we borrow their aid in suppression, our forces could achieve twice the result with half the effort."

"The Portuguese have red barbarian cannons and great carrack ships. Our weakness in ships and guns could be somewhat compensated." Many agreed with this proposal.

"Why not have the Governor-General order Zheng Zhilong to dispatch a detachment to assist? Zheng Zhilong's forces are experienced at sea and could serve as the vanguard."

"Governor Xiong would never agree. He relies on Zheng Zhilong as the Great Wall of Fujian's seas. With Li Kuiqi and others not yet captured, how could he be willing? Inadvisable, inadvisable."

Some proposed reviving the old tricks of Yu Dayou and Dong Long from the Jiajing era, when they had eliminated pirates at Humen—enticing foreign pirates with promises of ships, goods, and heavy rewards to join the attack.

"That's inadvisable," Li Xijue shook his head vigorously. "Foreign pirates cannot be enticed. Otherwise, we'd be repelling the tiger at the front gate only to let the wolf in through the back. These aren't the old days. If we must borrow troops, we can only use the Portuguese."

"What about borrowing troops from the Hollanders?"

"They once tried to occupy the Pescadores. If we borrow their troops, would we have to let them return there?"

"That's a mistake," the advisor who'd made this suggestion thought himself rather clever. "When the Hollanders agreed to withdraw to Tayouan, our dynasty promised that merchants could go trade there. We could use this as leverage: if the Hollanders don't lend troops for suppression, we'll prohibit merchants from going to Tayouan..."

"Utterly wrong!" Li Xijue felt compelled to refute such absurd reasoning. "Prohibit merchants from trading? Since the Jiajing reign, the maritime ban has been lifted and reimposed, reimposed and lifted. It has never truly been enforced."

This method might have some utility against the Portuguese. But Tayouan wasn't Macau—right at Guangzhou's doorstep. The thousands of miles of Fujian and Guangdong coastline simply couldn't be sealed off. Besides, those trading at Tayouan were mostly Fujian merchants, with Zheng Zhilong the biggest of them all.

Zheng Zhilong wouldn't heed orders from the Governor-General of the two Guangs, and Fujian's coastal merchants wouldn't comply either. Xiong Wenhan wouldn't necessarily be willing to issue such an order for Guangdong's sake. The idea was completely impractical.

"Setting aside borrowed troops—once we mobilize, where will the provisions and military pay come from?"

This was the key to any warfare. It wasn't that the court lacked troops, but those troops could only be described as technically alive. To get this mob of armed beggars to march to battle required several things: first, they had to be paid—all back pay couldn't be issued, but at least a portion, otherwise the "soldier-lords" wouldn't budge. Second, by custom, departure required settling-in allowances and rewards. After battle, win or lose, casualties had to be compensated. Victory would require additional funds for celebrations.

As for the provisions needed for the march and campaign, those too required advance preparation. Soldiers could go half-hungry on ordinary days but couldn't be expected to fight on empty stomachs. The provisions issue was relatively easier to solve in Guangdong. The region generally yielded two harvests annually, and government granaries remained reasonably well-stocked. Qiongzhou Prefecture also maintained several granaries specifically for military provisions against the Li people, with tens of thousands of shi of grain stockpiled year-round that could be requisitioned nearby.

"As for compensation and celebrations, those are matters for afterward. We needn't discuss them now. First, let's raise the departure funds," Lü Yizhong said.

"Currently, all armies are nearly half a year behind on pay. Each soldier's pay is the equivalent of two taels per month. We'd need to back-pay two or three months' worth. As for settling-in allowances, each man needs another three taels. Before the army even moves, each soldier already costs at least seven taels. If we mobilize ten thousand men, seventy thousand taels would be spent before they even left camp!" Someone's tongue clicked at the calculation.

"You've calculated too low. Marching also requires public-use and miscellaneous expenses, plus various other costs. Without another ten to twenty thousand, they can't even depart," an advisor with military experience noted. "And what about repairs to artillery and ships? Don't those cost money?"

"There's no need to calculate," Li Xijue said. "When Commander Yu drove the Red-Hairs from the Pescadores during the Tianqi reign, it cost the provincial treasury nearly four hundred thousand taels. This mobilization will cost no less. Military expenses will be at least three hundred thousand taels—and that's being frugal. If we're generous, we'd need to double it."

(End of Chapter)