Chapter 652 - Ramifications of the Prisoners

Some proposed sending the prisoners to Sanya as miners, but many worried that with only a single battalion stationed there, a mutiny by these veteran soldiers could prove difficult to contain. Moreover, the recent suppression of worker unrest had yet to fully settle, and stability remained a concern—adding more volatile elements would be inadvisable.

A resolution was quickly reached: no prisoners would be absorbed into the military or sent to Sanya. Instead, all would be retained in Lingao as laborers. After several years of reform, each man would be assigned an appropriate future based on his individual circumstances.

"If any prisoners are locals, I propose releasing them on the spot," Wu Nanhai said. "Since they have families and relatives here, holding them would cause considerable harm to public sentiment. Let those who wish to leave go free, and give them a little travel money. That way, they can spread word of our power—and our benevolence."

"There seem to be local garrison soldiers and militia among the prisoners," Wu De noted.

Yang Yun cleared his throat softly. This was his first time attending such a high-level meeting. He had just been appointed Director of the Civil Affairs Committee's Labor Division, leveraging his experience from his former life as head of a sweatshop's HR department—and union chairman—to secure the position.

Of course, by old-world standards, Lingao's labor conditions would qualify as even more brutal than the worst sweatshops, backed by unlimited violence. The Labor Director position wasn't hard to fill. But Yang Yun wasn't satisfied with mere adequacy—how else could he demonstrate his professional expertise?

He had first studied the existing labor allocation system in depth, concluding there was room for improvement—or, more precisely, untapped potential for further extraction. He decided to use this opportunity to display his professional acumen.

However, Yang Yun had no intention of overhauling the entire system. After all, Wu De had built it, and he himself was new. Rashly revising a superior's policies would be unwise. Yang Yun had little faith in parliamentary democracy or individual rights; he was the sort who followed the center and leadership loyally so long as there was meat on the table.

"With over ten thousand laborers about to arrive, I propose certain modifications to how we handle this workforce." He avoided loaded words like "reform" or "improvement," using neutral terms instead. "Our current sixty-day quarantine policy is excellent for sanitary safety, but the tradeoff is inefficient use of labor."

Current policy had laborers and immigrants undergoing simple language and literacy lessons during quarantine while performing light handicrafts.

"There's no need to confine these ten thousand for quarantine. Their nutrition and physical condition should be far better than the average refugees we take in. They have plenty of strength, and they know how to kill and burn. Make them do handicrafts and they'll neither want to nor do it well—pent-up energy will only cause trouble."

Yang Yun proposed that after the prisoners underwent "purification," all should be assigned to the highway construction project between Ma'ao and Chengmai. The army maintained a strong garrison at Ma'ao and would station additional forces at Chengmai—ample deterrent to control the prisoners.

"Once that road is finished, we'll build the Chengmai-to-Qiongshan highway. Per Shan Daoqian's plan, we're going to build extensive roads and railways across Hainan—these prisoners will have plenty of work to do."

Ma Jia coughed. "That's all well and good, but it may undermine the principle of legal fairness. Using prisoners for labor is acceptable, but you can't work them indefinitely like a life sentence. If word gets out, who'll ever surrender again?"

"A point system will handle that." Yang Yun had prepared his answer. "The prisoners won't work for free—we'll pay them."

The payment would be a form of credit points. Prisoners would earn daily wages according to the intensity and type of work—modest, of course. From these wages, they would have to pay for their own food, clothing, and hygiene. If conditions allowed, they could even cover entertainment—visiting the brothel, for instance. But they had no right to change jobs or refuse to work: it was compulsory labor with wages.

Each man would be assigned a "price." Once he accumulated enough points, he could buy his freedom. At that stage, he would no longer be a forced laborer and could choose other work.

In Yang Yun's plan, prisoners would receive no wages in the first year. Only after a year—and good behavior—would they enter the "points" phase. Those who behaved poorly would continue unpaid forced labor. Under normal conditions, a prisoner would need about four years to complete his redemption.

"...Based on performance, we can grant bonuses to those who work hard and behave well, allowing them to finish one or two years early." He glanced around the room, sensing general approval from the leaders. He continued: "Through grueling labor, we correct the prisoners' bad habits while promoting ideological differentiation. By rewarding and promoting certain individuals, we can cultivate activists to divide, monitor, and reform the group from within. After four or five years, even if the prisoners don't become model builders of socialism, they'll at least become law-abiding citizens useful to the new social order."

A murmur of discussion arose. Wu De studied this twenty-five-year-old. Not bad! he thought. We need exactly this kind of professional to take things to the next level! He glanced at his watch—there was much to do back at the Planning Committee office, with captured inventory lists pouring in. He raised his hand in support of Yang Yun's plan.

The plan was then refined. Prisoners would be organized into labor battalions, companies, and platoons using military structure, allowing them to be reassigned to different worksites as needed.

"Because they'll be doing heavy labor and have low reliability ratings, I suggest keeping squad sizes no smaller than about one hundred men per company—easier to monitor and avoid scattering too thin." Wu De proposed. "Of course, that means they'll only be deployed on large-scale construction projects."

"Besides road building, there are plenty of major projects to construct," said Mei Wan, general manager of the Construction Company. "Irrigation canals, reservoirs, harbors..."

Given that no major Ming armies remained on Hainan and that Guangdong would need at least two or three years before launching another large-scale expedition, the attendees unanimously agreed there was no need to maintain wartime status. The meeting resolved to lift emergency measures in Lingao effective immediately and restore normal order. The duty rotation for transmigrators and native militia was disbanded; conscripted militia and laborers were demobilized; all departments were to resume normal production.

"There's one urgent matter," Si Kaide raised. "Our foreign trade connections. Now that the Ming army has collapsed, we should restore them quickly. I believe now is the time to discuss—amnesty?"

Wen Desi said: "Are you planning to walk into Guangzhou waving a white flag and ask Wang Zunde to offer us amnesty?"

"If it would be effective, why not?" Si Kaide replied calmly.

"That's right-wing capitulationist thinking!" Wen Desi said. "I never understood why some of us always want to surrender and beg for amnesty. Perhaps we need to dig out the roots of this capitulationist ideology."

Si Kaide immediately defended himself: "It's strategy! Strategy! We need the mainland's resources and population. Isn't restoring peace quickly a good thing? As for what name we use, I don't think it matters. We want real benefits! Benefits!"

"You don't need amnesty to restore trade." Wen Desi warned. "Officials all love to make fortunes quietly. There's no need for formal titles!"

"Fine, what I mean is we should negotiate with Wang Zunde." Si Kaide took a step back, rephrasing.

Jiang Shan said: "After this defeat, Wang Zunde is certain to be removed. He may even be arrested and sent to Beijing for judgment. Negotiating with him is pointless. Better to wait until a new official takes his place before contacting the Guangdong authorities."

Si Kaide muttered somewhat despondently: "That'll take too long..." From the time the defeat was reported to the court until a new official assumed his post, it would probably be a year.

Jiang Shan said: "I don't think it'll be that long. Historically, Xiong Wencan assumed the post of Governor-General of Guangdong and Guangxi in 1632. Our defeat of He Rubin should accelerate that appointment. Old Xiong is famous for pacification—once he arrives, he'll likely reach out to us."

Some proposed negotiating formally with Guangdong as the Aoosong regime, modeled on the British signing a trade treaty. Others listed five main terms: cession of Hong Kong Island; a concession outside Guangzhou; indemnities for military expenses and all of Lingao's losses; resumption of bilateral trade; return of all Guangzhou Station property.

"Those five terms are impossible," Jiang Shan said. "At least for now. Neither Wang Zunde nor even Old Xiong would dare agree. A single memorial from a censor would have him arrested and hauled to Beijing."

"Bombard Guangzhou! Blockade the Pearl River!"

"Bombarding Guangzhou might work, but blockading the Pearl River means nothing to the Ming. The Ming court, like the Qing after it, doesn't believe overseas trade matters." Yu Eshui said. "According to normal historical trajectory, the court will order a blockade of Guangzhou Bay in 1631. So whether we blockade or not is irrelevant."

"So we have no recourse?"

"If we want a military solution, following the Opium War model: besiege Guangzhou to force local officials into a trade settlement. At the same time, to ensure Guangdong officials actually comply, dispatch a fleet to the Yangtze estuary, seize Zhenjiang, then threaten to bombard Nanjing and cut off the Grand Canal." He shrugged. "If the Ming still refuses to yield, our only option is full-scale war and direct occupation of Guangdong."

Such a military operation was clearly far beyond the current capability of the transmigrator regime. Wen Desi believed they could only negotiate privately with the Guangdong authorities, and not about signing any formal treaty.

Wen Desi said slowly: "Officials are terrified of leaving written evidence! You people really have no concept. The key is tacit understanding—mutual understanding!" He waved his arm. "When you bribe someone to get something done, do you ask them to give you a receipt saying 'I received fifty thousand from you and will definitely handle such-and-such'? You're all too naive!"

Traditional Chinese dynasties had no concept of diplomatic treaties. Signing any kind of equal agreement with Guangdong authorities was simply impossible.

So the guiding principle for negotiations was tacit understanding—reaching a private mutual understanding with boundaries neither side crossed.

"Getting Guangdong to pay indemnities is impossible," Wen Desi said. "First, they don't have the money—even if they did, they wouldn't give it to us. Second, there's no precedent in officialdom for the government compensating commoners. Demanding an exception makes it a major issue."

"Then how can we possibly reach an agreement?" Si Kaide grumbled.

"Little Si, you're supposed to be running Colonial Trade..."

Si Kaide quickly clarified: "Chairman Wen, I'm the Office Director of Colonial Trade."

"Whatever you are. As a leader, have you never heard of rent-seeking?" Wen Desi smiled. "They can't give us actual gold and silver, but if the authorities leak a little of the power in their hands, doesn't that compensate our losses?"

Expressions of understanding dawned across the room.

"We can't openly say 'Cede Hong Kong Island to us!' and expect them to write it down in black and white. No official in all of the Ming would dare agree. Even the Chongzhen Emperor wouldn't dare—not just for fear of being savaged by the civil bureaucracy, but to avoid going down in history as having 'ceded territory.'" Wen Desi said. "But we can quietly occupy the island and do whatever we like there—so long as local officials can still explain things to their superiors. Such matters have always been about hiding from above but not below."

Si Kaide frowned: "How long can that last? Eventually it'll come out."

Wu De tapped the table lightly: "Time!" he said gravely. "Three years ago, we didn't occupy the county seat—we stayed outside to develop. We did so by hiding from above. We bought time. We need another three to five years."

Once the First Five-Year Plan was complete and the coal-iron complex operational, the Second Five-Year Plan would be a period of massive arms and personnel buildup. At that point, they would no longer need Ming recognition or tolerance.

The meeting resolved to establish a "Guangdong Negotiation Team," preparing to return to Guangzhou and make contact with the provincial authorities. Three different approaches would be pursued: first through Gao Ju's connections, second through Li Luoyou, and finally through Guangzhou gentry who had close dealings with the Guangzhou Station—a multi-pronged attack.

Wu Nanhai then requested to speak: "With an additional ten thousand able bodies at our disposal, our food problem has emerged."

Lingao's grain situation was already tight. The county's grain output was limited, while outside populations continued to pour in. Large numbers of people were concentrated in schools, administrative departments, military units, and industrial enterprises—all non-agricultural sectors. Efforts to raise per-mu yields and expand cultivated land were still in early stages, so overall grain supply was stretched. Though still self-sufficient with a margin to spare, a dependency on Vietnamese rice imports had developed.

According to nutrition expert Dr. Chen Sigen, a heavy laborer engaged in road construction needed 3,600 kilocalories per day—at minimum, no less than 3,000 kilocalories. If provided entirely through carbohydrates, that meant 750 grams of brown rice—or equivalent starch—per person per day.

"Ten thousand men means 7.5 tons of brown rice per day." Wu Nanhai emphasized the enormity of the figure. "A thirty-day month consumes 225 tons."

Wu De listened while calculating inventory numbers. He began to frown. This would shorten Lingao's food security reserve by eleven days.

"Furthermore, brown rice is low in protein and fat. Long-term intake of only carbohydrates is unhealthy. We need to provide more protein and fat to laborers and prisoners—to ensure they can work steadily for us over the long term, and also to reduce direct grain consumption." Wu Nanhai said.

Ma Qianzhu said: "Just say what you want to do."

Wu Nanhai said: "I want to change our fisheries system. Ocean fishing should be separated from the Navy—it's an agricultural enterprise, after all. Having the Navy manage fisheries is structurally unsound."

Marine fishing was currently the only industry capable of rapidly providing large quantities of protein and fat. It was thanks to sea fishing that Lingao could barely meet the protein needs of transmigrators, laborers under their rule, and the military.

A murmur arose in the crowded meeting room: Wu Nanhai was known for his low profile and lack of contention. Now, suddenly attacking the system and demanding control of fisheries caught everyone off guard.

Under the current system, the Navy managed the fisheries. Fishing vessels were also naval auxiliary craft—some dedicated solely to fishing operations. Besides the Navy's direct catches, there was also the "fishing tax" levied at the fishing grounds near Bopu: every private fishing boat had to surrender one-fifth of its catch.

Whether from the Navy's haul or from fishermen's catch taxes, everything went to the seafood processing plant under the Agriculture Department's purview. The total was quite substantial.

Ye Yuming now joined in: "Our Tiandihui has established a fisheries association to improve fishermen's equipment and techniques. But the Navy's direct control of fishing grounds and boats is very detrimental to broader fisheries development and improvement. I fully support Comrade Wu—the Navy should no longer manage fisheries."

"And taxing fishermen's catches—the Navy collecting taxes doesn't make sense either." Cheng Dong chimed in slowly. "Personally, I believe taxation authority must be unified. Furthermore, directly collecting taxes in kind is, in a sense, a regression—not conducive to developing a commodity economy."