Chapter 851 - To Hangzhou

Zhao Yingong stood at the bow of the boat, gazing at Hangzhou City as it appeared through the mist of centuries, momentarily transfixed.

For a modern person with a special attachment to the Song Dynasty, Hangzhou held a sentiment that enthusiasts of that lost era found impossible to release.

"Capital-in-Residence," he murmured, "I have arrived."

He had departed from Guangzhou in January. Traveling first by boat, then by sedan chair, sometimes on horseback, nearly two months had passed before he finally arrived in Hangzhou amid the brilliant spring light of March.

The hardships and tribulations of the journey hardly bear elaboration. He had also encountered several dangerous situations: three times bandits had targeted his party, and once he was caught in a sudden flash flood. Had it not been for the escort bureau's men accompanying him throughout, Zhao Yingong doubted whether he could have reached Hangzhou safely on his own.

His bloodstream now coursed with various antibodies developed in the new time-space. His personal medicine pouch contained all manner of remedies—bleaching powder water purification tablets, antiparasitics, antimalarials, and antidiarrheals. To ensure safety, the Health Department had warned him that he must not consume any meat on the road, lest he contract some parasite. If he fell ill en route, in this time-space, it would almost certainly mean death. So Zhao Yingong's journey had been particularly arduous—his only sources of protein and fat were Grassland No. 10 rations consumed at night in private: specialized supplements including jerky, pickled lard in glass jars, and nuts.

These dreadful provisions made his journey even more difficult. Now, with Hangzhou finally before his eyes, Zhao Yingong breathed a sigh of relief. He calculated that once he reached his destination, he needed a proper bath, a change of clothes, and to unbind and wash his girl-like long hair—bathing had been inconvenient during his travels, and his hair gave off a foul smell. Despite his best efforts at personal hygiene, his body had acquired quite a few lice and nits, causing extreme discomfort. In this time-space, such loathsome parasites were everywhere; inns were especially major hubs and transit points for them. Bedbugs were particularly rampant. Zhao Yingong had never suffered like this in his life. In the old time-space, even visiting a small town in a national poverty-designated county, there were still clean inns and passable food. Some places had terrible public safety and chaotic cityscapes, but at least you would never see corpses lying by the roadside, or people defecating in the open.

But all of this he had witnessed during his journey. Not merely witnessed—witnessed frequently. The overall impression the Great Ming had left upon him was deeply poor, even worse than his lowest expectations. He had observed the actual conditions of ancient society on D-Day, but had always believed that was because Hainan Island was an out-of-the-way place, a product of economic and cultural backwardness. Later, when he arrived in Guangzhou for pre-departure adaptive training, the city—after all a trading port, with the Pearl River Delta having been a land of fish and rice since ancient times—had seemed different. But once he left such prosperous regions, all along the road he encountered only darkness.

He had departed precisely during the spring famine—already the hardest time for farmers. In places where disasters had struck the previous year, stored grain had run out by spring, and large groups of refugees were fleeing starvation. Sitting in his sedan chair, Zhao Yingong had often seen crowds of beggars on the road, and farmers barely able to work their fields—no better off than the beggars themselves. His mood grew heavy beyond control.

He had read countless accounts of the chaos of the late Ming and early Qing in history books. But only now, actually walking through that historical scroll, did he feel the terror and sorrow of an age of disorder—no, strictly speaking, this was not yet an age of disorder. The hellscape that would unfold across the Chinese lands had not truly begun. The places he was passing through would remain relatively peaceful even into the early Qing. Yet already the scene was this wretched. One could only imagine the grotesque horrors of places truly devastated by the great chaos to come.

Because signs of disorder were already appearing, the External Intelligence Bureau had carefully arranged this journey to Jiangnan. Not only had they assembled a team of three men and one woman from the Qiwei Escort Bureau, they had also selected several professional security personnel from the Political Security General Administration to accompany him. The route stayed as close as possible to the main official roads, following the postal stations. In ancient society, this was the safest way to travel.

To guard against "official bandits" along the way, the External Intelligence Bureau had arranged for the Guangzhou Station to obtain several "Eight Lines" letters of introduction and visiting cards from the gentry and high officials of Guangzhou to serve as talismans. Besides frightening off petty demons and avoiding much harassment and extortion, in case of danger these could also be used to request assistance from the authorities. Most useful indeed.

The head escort responsible for protecting Zhao Yingong was a distant nephew of Sun Kecheng named Sun Wangcai. Though called a nephew, he was actually not much younger than Sun Kecheng—a robust man in his early forties. He was quick-witted, skilled in martial arts, and possessed extensive underworld experience. At Qiwei, he was a man whose words carried weight. Moreover, he frequently escorted "official convoys": accompanying officials who had completed their terms in Guangdong and their families returning home. He was quite experienced in dealing with dignitaries. So the External Intelligence Bureau had selected him to serve as Zhao Yingong's security team leader—also as part of a strategy to gradually break up the "Sun Family Clique" and "Jiangxi Gang" within Qiwei. The original core members of Qiwei had all been sent out as personal guards for intelligence bureau and colonial trade personnel on foreign assignments.

Sun Wangcai stood behind him now. He knew the Elder's status was precious and that Qiwei owed the Australians a great debt, so he had been extremely careful and solicitous throughout the journey. He always walked at the front of the procession, and whether stopping for rest, booking inns, or chartering boats, he would go ahead first to inspect conditions.

Now that they had safely arrived at Hangzhou, Sun Wangcai finally allowed himself to relax. Zhejiang, especially northern Zhejiang, had always been a land of fish and rice, more prosperous and stable than other places. There were no longer so many rovers with dangerous looks in their eyes. In some places they had passed through, he had been forced to order all the men in the group to display their weapons to intimidate the restless refugees.

"Master, we've finally made it here safely," Sun Wangcai said quietly. "Would you like to enter the city today, or rest at an inn outside first?"

Zhao Yingong desperately wanted to enter the city immediately, purchase a residence, and take a long, satisfying bath. But buying a house and furnishing it could not be done in an instant. With so many people and so much luggage in the entourage, they needed to find an inn to settle in first.

Sun Wangcai was accustomed to serving gentlemen. Seeing his hesitation, he understood his thoughts at once:

"Master needn't worry. This is the provincial capital, seat of the Three Judicial Offices—not some rural backwater. There are quite a few large, extremely clean inns that cater exclusively to gentlemen."

Zhao Yingong nodded: "Good. Do as you suggest. Find a large inn to stay for now."

Sun Wangcai had escorted "official convoys" far and wide and had been to Hangzhou several times. Going ashore, he quickly secured an inn. Hangzhou was a provincial capital and a prosperous center of the southeast; its commerce flourished and its population was large. As for violations of dress codes, no one cared. The inn sent a waiter to welcome Zhao Yingong, calling for a four-man sedan chair. For the womenfolk, they summoned two-man small sedans. Additionally, over a dozen porters were hired to carry the luggage.

The party abandoned the boat and went ashore, walking along the embankment. After less than half a li, the city wall loomed magnificently in the distance, the city gate towering high. Zhao Yingong was not from Hangzhou but was quite familiar with it. He knew that Hangzhou's current city walls and gates were mostly no longer Song Dynasty relics—Zhang Shicheng had rebuilt the city at the end of the Yuan Dynasty, and its layout had already changed from Song times. But seeing the city gate, he could not help feeling a sense of nostalgia.

Around the city gate clustered inns of various sizes. The large ones bore golden signboards reading "Hostel for Officials," while the small ones simply advertised "Lodging for Merchants." The Lao Rongji Inn that Sun Wangcai had arranged was naturally a Hostel for Officials. The buildings were grand and imposing; the front entrance bustled with people and sedan chairs coming and going. Waiters hurried back and forth.

Sun Wangcai had reserved one large and one small courtyard. The small courtyard had three main rooms; the large courtyard five, both with side rooms—spacious, clean, and free of annoying insects. The space was more than sufficient for the entire Hangzhou Station crew. Responsible for managing the Station's internal affairs was Zhao Yingong's life secretary. She was plain-looking and small of build, but she was from Zhejiang—her ancestral home was Shaoxing, and she had been sold to Guangdong. The reason Zhao Yingong had originally purchased a life secretary rated only D was precisely that he had anticipated being posted to Jiangnan someday and wanted a local person. He had named this girl "Fenghua."

"We'll be staying here for a while. Make arrangements as comfortably as possible," Zhao Yingong instructed her. "Especially make sure everyone attends to hygiene tonight."

The inn had no bathing facilities available. Sun Wangcai promptly had the waiter lead him out to purchase new tubs for the Elder and the women to use. The others made do, scrubbing themselves with soapberry pods and rinsing with hot water in the main courtyard.

Zhao Yingong enjoyed a hot bath under Fenghua's attendance, changed into clean clothes, stepped into a pair of Chenqiao straw slippers, and strolled a few paces in the courtyard. Looking at the sun hanging in the sky, he felt more comfortable than he had in ages. For the first time during this journey, he had a sense of stability—the next step was to make inroads in Hangzhou.

Time was not on his side. The 1632 northern Zhejiang drought and the Dengzhou operation launching in the second half of the year both required support from the Hangzhou Station. Before early 1632, he had to complete his basic positioning in Hangzhou and obtain sufficient freedom of action, preparing the material and social foundations for transporting refugees.

The material foundation was easier to address—once he was settled, the Intelligence Bureau's land and sea systems would soon move into the Yangtze River Delta region. With the large quantity of new products they possessed, making money would not be difficult. And the Finance Supervisory Department had special allocations for the Hangzhou Station to support local industry and commerce.

But how to establish his own social position—that was the most critical question. Zhao Yingong knew that in this time-space, merchants were extraordinarily vulnerable. Without engaging in ruinous, sycophantic collusion with officials, it was almost impossible to establish a foothold in this social system. His primary role, therefore, could not be that of a merchant.