Chapter 969 - Travelers of the Jianghu
An inscrutable smile crossed Lu Wenyuan's face. This island would do quite well—apart from the worrisome winters. Upon his return, he immediately made the decision to purchase the land.
Sun Yuanhua was rather surprised when he learned that "Master Zhao's nephew" had selected this particular tract. To preserve Zhao Yingong's continuing influence after his departure, Lu Wenyuan had reluctantly agreed to be designated as a "nephew through the maternal line"—the ancients trusted blood relations far more than business partnerships. Zhao Yingong explained he had specifically chosen this land to test the feasibility of farming saline-alkaline and sandy soil.
Though Sun Yuanhua remained skeptical about Zhao Yingong's "introduction of new crops," he still expressed his strong support. He recalled how, years before, when Xu Guangqi had introduced sweet potatoes in Jiangnan and Tianjin, skeptics had been the majority then too—yet ultimately the endeavor had succeeded. Perhaps these two Guangdong men really could develop crops suited to coastal saline-alkaline land. If so, it would be a tremendous merit.
With Sun Yuanhua's direct patronage, Lu Wenyuan's land purchase on Qimu Island proceeded swiftly. Excluding the sand spit, the total area came to four square kilometers—roughly six thousand mu of land. Lu Wenyuan ultimately secured most of the island for three hundred twenty taels, including all the hills in the northern section.
Zhao Yingong had successfully embedded Father Jean-Baptiste Jinliger into the Shandong church, and combined with Lu Wenyuan's Catholic identity, they had formed considerable influence over the congregation. With support from the Shandong church—especially the gentry within it—the Qimu Island development plan advanced quite smoothly. Upon hearing that "Master Lu" enjoyed backing from Governor Sun, the Huang County magistrate proved very courteous when Lu Wenyuan came to handle procedures and file contracts. Not only did all paperwork proceed without hindrance, but the magistrate specially dispatched yamen runners to Qimu Island to "maintain order."
Lu Wenyuan found this somewhat unnecessary and tried to decline, but the magistrate insisted it was to "intimidate troublemakers and prevent them from causing incidents at this opportunity." Lu Wenyuan had worked on construction sites during his internship in the old timeline and had witnessed gate-blocking, lying prostrate before bulldozers, gang fights, and material theft—every imaginable disruption. So he agreed—though of course it still required spending money on gifts for the magistrate, the deputy, and the runners.
"Three hundred twenty taels for the land, and eighty taels in red envelopes. Corruption! Such corruption!" Lu Wenyuan grumbled to himself after leaving the Huang County yamen.
Complaints were complaints, but for now the protection of the Huang County yamen remained essential. Once Kong Youde started making trouble, he could act as he pleased. But for the moment, he still needed the "local government" to protect his rights as a "developer."
Zhao Yingong's primary assignment for him was to rapidly construct a fortified estate and build dock facilities capable of accommodating ships of at least two to three hundred tons.
"As for farmland and water conservancy—just do the bare minimum. The key is ensuring Qimu Island's security. Under no circumstances can Kong Youde be allowed to attack and capture it."
He estimated that when Kong Youde advanced, he wouldn't specifically march along the coast to the Longkou area—historically, he had led his forces directly toward Huang County seat. However, small units might well sally forth to plunder grain and conscript civilians. Throughout history, rebel and bandit forces had all behaved this way while on the march. Small parties reaching Longkou remained possible—after all, some villages dotted the coast, and Longkou had a trading market. Additionally, considering that Kong Youde ultimately escaped by ship, if he needed to gather vessels, Longkou—where foreign merchant ships congregated—would also make a suitable target. So overall defensive requirements needn't be too demanding, but reasonable self-defense capability was still necessary.
"I'm leaving Wang Qisuo for you," Zhao Yingong said. "He's a local salt smuggler and military household, very familiar with local conditions. You can use him temporarily, but remember he hasn't undergone political vetting, so don't reveal too much to him."
"I understand. Anyway, I'm just a landlord fortifying myself for protection. That's all they need to know. Besides, I don't have many naturalized personnel under me to begin with."
Ever since Huang Ande had connected with Sun Yuan, he had cultivated the relationship intensively, and it had quickly grown warmer. Using opportunities to visit friends and relatives, he came and went through the water city with increasing ease. He also brought gifts of Zhejiang local products—nothing expensive, but good for building relationships. Before long, he no longer needed to sneak in with craftsmen and laborers but could enter and exit openly. The officers at the gates knew he was a former local garrison soldier with many acquaintances and didn't bother stopping him. Huang Ande not only became sworn brothers with Sun Yuan but also recruited seven or eight reliable former comrades, frequently treating them to drinks. They had become something of a small clique. Any trivial matter happening inside the water city reached his ears quickly.
Though most of the intelligence he gathered held no value for Zhao Yingong, successfully infiltrating Dengzhou Water City and establishing a small network was a fine accomplishment. However, he would soon need to relocate to Huang County with Lu Wenyuan—once his master departed, if his "personal attendant" kept appearing in Dengzhou, it would attract unwanted attention. Instructions came through Huang Ande's superiors for him to visit Dengzhou twice a month to keep tabs on the situation.
Before leaving Shandong, Zhao Yingong also made arrangements regarding Master Daoquan's refugee collection in Yizhou. The matter of receiving refugees had already gained Sun Yuanhua's tacit approval, so official obstacles weren't major concerns. The key was having sufficient grain and shelter prepared.
"I just wonder how Taiwan is progressing?" Zhao Yingong knew that according to schedule, the first fleet to Taiwan should be arriving at Kaohsiung within days. If refugees from Yizhou could arrive in time, they would perfectly fill the gap in the pioneer team. But he didn't know whether Master Daoquan's work was proceeding smoothly. The letters he had received mentioned his current situation—danger lurking at every moment.
Just as Zhao Yingong and Lu Wenyuan busied themselves preparing to receive Yizhou refugees, Master Zhang found himself in extreme peril.
Despite maintaining a deliberately low profile in Yizhou and rarely proselytizing New Daoist doctrine, his presence had still drawn the attention of certain forces. Just as he was eagerly expanding his influence while awaiting missionary personnel from Lingao, a group of people had already arrived in Yizhou.
The flood-ravaged land of southern Shandong stretched barren for a thousand li. Apart from bleached bones along the roads and the occasional passing bands of refugees, everywhere hung a deathly silence.
Then hoofbeats sounded on the road. Seven or eight riders spurred their horses past at a canter. In the oppressive heat, the riders appeared listless, wide-brimmed sun hats pulled low, reins loose, letting their horses go where they would—as if dozing in the saddle. Swords and pouches hung at their waists—clearly long-distance travelers of the jianghu.
Approaching the official road near Yizhou, signs of human activity gradually increased. Here the floodwaters had receded and commerce had somewhat recovered. The watermarks from the crest of the flood still showed on Yizhou's city walls. The walls, thoroughly soaked, were now cracking and flaking under the scorching sun. Many bricks had fallen; at one point there was even a gap of several zhang in width. Above and below the walls, bricks and yellow dirt lay piled high—though the people struggled to survive, local officials dared not relax city defenses in the slightest. In recent years, almost every major disaster had been followed by refugee uprisings.
The moat outside the city, swollen by the flood, was unusually full—in a normal summer, it held only a thin trickle of water in the center, scarcely ankle-deep.
East of the road outside the north gate stood a large awning selling tea, water, and flatbreads for travelers to rest and refresh themselves. Behind the awning grew a grove of lush green jujube trees, and the thick shade offered welcome coolness. On the packed-earth grounds to the left and right of the awning stood three cart sets and four or five sedan chairs. At the hitching posts beneath the trees, a dozen or so mounts—donkeys, horses, mules—drank from a large stone trough filled with water drawn from the well.
Quite a few travelers rested beneath the awning. Since they wouldn't take to the road again until the afternoon sun had declined, some who had banded together took turns napping—this close to the city, there wouldn't be bandits, but petty thieves were something officials cared nothing about. One had to look out for oneself. Losing money or provisions on the road here meant a dead end—one couldn't even beg successfully.
They couldn't risk heatstroke by traveling at midday; they had to wait until the sun shifted westward and the heat eased before setting out. Under the scorching rays, heatstroke and sun-death weren't rare. Especially after the flood. The ground moisture steamed upward—the air was hot and humid, making it almost impossible to draw breath. It was like being trapped inside a giant steamer.
When the riders reached the awning, they dismounted to rest. Their movements were remarkably coordinated—some went to water the horses while others claimed tables and ordered the waiter to prepare tea and provisions.
Though each wore a grass hat with eye-gauze and coarse cloth traveling clothes, three of them had slender figures—obviously women.
"I didn't expect such a cool spot here," one of the women remarked.
Her voice was clear as silver bells—obviously a young, charming woman. She patted the dust from her clothes, removed her grass hat, then took off her green eye-gauze and face-covering cloth. Her appearance, while not striking, was enough to set imaginations running. But the group's attire and weapons all proclaimed them true children of the jianghu, ready at any moment to draw swords and spill blood.
The tea shop attendant hurried over with a face full of smiles. This group was obviously not to be trifled with, so he served them with extra care.
The riders varied in height and build—some old, some young, male and female—but each was spirited with a fierce air. Even the three women had occasional cold glints flashing in their gazes. Several timid travelers simply turned away rather than look at them, hoping to avoid bringing trouble upon themselves—these days, a dead person on the road was no different from a dead insect.
"It's cool here—but on the other side of that wall is a living hell," said a middle-aged man with a local accent. "The gruel station is south of the city. That's where all the starving people gather. Every day they carry out dozens of corpses to the cremation grounds."
(End of Chapter)