Chapter 987 - Champa

Before departing, Ping Qiusheng made certain to capture several close-up photographs of Cam Ranh Bay with his 500D camera.

"If only I had a wide-angle lens—I'll have to stitch these together when I get back." He paused to catch his breath, then surreptitiously trained his telephoto lens on Zhao Xue from the long-range survey team. She had donned a one-piece swimsuit to move more freely aboard the small boat.

Zhao Xue was not conventionally beautiful, and her modest pullover swimsuit did nothing to accentuate her figure. Yet as one of the precious few modern women among the Elders—tall, slender, and perfectly aligned with contemporary aesthetic sensibilities—she was practically a goddess to men who spent their days surrounded by petite slave girls.

Through his telephoto lens, Ping Qiusheng watched her lean over the gunwale to measure water depth and temperature, her sturdy, sun-bronzed thighs flexing with each movement. The sight stirred certain physiological responses. He sighed wistfully; Zhao Xue had already been won over by Bai Guoshi's persistent proximity. Still, he felt no crushing regret—marriages between Elders were bound by countless restrictions and taboos. Better this than ending up like poor Liu San, whose romantic misadventure had concluded most unpleasantly.

Approximately fifty kilometers west of Cam Ranh Bay lay one of East Asia's more significant bauxite deposits. The survey team harbored hopes of discovering smaller-scale bauxite along the coast. Aluminum was an extraordinarily useful light metal—invaluable for industrial applications, with the Finance Department hoping to eventually mint subsidiary coins from it. Of course, Lingao's electrical capacity remained far from sufficient to support industrial aluminum smelting.

The survey team had failed to discover any resources worth mentioning, which explained why Zhao Xue had spent these past few days wading along Cam Ranh Bay's beaches in her swimsuit—much to Elder Ping's cardiovascular distress.

Ping Qiusheng's personal slave girl was only moderately attractive. Having solved the basic problem of "having one," she had gradually ceased to hold much interest for him. This voyage, he simply left her behind. Though he still dreamed nightly of the Japan governorship, he understood that women of this era's Japan were nothing to write home about—no matter how noble their origins.

Aboard ship, he frequently discussed the slave trade with Quark—though Elder Ping harbored no interest in Quark's existing merchandise. The Malay racial type did not appeal to him. What fascinated him were Quark's accounts of the slave markets in Basra: women of every skin color and nationality gathered there, awaiting purchase. Each time he heard these tales, his blood would race and sleep would abandon him for hours.

That obtuse Quark ought to immediately procure a shipment for the Senate! Though Ping Qiusheng had hinted several times that such exotic female slaves would find an eager market in Lingao, Quark remained utterly oblivious—invariably digressing into tedious comparisons of Southeast Asian slaves versus African slaves.

After two days of rest at Nha Trang, the fleet weighed anchor for their next destination. By this point, Quark's vessels should have been safe enough, but his keen mercantile instincts prompted him to temporarily accompany the Australian fleet to Siam—perhaps additional opportunities for profit awaited.

Aboard ship, Ping Qiusheng organized his accumulated materials. Though Nha Trang was already under the Later Lê's Nguyen control, abundant traces of the Champa kingdom remained. Stone towers dotted the landscape as testament to a civilization once deeply influenced by India—Brahmanism had flourished here, complete with a caste system.

Nguyen governance in this region remained loose. Fortresses were scarce, and signs of military activity virtually nonexistent. Local inhabitants reported that Nguyen officials and troops appeared only to requisition grain and goods, occasionally conscripting able-bodied men. Beyond these intrusions, the administration showed little presence.

Ping Qiusheng discovered several Chinese immigrant villages—the Nguyen's territory was limited, their population smaller still, and large-scale military operations demanded constant expenditure. Thus they actively recruited Chinese immigrants to develop northern lands and pay taxes, offering their leaders various titles and honors as inducement.

Evidently, once the Southeast Asian strategy commenced, establishing secure outposts in this region would pose little difficulty. Nothing elaborate was required—a modest fortress like Yulin Fort would suffice. With Nha Trang's geographic advantages, vast quantities of rice could be obtained here.

The region widely cultivated so-called Champa rice—drought-resistant with a remarkably short growing period of only fifty days from planting to harvest. It had been introduced to Guangdong, Guangxi, and Fujian during the Song dynasties, making it a classic transmigrator cheat code for pre-Song settings. Here at its source, blessed with abundant light and heat, yields were obviously higher. Such grain shouldn't benefit the locals for nothing. The sooner they seized Nha Trang and Cam Ranh Bay, the sooner they could continuously siphon grain resources from central-southern Vietnam, particularly the Mekong Delta region—so Ping Qiusheng calculated.

In the long run, however, the resource value here was limited—beyond rice, nothing particularly special. Perhaps after completing the entire East Asian layout, this territory would resume its traditional role: an Elder vacation port paired with a naval base. Of course, before capturing Malacca, serving as an entrepôt between Australians and Southeast Asia would also suffice.

The fleet sailed past Champa's coastline. This ancient kingdom had established fifteen dynasties since rebelling from Han rule, once renowned as a great power on the Indochinese Peninsula. Now it clung to survival as a diminished state. The Later Lê and Nguyen pressed from the north, the Khmer from the west—had these two nations not been perpetually consumed by internal and external troubles, Champa would long since have been annexed and partitioned.

During several shore landings, the Special Reconnaissance team surveyed the territory. Calling this place a "kingdom" seemed rather generous. They found only villages and ragged inhabitants—grass-hut dwellings devoid of daily necessities. Not even basic coarse porcelain could be found; people used pottery, wooden utensils, and large shells instead. Rich or poor, the sole leisure activity was chewing betel nut. Nearly everyone indulged.

Within their survey range, the team discovered nothing resembling a "city"—only somewhat larger-scale earthen stockades, heavily guarded and perpetually alert against Nguyen invasion.

Yet at certain coastal bays, ruins of former ports remained visible. Some were quite extensive, evidence of once-prosperous cities.

For a nation that had once served as a vital transit point on the Maritime Silk Road, with commerce that once flourished magnificently, to have fallen to such a state—Ping Qiusheng found it truly astonishing.

In his view, the Champa kingdom had brought this upon themselves. Originally, the Nguyen maintained peaceful coexistence with Champa, even hoping to forge marriage alliances. After all, sustaining military pressure on two fronts was hardly optimal strategy. But at this juncture, Champa grew hot-headed—perhaps emboldened by Burma's resistance against the Portuguese, perhaps driven by religious fervor. While barely able to defend themselves, they actually dispatched troops to aid the Johor Sultanate in attacking Malacca. The Nguyen, allied with the Portuguese at this time and dependent on Portuguese warships to counter the Trinh—without that naval support, the south could not resist—turned to attack Champa, simultaneously eliminating a threat and expanding their territory.

Clearly, Champa's situation held great potential. Ping Qiusheng recognized that the intricate web of relationships among the Trinh, Nguyen, and Champa meant that even minimal resources could enable intervention yielding enormous benefits.

After two more days of sailing, their course veered southwest. On the third morning, with the sky barely brightening, a great trumpet-shaped strait entrance emerged before the fleet. Islands of various sizes dotted this alluvial delta estuary—the seaward outlet of what would become Ho Chi Minh City, Saigon, in the original timeline.

But this territory currently fell within Cambodia's sphere of influence. Though popularly called Saigon, the Khmer controlling this place named it Prey Nokor—"King's Forest." It was the domain of the Cambodian kingdom's viceroy, located roughly where District 5 of modern Ho Chi Minh City would stand.

The ongoing North-South war had driven waves of Vietnamese and Champa refugees here to seek refuge. Combined with the already substantial Chinese merchant community, the place appeared reasonably prosperous on the surface. Yet the Cambodian kingdom itself teetered precariously, pressured by Siam from the west.

Not long ago, following the suspicious "death in battle" of Yamada Nagamasa—the Japanese official-merchant in Siam—conspiracy theories had proliferated throughout the region. Suspecting the Siamese rulers were preparing to move against them, large numbers of Japanese immigrants who had previously conducted business and found employment in Siam had also entered Cambodia as refugees. Many fled to Saigon. The place had become something of a Southeast Asian refugee camp.

The fleet's arrival—relatively substantial compared to Dutch and Portuguese vessels here, comprising Quark's two ships plus the Southeast Asia Company's two—provided local residents with another opportunity to gawk at foreign curiosities. Ships flying the Southeast Asia Company's flag had never graced these waters before.

The Khmer maintained no naval forces here. Saigon functioned essentially as a free port, its excellent hydrographic conditions attracting numerous foreign merchant vessels for trade and resupply. But summer brought typhoon threats, so only a handful of Chinese merchant ships plying coastal routes remained in port. Not a single European vessel could be seen.

The fleet anchored at a sandbar in the estuary's midst and established camp. After completing necessary formalities, guides familiar with the area led them toward Prey Nokor city. The party bound for the city included Ping Qiusheng, Quark, and others, accompanied by a marine squad escorting gifts for the local ruler.

The port's natural conditions were excellent. Based on memories from the original timeline, with minor modifications, accommodating vessels of twenty thousand tons would pose little problem.

Along the route, before even reaching the city walls, they encountered numerous shanties lining the road—presumably refugees from the north. Some, observing the group's rather impressive bearing, seemed inclined to approach and beg for food or money. But seeing that everyone in the party wore stern expressions and carried unfamiliar firearms on their backs, they dared not draw near.

Ping Qiusheng noted that despite their ragged appearance, these people still maintained decent complexions—apparently still able to secure some food. They would not need to flee elsewhere to beg. The Mekong Delta's fertility was truly exceptional. What a pity this lot was squandering it.

(End of Chapter)