Chapter 999 The Shopkeeper and the Artist

By Shan Daoqian's standards, Lingao's train qualified as little more than urban rail transit. It had evolved from the original factory rail car line designed for transporting goods—raw materials, finished products, and workers—between facilities. Over time, the network had expanded from gas-powered locomotive heads to the Meteor-type steam engines, and its routes had grown beyond small railways within factory zones to cover the entire county. The operating line now ran from Wenlan Bridge Station outside the county seat, following the Wenlan River all the way to Bopu, then extending onward toward Maniao—connecting Lingao's principal industrial and port areas into a single integrated system.

Van de Lantron and Trini sat in first class. Due to the coal smoke and steam, the first-class car was coupled at the rear, where conditions were marginally superior to those in the forward carriages. Those cars were flatbed open carriages designed interchangeably for passengers and cargo. When serving as passenger cars, railings were installed around all four sides, and riders simply sat on the floor; when overcrowded, they stood packed together. The complete absence of enclosure eliminated any ventilation concerns.

Only on special occasions—major ceremonies or celebrations—were rows of wooden benches temporarily installed on the flatbed cars.

Naturally, the flatbed cars had no canopies. During rain or extreme heat, temporary canvas awnings were erected. When the train moved, coal smoke and steam pervaded everything, sufficient to choke passengers in the first two cars behind the locomotive. The rails were standard gauge but made of lightly forged wrought iron; the sleepers were equally improvised. The entire rail transit system's equipment was startlingly crude by any reasonable standard.

Yet even this crude motorized transport represented a revolution for Lingao's industry. The small train enabled large numbers of workers to traverse considerable distances in minimal time—a necessity as Lingao's factory zones expanded ever outward and worker residential areas were pushed farther from the production centers.

The first-class car occupied by the two Europeans was reserved exclusively for Senators and for natives and naturalized citizens willing to pay premium fares. Though the carriage chassis was identical to the flatbed cars, a proper body had been added. Glass-inlaid windows were complemented by shutters—under the blazing sun, passengers enjoyed both ventilation and shade. The carriage even featured actual seats.

Van de Lantron surveyed the empty carriage with evident interest—he and Trini were the only first-class passengers this trip.

"This is what constitutes first class?" Van de Lantron examined the furnishings and decorations, which were simple but practical. Even to this Dutchman, the Australians' "first class" fell woefully short of the name.

"Yes, the Australians are simple by nature," Trini replied. "Moreover, their definition of first class is relative to the cars in front."

"Indeed?" Van de Lantron leaned his head out the window with renewed interest. Every forward car was crammed with passengers and cargo. Those who couldn't squeeze inside either clung to the railings or perched high atop the cargo piles, looking down at the world below.

"Quite a spectacle," Van de Lantron laughed. "But I remain skeptical. Loaded with so many people and goods, what exactly powers this train you speak of? And it can truly match the speed of a horse? In your reports, you described it as a machine of fire and water power. Can it really be so marvelous?"

"Precisely so," Trini affirmed. "In my considered opinion, the Australians have mastered many of God's secrets still unknown to us..."

Van de Lantron, a Protestant who sneered at Catholic faith, gave a derisive snort. "The devil's secrets, I'd say—much like that learned countryman of yours, Da Vinci."

Trini held his tongue. He saw nothing worth debating with this Netherlander shopkeeper on such matters. Protestants weren't more devoted to science than Catholics—sometimes quite the opposite. The "Father of blood circulation" had been burned by Calvinists in Switzerland. Trini knew he'd best say little about scientific matters—though Holland was among Europe's most tolerant places on religious questions, the East India Company in Batavia demonstrated no such tolerance.

He had originally intended to share his observations about the train with Van de Lantron, but seeing the man's evident lack of scientific education, he abandoned the idea. At that moment the carriage shuddered, steel groaned, and the carriage began rolling slowly along the tracks.

Some twenty minutes later, the Dutchman and Italian disembarked at "Trading Post" station. A two-wheeled Dongfeng horse carriage awaited them—a public vehicle dispatched by the Colonial Trade Department.

The "Trading Post" was a project jointly proposed by the Colonial Trade Department and the Office Administration. During this year's typhoon season, Lingao had also suffered flood damage. Though no one was displaced, considerable land had been inundated—including much that the Agricultural Committee had planned to cultivate. The Trading Post's designated area was among the flooded zones, except that it had never been cultivated at all.

The flooding resulted from the area's topography: a lowland behind coastal sand dunes. Land at the coastal margin slid seaward year after year; tides returned to deposit sand into beaches; wind blew that sand inland to form natural dunes several meters high and dozens of meters wide; behind these dunes lay subsiding terrain. The Agricultural Committee had invested considerable effort in leveling the land, only to discover that treating the salinity and alkalinity far exceeded current capabilities. The heavy rains that followed turned this discovery into a complete loss, and the Agricultural Committee finally resolved to abandon agricultural development of the site entirely, transferring it to the Forestry Department for transformation.

The Forestry Department planned to convert the entire coastal lowland into a mangrove zone to stabilize sand and resist wind, thereby reducing wave erosion of the coastline. The slightly more inland areas would become coconut palm plantations.

East of this lowland rose a range of low hills, beyond which lay Maniao. With the opening of the Bopu-Maniao railway, the Executive Committee's Office Administration and Colonial Department had decided to convert this land into a future state guesthouse and embassy district. The first step was inviting the East India Company to establish operations here. The money the Dutch paid would be used to dam a nearby mountain stream into a small reservoir for supplying water to the district—and if generators could eventually be mass-produced, they might even develop small-scale hydropower.

The carriage carried them along the road, arriving quickly at the trading post area. The landscape remained desolate—beyond the leveled land stood only a few lonely wooden structures, some still under construction.

The Dutch East India Company trading post was taking shape—or more precisely, its foundation was being excavated. Trini had designed an impressively sturdy and attractive two-story brick hall. However, Lingao Construction Company had estimated the construction period at two years. So the current trading post consisted of two simple yet appealing wooden houses, prefabricated units designed by Zhang Xingpei. They had taken just one week to assemble and decorate completely—a feat that left Trini dumbfounded.

The two wooden structures served distinct purposes: one for offices, one for residence. The Prince's flag and company flag flew from the roof. Trini welcomed his guest into the parlor. The room had been newly furnished with furniture and handicrafts procured from Batavia and Guangzhou. Oil portraits of the Prince of Orange and company directors adorned the walls, lending the space an imposing air.

Though an Italian inhabited the dwelling, it maintained the Dutch passion for cleanliness: spotless and well-ordered. One of Trini's Dutch servants scrubbed the entire house daily. Trini suspected this servant had been sent by the company—nine chances out of ten—to secretly monitor him.

Both men seated themselves. The servant brought local refreshing beverages. They sat on Lingao-produced rattan sofas. Van de Lantron had arrived with a head full of questions; on home ground, he launched immediately into his inquiries. Trini was evidently prepared.

"Mr. Trini, please speak plainly: How would you assess the Australians' military strength?"

"Formidable beyond measure," Trini answered without hesitation. "Their potential is incalculable—terrifying."

"What gave you such an impression?"

"You just rode on their train."

"Yes, the Australian train—quite distinctive."

"You must consider the train's military applications."

"The train is certainly impressive, but it's merely a transport vehicle. Even the finest carriage cannot fight."

"You seem to have forgotten what our masters rely upon to dominate the seas—ships."

"That's different. Trains cannot venture onto the ocean. Furthermore, this train must run on tracks. I fail to see significant military value."

"The train you just rode currently runs at five leagues per hour. I've also witnessed it achieve ten. The Australians have now established tracks connecting their core ruling territory—Lingao, Bairen, Bopu, Maniao—into a single network..."

"Merely to transport goods and craftsmen and farmers."

"They can use trains to dispatch troops from one location to another within mere hours. And they also possess trains specifically designed for combat, equipped with cannons and an infernal weapon they call 'typewriter.' A thousand disciplined Swedish infantry couldn't withstand an armored train for a quarter hour. In truth, a hundred Australian soldiers with a few cannons could tear a thousand of Europe's finest infantry to shreds."

"You exaggerate excessively."

"I swear to God, my words are absolute truth."

"Very well." Van de Lantron nodded. "I shall include your exact words in my report." He had no wish to dwell further on this matter for now. "The company desires to know: Are the Australians preparing any operations targeting its interests?"

"As far as I'm aware—no." Trini hesitated slightly, an expression Van de Lantron caught immediately.

"Speak plainly, Mr. Trini." Van de Lantron lowered his voice. "You're aware that several months ago, an Australian ship visited Formosa..."

"It entered Tayouan harbor?"

"No. It bypassed the port and continued south along the coastline, reaching an uninhabited stretch of coast. There it made landfall. According to information we obtained indirectly from the natives, it must have been the Australians."

(End of Chapter)