Chapter 1091 - Hutuya
Lü Zeyang's Laizhou dialect dispelled much of Fan Twelve's wariness. Observing that this "Regiment Commander" from Lü Family Village was both "sensible" and possessed of a general's calm composure, Fan Twelve's mood lifted somewhat. Lü Zeyang knew his numbers were small and his strength limited—he would inevitably need the able-bodied squad's assistance for many tasks. He employed a few winning gestures to cultivate favor. Fan Twelve was, after all, merely a man who made his living on the streets, lacking deep cunning. After several interactions, their relationship grew harmonious.
Fan Twelve explained that the guanxiang's able-bodied squad was billeted in several nearby ancestral halls and cemeteries. The government had issued some weapons, but the conscripts had received no training, rendering the arms largely useless.
LĂĽ Zeyang offered a few more words of encouragement, then summoned Acting Company Commander Qian Duo.
Qian Duo had enlisted somewhat later than Huang Ande. The two had carried guns and stood watch together. Qian Duo's performance in the ranks had never been particularly distinguished. He had experienced the baptism of the Chengmai Campaign and the subsequent security warfare, and by seniority had risen to Second Lieutenant. Originally just a platoon leader, he had been promoted after the Northbound Detachment arrived in Shandong—frostbite had depleted their numbers, and the 3rd Line Infantry Company Commander remained on Qimu Island, his frozen feet making movement difficult. Qian Duo had stepped into the role as Acting Company Commander.
Despite wearing a coarse homespun cotton robe, the spirit and discipline forged through years of military life could not be concealed.
He strode into the hall with a precise 75-centimeter step, snapped to attention, and saluted crisply: "Acting Company Commander of the 3rd Line Infantry Company, Second Lieutenant Qian Duo, reporting to you! Chief, please instruct!"
"At ease!" LĂĽ Zeyang ordered.
The entrance and those sharp movements startled Fan Twelve—this young fellow had real spirit!
Fan Twelve had observed many incoming militia and local soldiers in the South guanxiang. Most shuffled about with dispirited expressions. Rarely did he encounter anyone with such vitality.
Not only spirited—a faint killing aura emanated from him as well. Running an eatery outside Laizhou City, Fan Twelve had encountered his share of passing soldiers. Men who had seen battle and taken lives carried a distinctive killing intent, utterly different from the raw courage of ordinary brawlers.
"This is Master Fan, the local paijia," LĂĽ Zeyang introduced. "Seek him out if you need anything! Master Fan is the local guardian spirit here. We'll be relying on his assistance while stationed in this area."
Fan Twelve hastened to show a smiling face: "My duty, my duty."
Fan Twelve and Qian Duo then withdrew to discuss matters of garrison placement, sentry positions, and fortification construction. Qian Duo would handle these items one by one. As a Second Lieutenant officer who had endured three months of intensive 16/7 training in the Training Corps, his capabilities in these matters surpassed those of the half-trained Senator LĂĽ. With immediate tasks delegated, LĂĽ Zeyang gathered several Special Reconnaissance Team warriors and departed the guanxiang, heading toward Haimiao Port west of the city to conduct preliminary survey work.
His calculation was this: if he merely assisted Sun Yuanhua in defending the city, he would fail to demonstrate his true value. Only by achieving greater accomplishments in the Engine operation could he effectively elevate his own status and that of the Finance and Economics Department within the Senate. Now was the time to exercise "subjective initiative."
As the war developed, both sides would inevitably wage a tug-of-war centered on Laizhou's defense. The epicenter of rebel devastation would shift from the Dengzhou vicinity to the Laizhou region—what would later become Weifang and western Yantai. If refugees in this area were expected to walk overland all the way to Qimu Island, the distance would be prohibitive. Refugee foot travel was simply too slow. Finding a suitable port near Laizhou to serve as a transfer point became the logical next step.
His plan was to use Haimiao Port, west of the city, as that transfer point. This was a renowned fishing port on Bohai Bay, blessed with excellent conditions. In later generations, countless Shandong commoners "Braving the Journey to the Northeast" had departed from Haimiao, as had the Eighth Route Army when advancing into the Northeast. Better still, the port lay only ten kilometers from the prefectural city, making overland transport to Laizhou relatively convenient. Once fighting began, great numbers of refugees would inevitably flee toward the walled prefectural city, creating pressure on the defense. Sun Yuanhua would almost certainly welcome the Senate's offer to ship these grain-consuming burdens away.
"Once a pier is built at Haimiao Port, with Laizhou City as bait, won't the population come pouring in? The credit would be enormous..." Senator LĂĽ, wrapped in a thick military overcoat and mounted on horseback, could not help wiping the drool from his lips at the thought.
But when he arrived at Haimiao Port to assess the site, his heart sank. The sea was frozen solid.
He had lost Jingzhou through carelessness. In later generations, Haimiao Port regularly appeared on CCTV news as a textbook example of Bohai Bay's winter freezing. During the Little Ice Age of the Great Ming, conditions would only be more severe. Senator LĂĽ had been so fixated on Haimiao Port's geographical advantages that he had unconsciously overlooked this critical detail. Now he could only scratch his ears in frustration. What was to be done?
After circling Haimiao Port in vain, Senator LĂĽ found himself without a solution. Defeated, he mounted his borrowed Mongolian horse from the cavalry team and headed back in low spirits.
Throughout the return journey, Lü Zeyang racked his brain for ways to salvage his plan. Manor Lord Lu in Huang County had already dispatched armed work teams deep into the Jiaodong Peninsula, and the "people collection" effort was proceeding vigorously. Yet his own initiative here had barely begun—and now the wretched weather had ruthlessly snuffed it out. This would inevitably leave the big shots in the Finance and Economics Department with an impression of "exaggeration." Senator Lü deeply regretted the boasts he had made to Cheng Dong and Yi Fan over wine before departure. Fieldwork, it seemed, was not like accounting after all. He had thought too simply.
Returning to his base in the South Pass of the county seat, LĂĽ Zeyang stood before the large-scale map of Laizhou Prefecture, comparing it against the data from his field survey, and pondered.
According to the map, besides Haimiao Port, two other locations in Laizhou offered sea access: Sanshandao to the north and Hutuya to the south. In Lü Zeyang's recollection, Sanshandao had been heavily developed by the local government in later years. He had even visited once or twice. Though geographically closer to the north, it remained ice-free in winter due to ocean currents—a significant advantage. The drawback was distance: a twenty-five-kilometer straight line to Laizhou's prefectural city. Refugees would require two or three days to walk there. The land route was long, and the sea route to Qimu Island measured only twenty nautical miles—too short to justify building a temporary pier economically. Senator Lü shook his head and swung his compass needle toward the second candidate: Hutuya.
Compared to Haimiao Port, Hutuya lay further south. This was effectively the terminus of viable shipping—along the entire Laizhou Bay coastline, only the stretch from Qimu Island to Hutuya consisted of sandy and rocky shore suitable for ship docking. Nearly everything west of Hutuya was impassable mudflat. From an economic standpoint, Hutuya offered maximum value for transferring disaster victims. However, the problem mirrored Haimiao Port's: ice.
"Freezing, freezing..." LĂĽ Zeyang grew increasingly vexed. Turn it over however he might, he returned to this unsolvable obstacle. In truth, based on personal experience, winters on the Shandong Peninsula were not especially harsh. Laizhou rarely saw temperatures drop below minus five degrees. One year, playing the hero, he had gone the entire winter without long underwear. Now it was already the first lunar month of the fifth year of Chongzhen. With optimism, the sea might thaw within one or two months. The Senate could afford that much patience.
The problem was that this was the Ming Dynasty. Reliable climate and hydrological data for Laizhou Bay simply did not exist. If conditions matched his estimate, then during this frozen interval he could use the time to construct facilities near the port and complete preliminary preparations. Refugees could be accommodated temporarily within the city—if grain ran short, Qimu Island could supply Sun Yuanhua with an emergency shipment. Once spring warmed and flowers bloomed, Laizhou City could begin population exports in earnest.
Yet actually doing this raised the issue of refugees departing the city. In the original historical timeline, the rebel main force had camped beneath Laizhou's walls, besieging the city for over half a year. Though ancient sieges rarely achieved complete encirclement "without letting water leak through," the rebels could hardly fail to notice thousands or tens of thousands of people streaming from the city toward the coast.
Still, Lu Wenyuan had mentioned he would try to resolve this matter. As for how, LĂĽ Zeyang could hazard a guess: nine times out of ten, it meant reaching some agreement with the rebels.
Fan Twelve was directing men to carry door planks to the Wang Family Cemetery for constructing bunks. Watching this group of militiamen work efficiently on their own tasks—assigning quarters, building bunks, repairing fortifications—he was quietly impressed. No one shirked duty; no one clustered together to gossip. Though people moved constantly between courtyards, there was no unnecessary noise. Everything proceeded in orderly fashion.
Fan Twelve marveled silently: What manner of village militia were these? They were plainly first-class soldiers!
He wandered into a courtyard where a strange two-wheeled cart was emitting blue smoke—Fan Twelve had seen many carts in his life, but never one with a chimney. Drawn by curiosity, he approached for a closer look. There was actually an iron stove mounted on the cart, fire burning beneath a pot of boiling water. Several cooks busied themselves nearby. Beside the cart lay stacks of wooden crates, Chinese cabbages, radishes, and grain sacks that had just been delivered.
Several baskets of seafood stood in the courtyard as well, still redolent of seawater—probably freshly caught.
The able-bodied workers who had accompanied him to deliver bunk boards also found the sight novel and gathered around to gawk. A stove mounted on a cart—truly a first. Quite the spectacle.
Seeing them crowd close, the cooks did not object, though they forbade anyone from getting too near and strictly prohibited approaching the water buckets and preparation tables. The cooks all wore cloth aprons with sleeves rolled high, and a strange scent clung to their arms.
Fan Twelve was still examining the setup with curiosity when he noticed Qian Duo entering the courtyard and beckoning him over.
"Any orders, Vice Master Qian?"
"The Chief—ah, the Master wants sea intestines and mackerel dumplings. I hear you used to be a cook. Can you make them?"
"Certainly, certainly—those are famous local delicacies." Fan Twelve thought: so Master Lü enjoyed this sort of thing. Though the dish was delicious, few high officials and nobility ever requested it. A "Poor Man's Joy," as they called it.
(End of Chapter)