Chapter 1132 - Kaohsiung Development
The Navy's demands strained Wei Bachi's already limited manpower. He resented seeing resources siphoned away by naval requirements, but under the imposing banner of "Operation Engine," he could hardly refuse their requests. And he knew very well that without the First Fleet's presence, Kaohsiung City would not exist.
The carriage rolled into the courtyard before City Hall. Ceremonial guards at the gate snapped to attention in unison. A naturalized citizen in an open-collared tropical cadre uniform emerged to usher them into the main building.
"Is the banquet ready?" Wei Bachi inquired.
"According to your instructions, the reception is arranged on the rooftop terrace."
The group ascended to the terrace, where an awning had been erected and rattan tables and chairs arranged beneath it. The sea breeze sweeping in from the ocean was wonderfully refreshing. A sumptuous meal awaited them, with bottles of kvass and lemonade beaded with condensation from chilling.
Zhong Lishi and the others, their appetites ruined by days of "seafaring rations," gazed upon the laden table with something approaching rapture. Dispensing with formalities, they took their seats and fell upon the food.
The centerpiece was venison—Taiwan's second most valuable export after deerskins. Venison was almost entirely lean, with little fat, its flavor light and well-suited to the tropical climate.
Dr. Zhong noted that while the venison, pheasant, seafood, and vegetables were plentiful, the cooking remained rudimentary and the seasoning sparse—still at the level of "big portions, simple preparation." He felt increasingly convinced that his culinary talents were wasted here. Dr. Zhong was a man of refined palate; after a few years in Lingao, he had found the Committee canteen so uninspiring that he had long since begun cooking for himself.
Seeing that local ingredients were fairly abundant, he could not help calculating how to arrange his own meals during his stay.
From this vantage point, one could survey the general outline of Wei Bachi's domain. City Hall was impressive, and the square, roads, and docks appeared well-constructed. But looking out across Kaohsiung City itself revealed what was essentially a vast, strictly regulated shantytown. The buildings occupying most of the urban area were rows of unadorned wooden stilt-houses coated with coal tar, punctuated by the occasional two-story structure. Taiwan's frequent typhoons, earthquakes, and mudslides made such wooden construction a practical adaptation to the environment.
The entire city was encircled by earthen ramparts, bamboo palisades, and moats. Wooden watchtowers with thatched roofs stood at intervals along the perimeter. Beyond these defenses, farmland and plantations spread outward—recently cleared, their roads, drainage trenches, and irrigation canals still unfinished and somewhat chaotic. Farther along the roads, several newly built standard villages were visible.
The only areas that truly "looked like a city" were City Hall itself, the docks, and a commercial street outside the northwest gate.
Beyond stretched a vast, barren plain, most vegetation still in its primeval state. Sitting on the roof of a European-style city hall in the midst of such a settlement, dressed neatly and sipping chilled lemonade served by maids and attendants, the Committee members suddenly felt like British colonials.
Yet the area they had reclaimed remained pitifully small. Apart from the patch of ground they occupied, even the cultivated farmland appeared as mere scratches on the skin of the wilderness. The beaches were choked with mangroves; everywhere dense banyan trees, cycads, and bamboo proliferated.
From a purely touristic perspective, the scene before them was precisely the pristine tropical coastal landscape beloved by the petty bourgeoisie. But every man present felt the weight of worry and pressure.
To transform this so-called Kaohsiung City—which resembled nothing so much as an early medieval European settlement—into Taiwan's capital, a regional hub connecting Northeast and Southeast Asia, a naval base, a political, economic, cultural, and industrial center, and the staging ground for developing all of Taiwan... who could say how many years that would require?
As they raised their glasses, the conversation turned to Kaohsiung's development. Wei Bachi inevitably sighed and let loose his complaints. Through persistent lobbying, the quota of migrants allocated for local settlement had been expanded to ten thousand. This finally gave him a substantial foundation beyond the Tainan Agricultural Reclamation Regiment that had landed in the first wave.
But more people meant heavier burdens. These ten thousand souls required settlement after completing quarantine, allocation to various villages according to Wen Desi's standard configuration, and organization into intensive state-owned farms. Wei Bachi understood that although the Agricultural Committee had issued no formal land reclamation targets, Kaohsiung faced the vast Jianan Plain—Taiwan's primary agricultural region in the old timeline. Expectations ran high from top to bottom. If he fumbled about for a year without producing solid results, his tenure as Kaohsiung's mayor would come to an inglorious end.
After multiple calculations, Wei Bachi had set himself a target: thirty thousand mu of wasteland reclaimed by the end of 1632.
Thirty thousand mu divided among ten thousand people meant each person had to clear three mu in half a year.
This was demanding work on raw land with dense native vegetation—especially since the local flora was extraordinarily vigorous. Even after burning off the growth, oxen often lacked the strength to break the soil, forcing reliance on manual hoeing.
"Reclamation is brutal work and devours tools," Wei Bachi said. "Apart from the fully equipped Tainan Regiment, I don't even have proper implements for the ten thousand newcomers." He shook his head. "Bai Yu promised me a few steam tractors, but heaven knows when they'll arrive. Fortunately, Feng Zongze is a good enough friend—the horses and oxen approved by the Planning Committee were shipped immediately." He gazed out at the farmland beyond the city walls. "If only we had tractors."
The other Committee members knew little about agriculture and could offer no comment. Liu Zheng, however, was concerned about another matter entirely.
"You're clearing land out here—haven't those headhunting savages given you trouble?"
According to Liu Zheng and most Committee members, after landing in Taiwan, Wei Bachi would inevitably have to play the colonist, exchanging glass beads for indigenous land. Unexpectedly, there had been no contact whatsoever.
Wei Bachi shook his head. "Actually, no. The natives retreated from this area long ago. I don't know why. The Special Reconnaissance Team reported that native villages and rice paddies once existed here. When we first landed, we found evidence of previous cultivation. For some reason, they all fled inland."
Liu Zheng understood the history. "They suffered at the hands of Ming pirates. Years back, pirates landed and tried to take heads; the pirates took losses and returned for revenge, slaughtering the natives like chopping vegetables. So they fled inland. These savages don't learn respect until you use blades."
"Aside from a few people coming to observe us quietly at the beginning, the natives here have essentially vanished. They don't contact us or come to trade either." Wei Bachi took a cold towel from his aide and mopped the sweat from his forehead. "Last year, the Haitian had a skirmish with them here and killed quite a few. So now they both fear and hate us. I've heard from Han peddlers who trade with them: to the natives, we're practically demons. That suits me fine—saves me from having to trick them into signing land deeds."
Dr. Zhong smiled. "It's only a matter of time. Don't assume the natives are uncivilized—they have deep attachments to their land."
Fang Jinghan had been preoccupied with his survey mission. Hearing that peddlers maintained contact with the natives, he grew immediately interested—he would need guides for his expeditions. He pressed for details.
Wei Bachi explained that he had renovated a small port west of Kaohsiung City and then built a commercial street beside it.
The purpose of this market was not primarily profit, but intelligence gathering through trade with local Han people and natives—and, incidentally, the cultivation of potential guides.
"What is the attitude of the nearby natives toward outsiders? Do they hunt heads?"
"I've heard the natives speak of the so-called 'Eight Phoenix Mountain Tribes.' They don't practice headhunting. But they're hardly welcoming to outsiders—killing a stranger is commonplace for them." Wei Bachi's expression grew somber. "When the Haitian came for reconnaissance, they suddenly attacked the scout team."
(End of Chapter)