Chapter 1137 - The Dutch Guests
"Espionage is a certainty. Never mind this era—even centuries hence, diplomats will still shoulder the duty of gathering intelligence," Wei Bachi declared dismissively, gesturing with his cigar. "Regardless, we'll flex a bit of muscle. Perhaps one day we'll be able to tell the Dutch to vacate Tayouan without ever unsheathing a sword."
What truly captivated the Committee members was talk of the "little foreign mare"—they had puzzled over why the Dutch would drag children halfway across the world to East Asia. When Dr. Zhong explained it was for vaccination purposes, relief washed through the room. In an age when emperors and peasants alike blanched at the mere whisper of "blossoms"—smallpox—a medical technique that could prevent infection justified almost any risk.
Besides, given their station, while the sea voyage was surely arduous, these were no wretched sailors or petty merchants. They needn't risk their lives aboard leaking hulks requiring constant pumping to stay afloat, nor would they perish from months of worm-eaten hardtack and backbreaking labor. Their safety, comparatively speaking, was assured.
"Speaking of which, what exactly are their ranks and positions?" Wei Bachi inquired.
"According to the messenger from Tayouan, Huygens' father represents the Prince—meaning he speaks for the government of the Seven Provinces, not the East India Company. As for Mr. Bontekoe, he's a Senior Merchant of the Company, at minimum the equal of Hans Putmans in rank."
"I still don't understand why the Dutch would dispatch both a diplomat and a Senior Merchant to Taiwan," Liu Zheng mused, brow furrowed. "And on a dedicated ship, no less? Just to vaccinate their children and admire our construction projects? Have they taken leave of their senses?"
"I believe their primary purpose is to negotiate with the Shogunate over the Hamada Yahei incident," Wei Bachi replied. He had mulled over this question at length. "From 1626 until now, Japanese-Dutch trade has been suspended. According to historical records, the matter was indeed settled this year—with a final Dutch capitulation."
This interpretation put everyone more at ease. Trade with Japan was the Dutch East India Company's most lucrative commercial activity in East Asia; their desperation to resolve the impasse was easy to imagine.
"The only peculiarity is this Dutch government representative. Constantijn Huygens isn't a Company employee, and the United Government of the Seven Provinces rarely meddles in the Company's Asian affairs."
Li Di stroked his chin. "Huygens' true target is likely us. After all, we've become a major power in East Asia."
"That's possible," Wei Bachi conceded with a nod. "We'll entertain them lavishly and see what cards they choose to play."
He turned to Zhong Lishi with an amused glint. "I'll leave the hosting duties to you. You seem quite taken with Papa Huygens..."
"I'm interested in his son—" Zhong Lishi blurted, then caught himself at how that sounded. He coughed and pivoted: "They are guests; naturally we must fulfill our obligations as hosts." His earnest gaze swept across the other Committee members. "They are guests. Under no circumstances should we do anything to frighten them. We must be dignified."
Every Committee member promptly declared themselves "delighted to have friends from afar" and harbored absolutely no untoward "zombie" thoughts, insisting they were perfect "gentlemen" of the Committee, and so forth. They unanimously approved a grand reception for their distinguished Dutch visitors. Wei Bachi proved particularly enthusiastic:
"We must entertain our foreign—no, our guests—properly." He waved his cigar for emphasis. "Let them experience the full depth of the Committee's hospitality and our sincere friendship toward the Dutch people."
At dusk, Zhong Lishi and several cooks labored in the Customs House kitchen, preparing dishes for the reception.
Beyond his scholarly pursuits, Dr. Zhong was a bona fide gourmand. He didn't merely love to eat—he delighted in mastering the preparation of dishes himself. In Lingao, he had begun cooking early on. After the Taibai Observatory was completed, colleagues from the Science Department would gather there for Dr. Zhong's cooking whenever they procured quality ingredients or conjured a suitable excuse. Some joked that the observatory housed as much kitchenware as scientific instruments.
For this business trip to Taiwan, he had prepared amply to satisfy his palate. Kitchen utensils and condiments filled an entire crate. The Customs House kitchen, previously bare, was now entirely his domain.
The kitchen buzzed with activity. Zhong Lishi instructed Zhong Xiaoying to monitor a pot of simmering tomato bisque while he wielded a mallet, pounding meat into a fine paste for yanpi—dumpling wrappers fashioned from meat and starch. Having prepared the wrappers, he turned to ask Xiaoying to fetch the seasoned filling, only to discover that the person assisting him was Huygens.
Zhong Lishi started. "Mr. Huygens? How did you—"
Huygens offered a slight smile. "I too take great interest in culinary arts. Your daughter mentioned that you excel at cooking, particularly that your roast duck is exceptional. I wished to observe how your roast duck differs from our roast goose..."
"Welcome! Most welcome! Please forgive the chaos..." Zhong Lishi greeted him warmly while wondering privately: When did Zhong Xiaoying learn German? These Dutchmen cobbling together a few mangled Cantonese phrases would already be remarkable enough.
He glanced back and spotted Zhong Xiaoying deftly pumping air into a duck, laughing and chatting with the blonde girl. Though he couldn't make out their words, they were clearly communicating.
"Xiaoying!?" Zhong Lishi exclaimed in surprise.
Huygens noticed his astonishment and couldn't suppress a smile. "No need to be startled. Your daughter doesn't speak German, but Cleadia learned a fair amount of Chinese from Chinese sailors and merchants during the voyage and in Batavia..."
"Cantonese, I presume?" Zhong Lishi said.
Huygens looked puzzled. "Is that not Chinese?"
Zhong Lishi didn't know whether to laugh or cry. This enduring misunderstanding—the assumption that all Chinese spoke Cantonese, persisting even in twentieth-century Hollywood films—apparently had a long pedigree. "Consider this," he offered. "You speak Low German, while Mr. Bontekoe and I converse in High German... One can hardly call them the same language."
"Ah, I take your meaning." Huygens looked thoughtful. "Though the German you speak is quite peculiar..."
Dr. Zhong was about to elaborate when laughter erupted from the two girls beside him. Catching Zhong Lishi's gaze, Zhong Xiaoying flashed him a mischievous grin and called out in Mandarin: "Honorable Father, I don't fully understand her Cantonese either!"
"Mind your work—watch out for burns!" Dr. Zhong admonished.
"Cleadia says she wants to teach me how to cook fish the Dutch way," Zhong Xiaoying reported.
"Splendid. That's excellent." Zhong Lishi mused that this was a fine way to foster friendship—though what practical use such friendship might serve remained unclear.
Then he caught himself: his thinking had become thoroughly "Committee-ized." Everything had to possess meaning and utility.
Zhong Lishi suspended the air-pumped ducks in the oven—six in total. Between the Committee members and the Dutchmen, who were likely hearty eaters as well, six ducks were the bare minimum. He inspected the fire, adjusted it with an iron hook, and closed the door only when the heat felt right before drifting over to observe Cleadia's Dutch-style roast fish.
"Remove the bones, tail, and head, leaving only the flesh... then add olive oil, bay leaves, onions, and milk..."
Cleadia's skill was evident; her movements were deft and practiced. Dr. Zhong couldn't help praising her several times. This girl appeared to be from a respectable family, yet she moved through a kitchen with surprising confidence.
"I used to help Mama cook," Cleadia explained. "Later, God took Mama away, so only I cooked..."
Dr. Zhong knew that life expectancy was short in this era, but her words suggested the Bontekoe family hadn't been wealthy in earlier years—otherwise, with labor so cheap, neither wife nor daughter would have needed to cook. No wonder she and Zhong Xiaoying found common ground; both came from working backgrounds.
"Miss Bontekoe is a most capable young lady. She looked after our daily needs throughout the entire voyage," Huygens remarked with a smile. He was a Dutch noble and diplomat, but the social atmosphere of the Netherlands diverged from that of most European countries; aristocrats and the wealthy lived simply and valued honest labor. Their attitude toward work was correspondingly positive.
Dr. Zhong seized the opportunity. "Mr. Huygens, how fares your young son Christiaan?"
(End of Chapter)