Chapter 1138 - Cultural Exchange
"You truly are a great mathematician!" Huygens exclaimed, his excitement palpable. "Problems that Mr. Descartes himself couldn't unravel—you've provided solutions with apparent ease!" In his enthusiasm, he'd forgotten the earlier interruption entirely. "Have you published any works I might study?"
Dr. Zhong smiled. "Published works, you say..."
"Duck! The ducks are smoking!" Zhong Xiaoying's cry cut through the air.
Dr. Zhong scrambled for a fork to rescue the roasting birds. Even in this culinary emergency, he didn't abandon his "abduction" plan. "I'll give you a duck—no, wait—a pamphlet," he called to Huygens, juggling hot ducks with one hand. "Take it back for Mr. Descartes. It contains my thoughts on certain mathematical and optical problems."
"That would be wonderful," Huygens replied with eager nods. "Your ducks appear to be done now..."
Before long, Cleadia's fish emerged from the fire and Zhong Lishi's ducks achieved their golden perfection. Grasping a sharp steel knife in one hand and an iron fork in the other, Zhong Lishi personally carved the first duck into precise rows of even slices. He turned to Huygens: "Slicing roast duck is an art unto itself—every slice must contain both skin and meat. Then you roll the duck in a lotus leaf pancake, add scallion segments and sweet bean sauce..." He proffered a prepared wrap. "Come, taste it."
The flour and sweet bean sauce were Dr. Zhong's own provisions; the scallions were locally sourced. All were of the finest quality.
This time, not only Huygens but Cleadia and Westerly gathered round with keen interest. This manner of eating was wholly novel to Europeans—never mind that the Dutch of this era were famously indifferent to cuisine.
Huygens' eyes went wide. For a long moment, he seemed incapable of speech.
"How does it taste?"
"Delicious! Exceptional!" Huygens praised with obvious sincerity. "Far superior to roast goose! Such a complex weave of flavors."
The banquet was held in the Customs Hall. Windows on all four sides stood open, fitted with iron mesh screens that admitted the cool sea breeze while barring the swarms of local insects drawn to the lights.
Gas lamps bathed the entire hall in brilliant illumination. Cleadia wandered in quietly, taking in the scene. Noticing the dense carpet of bugs covering the screens on every side, she felt a wave of revulsion and quickly averted her gaze. Her attention turned to the tableware and cutlery arrayed upon the long dining table, which was draped in a pristine white cloth. Though most dishes were Chinese in style, the format was Western buffet. The table gleamed with porcelain and silverware—Wei Bachi placed great stock in the pomp befitting the "Taiwan Governor's Mansion," determined to project the "majesty of the Committee's highest representative" in every detail.
"So many knives, forks, and porcelain... truly grand," Cleadia whispered to her brother.
Fork usage wasn't yet widespread in Europe at the time, but chopsticks didn't faze her either; she had grown accustomed to Chinese tableware in Batavia and was even eager to try.
Westerly also wore formal attire—he and his sister had received proper invitations. He was feeling overheated; Europeans, particularly those of any standing, refused to shed their layers even in sultry Southeast Asia. His already ruddy complexion had deepened, leaving him looking like a boiled prawn.
"I've heard the Australians live luxuriously," Westerly observed with feigned nonchalance. "Father says they enjoy abundant produce and possess boundless wealth..."
He gestured toward a redwood grandfather clock at the far end of the banquet hall—like its counterpart in Purple Lightning Tower, it was a hybrid of modern mechanism and native craftsmanship.
"Look, Sister—that's an Australian clock. Beautiful, isn't it?" Westerly said with evident relish. "Quite different from Dutch clocks. They say Dr. Zhong built it himself. I should very much like to learn from him."
As the siblings conversed in hushed tones, the great grandfather clock began to chime. After six resonant strikes, music swelled through the empty banquet hall—the official welcome tune sanctioned by the Committee: "Beautiful Australia."
Led by Wei Bachi, Committee members Zhong Lishi, Hong Laojun, Shi Dafu, and others filed in wearing formal attire, their entrance synchronized to the music. Hai Mao and Huygens exchanged speeches, then a band struck up symphonic music and the banquet began in earnest.
Confronted with a table laden with Chinese and Western delicacies, the Committee members and the Dutch contingent accompanying Huygens fell upon the food with gusto, sauces dripping. But Zhong Lishi and Huygens appeared curiously restrained, burping frequently despite eating little. Wei Bachi found this puzzling. "Mr. Huygens," he asked, "is the food not to your liking?"
"Oh, it's wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!"
Observing this, Zhong Xiaoying leaned close to Cleadia and whispered something. Both girls dissolved into giggles. Westerly hurriedly bent to inquire, and Cleadia whispered back: "Those two were taste-testing in the kitchen earlier—each of them ate nearly half a duck and two fish..."
The day after the banquet, Wei Bachi arranged for the Bontekoe siblings to visit the Kaohsiung Health Center, where they underwent physical examinations and received their cowpox vaccinations.
The reaction to cowpox was minimal, requiring scarcely any aftercare. As a precaution, they rested for several days per medical advice, emerging only after the vaccination sites had scabbed over. Zhong Lishi sent them illustrated popular science magazines published by the Grand Library to pass the time. According to the maid assigned to attend them, Westerly read with intense focus, constantly attempting to decipher the Chinese characters accompanying the pictures. He even specifically asked the maid for a Dutch-Australian dictionary or similar reference.
I do have a Dutch-Chinese dictionary, Dr. Zhong mused privately, but I can't very well give it to him. Ready-made copies surely existed in the Grand Library, but demand was too small to justify specialized printing.
Knowledge is power, he reflected. When you possess power, people naturally want to understand you—to learn from you. To learn your language. Teaching language was, in fact, an effective vehicle for cultural dissemination. He ought to suggest that the Grand Library publish dictionaries and linguistics textbooks.
After a moment's thought, he summoned Zhong Xiaoying. He had noticed his adopted daughter seemed to get along splendidly with the two Dutch children, gesturing and laughing throughout the banquet.
"Is Honorable Father asking about Cleadia's Cantonese?" Zhong Xiaoying made a face. "Her Cantonese is about as good as yours, Honorable Father..."
"Ahem." Dr. Zhong coughed pointedly until Zhong Xiaoying relented: "She can manage simple exchanges; for anything complex, she has to resort to gestures. But Miss Cleadia picks up languages quickly—she says she speaks several already."
"In that case, teach her Mandarin properly," Zhong Lishi instructed. "This is your assignment. Her brother too."
"Yes, Honorable Father." Zhong Xiaoying tilted her head. "But they probably won't stay long?"
"They'll remain here at least a fortnight, perhaps longer." Zhong Lishi had already inquired with Huygens; they planned to stay in Taiwan for a full month. Originally, they'd intended to lodge in Fort Zeelandia. But Huygens had recently notified him of a change: they wished to remain in the more comfortable and hygienic Kaohsiung Trading House instead—and were, of course, willing to pay for room and board.
"I also hope to discuss mathematics, astronomy, and physics problems with you at every opportunity," Huygens had declared with evident enthusiasm.
A few days later, the siblings' scabs had healed. Bontekoe had Company business at Tayouan and returned there first, leaving the children in Kaohsiung under Huygens' guardianship.
"Excuse me—where is St. Anthony's Church?" Westerly and Cleadia emerged from the gate. It was their first outing in days, and they squinted against the unaccustomed sunlight.
"Just on the hillside over there," a trading house servant replied, pointing. On a small rise beside the street stood a wooden Jesuit church.
This was the siblings' first time venturing out freely, without escort. The area being entirely unfamiliar, they felt somewhat timid. They had heard there was a Catholic church nearby with European missionaries, so they decided to pay a visit—Cleadia could speak a little Italian.
The Franz von Bontekoe family weren't citizens of the Seven Provinces Republic; they were Germans in the employ of the Dutch East India Company, hailing from an old Hanseatic League port in northwest Germany. Many Germans from this region worked as merchants and sailors. The Bontekoes were, in fact, Catholics.
(End of Chapter)