Chapter 1343 – VIP Treatment
This kind of cheating had happened more than once. Each time, Huang Taiji dispatched stern inquiries to the Korean side, but with little effect. Sometimes Joseon even refused to trade at all, claiming their country simply did not produce the desired goods.
The Yi Dynasty was outwardly submissive yet secretly continued to look toward the Southern Court—his spies confirmed that Joseon's correspondence with the Ming had never ceased.
He was considering how to deliver a lesson to the Yi Dynasty, to remind them not to forget the "brotherly alliance" of old, when a clerk from the Board of War brought him an urgent dispatch.
Huang Taiji glanced at the memo slip attached to the forwarded report—it had come from Zhenjiang Fort, of all places—and started in surprise.
Zhenjiang Fort was the gateway to Korea and a stronghold keeping Dongjiang in check—a position of critical importance. Yet no warnings had issued from Zhenjiang Fort in a long time. Cross-river raids by the Dongjiang Army had ceased since the Korea campaign. And given Dongjiang's present straits, another deep thrust to harass the Yalu seemed vanishingly unlikely.
Huang Taiji monitored surrounding developments daily. Compared to the Ming emperor, who relied on a sprawling secret-police apparatus, Huang Taiji's intelligence on enemy states tended to be more current—partly because he rewarded spies generously, partly because the Later Jin court was "small." Smallness meant fewer layers between ground level and top, less distortion along the way.
Beyond the many agents he had planted in Beijing, he maintained operatives at key points such as Dongjiang and Denglai. Dongjiang's internal strife, the Denglai war, the Beijing court's panicked measures and infighting—news arrived every two or three days, first to the confidential offices of the Board of War, then immediately to the palace.
Huang Taiji had taken keen interest in the Denglai Rebellion. To his eye, the uprising had destroyed years of Sun Yuanhua's painstaking work on the Dengzhou New Army without costing him a single soldier. Moreover, the Dongjiang Army's deep entanglement in the rebellion would inevitably intensify internal splits while fueling the Southern Court's distrust of its frontier garrison.
In effect, the rebellion had removed two major threats to the Eight Banners' flanks at no expense to him. He often found himself thinking: Heaven's Mandate truly belongs to me.
Could the Southern Court's realm be fated to become his Great Jin's dominion? The thought had been occurring to him more and more of late.
What news could be coming from Zhenjiang Fort now? A premonition struck him. His spies had reported, a few months ago, that Kong Youde and Li Jiucheng had fled Dengzhou by sea with several tens of thousands of followers. Yet after their flight, these forces had vanished without a trace. Beijing's reports said only that government troops had recovered Dengzhou and killed the main rebel leaders, offering no explanation of where those tens of thousands of fugitives had gone.
Could this be remnants with nowhere else to turn, coming to surrender to his Great Jin?! Huang Taiji felt a secret thrill of anticipation. Among those tens of thousands of rebels must be many firearms experts from the original Dengzhou army—perhaps they had even brought along the weapons and warships the Eight Banners so desperately lacked. If so, his army would grow wings.
With such hopes, he opened the dispatch. It did indeed report "ships arriving from the sea"—but the matter had nothing to do with the Dengzhou remnants. Rather, a strange large vessel had appeared, manned by people with shorn hair and short clothing, all very peculiar. These newcomers possessed extraordinarily powerful cannons; because the garrison commander had refused them permission to land, they had already shelled a section of Zhenjiang Fort's walls to rubble.
They were now requesting trade with the court.
"How strange. Everyone else avoids us, yet these people come knocking at our door. Bold indeed." Huang Taiji allowed himself a slight smile.
Since the other party sought trade, the financially strapped Later Jin court naturally welcomed them.
He immediately ordered two men summoned—Ding Wensheng and Zhao Fuxing, clerks of the Board of War—to inquire about the incident's specifics.
It emerged that the day after the Haitian anchored, Zhenjiang Fort's garrison had dispatched several hundred men in small boats to raid Duozhi Island, attempting to destroy the ship in one stroke. They had been partially wiped out by the vessel's guns and the marines on the island, then fled back in disarray. Subsequently the Haitian had bombarded Zhenjiang Fort, demolishing more than a dozen zhang of wall and killing or wounding about a hundred military and civilian personnel. The guns' power exceeded even the Hongyi cannons.
After that beating, the garrison commander, recognizing that he was outmatched, obediently sent someone to inquire about the newcomers' intentions. He learned they called themselves "Great Australia" and wished to trade with the court.
"This 'Great Australia'—their ships and cannons are so formidable—how is it we've never heard of them? Where is this country? Did they ever offer tribute to the Southern Court?" Huang Taiji's curiosity was piqued.
The two clerks spoke in unison: they had never heard of any "Great Australia," let alone its formidable ships and guns. These men held their posts precisely because they were learned and well-informed. Yet, racking their brains and searching every geographic text at hand, they found not half a word about "Great Australia."
At first they had been inclined to assume this was merely a group of Ming sea merchants using a foreign banner as cover to trade with Later Jin—sea merchants were lawless by nature, and such ruses were not unheard of.
But according to the dispatch, the other side's ships and guns were plainly superior to the Ming's, and their soldiers all used muskets and were fierce and skilled fighters. This did not quite accord with ordinary maritime traders.
"Let it be. Since they have come from afar, their sincerity is praiseworthy. Grant permission. Order Sahalian of the Board of Rites to arrange the Great Australian envoys' entry to the capital immediately!"
Shortly after this order was issued, a second memorial arrived from Zhenjiang Fort, accompanied by a thick, beautifully printed catalogue.
This was the product directory intended for Later Jin sales. After examining the catalogue, Huang Taiji immediately issued a second order: the Board of Rites was to dispatch horses and laborers at once to transport the envoy mission's cargo. At the same time, proper reception ceremonies and suitable quarters were to be arranged.
Though the envoys had repeatedly emphasized they were merely a "trading company," Huang Taiji ordered their reception according to "diplomatic envoy" standards. For this small Later Jin court—already eyeing China proper—so excellent an opportunity to demonstrate "foreign vassals paying tribute" and "all seas returning to the heart" certainly could not be passed up.
Thus Huang Hua was welcomed to the capital amid a sudden surge of hospitality.
Coming to receive him were clerks from the Board of Rites along with other Later Jin officials. They brought two hundred horses—for Huang Hua's entourage to ride and for hauling the gifts and sample goods. But Huang Hua's party numbered only twenty, and even with their cargo did not require two hundred mounts. The remainder were left temporarily at Zhenjiang Fort.
For Huang Hua himself, they had prepared a two-mule felt-canopied sedan litter—the most comfortable travel conveyance of the age. Its spacious interior allowed sitting or reclining; one might even bring along beautiful maids or handsome pages for entertainment. It was Huang Hua's first time riding in such a vehicle. Once inside, he found the appointments lavish: tea and refreshments had been set out with thorough care.
"These Tartars really know how to treat a guest—VIP service," Huang Hua muttered amid thick layers of felt padding. "But I'm not so easily bought."
Before his litter, a bondservant walked on the left driving the mules, while a mounted battalion commander in charge of reception rode on the right. The Board of Rites clerks followed in their own mule cart. Around them rode about a hundred Later Jin cavalry. By the banners, he knew them to be Bordered Yellow Banner men.
The journey would take many days. Travel was tedious, but Huang Hua spoke not a word more to the reception officials. Throughout he kept his eyes closed, ostensibly resting, though in truth his mind never stopped working. He was considering how to negotiate with Later Jin officials once he reached Shenyang—or, as they called it, Shengjing.
The first problem was the question of ritual obeisance.
Personally, Huang Hua did not mind kowtowing. A businessman's pride had long since shattered; in the old days, when he'd accompanied clients to brothels and whores, that too was a kind of kowtowing. But his current status was that of envoy. The Senate didn't even hold the Ming emperor in high regard, let alone Later Jin, this petty local regime. Kowtowing was absolutely unacceptable.