Chapter 1348 - The Suspicious Element Among the Wretched
These servants were mostly commoners captured from inside the passes in recent years. Upon reaching Liaodong, they had been distributed to work on the estates—torn from wives and children, toiling at backbreaking labor, eating pig slop, living in dugout shelters, endlessly oppressed and abused by estate managers and stewards at every level. To call it a living hell would be no exaggeration.
Being transferred to this "Master from Australia" had initially left them numb. They had long since become people wrenched from their homeland, severed from their families. Whether they slaved in Liaodong or in some place called "Australia" made little difference. Some even felt a measure of gladness: surely being a baoyi bondservant had to be better than grinding away on agricultural estates.
Now, seeing their new master show such care for them—personally arranging their lodgings, ordering his men to give up clothing for them—their hearts, long deadened by torment, began to stir again. The maidservants and scullery maids already had tears brimming in their eyes, and even several of the men couldn't help wiping at theirs, holding back only for fear their master would consider it inauspicious.
After the clothes were distributed, several soldiers arrived carrying bundles of blankets.
"Chief... Master..." the lead corporal began, "the lads pooled these blankets together. There aren't any extras. We figured since our rooms have heated kangs, two of us can share one blanket—that'll free up ten for the new brothers. This big hall is cold and has no kang—"
Before he could finish, someone burst into uncontrollable sobbing. That single cry opened the floodgates, releasing all the pain buried deep within, until the room filled with wailing.
Huang Hua was startled, not understanding what had come over the new servants. Lan Bian quickly stepped forward and called out: "What are you crying for when everything's fine! Don't bring bad luck to Master's household! Everyone stop crying!"
At his shout, the weeping subsided. Lan Bian immediately turned back and bowed deeply to Huang Hua: "Master, everyone is moved by your kindness. Master's benevolent heart... may your descendants flourish, may your house be noble for ten thousand generations..." As he spoke, his own voice caught with emotion.
Only then did Huang Hua understand—all this was because he had distributed clothing. What seemed to him the most natural thing in the world had moved them to such overwhelming gratitude. He could only imagine the depth of suffering they had endured these past years.
He spoke a few gentle words of comfort, then ordered them to change into their new clothes. Then he had food prepared for everyone—time to "eat something decent."
That was easier said than done. Fine grains like rice and wheat flour were scarce in Later Jin territories; only "honored guests" like Huang Hua received daily rice rations. His accompanying soldiers ate white sorghum, and the newly arrived servants—though nominally "provided for by the Ministry of Rites"—were allocated only one jin of sorghum per person per day. Vegetables and salt were not included. For a grown man, this barely filled the belly, let alone qualified as eating well.
Huang Hua found the Ministry of Rites clerk lodging in the temple and produced silver, asking him to purchase wine, meat, and grain. In this goods-scarce, price-inflated Shengjing, this was no easy task. The clerk ran around all day and finally managed to procure two sheep carcasses along with firewood, grain, seasonings, and other necessities.
Two sheep for over forty people was clearly insufficient, so Huang Hua decided to make mutton dumplings. Everyone worked together to strip and mince all the meat. The mutton was too little, of course, but cabbage and radish were plentiful. Wheat flour was nowhere to be found, so they used sorghum flour instead—it lacked the necessary stickiness, so they could only make large stuffed buns to be steamed.
Huang Hua also had the soldiers bring out their compressed instant soup packets and boil a large pot of broth, seasoned heavily with salt. Salt was scarce in the Later Jin; even the upper classes were stingy with it in cooking, and the slaves at the bottom received precious little. All these people showed symptoms of chronic salt deficiency.
For the soldiers, this meal was nothing remarkable—some even found the sorghum products hard to stomach. Back in Lingao, they could at least eat their fill of white rice. But for the newly arrived servants, this was the first proper meal they had tasted in years. Most had lived half-starved lives even before being captured—a meal of fine grain was a luxury, let alone meat. Many ate with tears streaming down their faces.
Huang Hua sat in the place of honor, sipping several cups of roasted-rice wine supplied by the Ministry of Rites and picking at his food. He managed only one of the sorghum-flour mutton-and-cabbage buns before he was full—he simply had no appetite. But watching the servants' expressions of overwhelming gratitude, he found it somewhat incomprehensible.
To Huang Hua, issuing warm clothing to impoverished employees and sharing a communal meal were simply normal things for any ordinary boss to do. He hadn't expected his actions to produce such an effect. Apparently, in this time and place, it was a race to the bottom—whoever did slightly better could "win the hearts of all under heaven."
After dinner, Lan Bian came again to pay his respects, asking whether Master wanted him to "send a young lady to his chambers for service." He added obsequiously that he had already assembled the four girls outside, awaiting only Master's word. It took Huang Hua thirty seconds to realize he was referring to the four maidservants.
He hadn't paid much attention to the four maidservants today, and only thought of them when Lan Bian mentioned it. That the Later Jin had presented him with four maidservants was obviously meant as a gesture of goodwill, but he had to guard against the possibility that they were trying to plant a bedside spy. Hadn't Hong Chengchou, despite his loyal service to the Qing, been given a Manchu woman by Dorgon as a concubine specifically to monitor him?
"Where did these four girls come from?"
"This slave doesn't know. They weren't from our estate." Lan Bian stood hunched and deferential. "I heard they were originally from Prince Amin's household. When the prince recently fell from grace, these women were confiscated to the government..."
"Master has no interest tonight."
"I should mention, Master: one is from Korea, just fifteen, and from a yangban noble family..." Lan Bian narrowed his eyes with a smile. "They say Korean women are quite different. Would you like me to have her come in to serve?"
Huang Hua chuckled. "You're quite skilled at reading your master's wishes. I imagine you were quite the figure back on the estate."
Lan Bian's expression flickered momentarily before he smiled again. "I wouldn't dare presume. This slave was merely a minor overseer on the estate..."
"That doesn't add up." Huang Hua casually accepted a face towel from his orderly. "Your skill at attending to people—you didn't learn that as a foreman on an estate. Since you're now under my roof, speak honestly: which beile's household did you originally serve in?"
Lan Bian showed initial panic but quickly calmed. "Master sees through everything! This slave originally served in Prince Mang's household. This time I was specially sent to attend to Master."
"So you know Shengjing well?"
"I've been here many years. I know the roads well enough."
"I'm thinking of opening a trading post here. Where do you think would be best?"
"Well..." Lan Bian hesitated. "Master, it's not this slave's place to speak on such matters. Besides, we don't know what land the court will grant..."
Huang Hua didn't press further. He changed the subject: "Would you be willing to come with me to Australia?"
"Now that this slave belongs to Master, wherever Master goes, this slave will follow. Without question."
"Hmm. And you don't miss your wife and children?"
Lan Bian smiled. "This slave has no one—no wife, no children. Otherwise, how would I have been assigned to serve Master?" Though he spoke thus, Huang Hua's training in observation from intelligence bureau courses told him the man was lying.
Clearly, this Lan Bian was problematic. Otherwise, there was no reason to conceal having a wife and children—the normal response would be to beg his new master to help bring his family to reunite.
Once we reach Jeju Island, we'll have to interrogate them thoroughly. Huang Hua made up his mind. Yawning, he said: "No need to have them attend me. Let everyone rest early. We leave tomorrow."
The maidservants might be lovely, but he couldn't afford to get involved—first, they hadn't been through purification; second, this would constitute "damaging state property" and could easily provide others with leverage.
Early the next morning, Huang Hua submitted a memorial through the Ministry of Rites announcing his departure. Soon an imperial edict arrived, accompanied by many additional gifts. Personally bestowed upon Huang Hua were ten eastern pearls, all of the finest quality—each the size of a lotus seed, perfectly round and lustrous, extremely precious. But to Huang Hua, accustomed to cultured pearls, they made little impression.
The trade mission completed all formalities and departed Shengjing for Zhenjiangbu. The return journey was equally impressive: cavalry escorts, ten carts of gifts—local specialties like ginseng, furs, and mountain delicacies—plus the servants and horses, making their party even more imposing.
The journey back to Zhenjiangbu was smooth. The Manchu and Mongol commanders there had been waiting with desperate anticipation—practically in tears. They had received orders to provide maximum support to the Haitian. Naturally, the people aboard took full advantage, issuing lists of demanded supplies: except for sorghum and other coarse grains they had no interest in, everything from firewood and vegetables to meat had to be provided by Zhenjiangbu.
By now, the Haitian had consumed half of Zhenjiangbu's stored winter vegetables and completely cleaned out their frozen mutton and pork. The garrison had been reduced to hunting to provide meat. Yet they dared not refuse: on one hand, there were imperial orders; on the other, the Haitian's cannons had already taught them a thorough lesson. If conflict arose, these people could flatten the fortress with ease—and heads would roll when the Great Khan investigated.
Moreover, the Haitian had brazenly set up camp on Duozhi Island, building stoves to boil water, constructing a bathhouse, and taking daily saunas. They had also conducted a thorough shipboard cleaning, airing out clothes and bedding, with hygiene activities in full swing. The Zhenjiangbu garrison watched in amazement each day as the Australians ran naked from the steaming stone building and plunged directly into the river to swim, while underpants and bedsheets hung drying across the island.