Chapter 1650 - The Collaborators
The days of "enjoying the fruits of victory" were always especially sweet. Li Cunfa and the monk Daole had manipulated markets high and low, amassing considerable wealth. Both had come to savor an "Australian-style life."
But greed knows no bottom. Gradually, the profits from monopolizing the mat-grass trade no longer satisfied their appetites. The Pearl River Delta's thriving commercial economy and high proportion of cash crops meant the rural usury market was quite active. Li Cunfa and Daole had begun lending money at interest. They possessed the halo of "Australian Liaison Officers" and counted as local powerhouses—decent backing for such a business. Combined with the capital accumulated over several years in the mat-grass trade, they quickly established themselves and business boomed. Before long, their operating capital proved insufficient for all the loans they wished to issue. And so their eyes fell upon the "Reasonable Burden."
Sanliang Market's Reasonable Burden was paid in cash silver—as Hu Xuefan had explained, it took time to convert mat grass into silver, so a delay of several months was accepted as normal. Li Cunfa began working the margins: beyond the permitted delay, he would stall an extra month.
With that additional month, the Reasonable Burden silver could be lent out to generate considerable interest—a fine example of using borrowed eggs to hatch more chickens.
But walls have ears. Though they hadn't actually embezzled the Australians' money, their dealings remained somewhat "improper." Li Cunfa had grown uneasy—he'd heard the Australians were quite particular about financial matters.
When Chief Hong suddenly summoned the Liaison Officers from villages subject to the "Reasonable Burden" to a meeting in Guangzhou, he felt considerable alarm. Yet he dared not refuse. Upon arriving in Guangzhou, he learned it was actually a "mobilization assembly."
The assembly was rather peculiar. The presiding officials were all "Australian Chiefs," and the agenda was simple: every village was to establish, beyond the Reasonable Burden, a dedicated "public granary" and pre-store a certain amount of grain proportional to their production capacity—to be "held in reserve for use."
Beyond grain, each village was also required to prepare firewood, repair a number of boats "for standby use," and compile registers of their able-bodied men. This made the Liaison Officers somewhat uneasy. It sounded like preparations for an army "passing through." Were the Australians—who had only besieged Guangzhou a few years prior—planning another attempt to extract "ransoming fees"?
If the county offices had demanded such things, every village would already be in an uproar—troops "passing through" were hardly better than bandits descending upon you. Even if the main army didn't traverse your village, just the support work of providing firewood and grain was heavy burden. You'd also have to negotiate with the Ordnance Office clerks, paying silver to placate the yamen underlings and supply masters. Otherwise, your grain would be declared "moldy and deteriorated," your firewood labeled "rain-soaked and waterlogged"—everything dismissed as "negligence of military supply."
Because the Australians had left an impression during their earlier visit of being "scrupulously honest and never touching a blade of grass," and because everyone knew they actually paid for any requisitions beyond the Reasonable Burden, the common folk were not quite as frightened. Still, war was never good. If the Australians and government forces fought to a stalemate and both sides kept passing through, nothing could be guaranteed anymore.
The Liaison Officers who had attended the assembly all departed with heavy thoughts weighing on their minds. Li Cunfa had originally planned to hurry back to Sanliang Market and discuss matters with Daole: even if it meant taking losses on the interest, they should recall their outstanding loans—if war broke out and chaos descended, those debts would be in serious jeopardy. But then he received notice that he was to remain behind. An "Australian" wanted to see him.
"You're Li Cunfa, the Liaison Officer from Sanliang Market?" the Australian across from him asked. Seeing his benign expression and hearing him speak authentic Cantonese, if slightly odd in cadence, Li Cunfa's mood calmed somewhat.
"Yes, your humble citizen Li Cunfa." He bowed.
"Have a seat."
"Yes, with your permission."
Hong Huangnan's reason for summoning Li Cunfa was not simply because of the delayed Reasonable Burden—that wasn't even his department. His purpose in clarifying the matter was to use it as a minor point of leverage.
As a Transmigrator of rank, there was ordinarily no need to employ such tactics on a semi-naturalized citizen. But what he wanted to accomplish was actually connected to Shop Number 82—effectively a private matter. If brought into the open, it would be somewhat difficult to defend.
"What kind of business do you run in Sanliang Market?"
"Your humble citizen makes his living trading mat grass," Li Cunfa said cautiously.
"The profits must be good." Hong Huangnan spoke casually, watching the other man's reaction. Sure enough, Li Cunfa's body trembled slightly—guilty as charged.
What exactly Li Cunfa had done, Hong Huangnan didn't yet know, but clearly something made him nervous before the Council of Elders. Considering that Sanliang's Reasonable Burden had always been paid in full, albeit late, it was probably just cases of using connections to bully others and exploit the local people.
"The mat-grass business must be going well," Hong Huangnan said. "If I recall correctly, the local tyrant who was hanged was also in the mat-grass trade."
Li Cunfa steeled himself. "Master Luo was a great merchant. Your humble citizen is just a small peddler—there's no comparison."
"Whether there's a comparison or not, you know best in your own heart." Hong Huangnan didn't waste words. "Are you only selling mat grass now?"
Li Cunfa was nearly frightened out of his wits by the first sentence, but fortunately the second didn't pursue the matter further. His spirit returned to his body and he hastily said, "Beyond selling mat grass, we also weave mats for sale."
"Many townspeople make their living this way," he added. "Even ordinary women help by braiding grass ropes and weaving mats. A season's work earns them at least a few coins to supplement the household."
"Can you weave mats in these styles?" Hong Huangnan produced a thick booklet. Li Cunfa took it and found a catalog of various mat patterns—most of which he had never seen before, with dozens of different designs. This must be Australian merchandise! He hesitated: "Some I can. Others I've never seen the actual items—but for a skilled craftsman, if you give them a sample to study and take apart, they can figure it out..."
"Good."
Li Cunfa was confused about what this "good" meant. Then he heard Hong Huangnan say: "This year, don't bother weaving mats for now."
Li Cunfa felt as though lightning had struck. Thinking the Transmigrator Hong meant to punish him, his face went pale and he stammered: "This—this—if we don't sell mat grass and don't weave mats, we won't be able to pay this year's Reasonable Burden. Besides... besides..." Inspiration struck. "So many common folk in Sanliang depend on mat-weaving for their livelihood. If you forbid them from weaving, wouldn't that... wouldn't that..."
"I'm not forbidding anyone from weaving," Hong Huangnan said. "Gather all the craftsmen and women there and have them weave straw sacks instead. After the rice harvest comes in, use rice straw for weaving too. I'll send someone with the specifications for the sacks."
"Yes, yes." Li Cunfa still didn't understand.
"I want straw sacks in large quantities. As many as you can make." Hong Huangnan said. "Rest assured—we'll pay for all the sacks at market price."
"Yes, understood." Li Cunfa's heart steadied. But instantly he realized: the Australians were definitely going to war!
Straw sacks were mostly used for packing bulk goods—primarily rice, salt, and sugar. If the Australians wanted him to prepare massive quantities of straw sacks, the reason was obvious: they would use the sacks to transport grain and provisions with the army.
With the Australians making preparations on this scale, what exactly were they planning? Li Cunfa's hair stood on end. But at this moment he could spare no thoughts for speculation. Seeing Chief Hong signal his dismissal, he hastily excused himself.
I need to get back to Sanliang Market immediately! That was his only thought.
"Husband, why haven't you slept yet?" His wife climbed drowsily out of bed and looked at Lin Ming, who sat draped in a garment, staring blankly in the moonlight. Bibo, feeling hot, had half-crawled out of the covers, exposing her snow-white arms.
Her husband, who had been away from home for nearly a year, had returned suddenly a few days ago. Lin Ming's wives and concubines had barely recognized the man who had once cut such a fine, spirited figure: now he was dark, thin, and dressed in tattered rags, his hands covered with calluses. Though he hadn't spoken of his experiences since returning, Lady Lin and the four concubines all knew their master had suffered greatly on this journey.
At least he had returned safely. The wives and concubines, who had spent so long fearing the worst, could finally set their hearts at ease. Their husband was the pillar of this household—without him, there would be no home. Naturally, they had welcomed him home with a feast and attended to his every need with the utmost care.
After returning, Centurion Lin resumed his old routine: going to the garrison to sign in, reporting for roll call each day. Aside from enthusiastically seeking the comforts of his bed with his wives and concubines night after night—having gone without for half a year—there was little outward change. Yet his temperament had become taciturn. Even at home, he showed little interest in drinking and making merry with his women. Something clearly weighed on his mind.
Lady Lin rose, poured Lin Ming a cup of warm tea, then covered Bibo with the blanket and whispered: "Husband, what's the matter?"
"Nothing," Lin Ming said.
"You must have suffered a great deal on this journey." Lady Lin saw that it was deep in the night, Bibo was sound asleep, and this was an opportune moment for private conversation between husband and wife. "Though Qianqian wasn't found, you did try your best to search for her. If she couldn't be found, it's simply her fate... Please don't blame yourself too much."
"I'm not worried about her." Lin Ming's feelings were complex. After being captured in Lingao, he had witnessed the Australians' power firsthand. Out of a combination of insight and fear for his life, he had formally surrendered to the Cropped-Heads. Following a brief period of political study and training, he had been sent back to Guangdong with orders to "lie low" at home and wait for a messenger to summon him to action.
Though he felt he had "seen the tide of history clearly" and knew that within a few years the Australians would sweep across the mainland and claim the throne of the Nine Provinces, he still felt a vague sense of shame at having surrendered. His position of Centurion had been passed down through generations—several generations of his family had served as officials. And he had simply surrendered like this? Whenever he thought about it, he felt deeply unsettled.
Though the Australians hadn't made him shave his head and had released him to reunite with his family, that came at a price. Without a doubt, when the Australian army arrived, he would be a natural collaborator. By then he would probably have to shave his head and don the Australians' short jacket, becoming "a founding father of yet another dynasty."
(End of Chapter)