Chapter 1654 - Sixian Channel

After finishing this rectangular mooncake, lunch was complete. Lin Ming felt his belly was full, yet somehow empty—as if he hadn't really eaten anything. What kind of meal was that!

"How was it? Pretty good, right?" Kang Mingsi asked, watching Suo Pu drink tea continuously.

"Not bad." Suo Pu naturally understood the mockery in Kang Mingsi's words. This Grassland compressed field ration had become a topic of conversation in the Fubo Army ever since it was introduced. Countless jokes and witticisms in the ranks used it as their inspiration. Except for new recruits who had never eaten a full meal before enlisting, no one would call it tasty.

The reason it wasn't appetizing wasn't due to some principle like "emergency rations must taste bad, otherwise soldiers will eat them as snacks." Rather, it was because its main ingredient was dried sweet potato flour. The fiber-rich potato flour was hard to swallow, and the military couldn't obtain sufficient oil supplies. Thus, the compressed rations couldn't be given the same fragrant aroma as stir-fried flour.

But for Suo Pu, the key issue was that the Grassland rations had far too few calories—not even half that of the PLA's traditional compressed field rations. This meant the supply standard would have to double. That was why this batch of Grassland rations had been supplemented with "energy bars," using large amounts of sugar to increase caloric supply. To cut the sweetness, pickled mustard had also been added.

"You might want to pay more attention to when you'll feel hungry. This is the first field test of the new ration package."

"We're being transported by boat, so our caloric expenditure isn't high. I estimate we won't be hungry until seven or eight in the evening," Kang Mingsi said, patting his belly. "Xiao Xie, let's get back to work!"

Suo Pu watched as Kang Mingsi continued instructing Xie Peng in combat logistics staff work. His own attention was on the geography and scenery along the way. In another time-space, he had visited many cities in the Pearl River Delta, but here and now, where were the landscapes he knew? On the horizon, beyond the complex network of tributaries, bays, and ponds, there were only rice paddies, fish ponds, mulberry orchards, sugarcane fields, and lychee groves... Small villages nestled among them, their inhabitants dressed in blue cotton jackets, wearing conical hats, rowing small boats to and fro... A scene of Guangdong countryside that had become rare in the other time-space.

The waterways here were quite wide, with boats crisscrossing busily. Suo Pu noticed that over ninety percent were small craft; large vessels were few. Whether large or small, every boat gave an impression of utter decrepitude. The bamboo-strip screens of the awnings were hardly ever intact—either full of holes or patched with scraps of rush matting. The sails, too, were riddled with holes. The hull timbers were carelessly selected and crudely worked.

He noticed that many of the small boats had ragged clothes hanging to dry and cooking fires burning at the stern. Occasionally, he glimpsed stark-naked toddlers wobbling about—each tethered to the boat by a rope around the waist. These must be the Tanka boat-dwellers.

One small boat was fishing in a river bend. A woman stood at the stern working the scull, while a man at the bow dragged a net. Both were unkempt and disheveled. The woman wore only a cloth skirt, so tattered its original color was indiscernible. Swaddled on her back was an infant, probably hungry, wailing loudly. Yet the woman paid it no heed, concentrating entirely on her oar, occasionally shouting instructions to her husband about the net.

Suo Pu sighed inwardly. Then, suddenly, he noticed seven or eight small boats emerging from a river fork ahead, converging toward them as if on some unified signal. But as they drew near, they abruptly dispersed and went their separate ways. Puzzled, Suo Pu was about to ask when Lin Ming spoke up:

"Those are Tanka water pirates—probably from the Four Surnames. They saw our boat looked valuable and planned to rob us." Lin Ming said, "But they knew better."

Hearing they were pirates, Suo Pu grew somewhat tense. "So your credentials did the trick."

"They're not that stupid," Lin Ming said. "There are plenty of merchant vessels and cargo boats without protection—why pick a fight with us?"

"I see." Suo Pu was secretly alarmed. This was no remote wilderness but the heart of the Pearl River Delta, densely populated—yet pirates dared raid in broad daylight!

"We're not far from Foshan. Are the pirates really so brazen here?"

"Foshan is nothing special. We're only about ten li from Sanshui County seat," Lin Ming laughed. "These people fish and weave bamboo most days, but if an opportunity for theft or robbery presents itself, they won't let it pass. These rogues are always on the move, with no fixed abode—the authorities can do nothing about them."

The Council of Elders was well acquainted with the Tanka. Lingao itself had a considerable Tanka population, and subsequent campaigns to absorb pirates had included Tanka among them. Living year-round on the water, mostly fishing and weaving bamboo, they were also a despised caste with little contact with land-dwellers, forming a closed social community.

Though the government discriminated against the Tanka, their skill at swimming and their robust physiques led officials to frequently recruit them as water militia. During the Hongwu reign, there had even been memorials proposing the registration of Guangzhou Tanka as naval forces. In the Pearl River Estuary Breakthrough Campaign three years earlier, the Navy had clashed with Tanka water militia on more than one occasion. According to the Great Library's estimates, the entire Tanka population of Guangdong numbered approximately 500,000. With their low social and economic status and urgent desire to improve their lot, they were a force that could be utilized. Suo Pu thus paid close attention to their circumstances.

As the sun sank toward the west, a walled town gradually emerged from the grid of rice paddies and waterways ahead. This was Hekou Town, seat of Sanshui County. Sanshui's terrain sloped from northwest to southeast, with high hills in the northwest and alluvial plains and low hills in the southeast. The North River, West River, and Sui River all converged at Sanshui—hence the name "Three Waters." The county seat of Ming-era Sanshui, Hekou Town, was located precisely at this confluence.

This place was the strategic chokepoint of the Pearl River Delta and the western gateway to Guangzhou, historically a site of military contention. Guangdong-Guangxi warlords and Chinese-Japanese armies had all fought battles around this location.

"Master Suo, please look—this is Sixian Channel," Lin Ming pointed.

Sixian Channel lay directly opposite Sanshui County seat. It was a waterway connecting the West River and North River, approximately 1.5 kilometers long. It linked the West and North Rivers, and combined with the Sui River joining from three kilometers to the north, it formed Guangdong's "confluence of three rivers." Here the river surface was vast, mighty, and boundless. Standing at the bow, one could see the turbid yellow waters of the West River meeting the clear waters of the North River. At the confluence, the boundary between clear and murky waters was distinctly visible—a wondrous sight.

Suo Pu already knew the approximate hydrology of Sixian Channel: depth about five meters; the western mouth about 100 meters wide, the eastern mouth about 200 meters wide, and the middle section about 500 meters wide. This channel was like a natural canal, playing a vital role in regulating the flow between the West and North Rivers, facilitating navigation, enabling irrigation and drainage, and supporting production.

The width and depth of this short Sixian Channel made it suitable as an anchorage for vessels. Suo Pu vaguely recalled that in the other time-space, ships of up to 5,000 tons could moor here.

"Sixian Channel—'Channel of Reflecting on the Worthy.' Such a literary name," Kang Mingsi remarked.

"That name has quite a history," Lin Ming hastened to interject. "This place was originally called Cangjiang. Legend has it that Master Baisha once came here to visit his student Chen Mian but didn't find him, so he inscribed the characters 'Sixian'—'Reflecting on the Worthy'—before departing. Later generations named the place accordingly. It's also one of the Eight Scenic Views of Sanshui."

"Oh?" Kang Mingsi had no idea who "Master Baisha" was and no interest in finding out, but the scenery itself intrigued him.

Lin Ming, seeing his evident interest, explained that during flood season, when the West River or North River rose, water would flow through Sixian Channel in reverse. Due to the significant difference in water levels and the distinct colors of the two rivers—the west water yellow and the north water green—a spectacular phenomenon called "Sixian's Raging Waves" was created.

"...At that time, green billows surge and yellow waves thunder, roaring and howling, shaking heaven and earth, as if a hundred thousand yellow and green dragons were battling in the rivers and seas. The locals call this spectacle of mingling waters—like the juncture of the Jing and Wei Rivers—the 'Mandarin Duck Waters.'"

"I see." Kang Mingsi nodded. He noticed that at the crucial juncture where the three rivers converged stood a small hill. Though not particularly high, its position was extremely advantageous—vessels traveling all three rivers had to pass right under it. An artillery battery placed here could command the surrounding waters. He turned to ask Xie Peng: "What's this hill called?"

Xie Peng, holding his drawing board and making notes, immediately answered the Chief's question: "That's Kundu Hill. Elevation sixty-two meters."

Kang Mingsi raised his binoculars and studied the small hill. More a hillock than a true mountain, it was neither spectacular nor precipitous. But this suited their needs perfectly.

"Though this hill looks modest, the former Minister of Rites He Weibai once built a cottage on it for reading. The ruins of his Study Hall and Book-Drying Terrace remain to this day," Lin Ming said, like a diligent tour guide.

Turning his binoculars toward Sanshui County seat, Kang Mingsi saw that these county towns all seemed cast from the same mold: walls, towers, barbicans... The county seat roughly followed the course of the rivers in a triangular shape, with the east and north sides pressed against the waterways and a moat dug on the south side. For a cold-weapon army, Sanshui County seat would indeed be a formidable target, but for the Fubo Army, attacking by both land and water, it could be taken in under an hour.

"What's that pagoda on the hilltop outside the county seat called?" Kang Mingsi asked.

"Oh, that's the Literary Pagoda, and the hill is called Kuigang. The local gentry long ago saw the excellent fengshui here and built this pagoda to harness the water's power and gather the literary spirit from all directions."

"What an auspicious name," Xie Peng said. "'Literary' and 'Champion'—very fitting indeed."

As dusk was approaching, Lin Ming suggested they moor for the night at Hekou Town. Night navigation wasn't safe, especially on a major river like the West that had never been dredged or regulated. Moreover, security in this time-space left much to be desired.

The boat tied up at the riverbank below the north gate, where a Daoist temple stood. Suo Pu and Kang Mingsi had no interest in worship or prayers—they only ordered the escorts to maintain a tight guard.

Shortly after the boat stopped, yamen runners from the county arrived carrying food containers, delivering a banquet table—a gesture of local hospitality. This was a welcome relief for those who had suffered through the field rations at lunch. One dish in particular drew universal praise: roasted rice-paddy sparrows. This was the very season when they were at their fattest.

(End of Chapter)