Chapter 1863 - Missing the Point
"Master Zhang, as we just discussed, among copper, iron, and tin, tin melts most easily and resists rust. So we can simply melt tin and plate it onto the surface of iron—this way, the iron won't rust from contact with moisture. Our Australian Song already produces such ironware. First we make iron sheets or wire this thin—" Liu San held up his fingers, showing a gap barely thicker than a bamboo slat, then continued, "—then dip them in molten tin, let a layer of tin adhere to the surface, scrape it to uniform thickness, and you have excellent tinplate."
"Why is it called 'tinplate'?" Zhang Dai suddenly asked, leaving Liu San deeply uncomfortable—why aren't you following the script?
"Well—we first sold this iron to the Portuguese in Macau. They resold it to other Western barbarians. The Portuguese pronounce 'Macau' as 'Ma-kou,' so the other Westerners called this iron 'Ma-kou iron'—tinplate." In the other timeline, "tinplate" had indeed derived its name this way, only in the opposite direction. Liu San borrowed this explanation to bamboozle Zhang Dai.
Zhang Dai considered. Iron produced in Guangdong was called "Guangdong iron" or "Southern iron" elsewhere; perhaps calling this new Australian product "tinplate" wasn't unreasonable. But "only names and vessels must not be lent to others"—these Australians were truly uncouth and unlettered, allowing a bunch of foreign barbarians to dictate the name of their own product.
"Products made from this tinplate—buckets, wire, and other daily necessities—work perfectly well for ordinary use. But if someone were to collect these items and melt them back into weapons, the result would inevitably be an iron-tin alloy, which is brittle and unsuitable for weapons. If earlier dynasties had possessed this understanding, they could have freely sold tinplate to the north! Exchange tinplate—usable only for daily life—for cattle, sheep, horses, and other livestock that the interior desperately needs. Whether for plowing or for meat, from a livelihood perspective it's clearly profitable."
This idea was certainly novel and unexpected to Zhang Dai, but in his view it was a classic case of "seeing the small and forgetting the large."
"These Australians really are fixated on trifles!" he thought.
What was the Mongol threat really about? How much could the flow of iron matter? Zhang Dai knew well that since ancient times, the Central Plains dynasties had always exceeded the surrounding barbarians a hundredfold in manpower and resources. When the dynasty was strong and prosperous and the people's livelihoods comfortable, the petty raids of barbarians posed no threat.
Once court politics grew dark, with treacherous officials in power and military preparedness neglected, the barbarians would seize the opportunity to strike. Whether they had iron or not was beside the point. Ultimately, to deal with barbarian incursions, one needed, first, a court with authority to overawe the four barbarians; and second, virtue to civilize the barbarians through culture.
Selling tinplate for livestock was simply putting the cart before the horse. Did barbarians with bone arrows and stone knives lack the ability to fight? Did our great nation really need a few more cattle and horses?
This Doctor Liu's "brilliant theory" might seem clever, but it utterly missed the essential point.
With such a level of argument, they still wished to disparage the Way of Confucius—truly laughable!
Thinking thus, Zhang Dai felt contempt; a warm smile inadvertently appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Liu San couldn't quite read his attitude, but Zhang Dai clearly showed no "sudden enlightenment" and no signs of being shattered. He continued to play the role of a neutral, mild listener.
Liu San realized that the plan he, Mayor Liu, and Wumu had devised was having no effect on Zhang Dai. He felt somewhat disappointed: even if you won't "prostrate yourself immediately," at least show some surprise or excitement!
His sense of defeat grew stronger. Looking at the imperturbable Master Zhang, Liu San felt he could no longer follow the script.
The atmosphere fell cold—one lost in thought, one waiting. After a long pause, Zhang Dai finally spoke: "I appreciate Doctor Liu's kind intentions."
This bewildered Liu San—he hadn't given the man any gifts.
"Master Zhang—"
"When I came south, my original intention was merely to see new sights and taste Australian Song delicacies. Had I gone to Lingao with my original mindset, I would have done no more than glance around. But now, after Doctor Liu's guidance, I shall truly look carefully at this Australian Song!"
Liu San gave a few dry laughs and silently cursed his namesake Mayor Liu, who had proposed this scheme.
"Only I wonder—" Zhang Dai finally decided to voice his inner question: "Though I have a small reputation, it amounts to nothing more than fame for eating, drinking, and pleasure. Though my family has some modest property, it's nothing compared to the truly wealthy and noble. In the society, when I speak, people do listen—but if I tried to say something that would change the political situation, the true leaders of the society would probably dismiss it as idle chatter. All things considered, my modest weight is hardly worth the Great Song court's trouble. May I ask Element Liu: why do you treat me with such 'courtesy'?"
Since they were speaking frankly, Liu San was actually relieved of the constraints of "following the script." Zhang Dai was a clever man—even cleverer than most Elements. His own petty tricks had truly been showing off before an expert!
At bottom, they all simply wanted historical celebrities to submit to them, to enjoy the pleasure of lording it over the famous.
"Because you have a great literary reputation. Your words carry more credibility with those Ming bureaucrats and Confucian scholars."
Zhang Dai nodded slightly; this he understood.
Liu San gathered his emotions and said, "Our Great Song Executive Council inherited the Mandate of Heaven from the Yin-Shang dynasty of old and continues the legal succession of the Great Song. In returning to Huaxia, our aim is to lead the descendants of Yan and Huang in a great leap forward, so that our Huaxia will continue to lead the world for the next two thousand years. Whether it is the Lingnan, Jiangnan, Huainan, or Henan regions, including the lands within and beyond the Great Wall, the White Mountains and Black Waters, the deserts east and west—all the old territories of Han and Tang—we will unite them in the end. But when we look around, even in the heartland of Huaxia's humanities, those so-called social elites are in our view not only frogs at the bottom of a well but also self-deceiving. Perhaps to ants, cats and elephants weigh the same—both can crush them underfoot. But some ants don't even have the concept of 'being crushed.' To us, crushing one ant or crushing many makes no difference. But for the new Huaxia we envision, fewer deaths are always better—especially among those common people who, misled by others, could otherwise find new life in the new Huaxia."
After a slight pause, Liu San said solemnly to Zhang Dai, "And you, sir, are a 'Ming elite' willing to open your eyes and look."
"My family has served as officials for three generations; we have received imperial favor for generations..." Though Zhang Dai was moved by what he heard, he still made his position clear.
Liu San cut him off: "We don't care whether you defect to us. We only hope that some people within the Ming recognize what kind of power we possess."
They don't care whether I defect—but they hope I see Australian Song's strength clearly and carry that observation back. Back to Jiangnan, back to the scholarly circles, back to Ming. Ultimately, the Australians truly did not expect him to defect; what they expected was that more people, upon recognizing Australian Song's power, would choose to defect in the future!
Should he carry this understanding back? Thinking of Zhang Pu's instructions to him, he probably should—the Ming court, inside and out, was ignorant of the Eastern Barbarians, ignorant of the roving bandits, ignorant of the Western barbarians, and even more ignorant of the Australians. "They don't even have the concept of 'being crushed.'" Was it better to perish in ignorance or to surrender with knowledge of the enemy?
He fell into deep thought.
"I don't think we can convince him..." Liu San reported dejectedly to Liu Xiang, recounting the afternoon's meeting.
"Never mind; the man is after all a seasoned scholar. When it comes to verbal sparring, how could we possibly match him..." Mayor Liu now had to play the role of consoler—after all, the script was mainly his idea. He changed the subject: "At least now his eagerness to go to Lingao is stronger than ever."
"That's true." Liu San hadn't yet recovered from his sense of failure. "He's waiting for our tickets. Once they arrive, he'll set out."
"We certainly can't out-argue him. But never mind—let the facts persuade him."
Zhang Dai returned to the Liang mansion at dusk. Back in his small lodging courtyard, he reflected on the day's meeting. These Australians were truly "remarkable people." What he was now increasingly certain of was that the Australians would absolutely not detain him—not only would they not detain him, but they would treat him well throughout, providing excellent food and attentive service as he toured Lingao, fully allowing him to see the "Australian scenery."
These Australians certainly had "institutional confidence"!
Frankly, he did not entirely believe the various reports claiming Lingao was an "earthly paradise" or a "golden age unseen in a thousand years"—that was too extravagant. Even in the Han and Tang golden ages, there were those who froze and starved; when famine struck, corpses still lined the roads, to say nothing of the semi-mythical era of the Three Sage-Kings. Could this Doctor Liu's vaunted "productive forces" truly solve all that?
Most likely, it was simply because their governed territory was small and their population limited. With some clever techniques they could manufacture trinkets and collect great piles of silver. Even when floods and droughts came, they could draw from their trade profits to cover the shortfall.
Such methods might work in a single county. But with more territory, they would inevitably falter—after all, no matter how much money they made, they surely couldn't subsidize the livelihoods of all the people under heaven. Take Guangzhou: though the city had taken on a new aspect in the few months since the Australians entered, beggars had not disappeared. Due to the warfare, refugees from the surrounding countryside had actually increased. The urban poor, though reasonably stable, could hardly be said to be living in peace and prosperity.
The Australians were also extremely militaristic. Little Qiongzhou supported an army of several hundred thousand, built cannons and great ships, and spent money like water. How much could possibly be left for people's livelihoods? Most likely Lingao, as the Australians' capital, was lavished with money and effort, newly adorned to create an illusion of peace and prosperity—just like Emperor Yang of Sui's old trick. Beyond Lingao, things were probably quite different.
Hearsay is hollow; seeing is believing. He would go and see for himself.
(End of Chapter)