Chapter 1881 - Out with the Old, In with the New (Part 17)

Plague manifested in several forms: the milder strain, bubonic plague, pneumonic plague, and septicemic plague. The latter two were catastrophically lethal. Historical consensus held that Europe's Black Death and the great Chinese plague outbreak spanning the late Qing and early Republic periods had been predominantly these virulent forms.

Chinese historical records on infectious disease were frustratingly vague—simply noting "pestilence" or "great epidemic" with scant detail on symptoms or progression. This opacity had bred a peculiar misconception: many believed ancient China had somehow escaped virulent outbreaks. Even within the Executive Council, more than a few Elements subscribed to notions of "racial superiority"—that only the filthy Europeans contracted plague, that Chinese rarely fell to infectious disease.

The health authorities harbored no such delusions. Being human meant being vulnerable to disease. Regarding plague and cholera—the two Class A infectious diseases from their original timeline—they had conducted exhaustive research, reviewing historical materials and medical documents. Their conclusion: in the seventeenth century, classical cholera had not yet reached China. The disease had remained endemic to India and Bengal until British traders carried it to Guangzhou in the early nineteenth century. The "cholera" referenced in traditional Chinese medical texts was likely a catch-all term for various gastrointestinal ailments.

Plague, however, had indeed ravaged China during the late Ming—though research suggested the outbreak remained confined to the north, particularly Shanxi and Hebei. The south, especially Guangdong, had remained untouched.

So why was it appearing now? Both Liu San and Lin Motian sank into troubled contemplation. Since D-Day, they had relied heavily on the Great Library's historical materials for governance decisions—and these had proven remarkably useful. Yet the current crisis demonstrated that the butterfly effect from the Executive Council's intervention was generating increasingly powerful storms. History was diverging from the Great Library's predictions.

"The leather trade," Liu San said finally. "That's likely where this originated."

Before the Guangdong Campaign, the foreign trade department had purchased raw hides in massive quantities for military supplies—boots, belts, helmet suspensions, and other necessities. They had also produced leather caps, vests, and jackets for troops deployed to the frozen north and for maritime personnel.

These purchases, conducted primarily through agents, had stimulated the related trade enormously. Raw hides were inexpensive, and beyond the Executive Council's military and industrial needs, civilian demand on Hainan Island remained minimal.

Traditionally, Ming dynasty people had shown little enthusiasm for fur clothing—the infamous confiscation list of Yan Song's estate, the Tianshui Bingshan Lu, contained remarkably few fur items. But demand existed nonetheless. In the smuggling trade between the Later Jin and Ming, ginseng dominated exports, followed closely by furs. The Little Ice Age's bitter temperatures, combined with fashion trends emanating from the Ziming Tower, had transformed expensive pelts like sable and otter into status symbols among wealthy Guangdong households.

When the Foreign Trade Company began selling furs processed with modern tanning methods to Dutch and English merchants—sable and other premium pelts—Guangzhou's fur export trade flourished. The enormous profits drew merchants into the trade like iron filings to a magnet.

The Executive Council had imposed strict limits on fur imports from weasel-family animals—sable, otter, marmot—originating from Qing-controlled territory. Quantities were capped; quarantine was mandatory. The fear was plague transmission. But Guangzhou's current administrative capacity simply couldn't enforce rigorous health inspections on all incoming goods. The allure of fur profits led merchants to risk entering the Liaodong trade, and countless unquarantined pelts were filtering into Guangzhou's markets through direct and indirect channels.

The chaotic floating population, the crude and squalid housing, the still-primitive hygiene awareness, the weak grassroots organization—from a modern perspective, Guangzhou's public health infrastructure was as porous as a sieve. A plague epidemic that had never occurred in the original timeline was seizing its opportunity, spreading silently across Guangdong.

"Fur is only one factor," Lin Motian countered. "If fur were the source, the first cases should have appeared among people in related industries. The initial patient was a beggar—a flea transmission victim. Flea infestation is endemic among that population."

"This has become complicated." Liu San's voice carried an edge of agitation.

"We need to act immediately," Lin Motian said.

The bubonic plague currently manifesting in Guangzhou was relatively less contagious, but without intervention, it could transform into pneumonic or septicemic plague. Should either of those erupt, the consequences would be unimaginable. Liu San agreed completely—no one could predict when a devastating epidemic might explode.

Some accounts suggested that Li Zicheng's rapid downfall was significantly linked to his army contracting plague upon entering Beijing. If they couldn't contain this outbreak swiftly, they might follow the same path—forced to retreat from Guangzhou in disarray, driven back to Hainan by disease. Worse still, should plague reach Hainan itself, all their ambitions and ideals would be shattered, or at best delayed by years.

"What became of the body? And the contacts?"

"Cremated on site. But I've already dispatched someone to extract blood samples." Liu San exhaled heavily. "The dock is sealed. All contacts are in isolation."

Silence settled between them. After a long moment, Lin Motian opened a drawer, withdrew a document, scanned it briefly, added several sentences, then rose with studied formality. He presented the paper with both hands.

"This is my application." Lin Motian stood rigidly at attention. "Element Lin Motian of the Great Song Australian Provisional Government hereby requests the Executive Council to appoint him as Leader of the Guangzhou Special Municipality Epidemic Prevention Group, responsible for combating the plague epidemic."

Liu San choked on his tea and erupted into violent coughing.

Lin Motian remained impassive, the application extended humbly before him.

"Do you understand what you're proposing?" Liu San managed between coughs, rising from the sofa. He knew Lin Motian was no conventional soul, but this request stunned him. His eyes widened; a crude word slipped out: "This isn't something you solve by eating special-supply meals or using disinfectant! This is fucking plague!"

For an instant, Liu San thought he glimpsed mockery flash across Lin Motian's face—an expression that seemed to say, If even a Chinese medicine practitioner like you understands this, do you imagine I, with formal training, would not? But when he examined Lin Motian more closely, he saw only that same humble, cold composure.

Currently, the Executive Council possessed no sufficiently safe or effective vaccines or treatments. Unlike gastrointestinal infections, plague could spread through fleas and respiratory droplets. Even as a senior epidemic prevention leader, one couldn't avoid venturing deep into infected zones, even making direct contact with patients. The risks were self-evident. And plague transmissible through respiratory droplets was the terrifying pneumonic form—once contracted, there might be no time even to flee. Though antibiotic reserves effective against plague remained, this was still the primitive medical landscape of late Ming China. They absolutely could not guarantee a severe plague patient's survival, even if that patient were an Element.

"Dr. Liu, you understand Guangzhou's current health situation perfectly. We're both Elements, so let me speak plainly. This epidemic was probably within your expectations too—an outbreak was merely a matter of time. As for myself, for the great cause of the Executive Council, I will naturally go through fire and water without hesitation. As the saying goes, 'If it benefits my country, I shall act regardless of life or—'" Lin Motian caught Liu San's expression and abandoned the rest of the poem. "In short, this isn't a sudden whim."

"Do you understand the epidemic situation?" Liu San asked, then realized the question was almost pointless. The report still sat before them. Given Lin Motian's character, he had surely been studying the epidemic briefings obsessively. Otherwise, he would never have so rashly proposed taking on this responsibility.

"Whether Guangzhou currently has plague remains unconfirmed—that's point one. Second, from current information, even if it is plague, it's predominantly bubonic, which is far less terrifying in terms of infectiousness." Lin Motian affected a confident demeanor. "If it progresses to the point where pneumonic and septicemic plague are everywhere, even the Great Luo Golden Immortals couldn't hide. To put it further—if we cause a major pandemic, no one escapes. The Guangzhou administration we've worked so hard to establish will collapse at a touch."

Liu San regarded Lin Motian in silence. This man was gambling his life for career advancement.

Setting aside questions of comradeship between Elements, at minimum they shared a "when the rabbit dies, the fox grieves" kind of kinship. If Old Lin cashed in his chips, Liu San, as Guangzhou's highest health official, wouldn't emerge looking good when he returned. After a long pause, he accepted the application. "I'll submit this to the organization."

This wasn't something he could decide alone—it had to go before the Executive Council. Leaders were always wise. And even when they weren't, at least they were better suited for bearing blame than he was.

On the way back, Liu San continued pondering. Lin Motian truly was cut from different cloth. The saying went that a person was the sum of all their social relationships—transmigrating alone to this era meant essentially abandoning everything about oneself as a social being. Those who would leave home and family to actively request transmigration to this chaotic age all harbored some seeds of desperado in their hearts. This willingness to risk one's life for advancement reminded him of Lin Baiguang, who had begun his career by recruiting the pirate Zhu Cailao. Coincidentally, this fellow and Lin Baiguang even shared the same surname.

After seeing Liu San off, Lin Motian calmed his emotions. He opened his notebook and began copying onto official document paper. From the dense writing and revision marks filling its pages, this document had clearly occupied his thoughts for more than a day or two.

(End of Chapter)