Chapter 2074 - The Foundries

Lin Ming thought to himself: what was so interesting about an iron foundry? Dirty and sweltering—even now, with all the furnaces idle, the place was piled high with iron materials, charcoal, and ash. Just walking through would leave you covered in black grime. Spend more than a few moments inside and even your spittle and snot would turn black.

But he had been to Lingao and knew that what the "leaders" loved most was "the hundred crafts"—they practically elevated artisanal skills to the heavens. So he wisely agreed at once. He summoned a servant and sent him to fetch the head of the local Furnace House Guild.

The head of the local furnace trade was named Wu Xianlong—over fifty years old. He had spent his entire life in the foundry business, and his family enterprise ranked among the top few in Foshan's furnace industry. Foshan's smelting and casting trade was prosperous. Though pig iron and ironware were traditionally classified as "cold goods," Foshan's furnace houses had always been bustling. As long as goods were produced, there was no worry about finding buyers.

But in recent years, Foshan's furnace houses had stopped doing well—because of "Australian iron."

At first, some Australian ironware had appeared on the market—exquisitely made, highly durable, and superior to local products. But the prices were quite high, and sales didn't interfere with local goods. A few years ago, however, the Australian pirates had suddenly begun dumping all manner of ironware onto the market—not only of excellent quality and vast variety, putting local goods to shame, but at prices even lower than locally produced wares. This was catastrophic for the furnace houses. Market prices for ironware collapsed. Many small foundries failed. Owners drowned themselves, hanged themselves, or fled for their lives. Fortunately, Australian iron—however good—could only be distributed within a limited range of Guangdong. Counties farther from Guangzhou still habitually relied on Foshan products. The larger foundries maintained their old distribution networks and, with the government casting many cannons in recent years, had managed to stay afloat.

As guild head, Wu Xianlong had worn himself to exhaustion worrying about Foshan's foundry industry—his hair had gone completely white. When the Australians suddenly struck Guangzhou, land and water transport were completely severed. Finished goods couldn't be shipped out. Merchants couldn't get in. Several foundries that cast iron pots for foreign traders saw their goods stranded—the ships' departure dates would be missed. This was dire: though iron pots could sit for a year or two without spoiling and could simply be sold next time, years of hard-won reputation would be destroyed.

Some foundries had owners or accountants traveling to collect payments when transport was severed—now cut off, whereabouts unknown, fate uncertain. Families and workers were in a panic, all coming to him for advice. Wu Xianlong was helpless himself. He could only offer verbal reassurance and stalling tactics.

Since the gates opened in surrender, Master Wu had been staying at the guild hall, precisely so that when the Australian-appointed mayor arrived, he could negotiate. He knew the Australians maintained strict military discipline. When they attacked Guangzhou, their fast boats had frequently passed through Foshan. As long as there was no hostile action, the gentry and common people of the villages and towns suffered no harm to life or property—the only cost was a modest "reasonable burden." Now the Australians were sending someone to be the local magistrate. What would their approach be? Master Wu had no idea.

Fortunately, it turned out that Lin Ming, the town's Embroidered Guard baihu, was secretly an undercover "fake Australian." Master Wu had dealt with Lin before—on the whole, a reasonable official who would take money and get things done. With him as "liaison," Wu relaxed somewhat. Having a familiar face made things easier.

But this Lin merely maintained the status quo. Any decision requiring approval, he refused to make, saying it had to wait for the Australian-appointed "mayor" to arrive. As for the Australian officer wearing that uniform vest and speaking Shandong dialect—there was nothing useful to be said to him.

Now, hearing that a "leader" wished to see him, Wu Xianlong immediately perked up. He knew "leader" meant a "true Australian"—the most exalted among the pirates. He quickly had his servants bring his finest visiting clothes.

"So you're the head of the local furnace guild?" Xi Yazhou glanced at the bowing Wu, who stood waiting to "receive instructions," and handed the vermilion visiting card aside.

"Indeed, this humble one." Wu Xianlong noticed that the "leader" before him was a "military official" and broke into a cold sweat—soldiers had always been the hardest to deal with, unreasonable by nature. "The trade colleagues merely saw fit to elevate me."

Looking around, they were standing in the middle of the street—what sort of protocol was this? When a "leader" wanted to see someone, whether for perfunctory "instructions" or a heart-to-heart talk, it should be indoors. Who conducted business in the street? But he dared not ask more, and stood hunched over, awaiting orders.

"Since you're head of the furnace guild, your foundry must be fairly substantial."

This alarmed Wu Xianlong. What did that mean? Had this pirate set his sights on his foundry? Unable to read the "leader's" intent, he carefully weighed his words: "My foundry is not the largest in town. It's only because this humble one is older, and my colleagues are willing to listen to a few of my words, that I was named guild head..."

"Since you have a foundry, take me to see it," Xi Yazhou said. "I've heard Foshan's metallurgy is famous. Let me have a look today."

"Yes, yes." Wu Xianlong could not refuse and agreed.

Copper and iron foundries were unlike the gold and silver refineries in large cities, which only needed high rooms and spacious halls. Copper and iron castings were generally quite large, requiring massive quantities of fuel, metal, and molding materials. Foundries needed vast open spaces for operations and storage. Thus they were mostly built on former riverbank flats—cheap land with ready access to water.

The group headed south. Xi Yazhou noticed the buildings growing sparser and less refined, with long bamboo fences lining the streets. Lin Ming said these were all foundries.

Peering through gaps in the bamboo fences, one could see that the so-called foundries actually had very few buildings—just a few brick-and-tile structures for fire prevention. Vast open areas were piled high with iron materials, charcoal, and castings. In the center stood smelting and melting furnaces of various sizes, currently banked, with smoke lazily curling upward.

Xi Yazhou asked about production. Wu Xianlong seized the opportunity to lament: once fighting broke out and transport was severed by land and water, business naturally ceased. Finished goods couldn't leave. Raw iron and charcoal couldn't arrive. Even if they wanted to work, they dared not.

"With the foundries closed, the craftsmen have no food either. If the National Army weren't stationed here, and if the guild weren't distributing porridge daily, these cunning troublemakers would have risen up to riot and plunder long ago."

Xi Yazhou disliked their dismissive attitude toward the workers, but he knew Master Wu was not exaggerating. The gulf and mutual wariness between craftsmen and capitalists was utterly naked here.

"In this Foshan Fort, nearly half the population depends on the ironware trade. These goods can't be shipped out—can't be eaten, can't be worn—everyone is desperately worried. Besides, there's never been much grain stored locally. At best we can hold out for a month or two."

"You can set your mind at ease about that. We will restore order and reopen transport routes very soon. Within ten days to two weeks, transport throughout Guangzhou Prefecture will be fully restored. Within three months, we'll restore the province's main transport lines." Xi Yazhou's tone was matter-of-fact. "You need to organize the foundry operators to resume production as quickly as possible."

"Yes." Wu Xianlong, somewhat surprised, replied. He had expected this Australian Elder to offer empty platitudes like Ming officials, but Leader Xi had answered his questions directly and given specific timeframes—no evasion, no pretension.

"With the Leader's assurance, our hearts are at ease."

As they spoke, they arrived at the gate of the Wu family foundry. It looked much like those they'd passed: a bamboo fence enclosing vast flats, seven or eight mu in size, with a small brick courtyard inside.

Two fierce-looking, burly men stood at the gate, carrying truncheons. Wu Xianlong said these were his hired guards.

"How many guards do you employ?" Xi Yazhou had noticed that nearly every foundry along the way had such guards and retainers. These local tycoons were certainly willing to spend on their own security.

"Seven or eight." Wu Xianlong smiled bitterly. "The expense is considerable. But we have no choice. Mountain and river bandits roam outside, and the craftsmen aren't easy to deal with either—always threatening to strike, finding excuses to cause disturbances."

The foundry manager, seeing the master return, hurried out to welcome him. Spotting a "true Australian," he dropped to his knees in terror.

Wu Xianlong waved him off. "Bring tea for the Leader and Liaison Lin."

"No need for tea—just take me to look around your foundry."

(End of Chapter)