Chapter 35: Aftermath

The rescue operation injected a shot of adrenaline into the monotony of pre-crossing preparations, giving the transmigrators endless material for conversation. Every evening after work, the participants found themselves cornered and pressed to retell stories they'd already repeated a hundred times. Beiwei, Ran Yao, and Lin Shenhe rose like stars in the night sky—wherever they went, people lined up to greet them, and even strangers hailed them as brothers.

After a thorough hospital examination, doctors concluded that Wen Desi—delivered with such ceremony and concern—was actually healthier than anyone else in the group. He had lost a few items, though nothing of real consequence. The most valuable were Director Wen's stab-resistant vest and stun gun. Some romantics wondered aloud whether the vest might one day become the legendary "Jewel-encrusted Soft Armor" of wuxia tales, while others fantasized about the Executive Committee wholesaling them at ten thousand taels apiece.

The Executive Committee's mood was considerably less whimsical. They weren't worried about the armor or the stun gun—the vest couldn't stop bullets, and a stun gun without batteries was nothing but a plastic shell. What concerned them was the intelligence the kidnapping had revealed.

The items found on the dead criminals were unremarkable—silver coins, copper cash, flint, tobacco pouches—but among them lay something far more valuable: a letter. Its contents were mundane enough, filled with greetings and inquiries about whether certain goods had sold. But the signature read: "Zhou Rui of Min'an, bowing."

This letter might have been overlooked entirely if not for the recent arrival of Yu Eshui, a young history graduate student from the capital's transmigration faction—note: a graduate student, not a scholar. After reading it, Comrade Yu informed the Executive Committee that this Zhou Rui of Min'an was almost certainly one of the yinan—sworn adopted sons who served as commercial agents—belonging to Zheng Cai, cousin of Zheng Zhilong himself.

Such yinan were common in Chinese maritime merchant circles of that era. Overseas trade was dangerous work, so wealthy families kept yinan or yi'er to brave the waves on their behalf while biological sons stayed home to enjoy the profits. Some men became yinan to settle debts. These adopted sons occupied a low social station—essentially commercial semi-slaves, lifetime professional managers forbidden from changing employers. The Zheng family maintained many such men; the famous official Zheng Tai, who later served under Koxinga, had started as exactly this kind of yinan.

Zheng Cai, in modern terms, had long held a senior leadership position in the Zheng Zhilong conglomerate. Though he came from a collateral branch of the family, after Zheng Zhilong surrendered to the Qing and was taken hostage in the north, the Zheng enterprise found itself temporarily leaderless. Zheng Cai had carved out his own territory, retreating to Xiamen to contend with Koxinga for control. His power was considerable.

That the ringleader surnamed Wang had been carrying a letter from a Zheng family manager, combined with strong indications that the pirates hailed from southern Fujian—it all pointed unmistakably toward Zheng Zhilong's shadow.

Making enemies with the largest maritime power of the late Ming and early Qing before they'd even properly begun the crossing? That wasn't funny at all.

Yu Eshui told the worried Committee members that their fears were groundless. The waters off late-Ming Guangdong and Fujian teemed with pirates. Beyond the Zheng faction, historians could name at least a dozen major pirate-merchant gangs, not counting the nameless small-time pirates, the merchants who'd seize any opportunity, plus the Dutch, English, and Portuguese—a veritable paradise of jungle law. If the transmigrators wanted to establish themselves on Hainan, they'd have to beat them all into submission eventually. Making enemies with any one of them was merely a matter of timing. These merchant-pirates didn't care whether you had a grudge or not: where there was money to be made, they'd get involved. Without strength, you'd be robbed. Peaceful trade relations existed solely under mutual armed deterrence. So this battle wasn't necessarily a bad thing—at least now word would spread that the transmigrators weren't to be trifled with. Perhaps their enemies would think twice before acting recklessly in the future.

Even so, the Executive Committee declared a first-level alert at the Guangzhou base to guard against possible Zheng retaliation. They reinforced the housing, installed barriers and security doors, and stockpiled fire extinguishers.

Xiao Zishan visited Master Gao and gave a general account of what had transpired. Master Gao was astonished—he hadn't expected the Australian merchants to possess such capabilities, handling the situation so neatly in an unfamiliar place. After the incident, though he had sent sedan chairs and mule carts at Xiao Zishan's request, he had deliberately held back from offering his full assistance. His plan had been to wait for the ransom letter, let them come begging, and earn himself a substantial favor in return.

He had never expected these Australians to be so formidable. The realization greatly annoyed him. When Xiao Zishan now asked for his help, he agreed wholeheartedly, eager to make amends.

Xiao Zishan, citing the risk of future attacks on their residence, proposed buying a new property. Master Gao reluctantly agreed. At least the purchase would still go through him—the Australians apparently hadn't lost trust in their partnership. Thumping his chest, he offered to cover the property costs himself, a gift to steady Master Wen's nerves. Xiao Zishan murmured "Just this once, just this once" several times as he graciously accepted.

Then Master Gao produced a list and handed it over.

Xiao Zishan opened it: Paper-rolled tobacco, 10,000 units; niello lighters, 200; goose-egg mirrors, 30; compact mirrors, 200; full-length dressing mirrors, 2; assorted novel Australian goods as available.

"What's this?"

"Ah!" Master Gao sighed, his face showing extreme reluctance. "Tribute I owe in the capital. It's urgent. Can you deliver it all within ten days?"

"Certainly, certainly." Xiao Zishan readily agreed. None of these were rare items—except for the cigarettes, everything else could be found at a wholesale market. But this tribute was substantial; the total trade value would run close to 20,000 taels. Who could possibly be so important?

If such a powerful figure could be connected through Master Gao, Xiao Zishan thought, it might prove useful later. So he said, deliberately casual: "We'll naturally bring some novelties along. Might I ask about this great personage's preferences? If we could cater to his tastes, wouldn't that be better?"

"I appreciate the thought, brother," Master Gao said with a bitter smile. "Novelties are certainly welcome, but these items were specifically requested."

Corrupt as hell, Xiao Zishan cursed inwardly. Not just accepting bribes but soliciting them—and specifying exactly what to demand.

"Who needs so much?" he asked, feigning surprise.

"It's not that many recipients. Two in the palace, the Twenty-Four Bureaus, the Grand Secretariat ministers..." Master Gao mumbled, then caught himself. "I forgot—brother isn't a Ming subject. You wouldn't understand all this."

Xiao Zishan listened carefully. The gift recipients were quite high-ranking. Did Gao Ju have such connections? Wanting to probe further, he whispered: "The person making this list—could it be the Nine Thousand Years himself?"

Gao Ju startled, glancing around nervously. Seeing no one nearby, he answered in a low voice: "Careful! It's not the Depot Lord, but another. How does brother know the Nine Thousand Years' title?"

"We've been in the Ming long enough to learn a thing or two." Xiao Zishan adopted an air of hidden knowledge—I know more than I'm saying—baiting his curiosity.

Gao Ju took the bait. "Brother knows what trade I'm in." He sighed. "That I've conducted business peacefully all this time is thanks to a Eunuch Yang in the palace."

He briefly explained his relationship with Eunuch Yang—essentially that Yang served as his backer and protector. The profit-sharing details he naturally omitted, but Xiao Zishan could easily imagine them. Any Chinese person would guess. No matter how "purely friendly" one claimed such relationships to be.

"But Eunuch Yang's position in the palace has deteriorated considerably," Gao Ju continued, lowering his voice until it was barely audible. "He's fallen out of favor with the Depot Lord."

"So these goods are meant to curry favor?"

"I wouldn't dare call it favor-seeking. If burning incense in all directions could simply buy us safety—that alone would be the best outcome." Gao Ju wiped sweat from his forehead. "Eunuch Yang and I are essentially one body now. No matter the cost, I must demonstrate my full devotion."

"I understand."

"There's one more thing I need brother's help with." Gao Ju clasped his hands together.

"Of course, of course." Xiao Zishan studied his expression—so sincere, his tone so earnest. Surely he wasn't about to ask for a loan?

"Lately I face certain difficulties. Cash flow may become tight..."

Damn it. Exactly what he'd feared. Xiao Zishan kept nodding and smiling, though his smile was beginning to stiffen.

"...I'd like to ask brother to negotiate with the Australian shopkeepers. Could we perhaps settle accounts monthly? If you could arrange this, I'd be extremely grateful, and there would be compensation."

So he wanted credit—and was even willing to bribe him to get it. Xiao Zishan considered the proposal. By any era's standards, it wasn't unreasonable. In the twenty-first century, most businesses would be ecstatic—monthly settlement was considered generous when sixty-day payment terms were the norm, with Taiwan businesses routinely pushing for one hundred and twenty days. And from the seventeenth through early nineteenth centuries, foreign merchants trading in China often had to wait a year or two after consigning goods to Chinese merchants before receiving payment—often failing to collect at all, sparking countless Sino-foreign trade conflicts.

The problem was that their crossing trade aimed to raise funds quickly. Extending credit would increase collection uncertainty, and the Executive Committee might not agree.

He suddenly realized that from the very start, Master Gao had been steering the conversation, exploiting his curiosity to guide it toward this exact topic. The old fox.

"Is brother troubled?" Gao Ju noticed his changing expression and sensed his difficulty.

"This requires further deliberation." Having come this far, he could only stall. "For credit terms, we'd need clear justification before we could evaluate the request."

After some hesitation, Gao Ju explained about Yang Tianliang coming to Guangzhou to discuss building a living shrine to the Nine Thousand Years.

"The shrine itself would be manageable—perhaps five thousand taels would suffice. But Eunuch Yang wants it 'grand and magnificent,' and he wants to mobilize all of Guangzhou's merchants and commoners. The total expenses could run to seventy or eighty thousand taels." Gao Ju's face twitched slightly, obviously pained by the figure.

Xiao Zishan's knowledge of the Nine Thousand Years' shrines came entirely from the middle-school text "Record of the Five Heroes' Tomb." Whether Guangzhou had ever actually built a shrine for Wei Zhongxian, he had no idea—and frankly, no interest. But this needed to be reported to the Executive Committee quickly, so Yu Eshui could assess whether it held any strategic value.

(End of Chapter)