Chapter 209: Negotiations
He Ying observed the Frenchman's astonishment and thought to himself: I also know that La Rochelle fortress will be captured this year. What I don't know is whether the exploits of Monsieur d'Artagnan and his friends fighting Protestants in the bastion will still come to pass.
Having been assigned to attend to this French missionary owing to his fluency in French, He Ying felt confident about his rise in the transmigrator hierarchy. He hadn't expected the French he had learned to impress girls in school would prove so useful. Was this diplomacy? Perhaps work for the United Front Department? He had originally been an advertising planner, but among the transmigrator collective, he hadn't landed any suitable position. He had been assigned to the Propaganda Division under the Propaganda Department, writing leaflets and painting slogans. Life was fulfilling enough, though it lacked excitement. Occasionally repairing someone's television or radio had provided minor diversion. Because his marksmanship was decent, he had been placed in the "Training Corps" after the organizational restructuring, despite his best efforts to avoid becoming a militia member—which meant taking turns standing guard at night every week. Now, with this new assignment, presumably he wouldn't have to perform that duty anymore.
"Will the heresy in France be completely eradicated?" Lu Ruohua was keenly interested in this topic.
"The surrender of La Rochelle is imminent," He Ying replied, "but religious disputes will not end."
Lu Ruohua studied this "Australian"—make no mistake, he looked every bit like a genuine Chinese. Lu Ruohua knew the Chinese they spoke differed from that of other Ming subjects—it wasn't Cantonese, Hokkien, or Mandarin, but another Sinitic language altogether. Who exactly were these people? Their origins intrigued him even more than his missionary duties.
"So you believe the heretics will continue to stir up trouble in France?"
"That's right. France's religious disputes are only beginning," He Ying said modestly.
"God protect them and save those lambs who have strayed." Lu Ruohua quietly recited a brief passage of scripture.
Over the past week, he had constantly tried to spread the Gospel of Christ to this He Ying before him. But he could sense that this young man who spoke French with a strange accent, though maintaining a polite smile throughout, didn't care one whit about what he was saying. This left him somewhat dejected—this person was fluent in French and learned in many fields. If he could be baptized, he would make an excellent assistant in missionary work.
He Ying was feeling rather bored. As an atheist, the constant religious bombardment he endured was somewhat overwhelming. But he had a mission to complete for the organization—chat with Lu Ruohua and extract as much intelligence and information as possible. Especially to grasp the man's personality so it could be exploited in negotiations.
After days of conversation, He Ying had ferreted out everything about his family—how many people, how much land, how many cattle grazed in the fields. But he still couldn't discern the man's true character. The missionary maintained a mild, peaceful smile at all times. Today he had raised the subject of France's religious wars, hoping to provoke him into anger and expose something of his nature. But there seemed to be no gain.
Fine, you wretch. A real old fox! He Ying knew he couldn't push any further. Fortunately, Director Wen's backup plan was ready.
"Where there are people, there will be disputes. Father, let us go. Chairman Wen wishes to see you today." To reflect the political nature of the regime, he referred to Wen Desi as "Chairman" rather than using his commercial title of "Manager."
"Very well. Please allow me to change my clothes," Lu Ruohua said solemnly.
Lu Ruohua was not wearing a black cassock, but a long robe tailored in imitation of Ming Dynasty fashion. It looked quite peculiar on such a bearded foreigner, especially when topped with a square scholar's cap. Jesuit missionaries had long understood the principle of "when in Rome, do as the Romans do." Not only did they learn Chinese, but they also mastered local dialects and dressed as much like the locals as possible.
The vehicle that came to receive them was a new-model four-wheeled carriage. This was the first large modern product from the Machinery Department, the fruit of nearly twenty days of collective effort. Its core component—the shock-absorbing spring—was made from 0.6% carbon steel processed with heat treatment technology, wound around a steel pillar. The heat treatment step alone had taken nearly ten days. The performance of these springs was mediocre—insufficient for critical artillery components—but they served adequately enough as carriage shock absorbers.
However, making wheels proved difficult. In ancient times, both Chinese and Western wheelwrights possessed specialized crafts. The transmigrators couldn't master wheel manufacturing for the time being, so they simply used wheels scavenged from the wheeled carts in their inventory. The ball bearings in the axles were self-made—through building this carriage, the Machinery Department had successfully trialed the production of standardized hardware, bearings, and chains: the most fundamental industrial components.
The carriage body was constructed from local timber. The seats were genuine leather over spring cushions stuffed with dried seaweed. The windows were glazed, and the emblem on the carriage front depicted a red flag waving in the wind.
This "Red Flag" model carriage had been manufactured to reduce reliance on automobiles. More and more important visitors were calling on the transmigrators these days. While ferrying them about in jeeps could shock them tremendously, the fuel consumption and wear on irreplaceable parts were all too real.
Lu Ruohua was helped into the carriage. The carriage itself was nothing remarkable, but when he sat down, the comfort was exceptional—not the simple softness of thick wool padding, but a sensation of support that was soft yet firm.
The interior decoration was plain, just a coat of Chinese lacquer, but the cabin was spacious and the ride smooth. It didn't bounce on the road.
Looking out the window, he saw the carriage traveling on a flat, straight road paved with some kind of consolidated black material mixed with gravel. The surface looked solid, free of ruts or tracks. The center was slightly raised, with drainage ditches on either side. The design was clearly well-considered and the construction excellent. He was inwardly impressed—he hadn't seen such fine roads in all his travels across half the world.
The thoroughness of the roadside facilities also exceeded anything he had ever heard of. Every quarter of a league or so stood a stone milestone. Every intersection bore stone signposts. Along the route stood small forts protected by trenches, low walls, and barricades fashioned from iron wire. The forts were equipped with cannons, manned by fully armed soldiers keeping watch. Clearly, travelers on this road need not fear bandit attacks. In the open areas outside the forts, small open-air markets had spontaneously formed. Each market featured an identical covered pavilion containing a well and stone troughs for watering livestock. The carriage would rest briefly at these markets to water the horses. Inside each pavilion, a large wooden barrel stored boiled water that had cooled, apparently infused with some kind of herb. Lu Ruohua found it rather bitter to drink, but cooling and thirst-quenching.
Along the roadside, saplings had been newly planted—presumably to shade the road in years to come. But great wooden poles also stood along the route, firmly buried in the ground. Some were even stayed with ropes, suggesting these poles served some important function. Yet on closer inspection, there was nothing mounted on them—they were empty. Perhaps they were objects of Australian worship? Like the natives on Southeast Asian islands who venerated wooden poles? But these poles bore no decoration whatsoever—each was simply a pole coated in black wood tar.
"Are all these arrangements yours?" Father Lu asked once they were underway again.
"Yes."
"Lord, this is the finest road system I've ever seen. Does it cover all of Lingao?"
"Not quite," He Ying replied, knowing the transmigrators' formidable engineering capabilities and human-centered design invariably left a profound impression on everyone who traveled this road. "As you know, such roads are very expensive."
"Indeed," Lu Ruohua nodded. "And not just the roads—all those facilities. So thoroughly considered."
"We call this 'people-centered.'"
"'People-centered,'" Lu Ruohua pondered. "Centered on people's needs?"
"Public roads serve the general public, so naturally they should be centered on the public's needs."
"I notice travelers on this road pay no tolls. Roads require constant maintenance—how do you sustain them? Simply from your commercial profits? Is this considered Australian philanthropy?"
"Though we collect no tolls from this road, we still benefit from it."
"How so?"
"Father, surely you know: roads bring merchants, and merchants bring wealth?"
Lu Ruohua understood. "You use roads to attract merchants."
"Yes, Father. With merchants comes wealth. The better and safer the roads, the more merchants come, and the greater our profits."
"Your leaders are truly far-sighted." Lu Ruohua's praise was sincere.
"Hehe. I believe there are many in this world who understand this principle."
The negotiations were held in the commercial house at East Gate Market. A meeting room had been prepared and furnished with a conference table. Father Lu felt somewhat nervous as he took his seat. Then he caught the aroma of that Arabian beverage—coffee. A girl in an unusual uniform of some kind served coffee in dazzling fine porcelain cups.
By this era, coffee had already reached Europe. In the late sixteenth century, the Venetians had been the first to introduce coffee to the continent, but only a select few enjoyed it, and more people regarded it as a kind of medicine. However, Europeans in the Far East were quite familiar with the beverage, as the Muslim rulers and princes on the Indian subcontinent all maintained the habit of drinking coffee.
Though it was only inferior instant coffee, for this missionary, the fact that the transmigrators were serving him coffee made him feel highly valued.
"Please wait a moment." He Ying courteously excused himself and disappeared behind the door.
The room was empty. He could only hear the coming and going of people in the corridor. Bored, Lu Ruohua began studying the room's furnishings. All the furniture was of the finest Chinese style, though arranged rather haphazardly—nothing like the refined orderliness of the Chinese merchants' homes he had visited. Nor were there the long Chinese scrolls on the walls. Recalling the simple cut and coarse fabric of their clothing, it seemed these Australians possessed little artistic taste. Lu Ruohua calculated that when expanding the missionary team in the future, he should select a brother skilled in art to accompany the delegation—it would make it easier to penetrate their ruling elite. Beautiful things appealed to everyone.
Just as he was thinking about how to win over these Australians, he heard a commotion outside the door and the sound of English conversation, with some voices particularly loud. Lu Ruohua started—there were English here?! He hurried to the door and peeked out. He saw a beautiful blonde, green-eyed woman in a trailing gown in the corridor, accompanied by a gentleman wearing a mask and wig, emerging from another room. Smiling as he saw them off was none other than Wen Desi. The two parties exchanged a few more words. Wen Desi laughed, then spoke something in English, and the other party nodded repeatedly.
It seemed the English were also in contact with these Australians. Judging by the visitors' appearance and bearing, they didn't seem like ordinary English traders in the Far East. The man wore a longsword—not a merchant's attire. Though the gentleman's mask concealed his features, his every gesture was commanding, his bearing impressive—clearly a man of considerable military experience.
Such a gentleman would be at least a representative of the East India Company. If he was merely here for trade, that would be fine. But bringing such a lady suggested the English might have some long-term designs here. The heretics in France could only mount their stubborn resistance against the King and the Church with English support. Could they have similar designs in this corner of the world?
A few minutes later, the door opened. Wen Desi walked in slowly, followed by several "Australians," among whom Lu Ruohua recognized He Ying and Bai Duoluo. Wen Desi courteously welcomed Father Lu's arrival. Both parties then got down to business.
The negotiations were conducted in French through He Ying. Lu Ruohua first stated the Jesuits' requests—four points in all:
First, permit Jesuit missionaries to preach freely in Lingao, guaranteeing freedom of movement for missionaries within transmigrator territory.
Second, Jesuit missionaries may freely purchase or rent houses locally for religious and residential purposes.
Third, guarantee the personal and property safety of the Church, clergy, and believers.
Fourth, apart from the Jesuits, no other religious orders may send personnel to preach here.
Aside from the prohibition on other orders preaching here, all four points fell within the Executive Committee's expectations. Wen Desi didn't directly answer whether they were acceptable, but first made a solemn statement:
Australia had a Catholic Church. Although no bishop or priest had accompanied their return to the Central Plains, a representative had come to handle Church affairs.
"This is Father Bai Duoluo. Though he is a lay brother, he is most loyal to your religion and Church."
Bai Duoluo bowed awkwardly.
"And this is He Ying," Wen Desi continued his introductions. "He is your translator, and also the Executive Committee's Religious Affairs Officer. All matters concerning the Lingao Church can be negotiated with the Executive Committee through him."
He Ying bowed slightly. "At your service!"
"We agree to the missionary request, but—" Wen Desi emphasized this final word.
"But." Lu Ruohua of course knew that what came after "but" was the crucial part. He held his breath and listened intently to He Ying's translation.
(End of Chapter)