Chapter 262 — Yulin Fort
It wasn't vegetable oil, nor peanut oil, and certainly not the butter favored by Europeans. Li Huamei carefully wrapped the paper wick she had used to sample the substance and stowed it away, then screwed the lid back on the drum. Whatever this liquid was, it appeared to be the key to the machine's power.
She surveyed the compartment more carefully. Two sets of windmill-like blades were mounted on racks, their surfaces likewise coated in dark, greasy residue. Upon closer inspection, both these large components and the blades were forged from refined iron—confirming once again the Australians' remarkable skill with metalwork. The cabin also contained numerous cabinets and shelves. She opened them one by one. Strange iron implements, each nestled in its own small compartment, arranged with fastidious order. Some she recognized—European master carpenters used similar-looking tools. But most remained mysterious; she could not begin to guess their purpose.
After more than ten minutes, footsteps and watch-change commands began to echo outside the door. She froze, holding her breath for several heartbeats until the sounds faded entirely. Then, hastily returning everything to its place, she slipped out through a porthole.
The next day, the fleet weighed anchor and resumed its voyage. The lower decks were packed with baskets of coconuts—over five thousand in all. Jiang Qiuyan had to ban the crew from drinking coconut water as a casual thirst-quencher, lest someone develop an electrolyte imbalance.
The exploration team's next objective was Wanning—specifically, Shangen Town. A small pyrite deposit lay there. In terms of scale it was negligible, but its unique advantage was proximity to the coast. If they could pinpoint the location and confirm reserves, the transmigrators could stage an expedition-style blitz: a large-scale extraction operation, hauling away a hundred tons or so in a single run.
"Pyrite is useful both for producing sulfuric acid and as fertilizer," Wang Luobin explained. "Especially the sulfuric acid. The coal-chemical complex can produce it, but we'll be reliant on imported coal for a long time. Mining pyrite would at least ease part of the bottleneck."
"Do we need to build another fort? A Wanning Fort?" Chen Haiyang calculated grimly. His fleet's manpower had already shrunk by nearly a third. Leaving more garrison troops was an unpleasant prospect.
"No, no—Shangen is too barren, and Wanning isn't a development priority yet." Wang Luobin waved off the concern. "This region remained sparsely populated well into the twentieth century. In this timeline, it's likely completely uninhabited."
As they spoke, Ruan Xiaowu came running up, snapped to attention, and saluted. "Report! Commander Chen, scheduled transmission time. The radio room requests your signature on the outgoing telegrams."
"Bring them." Chen Haiyang accepted the telegram folder. Inside were the day's routine messages: the fleet's current position, status, next destination. Though routine, these dispatches constituted their most reliable safety net at sea. Under encryption protocols jointly established by the Executive Committee and Lingao Telecom, each major committee and department had been issued independent codebooks starting in March 1629. After encryption, messages were handed to the telecom section for transmission and reception, with decryption handled internally by each unit. This prevented telegrams from becoming public broadcasts—once a message went out, every location with a 15W or 5W transceiver would otherwise know its contents within minutes. Each department set its own rules for which messages required encryption and which did not.
Today's outgoing messages bore the "Navy Secret" stamp, as usual. Chen Haiyang flipped through. Several incoming messages had arrived as well: one plaintext dispatch from Guangzhou Station, filled with idle chatter—probably a radio operator in Guangzhou flirting with a female operator at Lingao Telecom. Another, marked "Navy Secret," came from Changhua Fort, briefly summarizing their recent expedition into the Li district.
"Not bad—they swindled ten cows and a girl." Chen Haiyang chuckled as he signed the outgoing messages, then handed the folder to Wang Luobin, who also needed to countersign.
"It shows everyone's getting good at mass mobilization. Grassroots work is expanding nicely." Wang Luobin scrawled his signature. "Building a foothold in Changhua and cultivating a long-term relationship with the Li stockade will pay dividends for the future development of Shilu. I think we should cable the Executive Committee and recommend a collective first-class merit citation."
"Haha—Xiao Zishan won't let this slip through the cracks, Engineer Wang. He loves awarding honors." Chen Haiyang sighed. "Once we're back in Lingao, they'll get at least a collective second-class merit. Probably another sleeve emblem to sew on."
"Honestly, a few personal secretaries would be more practical—" Wang Luobin had once taken no interest in the thin, dark-skinned local girls. Lately, however, he had noticed that young women nurtured by the Lingao Liberated Area's water and soil were beginning to fill out—fairer skin, healthier builds. Certain thoughts unsuitable for an educator had begun to stir.
"Personal secretaries?" Chen Haiyang snorted. "The Executive Committee means well, but good intentions can easily go awry. Could wind up hurting feelings and undermining solidarity."
"Pool the collective wisdom, pool the collective wisdom." As they talked, Ruan Xiaowu had already sprinted off. Chen Haiyang watched the boy's retreating figure and spoke with a note of emotion: "Youngsters like him—after a few months of training, they already look presentable. Hardworking, disciplined. Uneducated, maybe, but quick to learn. In three or four years, when they come of age, they'll be our backbone. Wouldn't it be nice, then, to match them with those girls?"
"Ha! You've thought it through. Already planning matchmaking for your subordinates?"
"If you want soldiers willing to fight and die beside you, an officer must truly be like a father and elder brother to them."
At the newly completed Yulin Fort, a garrison remained behind under the command of Old Di and Bai Guoshi: fourteen people in total. They would live beneath this blue sky and white clouds for roughly a month. During that time, Bai Guoshi would conduct a thorough survey of local resources and gather social intelligence. Old Di had a simpler mandate: fell timber and, under Bai's guidance, learn to harvest coconuts using the climbing method—which, according to Bai, was essential for stable, high-yield production.
Old Di watched the sails dwindle on the horizon, emotions churning. Then he turned to Bai Guoshi and the other transmigrators:
"Let's discuss how we're going to spend this vacation."
"The itinerary is quite full." Bai Guoshi surveyed the pile of supplies and tools the fleet had left behind. Machetes, carrying poles, axes, saws, large quantities of rope and rattan baskets. Not much ironware—after all, blacksmiths were just across the bay. They had also been issued a stock of trade goods for dealings with Anyoule Market: mainly white sugar and distilled spirits. Food reserves would last sixty days, and for emergencies, fifty taels of silver had been left.
"Let's test the radio first."
Old Di directed the marines to collect the items scattered on the beach and haul them into the fort, while Bai Guoshi and the other transmigrators set up the 5W transceiver left for their communications. After five minutes of calling, Lingao Main Station responded—signals clear. Next they contacted the exploration fleet and received a swift reply. Finally, a new signal broke in: Changhua Fort had heard their transmissions and was responding. The exchange of radio waves lifted everyone's spirits considerably; the loneliness felt less oppressive already.
Since they were here, they might as well make themselves at home. First order of business: get themselves and their subordinates properly settled. They divided responsibilities. Old Di would serve as Yulin Fort's commanding officer, handling defense and construction. Bai Guoshi would oversee resource collection—having received emergency medical training, he would also serve as the team's medic. Wang Tao would manage all dealings with Anyoule Market: external negotiations and procurement. He had brought along a boy adopted from among the orphans shipped from Guangzhou as his apprentice. At a time when most transmigrators eagerly hoped to adopt cute little girls, his adoption of a young boy had briefly made his... preferences a topic of speculation.
"It's nothing special," Wang Tao said evenly. "I want him to learn storytelling from me. Otherwise, when I'm gone, no one will carry on the craft. There has to be a legacy, doesn't there?"
The boy had taken Wang Tao's surname and was named Wang Degang—the name, of course, was a joke. But it carried weight and dignity when called aloud.
Despite being only about ten years old, Wang Degang had already learned quite a few traditional pingshu storytelling and xiangsheng crosstalk routines under his master's tutelage. He was an artistic mainstay at the Citizens School. Wang Tao also drilled him daily in public speaking and debate—that was Wang Tao's forte as a training instructor—preparing the boy to run for student government in the first Citizens School election the following year. His longer-term goal was to lobby the Executive Committee to establish a Youth League organization, providing his apprentice with a Youth League factional advancement track.
Finally, there was Shen Yuefeng, a haigui—"sea turtle," overseas returnee—who had majored in history with a minor in IT. Neither specialty was particularly useful to the transmigrators. Fortunately, he was a military enthusiast, and thanks to the decadent blessings of the USA, he had considerable experience with target shooting and hunting. He had been drafted into the Remote Exploration Team during its expansion after receiving a few weeks of natural history education. His assignment here was to collect local animal specimens, source meat, and—should food run short—hunt for provisions. None of these men seemed to take the Health Department's warnings seriously. But a steady supply of meat would keep morale high. Whether harvesting coconuts or felling timber, it was all heavy labor. Furthermore, after inspecting Yulin Fort's water supply situation, Old Di found it unsatisfactory and wanted improvements.
"The current water source is an irrigation channel diverted from a nearby stream. It gives us a small moat, but it's also vulnerable—an enemy could easily cut off the supply or poison it," Old Di said.
"You want to dig a well? But we don't have the equipment."
"A well here would probably yield saltwater anyway. What I want is to construct a hidden conduit drawing from the stream by a different route. That way, the enemy won't easily discover it."
(End of Chapter)