Chapter 365 - The Foshan Journey (Part 18)

The Leizhou Sugar Company had recently located wheelwrights in Leizhou—nearly every sugarcane farmer there possessed ox carts. But the wheelwrights they found specialized in making spokeless plank-type wheels for local sugarcane transport carts. These had decent load-bearing capacity but were far too heavy and clumsy—completely unsuitable for their purposes.

"What kind of wheels does he make? With spokes or without?"

"Without spokes, can it still be called a wheel?" Huang Andé asked in puzzlement.

The man he'd found was named Bao Lei, who ran a wheelwright shop in Foshan. Bao Lei wasn't a local—a drifter from the north who had settled in Foshan over twenty years ago.

Theoretically speaking, Bao Lei was a fugitive. His family had been government artisans for generations, specifically making vehicles for the military, with exceptional wheel-making skills.

In the Great Ming, being a government artisan was hereditary—a form of forced labor instituted by Zhu Yuanzhang, not a benefit. Unlike this era, where people schemed to join power companies for high wages and benefits—in the Ming, a government artisan's status was barely better than a slave's.

Bao Lei had grown up in such a government artisan family, inheriting ancestral wheelwright skills. But he soon realized the truth in the saying that being a government artisan was like being a government slave. Actually, government artisans were worse off—slave owners at least fed their slaves enough to work. Government artisans were nearly starving.

So one day, Bao Lei simply fled.

His escape wasn't dramatic—no barbed wire to scale or walls to climb. One day he bundled up his meager belongings, loaded them onto a handcart he'd made himself, and walked away with his family. No one asked where he was going. After a while, the perfunctory officials simply added his family to the "missing" list.

Abandoning artisan registration without paying substitute fees equaled desertion. But in the Ming, this was no longer unusual. Still, Bao Lei's family felt nervous enough to flee all the way to Guangdong—the southernmost extent of their mental map. Had they known there was a Qiongzhou even further south, they might have gone to Hainan Island.

Life after escape wasn't much easier. He discovered that people here didn't use many carts. Despite possessing excellent skills, business was always slow. Fortunately, Foshan's commerce was developed enough to support a few cart shops, so he managed to scrape by.

Now Bao Lei's situation had grown desperate. Somehow the government had suddenly remembered him. With cannon-casting underway all across Guangdong, demand for gun carriages had surged. Every craftsman with any connection to cart-making was being conscripted. Bao Lei's entire family was caught up in it. He and his sons were all drafted. Even his eldest son, who had completed his apprenticeship and was working as a journeyman at a fellow tradesman's shop in Guangzhou, was inexplicably conscripted to Foshan for a forced father-son reunion.

"Since they're conscripted artisans, how can we take them away?"

"Don't worry, Master—they bought their release." Huang Andé said quietly. "Working day and night making gun carriages here, they don't earn a single Tianqi coin, and even their meals are stinted. Many have died. Bao Lei sold his Foshan shop and all his possessions, bribed the supervisors, and managed to escape."

Escaping was one thing, but it left him penniless—a lifetime's savings gone. His eldest son Bao Boqing at least had somewhere to go—back to his former shop in Guangzhou to work. Hard labor, but survival. Bao Lei, his wife, and younger son were homeless with nowhere to turn.

"These past days they've been living in a ruined temple. Father and son take carpenter jobs in the market. They're barely hanging on. They'd all be willing to follow Master to Lingao."

When Huang Andé brought Bao Lei over, Huang Tianyu studied the man before him. He looked like the local people they'd seen at the Lingao refugee quarantine camp—thin and shriveled, skin rough from years of labor, eyes murky and dull. For a moment, Huang Tianyu thought he was blind.

The man appeared ancient. Huang Andé said Bao Lei was about fifty—already one foot in the grave by this era's standards.

"You're Bao Lei?"

"Yes... this humble one is Bao Lei." Bao Lei displayed the sluggishness of long-suffering laborers.

"You're a wheelwright?"

"Yes, this humble one makes wheels." Bao Lei added: "General carpentry too..."

"Willing to go to Lingao?"

"Willing." Bao Lei nodded. "If Master will feed me, that's enough."

"Any other requests?"

Bao Lei's request was simple: hire his younger son too. That way the whole family would have food. Huang Tianyu agreed readily, even offering to bring his wife—Lingao had plenty of work for women.

After taking in Bao Lei's family, Huang Tianyu used his connections to recruit over a dozen more craftsmen who had bought their way out of conscription or escaped. Various trades, all cart-related—almost enough to staff a complete vehicle workshop. Skilled foundry workers remained elusive, but at least they'd assembled a full wheelwright crew—extremely useful for the Industry Committee.

Workers recruited in Foshan and purchased materials were all arranged for transport through Qiwei's branch office. Liu San busied himself with visits and entertaining—since Lin Ming's banquet, he'd suddenly become a local celebrity. Liu San and Yang Shixiang happily socialized everywhere—such commercial connections were always beneficial.

"Doctor Liu has been visiting pharmacies all over these past days," the clerk reported. "Any shop with prepared medicines, he buys some of everything, familiar or unknown. He purchases several doses of each. This humble one observed him labeling each with notes. The purpose is unclear."

Li Luoyou sat in his study, listening to a junior clerk report on Yang Shixiang and Liu San's activities. His interest in these few people far exceeded his interest in Lin Ming.

"The Shopkeeper Huang traveling with Doctor Liu never visits pharmacies. He only frequents kilns and foundries, lingering in tea houses. His men are recruiting workers everywhere..."

"Recruiting?" Li Luoyou had been listening attentively. This caught his particular attention.

"This humble one inquired—apparently they'll take any trade: pharmacy clerks, kiln workers, foundry workers, carpenters, wheelwrights... They accept even workers too old and weak for other employers. They even offer to bring families along."

In traditional commerce, larger establishments had employees live-in at the shop. Staff weren't allowed to go home at night; they received a few days off monthly, sometimes only annually. Those from far away might visit home once every three years. This applied from ordinary clerks to head managers—none were exempt unless they were proprietors. So allowing families to accompany workers was quite unusual.

Li Luoyou nodded and tipped the clerk five qian of silver, then dismissed him. Clearly the Australians were building workshops and factories in Lingao, hence this indiscriminate recruitment. The so-called Australian goods were actually Lingao goods—or soon would be.

Allowing families to accompany workers was meant to help them settle in Lingao and prevent escape.

"I'd quite like to see what concoction they're brewing in Lingao."

"Selling medicine?" Quark Qiong's voice came from outside. He had just returned from examining newly delivered silk samples, selecting several.

"Yes, someone's looking to sell medicine." Li Luoyou said. "You've made your selections?"

"Done." Quark Qiong had limited capital—the typical small English merchant crossing oceans with a few hundred pounds seeking fortune. Quite shrewd, he always carefully selected from Li Luoyou's stock, taking only goods with maximum profit potential.

Li Luoyou used him to connect with the English East India Company and even England itself. Trading solely with the Portuguese no longer satisfied him. As for the Manila Spanish—Li Luoyou found them thoroughly repugnant. They behaved exactly like the Jurchens: crude and barbaric, endlessly oppressing and exploiting Chinese while maintaining constant hostility and suspicion. Practically indistinguishable from the Jurchens. The Wanli-era Manila massacre still rankled, so he never touched the Manila trade.

Quark Qiong's direct England connection also opened possibilities for purchasing European books and instruments. The Jesuits could provide such things too, but obviously wouldn't procure books the Church disliked. Protestant England was considerably more tolerant.

"You must be discussing those Australians."

"Precisely." Li Luoyou smiled. "These Australians are constantly full of surprises." He shared the clerk's intelligence. "...Building forts in Lingao wasn't enough—now it appears they're establishing factories too. Recruiting tradespeople regardless of specialty. So-called Australian goods are really Lingao goods—at least they soon will be."

Quark Qiong listened, then shook his head: "The Australians probably aren't here merely for trade. This looks more like colonization."

"Colonization?" Li Luoyou was startled. He understood something of colonization—essentially immigrant settlement.

"Impossible." He shook his head. "Colonization requires seeking out vast wilderness. Like that place you mentioned before—called what, Ahmei-zhou?"

"America..." Quark Qiong said.

"Right. I hear the land there is fertile and completely unpopulated except for some savages. Immigrating there for settlement makes sense. But Lingao is a Great Ming county, part of imperial territory since the Han dynasty. Where's the need for outsiders to colonize?"

"That's difficult to say." Quark Qiong mused. "I hear they share language and race with China. Perhaps they feel entitled."

(End of Chapter)