Chapter 391 - The Smuggler's Ship
"What about credibility? You know you have zero credit with pirates—why would these people trust you?"
"I'll focus on recruiting Shi Shisi, then through him connect with others."
"I can't approve this—almost zero success rate."
"There is one." Lin Baiguang was clearly confident.
Ran Yao still felt uncertain—in his view, Lin Baiguang's entire plan carried extreme risks. Only someone believing in a "protagonist halo" would attempt it.
"I'll act according to circumstances. Enemy work never has a 100% success rate anyway." He held his ground.
"Fine, one last question." Ran Yao said. "If Zhu Cailao demands you reveal the Australians' origins, explain the big iron ship and fast ships' secrets, or similar sensitive questions—how will you answer?"
"According to the Capture Handbook of course." This handbook, initiated by Ma Qianzhu, had been revised to its seventh edition, constantly enriching details, even incorporating indigenous rumors to make it increasingly credible.
"What if he doesn't believe you? Or worse—say he decides to torture you—" Ran Yao observed his reaction. "Can you hold out?"
"Two nations at war don't kill envoys. Besides, I'm a negotiation representative—since he needs us, he won't do such things." Lin Baiguang said confidently.
"Alright." Ran Yao agreed. "I approve your going. But know this: the probability of dying at pirate hands is extremely high..."
"I know."
"You might be killed the moment you reach Nanri Island, without even a chance to speak."
"Then that's just my bad luck."
Ran Yao felt he'd said enough to fulfill his duty.
"Do you need any support? Radio, weapons... or Army, Navy, Special Reconnaissance coordination..."
"No need. Military coordination only increases complexity. A radio can't fit in my pocket. A pistol among thousands—having one or not is the same. Once trouble starts, even an AK couldn't shoot my way out."
This kid was quite philosophical. But clearly very ambitious.
After Lin Baiguang left, Ran Yao phoned Executive Committee Chairman Wen Desi. He'd barely started reporting when Wen Desi interrupted:
"This matter will be directly handled by your Political Security Bureau. No need to report details. I'll handle any coordination needed."
Ran Yao hung up, pondered Wen Desi's words for several minutes, then began drafting the Rong Operation implementation outline.
Shi Shisi heard that Australians wouldn't directly accept the boss's terms, instead sending someone to Nanri Island to negotiate personally. He felt somewhat hesitant but agreed. Ma Qianzhu's judgment was correct—the other side urgently needed aid.
"You want to see Chief Zhu—I won't stop you. But understand: he's been in a bad mood lately. You people really hit him hard last year. You may not get a warm reception." Shi Shisi had built basic friendship with Lin Baiguang these past days.
"I'm going to discuss business with Chief Zhu. He won't harm me. When the time comes, I'll rely on Brother Shi's guidance."
"Anything I can help with, I'll give my all!" Shi Shisi slapped his chest.
Promises might be worthless in another time-space, but here, Lin Baiguang believed they still had value.
"That's right—this is a modern fishing boat." Zhou Weisen climbed onto the survey ship's deck, yanking off his snorkeling mask, gasping. "This is a big deal."
Bai Guoshi's expression was grave.
The sampan's passengers said nothing. At low tide they'd already examined the mast closely, finding weld seams and nuts. Except for Lingao, nothing manufactured in this time-space would bear electric welding marks. Zhou Weisen had merely confirmed again.
"What kind of ship?"
"Looks like an American oceangoing fishing vessel." Zhou Weisen told Lin Chuanqing. "Shape, structure all match. Hull numbers are illegible—seems deliberately erased."
"That can't be—hull numbers are critical—" Lin Chuanqing suddenly stopped, remembering when he'd been a snakehead running human smuggling operations, his boats' hull numbers were also deliberately obscured.
This suggested the ship's origins were truly unclear.
"Anything on the ship? Did you go inside?"
"The bottom's four or five meters down. The ship's settled on the reef plate, positioned straight. But entering the cabin with snorkeling gear is too dangerous." Zhou Weisen shook his head. "Need scuba diving."
Exploring a sunken ship's interior was specialized diving activity. Zhou Weisen was experienced, but wreck diving required proper equipment. Both he and the Planning Committee warehouse had diving equipment—from simplest snorkeling to common scuba to heavy diving gear—plus compressed air cylinders sufficient for diving use.
Transmigrators couldn't manufacture oxygen-nitrogen mixed gas, but ordinary compressed air diving could handle depths up to 70 meters.
Zhou Weisen had just used snorkeling equipment, holding his breath to explore. His underwater time was merely two or three minutes—barely enough to identify the ship type.
"You rest. I'll go down this time. Scuba." Lin Chuanqing said.
"Sharks are gathering again!" Gao Xiaosong noticed ten-odd sharks patrolling the clear water. "You'll need the shark suit."
Sharks driven off by repellent were slowly returning, even beginning to circle around them.
"I told you not to throw garbage in the sea!" Lin Chuanqing cursed the indigenous sailors.
"I think we should both go down—safer. Watch each other's backs." Zhou Weisen said. "Sharks aren't a big issue—no aggressive species here. For safety, we'll release shark repellent powder."
They retrieved two sets of scuba equipment from below. Zhou Weisen decided against wearing the chainmail shark suit—the wreck's tight interior spaces could snag and trap him.
Lin Chuanqing wasn't so calm, donning one. Besides that, he brought essential ropes and mesh bags for wreck diving—the latter for retrieving items.
"If something happens, use this." Zhou Weisen gave Lin Chuanqing a powerful diving speargun—CO2-propelled, effective range 20 meters. "Only use it as last resort."
Each took a diving knife for personal protection. They agreed Zhou Weisen would enter the cabin while Lin Chuanqing guarded outside.
"Alright, let's go!"
Yellow shark repellent powder dispersed in the water; sharks retreated.
Zhou Weisen donned his mask, opened the valve, and rolled into the water. He descended about four or five meters, checking his dive watch—exactly 12:10 PM. He'd brought two 15-liter cylinders, each with independent supply systems. For diving at most 10 meters deep, his backup was 200% redundant. But he didn't dare be careless—wreck diving's danger coefficient was extreme.
Bottom visibility was good. Sunlight filtered through rippling waves, illuminating the grayish-white seafloor. The mysterious sunken ship sat on the reef plate less than 20 meters away, settled upright like a model ship in an aquarium.
He felt a tap on his shoulder—Lin Chuanqing holding the speargun. He gave a thumbs-up—everything OK. They swam forward together.
The deep seabed was all coral sand and reef plate. Fish swam around. Zhou Weisen was careful—coral reefs held not just sharks but more terrifying creatures. Moray eels hiding in reef crevices were especially horrifying—these things could grow over 3 meters long.
They crossed the reef plate to the wreck. From underwater, preservation was excellent. Seaweed attached to deck and hull drifted in the current—the ship had clearly been here for a while. Based on attached sediment and shellfish, at least six months. The surrounding reef plate had no scattered items; it looked like someone had opened the sea valves and scuttled it deliberately.
At the stern, he noticed the propeller was bent, the rudder partially damaged—looked like it had struck rocks. The white protective paint still looked new. Even quite a few pilothouse windows remained intact.
He used his diving knife to clear away glass from a broken pilothouse window. The cabin had become a marine organism paradise; a startled small octopus jetted past him. Zhou Weisen steadied himself—he didn't know if the ship held victims' remains.
But the pilothouse held nothing. He couldn't find the crucial ship's log, nor any registration documents or port papers.
He found only some charts and navigation materials—completely empty-handed otherwise.
Securing a safety line to the pilothouse, he continued deeper. The ship's interior was neat and clean. No structural damage, no scattered items—evidently no violent impact when sinking.
He noticed emergency kits near the pilothouse had been removed, while those deeper inside remained intact. He reached the first compartment below deck—door closed. He tried pushing—surprised to find it locked. Every cabin door was locked. How strange—who locks doors when abandoning ship?
Most peculiar: nowhere on the ship bore markings of its name or registration port—areas normally present on equipment. These had all been carefully ground away or painted over. Clearly, the owner had ensured no one could discover the ship's true identity.
Thirty minutes later, a mesh bag of items was pulled up on a rope, followed by both men surfacing.
The bag contained objects from the cabin: navigation materials, an emergency kit, a fire axe, cans and bottles. From these, Lin Chuanqing reconfirmed: this was apparently an American-built small fishing boat.
"Nothing identifying it," Zhou Weisen said while removing equipment. "Not just no ship's log—no navigation documents at all. Ship's clock is gone. Even equipment nameplates were removed. Even smuggling boats aren't this secretive."
"This ship wasn't doing honest work." Lin Chuanqing lit a cigarette.
"Obviously—such deliberate identity concealment—definitely not fishing. Besides, the cabin had no fishing gear whatsoever."
"Probably illegal activities." Gao Xiaosong summarized. "Could it be a smuggling ship?"
"Not ordinary smuggling—otherwise no need to be so thorough." Lin Chuanqing said. "From the looks of it—either drug smuggling or arms smuggling."
"Damn—so some drug dealers came to Ming Dynasty?"
"If arms dealers, that'd be great—a whole ship of weapons!" Bai Guoshi grew excited.
"Drug or arms dealers, hard to say. Need to raise the ship and search thoroughly." Zhou Weisen said. "The ship appeared to be underway when it sank."
The cabin held many provisions—lots of canned goods and liquor. Labels were waterlogged, but seals looked intact.
"Where are these cans from?"
"Made in America."
"So the people aboard were Americans. Can you estimate the time?"
"Check this emergency kit."
Zhou Weisen opened the box—excellent sealing, completely dry inside. Food, medicine, signal flares. The expiration date showed: the time was consistent with their departure time-space.
(End of Chapter)