Chapter 689 - The Beginning of Pacification
The war on Hainan Island continued—though by now it could scarcely be called a war. Cities surrendered at the first hint of approaching forces. Some county seats had not formally opened their gates, yet Post-Disaster Management Bureaus were being established one after another. Then the Fubogun encircled Haikou Garrison while the Navy blockaded Baisha Naval Camp from the sea. The typewriter on the torpedo boat swiftly crushed Tang Yunwen's last hope of a decisive naval engagement. After losing six warships and over a dozen fire ships, all activity from Baisha Naval Camp ceased entirely. The Ming's last force on Hainan Island found itself divided and surrounded—neither willing nor able to fight.
Qiongshan County remained under siege, though the Executive Committee refrained from ordering an assault, pending final negotiations. But secret talks with those inside the walls were already underway. The Hainan Circuit Intendant Zhao Ruyi was absent from the city, and with support from the County Magistrate and local gentry, the Prefect conducted surrender discussions without interference.
Across Hainan Island—save for the perpetually isolated southern prefectures—Ming authority had collapsed almost overnight. The gentry everywhere dispatched representatives to make contact, indicating their willingness to provide money or grain in exchange for guarantees of local security.
It had taken mere days for the Yuan Laoyuan's reputation to establish itself over everyone on the island. The gentry recognized a fundamental truth: regardless of how many years the Ming had ruled, Hainan Island was about to change hands.
The gentry and great households harbored little anxiety about new masters—whoever came to power would govern by the same old methods.
As for Ming officials, there was nothing to fear. Provided they had no plans to die defending the city, they could continue serving in the county yamen. Some officials had even dispatched private envoys for discreet discussions on how both sides might continue to get along.
"These officials are truly shameless." Xiong Buyou grumbled as he saw off yet another delegation. "I can understand the gentry and great households—after all, they have property and businesses. They can't simply carry their houses away on their backs."
"What surprises you?" Liu Muzhou was already buried beneath a mountain of documents. "Do you actually believe officials serve the people? Serve the Emperor? The key is serving themselves! There's nothing strange about that."
"Today, unprecedentedly, three separate groups arrived." Xiong Buyou held up his fingers to count. "First, a delegation from the County Magistrate—naturally he wants assurances that he can continue in office, whether under the Ming or under us. Then came representatives from the county's Chief Constable, intimating that should he be appointed County Magistrate, he would certainly perform better. Finally, some local magnate of unknown background also came seeking an official position. He actually prostrated himself and shouted 'Long live the Australian-Song Emperor' three times..."
"He didn't shout 'Long live Chairman Wen'?"
"He shouted 'Long live, long live, long, long live Chairman Wen.'"
"And isn't that good? It shows hearts are turning toward us..."
"These hearts are truly shameless."
"Every era produces its malcontents. If everyone sincerely loved and enthusiastically supported their rulers, completely satisfied with their circumstances, five times happier than they are now—would latecomers like us ever stand a chance?"
And so Hainan's situation developed by leaps and bounds. The wildfire spreading across the island dealt a fatal blow to Guangdong's officialdom.
News of the Ming army's crushing defeat in Hainan reached Guangdong swiftly. Wang Zunde's already failing health could not withstand this blow. He fell gravely ill.
For more convenient coordination of military operations and supplies, Wang Zunde had brought his staff and subordinate officials to Guangzhou when the cross-strait campaign began. Near Bai'etan along the Pearl River, a wealthy man's garden served as his temporary headquarters.
The first dispatch reporting defeat came from the Qiongzhou Prefect. Wang Zunde half-doubted the claims—after all, this was an army assembled with the entire province's strength. If they still could not prevail, he simply could not imagine what would follow.
Then the reports of disaster began arriving in waves from Hainan, each more definitive than the last. The government army had been utterly destroyed at Chengmai—the entire force annihilated, numerous commissioned officers killed. This news struck like a thunderbolt. Then came word that the bald bandits had captured Danzhou and were now besieging Haikou Garrison and Qiongzhou Prefecture. It drove him into complete despair.
From scattered stragglers who had fled back from Hainan and been captured, and from He Rubin's evasive dispatches, he learned that the bald bandits possessed not only fearsome firearms but also overwhelming forces.
Soon, there was no more military business to handle in Guangzhou. News from Hainan had been completely cut off—bald bandit warships now blockaded the Qiongzhou Strait, and government vessels could no longer enter.
Rumors spread faster than plague through official circles. Everyone knew: Wang Zunde was finished. The Emperor would never countenance such a catastrophic defeat, and his political enemies—both at court and in local government—would not pass up this opportunity. Many were already whispering about when he would be dismissed, or perhaps arrested and sent to the capital.
Official circles were nothing if not fickle. In this situation, Wang Zunde found himself a Governor whom no one in Guangzhou bothered to acknowledge. Beyond his personal staff, not a soul came to discuss any matter with him. Even the Guangzhou Prefect and the magistrates of both counties grew neglectful. Unable to endure it any longer, he retreated to Zhaoqing.
But Zhaoqing offered no respite. There was nothing to do. His complexion grew haggard, and worn out from travel, he fell ill shortly after arriving.
Dispatch reports and documents continued arriving at the Governor-General's yamen, but staff members were rarely summoned to discuss military strategy. In truth, they all understood clearly: Guangdong's military strength was hollow. Apart from the anti-Yao garrison generals in the eastern and western mountains, the province had no organized forces remaining.
His condition deteriorated day by day beneath the weight of such anxiety. What worried him most was whether the bald bandits would exploit their advantage to attack Guangzhou—if so, Guangdong possessed almost no troops left to resist.
Before many days passed, dispatch reports described strangely-shaped vessels prowling at the mouth of the Pearl River. These ships sailed with remarkable speed, their hulls slender, completely unlike Chinese vessels or the red-haired barbarians' ships—obviously Australian fast ships.
The impending crisis forced him to rise from his sickbed. He summoned his staff several times to discuss countermeasures and strengthen Pearl River defenses.
On a day when his spirits seemed slightly improved, he sat in his study opening and reading documents. Investigating Censor Gao Shunqin had submitted a memorial requesting a blockade of the Gulf of Guangzhou and complete cessation of trade with the Portuguese in Macao "to eliminate the brigands."
Wang Zunde could only smile bitterly at this. If the Australians came to attack Guangzhou, the Portuguese in Macao would likely be the only naval force he could count on to defend the Pearl River mouth. What was the point of "eliminating brigands" now? The Australians—an even greater band of brigands—were about to arrive.
"My Lord, Secretary Li has arrived," a servant announced softly.
"Show him in," he said weakly.
Li Xijue entered. Since LĂĽ Yizhong had departed with the army, he had become Wang Zunde's most capable and trusted staff member. Often, only he could gain an audience with the Governor-General.
Wang Zunde had tea served and forced himself to appear calm. Li Xijue's face was pale. After sitting down, he studied his commander's expression before leaning forward to inquire:
"Has Your Excellency's health improved?"
Wang Zunde smiled and shook his head. "Just a minor cold. Nothing serious." Noticing the document Li Xijue held, he asked: "What is that?"
Li Xijue answered nervously: "A secret letter from Lingao—"
"What?" Wang Zunde's fingers began trembling. "Who wrote it?"
"Master LĂĽ." Li Xijue's tone mingled disdain with anxiety. "The letter arrived yesterday. Since Your Excellency was bedridden, this humble official read it first."
Wang Zunde's hands shook as he took the document. "Secretary LĂĽ... is he...?"
"He's alive. He's become the Australians' prisoner." Li Xijue sighed despite himself. "The letter explains everything in great detail."
Wang Zunde finished reading with trembling hands, then could contain himself no longer. Abandoning all dignity befitting a high-ranking official, he hurled the letter violently to the floor.
"Outrageous! Such a shameless scoundrel!"
Li Xijue, seeing his flushed face and labored breathing, feared he would make himself sicker with rage and quickly tried to calm him. The Governor-General's personal servant rushed in, wanting to help him back to his inner chamber to rest.
"No need. I'm fine!" Wang Zunde shook his head and said with profound sorrow, "I never imagined this man could be so shameless—neither dying for his country nor remaining a steadfast prisoner. To actually write such a letter!"
"Please calm your anger, Your Excellency." Li Xijue hastened to console him. "The letter wasn't written in Master Lü's own hand—it only bears his personal seal. Furthermore, with Master Lü imprisoned, even if he did write it, there were surely elements of coercion. For now, examining the letter's contents is what matters most!"
Whether Lü Yizhong had written the letter, whether it represented his true intentions—none of that mattered. The crucial point was that this secret letter revealed the Australians' intentions.
Since the Australians were willing to communicate through Lü Yizhong, negotiations remained possible. It need not come to armed conflict—and the government army could not afford another defeat.
The letter's contents were divided into several sections. First: Guangdong was to ransom its prisoners. For captured officers and staff, the Australians had established prices according to rank. A bazong, for example, cost ten taels of silver. Beyond the ransom, each prisoner owed a daily fee of one qian of silver for room and board—calculated by days spent in the Lingao POW camp. In other words, the sooner one redeemed them, the more one saved. Otherwise, the "late fees" would become astronomical.
Second: matters regarding bilateral peace talks. Lü Yizhong conveyed that the Australians originally harbored no designs against the Ming—they had merely sought a place to trade and reside. Yet they had been attacked by government forces and suffered heavy losses. Now the Australians were very angry. They were preparing to bring dozens more great iron ships from Australia to attack Guangzhou.
But armed conflict meant casualties on both sides. And since the Australians had come for commerce rather than conquest, they hoped to negotiate with the government "to extinguish the flames of war."