Chapter 966 - Undercurrents of Competition
The Daoist temple was dilapidated. The first courtyard's ruined buildings had previously housed beggars; now they were crammed with refugees. Zhang Yingchen entered through the side passage and made his way to the back. The lay Daoist was chopping firewood. Zhang Yingchen gave a cursory greeting and headed to the small courtyard where he stayed.
The courtyard wasn't large. The dirt floor was piled with braziers and charcoal, along with many jars and crocks. The air hung thick with the smell of vinegar-soaked charcoal and disinfectant. Zhang Yingchen knew this area had just been flooded. Now that the waters had receded and temperatures were rising rapidly, outbreaks of infectious disease could erupt at any moment. Though his blood was full of antibodies, it was still better to exercise caution.
Mingqing met him at the doorway. This young Daoist acolyte from Qingyun Temple in Hangzhou had formally become his "disciple." After careful training, the boy had grown into his reliable and capable assistant. The preliminary instruction of the two younger apprentices was also Mingqing's responsibility—at least Mingqing could read.
"Master—" Mingqing said respectfully.
"Let's talk inside." Zhang Yingchen said.
Mingqing was not yet officially a naturalized citizen, so Zhang Yingchen kept certain matters from him. He focused on instilling New Daoist theory and his own religious views while also teaching medical and pharmaceutical knowledge. As for matters like the Senate that worked for the welfare of mankind, he hadn't yet disclosed anything. Zhang Yingchen had only told him he was a Daoist from Guangdong province—in any case, Qiongzhou also fell under Guangdong's jurisdiction.
The main hall was piled floor to ceiling with bamboo trays of medicinal materials, medicine-cutting guillotines, drug-grinding mortars, clay pots and copper kettles for brewing medicine, and charcoal—so cluttered there was almost nowhere to step. To treat as many people as possible, besides the prepared Chinese and Western medicines brought from Lingao, many medicines were prepared on-site.
Two young apprentices sat on the kang inside, sorting medicinal materials. They were boys around ten years old whose parents and relatives had died or scattered during the disaster. They themselves had been half-starved. After Zhang Yingchen took them in and nursed them for quite some time, they had barely recovered to human appearance.
Seeing him return, both children immediately climbed down from the kang and bowed to him, still somewhat awkwardly.
"Good, good. Continue processing the medicine." Zhang Yingchen smiled. "How about it? How many medicines can you recognize now?"
"Only about ten or so..." one of the children answered.
"Mm, I use few medicines here, so it's hard for you to learn more. Tomorrow when we go to the pharmacy to get medicine, I'll point out a few more kinds for you on the spot."
"Thank you, Master."
Besides Mingqing teaching them to read every day, Zhang Yingchen also found time daily to teach them to identify medicines and memorize formulary verses—a sort of basic Chinese medical education. Overall, he was quite satisfied with these two children, more so than with apprentices he had previously obtained.
But these two shouldn't stay with him too long. They hadn't been through purification, their bodies were still weak, and Yizhou's local environment was complicated. He needed to arrange to send them away soon.
Zhang Yingchen took a key from his waist and unlocked the inner room—this was his private chamber. He kept his most important items here. These "most important items" amounted to some medicines and medical instruments—and most crucially, his special writing reagent and codebook.
Entering the inner room, Mingqing first reported on household matters: how many characters he had taught the two junior apprentices, progress on medicine preparation, who had come looking for Zhang Yingchen, and any unusual activities outside—all reported in careful detail.
Most suspicious was that three or four strange beggars had moved into the outermost courtyard in recent days. They didn't seem as weak and listless as the others; in fact, they appeared quite energetic. They rarely went out to beg and sometimes stood around at the gate. One frequently lingered near the temple's back entrance.
"Good, you've done well." Zhang Yingchen praised him. "We're strangers in a strange land here—we must be extra careful. You may go now."
He locked the door and lit an oil lamp—the window shutters were already down, and the room was pitch black. Seven or eight days ago, a death threat written in crude, crooked characters had been dropped in his courtyard. He couldn't afford not to be careful.
Zhang Yingchen had previously read extensive materials on Daoism and had also studied various late Ming folk religions and secret societies—their texts, code words, and research papers. But after just half a month in this area, he deeply felt that historical materials were too limited. The situation he faced was far more complex and harder to grasp than anything described in books.
Just from what he had learned, there were over a dozen secret societies active in this area, taking advantage of the famine to preach, develop their organizations, and win over hearts and minds. Some he had never even heard of before.
Zhang Yingchen touched the holster under his ribs: a Glock 19 pistol. When he had gone to the Li territory, he had felt perfectly comfortable carrying no weapons—neither the Li nor the Miao would casually kill people, much less harm a physician. But the current situation in southern Shandong was a hornet's nest. Both the Foreign Intelligence Bureau and Zhao Yingong had opposed his operating alone in counties and prefectures without logistical support.
Moreover, his current activities were "suspicious" to both officials and secret religious societies alike. If he wasn't extremely careful, losing his life could happen at any moment. Zhang Yingchen sometimes marveled at himself for being a "person of faith" willing to take such risks. He dissolved a specialized writing tablet in clear water, then dipped his brush in it and began writing rapidly.
The letter was addressed to Zhao Yingong. Zhang Yingchen was eager to know about his progress in Shandong—whether he had established a relatively stable base. Not only did he have manpower to send, but he was also anxious to receive medicine resupply through Zhao Yingong's channels.
He blew on the first letter to dry it, then wrote some inconsequential content in the spaces between the coded lines using his brush. He finished, sealed the letter, wrapped it in oilcloth, and sealed it with wax. Tomorrow he planned to personally deliver it to a shop in the city. That shop sent a clerk to Linqing every three or four days to deliver letters and handle business. For a small fee, they would take care of it. The clerk at Linqing would hand the letter to the local Qiwei Station. Qiwei would transmit it by pigeon, and within three or four days the letter would reach Hangzhou, then be forwarded by telegraph. Within a week, Zhao Yingong and Lingao would know his letter's contents.
Though this transmission speed was miraculous by this timeline's standards, for the Elders it remained unimaginably slow—and there were too many uncertainties involved.
Zhang Yingchen had no alternative. This wasn't a location where Five Elements Five Merchants or the Black Dragon Society had established nodes. The nearest contact station was only Linqing—a major shipping hub on the Grand Canal in Shandong.
The second letter required even more caution. He not only used the writing reagent but also encoded the text before writing. This was a proposal and plan for how to expand activities in Shandong—very sensitive content. Besides his deputy Dai E and the Religious Affairs Office leadership, he didn't want anyone else knowing about this for now. As an independent department, New Daoism had its own codebook—just like the Lingao church. However, He Ying, as director of the Religious Affairs Office, held codebooks for both organizations.
Actually, in Master Zhang's mind, there lurked an even bigger and bolder plan. What the letter discussed was a targeted proposal for the coming Dengzhou Mutiny:
"Old Dai, greetings upon reading this:
With Operation Engine underway, as proud members of the Senate, you and I must make every possible preparation for the Dengzhou Mutiny. Given the time constraints, relying solely on native bureaucrats will make it very difficult to maximize population transfer. Therefore, I have referred to the 'Western Queen Mother transmission event' recorded in the Book of Han, Treatise on the Five Elements during Emperor Ai's reign. I believe it would be worthwhile to utilize the folk religions and Wusheng Laomu [Eternal Mother] worship already spreading throughout the Shanxi-Hebei-Shandong-Henan region to create, somewhat in advance, panic and legends about sacred ships at sea coming to rescue all living beings.
I have also communicated this idea to the Grand Library and intelligence departments. I believe this plan has certain value for Operation Engine. However, the uncertainties in it are equally worrying. Please discuss this with Yu Eshui on my behalf, and with Director Zhao as well. In my view, no one would be more interested in this plan than he..."
There were things Zhang Yingchen didn't mention in his private letter—such as how many tragedies would result from blind popular riots. Obviously, Zhang Yingchen had deliberately ignored this part. It was also notable that he hadn't mentioned using New Daoism as a tool for spreading rumors and guiding public opinion. In Master Zhang's eyes, this kind of dirty work was best left to the folk religions destined to be suppressed regardless.
After writing this section, Zhang Yingchen couldn't help but hesitate. He suspected He Ying would strenuously oppose his plan. The personal risk he would bear in this plan was enormous—if anything went wrong, Old He as department head would find it difficult to take responsibility.
Never mind, he thought. To obtain more population, stirring up greater chaos in Shandong was quite necessary. At least among the intelligence and civil affairs departments, his idea had received considerable support. However, with his currently pitiful execution capability, how much effect he could actually achieve remained something even he had no idea about.
"Can't do anything without people!" Zhang Yingchen thought painfully again about those boys around the gruel station—such excellent resources!
At this thought, his blood surged. Why not just recruit seventeen or eighteen of them first! He could send them directly to Linqing and have Qiwei Station's boats transport them back to Jiangnan.
Then he added at the end of the letter a request for Old Dai to send a few of the apprentices currently in training who could speak decent Mandarin and were religiously reliable to Shandong for use. He also added a few lines asking Dai E to find some Qiwei escort guards or special reconnaissance team members to come to Shandong to "assist"—especially to protect his personal safety.
After finishing the letters, he stood and stretched his back, then wandered to the outer room to watch the apprentices process medicines. The "seasonal epidemics" after flooding were almost all intestinal infectious diseases; the medicines required were relatively simple. The apprentices were mostly processing these types of materials. Additionally, he had special "anti-diarrhea medicine" on hand from Lingao.
(End of Chapter)