Chapter 992 - Changhua Fort

This was Changhua Fort. Since the first circumnavigation of the island, Changhua—as the first independent overseas fortress—had undergone several expansions, growing from an originally crude fortified blockhouse into a small coastal bastion. Beneath the fluttering Morning Star flag, a twenty-four-pounder naval cannon mounted on the bastion commanded Sanjia Harbor, Changhua's maritime gateway.

Less than a kilometer outside the bastion, on the coastal wasteland near the Changhua River, a large tract of land had been enclosed with wooden palisades and thorny fast-growing plants, with rows of livestock pens constructed within. This was Changhua Pasture—currently Lingao's primary source of draft animals and meat livestock.

The Agricultural Committee raised large numbers of the renowned Changhua sheep here on the seaside pastures. Cattle were supplied by the local Li people. Wu Nanhai and Yang Baogui had visited Changhua Pasture multiple times to inspect and guide operations, continuously expanding the scale of animal husbandry. Yang Baogui in particular used Changhua sheep as the mother lineage, breeding improved stock using frozen sperm. The Agricultural Committee had also sown large quantities of quality pasture grass suited to the local soil and climate.

Through these efforts, large numbers of live sheep and cattle were now transported from Changhua to Lingao each month.

Outside Changhua Pasture, a small periodic market had formed. The Li people came here on the first and fifteenth of each month to trade various local products: exchanging cattle, cotton cloth, venison and deer hides, kapok, and honey locust beans for salt, hardware, white sugar, and sundry daily goods. At other times, Changhua Fort dispatched mobile trading caravans deep into the Changhua interior.

The large quantities of sundries transported from Lingao had stimulated the Li people's consumer desires—compared to the past, when there had been only a trading basket selling nothing but some salt and hardware at highway-robbery prices, the Australians offered diverse, high-quality products at much cheaper rates.

Though the Li people didn't accumulate gold and silver, the mountains teemed with local products. As long as one exerted effort, marketable goods the Australians were willing to purchase could be found everywhere. Had the Planning Bureau not been unwilling to drive Changhua's large and small deer species to sudden extinction by limiting monthly purchase quantities, the Li people would probably have killed off all the local deer already.

Such trade naturally disrupted some locals' livelihoods, but constructing and operating Changhua Fort required substantial manpower. These displaced workers quickly found employment with Changhua Fort. Though some harbored resentment, no one dared provoke the "Hair Bandits" who were armed with guns and even cannons.

Besides barter trade with the Li people, Li Haiping also—following industrial department directives—hired large numbers of local laborers to mine quartz sand for Lingao's glass industry.

As Changhua Fort's workforce grew, Commander Li Haiping selected some able-bodied men from the hired workers to form a fifty-person "militia" equipped with machetes and standard spears to protect the pasture's safety.

As for the local government, they turned a blind eye to the Hair Bandits' every move—of course, even had they wished to intervene, they would have been powerless. In Changhua, the Great Ming's presence was quite feeble.

This peaceful situation continued until the Summer Awakening Campaign: a Marine company and three twelve-pounder mountain howitzers landed at Sanjia Harbor; subsequently, led by "guides" organized by Changhua Fort—the Changhua Fort militia—they swiftly advanced to the walls of Changhua County seat. The county clerk serving as acting administrator unhesitatingly opened the gates and surrendered. As for the guard station outside the city, though they briefly concentrated able-bodied military households in preparation for battle, once the Marines wheeled out the cannons and fired a single shot, the garrison soldiers scattered and fled. Li Haiping commanded the Marines in a single charge to take the guard station; the rest surrendered without resistance. Casualties on both sides: zero.

Changhua's Han Chinese population was minuscule. Apart from a few officer-landlords at the guard station, no forces worth calling gentry existed. With few villages and extensive Li territories, ordinary bandits had no room for activity. During the northern Qiong pacification war, this area had remained entirely peaceful, with no armed conflicts. It was a textbook peaceful takeover.

Though they occupied the county seat, the Senate's governing apparatus never actually entered Changhua County seat—the former county clerk "caring for the Changhua County seal" still remained in the dilapidated county yamen. This wasn't about deliberately maintaining Great Ming's nominal authority; simply put, there wasn't a single building in the entire county seat that the Senators found acceptable. Rather than staying in a county seat devoid of infrastructure, remaining at Changhua Fort with its far superior facilities made more sense.

Several months ago, a joint work group dispatched from Lingao had descended on Changhua for a comprehensive census, registering households, surveying terrain and towns, drawing up land registers—and inevitably arresting a batch of people and executing several. They had taken complete control of all local land, population, and resources.

After this round of "rectification," the Senate became master of all Changhua County. More than six hundred registered households and an equal number of hidden households all came under Senate rule, becoming a labor force to be mobilized at will.

Due to its sparse population, Changhua had almost no economy. Though natural resources were abundant, development capacity was currently lacking. With neither significant military nor civil affairs requiring management, the one sent to preside over county government while concurrently serving as Changhua Fort Commander was Kong Lingyang. Kong Lingyang wasn't a Fubo Army officer but a genuine agricultural technician from the Agricultural Committee. His appointment as Changhua Fort Commander indicated clearly how the Senate positioned this territory.

Kong Lingyang was a "senior general" in the Agricultural Committee's animal husbandry section. He and Yang Baogui were half-colleagues—both had started as veterinarians and later worked at breeding stations. Though his educational background and work experience were quite impressive—he had even procured a complete set of professional veterinary station tools, various breeding eggs, and quality semen for the transmigrator group back in the day—after D-Day, he had quietly assisted Yang Baogui with animal husbandry work at the Agricultural Committee, deliberately avoiding appearing too "professional" lest he be pigeonholed as "technical personnel." From his personal experience in the old dimension, being a "technical person" advanced one's career far more slowly than being an "administrative person."

Yang Baogui had since become famous within the Senate. Every time the Executive Committee convened expanded meetings on agricultural issues, he was required to attend—quite glorious indeed. But ultimately he would pigeonhole himself into a role like "Chief Veterinary Officer." Kong Lingyang's ambitions lay elsewhere.

Several months ago, when he was dispatched to Changhua to serve as County Office Director and concurrently as Changhua Fort Commander, he felt he had finally taken the first solid step on his official career. Though this appointment stemmed primarily from his professional skills—the Planning Bureau currently lacked capacity for deep development of Changhua, positioning the locality as primarily agricultural and pastoral with minor natural resource collection as supplement.

Thus, when selecting Changhua's County Office Director, Kong Lingyang—who had volunteered, possessed agricultural and animal husbandry expertise, and wasn't a key figure in either the Agricultural Committee or Tiandi Society—emerged as the most suitable candidate. Besides, he had at least been a civil servant and understood something of administrative operations.

Changhua's status naturally couldn't compare to the large county seats in northern Qiong managed by Liu Xiang and others, but at least the whole county comprised around a thousand households with a population under ten thousand. There was a reinforced platoon of Marines and a newly formed National Army County Guard Company—the former Changhua Fort militia. Though called a company, it currently numbered only fifty-odd men and still required adjustment and expansion.

The National Army Guard Companies organized in each county recruited personnel locally and currently served only emergency needs. Once conditions stabilized in each county and large numbers of immigrants arrived, the Training Directorate would adjust and rotate all National Army County Guard Companies. According to the plan, each company would have some personnel serving locally and some elsewhere.

At this moment, in the great hall atop the bastion's main tower, a modest banquet was underway to welcome the newly arrived Major Wei Aiwen, Mu Min, Fang Jinghan, and other personnel from the General Staff Political Department.

The table was arrayed with more than a dozen steaming dishes, all provided by the local vegetable garden, livestock pens, and fishing boats. Most eye-catching was a heaping platter of roasted lamb skewers, sprinkled with sesame seeds, cumin, and chili peppers, roasted to aromatic perfection. Eating such fare in Changhua's blazing summer heat might seem inadvisable, but for Senators who were seriously deficient in meat yet possessed hearty appetites, climate was no obstacle.

The room lacked refrigeration equipment or ice, but being near the seaside and on the third floor, with windows flung wide open, the sea breeze proved refreshing. Combined with large quantities of chilled beverages drawn from the well, everyone ate until dripping with hot sweat, exclaiming how satisfying it was.

Except for Mu Min, who ate somewhat sparingly, Wei Aiwen and others devoured everything voraciously. Before long, the table was piled with bamboo skewers alongside many bottles of kvass and rice beer.

Kong Lingyang ate modestly—food supply here was abundant, and he was one of the very few Senators who enjoyed meat daily. A chubby man with square-framed glasses, he wore a Lingao-manufactured cotton summer training uniform. Wiping sweat with a towel, he urged everyone to continue eating and drinking.

"Old Kong, the conditions here are really excellent," Wei Aiwen declared. Having finally eaten his fill, he patted his belly and picked his teeth while expressing admiration.

"No, no—it's all thanks to the Senate and Executive Committee's good leadership..." Kong Lingyang carefully avoided naming Director Wen or the Supervisor, lest he appear to take any particular side. Never casually declare allegiances before the situation is clear—that was one lesson Kong Lingyang had absorbed from more than five years of civil servant life.

"Enough empty talk," Wei Aiwen chuckled. "First to arrive gets the moon first; we're not unreasonable people." He burped. "Shall we discuss work matters now?"

Mu Min nodded. "I'm full too. Good time to talk business."

Fang Jinghan and the others naturally had no objections—everyone had eaten until nearly bursting.

Kong Lingyang nodded repeatedly. "Good, good." He instructed people to clear away the leftover dishes and prepare tea and writing materials. He suspected this sudden arrival of "people from the center" was likely related to local Li ethnic affairs.

(End of Chapter)