Chapter 1157 - The Medical Tour

Wei Bachi's report on the Vestreling incident proved agonizing to write. He agonized over every phrase, crossing out and revising until his desk was littered with crumpled drafts, silently cursing his university self for never taking a course in official document writing or media communications.

The incident itself wasn't catastrophic in its consequences, but it had left the Senate with egg on its face. Compared to Old Feng on Jeju Island—who had "masterminded the crushing of a counter-revolutionary riot" and could parade the glorious exploits of the Kim O-sun siblings—Wei Bachi's side offered nothing worth celebrating.

After several false starts, he settled on a strategy of "profound self-criticism." Rather than dodge the problems, he would emphasize them himself. Whatever thorns those devils in the Senate loved to pick, he would point out first, then append a suitably contrite "deep self-examination." This would demonstrate his "correct attitude."

After all, he had personally overseen Kaohsiung's construction, and the city continued to function normally—population transfers, urban development, economic conditions all proceeding as planned. He believed that unlike certain Senate members who would kick even when nothing was wrong, the Executive Committee still valued administrative continuity and stability, especially during this pioneering phase.

At worst, I'll be roasted at a hearing, Wei Bachi consoled himself as he wrote. Even Han Xin once suffered the humiliation of crawling between another man's legs.

But a "good attitude" alone wouldn't save him. The reason Feng Zongze had ultimately weathered his own storm was inseparable from his major initiatives in horse administration, land reform, and standardized village construction—he had demonstrated his potential as a capable official. Wei Bachi needed to put on an equally impressive show.

The next day, the "Kaohsiung Second Five-Year Plan" display board in his office quietly vanished, replaced by one labeled "Kaohsiung Agricultural Land Development Plan."

Indeed, after hours of deliberation, Wei Bachi had decided to direct his merit-building efforts toward the agricultural issues the Senate cared about most—and found most troublesome.

"China's problems, in the final analysis, are food problems," he declared, surveying his all-night work with his personal secretary.

Neither the Planning Commission nor the Agricultural Committee had assigned him a reclamation target. Wei Bachi had originally set his own goal at thirty thousand mu, but now he tripled that figure: one hundred thousand mu within a single year.

This wasn't arbitrary ambition. In the previous phase, both reclamation work and sanitary belt clearing in the Kaohsiung area had progressed smoothly. The human cost ran high, yes—but the dead were all slaves, with minimal losses among the refugees. Moreover, reclamation efficiency had far exceeded his expectations. He currently commanded ten thousand permanent residents plus thirty thousand refugees. Even if half those refugees were still recovering and couldn't work at full capacity, they could still manage light labor.

Meanwhile, upon the emerald swells rolling west to east across the Qiongzhou Strait, a black paddle steamer sailed steadily forward. Clouds of steam and smoke billowed from its stack while canvas sails stretched taut above, driving the vessel through the waves at impressive speed.

Yet despite leaving all passing ships in its wake, neither the smoke plumes nor the churning paddle wheel suggested the boiler and engine were working at full capacity—the vessel was merely cruising.

From the mainmast, dancing in the wind, flew the striking blue Morning Star flag.

Built entirely of teak with a standard displacement of five hundred tons, this paddle steamer qualified as a "big ship" along seventeenth-century China's coast. Unlike other Senate vessels with their standard light-black hulls, this ship retained the natural color and grain of its teak wood. No gun ports lined its deck. It lacked the austere military aesthetic typical of Senate warships; instead, elaborate ornamental details adorned its structure. Most striking was the octopus figurehead at the bow. Palace-lantern designs on the poop deck added Chinese flair, creating an overall impression of peaceful opulence.

This was the Octopus—the yacht built by Lingao Shipyard for the Guangzhou Station, specifically designed for Master Guo's "lavish lifestyle" in Guangzhou and to demonstrate the Senate's power.

Because the vessel needed to navigate inland waterways, the Octopus couldn't be too large. To reduce the workload, it had been designed around the 621-class paddle tug already in production at five hundred tons. Since it would operate primarily in rivers and the Pearl River estuary where high speed wasn't essential, a smaller engine had been installed, shrinking the volume of boiler, steam engine, and coal bunker.

Aboard this luxurious vessel traveled the medical touring group led by Health People's Commissar Shi Niaoren.

To expand the Senate's influence across Hainan Island and Guangdong, the Health People's Committee had been organizing mobile medical teams since the beginning of the year. Composed of several Elder physicians and outstanding naturalized citizens, they had begun conducting medical tours throughout Qiongzhou Prefecture's counties.

The tour encompassed all of Hainan Island, including Leizhou and Guangzhou. Leizhou needed no explanation—through tireless infiltration by the Leizhou Station, Xuwen and Haikang counties had already been "Lingao-ized." Guangzhou's inclusion served primarily to prepare for the planned campaign against the Pearl River Delta region during the Second Five-Year Plan.

Guangzhou was both the continuation and final destination of this grand tour. After the Battle of Chengmai, word of the Senate's medical prowess had spread throughout Guangdong via the wounded Ming soldiers who'd received treatment and the spectators who'd witnessed the battlefield firsthand.

(End of Chapter)