Chapter 1341 – On the Yalu River
As for which portion of Dongjiang would defect, the Foreign Intelligence Bureau saw no shortage of candidates—and the most promising was Shang Kexi, one of the so-called "Three Shun Princes."
Though Shang Kexi bore that title alongside Kong Youde and Geng Jingzhong, the men shared little beyond their Dongjiang origins. Shang Kexi had inherited his career from his father, a guerrilla officer under Mao Wenlong. After his father fell in battle, Shang Kexi took over the troops and rose to the rank of Vice General, stationed on Guanglu Island. By factional reckoning, he belonged to Huang Long's camp. Historically, when Kong Youde and the other rebels fled across the Liaodong Sea, it was Huang Long who intercepted them—and Shang Kexi had contributed much to that effort.
When the Manchus later broke Lushun, hundreds of Shang Kexi's family members were slaughtered. Logic dictated a blood feud with the Manchus. Yet the year after Kong Youde defected to the Qing, Shang Kexi took to the sea of his own accord and surrendered as well. Historical accounts attributed his defection primarily to Shen Shikui—the new Commander-in-Chief of Dongjiang—attempting to lure him into a trap and kill him. But the Foreign Intelligence Bureau believed the true cause lay deeper: an eruption of long-festering grievances. And judging by how many Dongjiang generals followed Shang Kexi into the Manchu fold after his defection, dissatisfaction with the imperial court had reached a flash point across the garrison. Coaxing the principal officers of Dongjiang toward the Qing, it seemed, required little active assistance—a gentle push with the current would suffice.
The Intelligence Bureau resolved to begin by exploiting the rift between Shen Shikui and Shang Kexi.
For the Senators aboard the Haitian, however, the question of who defected was the Intelligence Bureau's concern. They had a more immediate mission to execute.
The Haitian crept toward the mouth of the Yalu River. According to the charts, they now entered the Dadonggou sea area, roughly fifty kilometers from Zhenjiang Fort.
Though Mao Shisan claimed to be a military household of "Zhenjiang Fort," the actual fortress by that name had never been under Dongjiang Town's jurisdiction. Zhenjiang Fort was briefly recovered only after Mao Wenlong's famous campaign—then lost again to the Later Jin in less than ten days. Since that time, despite Dongjiang's entrenchment in Korea and repeated cross-river raids, the fort had never again been retaken.
By 1633 on the Yalu, after the Dingmao Barbarian Disorder and Mao Wenlong's execution, the garrison and settlers of Dongjiang Town had effectively ceased to exist along the northern bank. "Zhenjiang Fort" military households like Mao Shisan were stationed on the small islands scattered around the river's mouth.
"Lower the pilot boat. First-level combat readiness, all hands!"
At the command, the Haitian lowered a small boat, then proceeded up the Yalu at three knots under pilot guidance. The lower reaches of the river afforded acceptable navigation. In 1910, thousand-ton vessels could still sail directly to the coast of Sinuiju. The Haitian, with a full-load displacement of only a few hundred tons, would encounter no difficulty reaching the waters off Zhenjiang Fort, so long as she proceeded with caution.
The river stretched wide, though siltation was extensive. Numerous islands, large and small, dotted the channel—most of them former settlements and military farms of the Dongjiang Army. When Nurhaci still lived, the Later Jin had mounted repeated mopping-up operations, expelling the garrison and burning crops. Now these islands lay wholly deserted. Only abandoned fields and ruined structures remained.
Both banks presented an equally desolate spectacle. Once, dense populations had lived here; broad stretches of cultivated land had lined the shores.
Dongjiang's harassment tactics had prompted the Later Jin to relocate every resident along the Zhenjiang Fort coast deeper inland. Outside the immediate vicinity of a few Later Jin strongpoints, the region had become an empty frontier—a purely military zone. Across the river, Uiju, in Korean territory, had been ravaged during the Dingmao Barbarian Disorder, reduced to a lifeless shell.
Shortly after the Haitian entered the Yalu's mouth, beacon towers onshore spotted her and began sending up columns of black smoke. Through his telescope, Xue Ziliang watched men and horses stirring around the frontier forts.
Zhenjiang Fort soon came into view. The site's history stretched back centuries. Under the Liao, it had been the location of Laiyuan City; under the Jin, the seat of Posu Prefecture; under the Yuan, Posuo Prefecture. In Ming times, it was called Jiulian City, "Nine Linked Camps," after the layout of its original garrison. In the twenty-fourth year of the Wanli era—1596—a new city was constructed upon the old foundations to reinforce Liaodong's defenses. That same October the Changdian Defense Command was upgraded to a Guerrilla Command and relocated here, to coordinate with the Kuandian Participating General's camp. The name "Zhenjiang," meaning "Guarding the River," reflected its strategic mission: protecting both fortress and sea lanes.
The city leaned against Zhendong Mountain to the north, faced the Hengdao River to the west, and was separated from the right branch of the Ai River to the south. To the west lay the Yalu itself, with Uiju of Korea visible on the far bank. The position's strategic importance was self-evident: a transportation hub between Ming and Korea, a shield for the four guards—Jinzhou, Fuzhou, Haizhou, Gaizhou—in the south, and an eastern vantage looking toward Korea. It was among Liaodong's most critical strongpoints.
Through the telescope, Xue Ziliang surveyed the fort. Its scale was impressive: a square perimeter measuring some 1,040 meters, defense works fully intact, watchtowers grimly commanding the walls. After the Later Jin expelled the Dongjiang Army and reoccupied the site, they had garrisoned it with 300 Manchu soldiers and 1,000 Mongol soldiers, under four Manchu and four Mongol officials. It was heavily defended. At the first sight of the Haitian, all four gates swung shut; the garrison had assumed battle stations.
That night the ship anchored off a deserted island in the river, opposite Zhenjiang Fort. According to the charts, this was Duozhi Island, Korean territory. For safety, the marines went ashore to sweep the area. No inhabitants were found, but evidence of cultivation remained—probably abandoned Dongjiang Army farmland.
The island was strewn with white bones. Along the beach facing Uiju, human remains carpeted the sand almost without break. In August of 1624, Later Jin raiders had struck the Ming troops farming and harvesting grain here. The soldiers had panicked and fled in chaos. Over five hundred heads were taken; the rest scrambled for boats to cross the river, most drowning in the attempt. The skeletons blanketing the shore belonged to those Dongjiang soldiers and civilians.
"So many dead," Huang Hua murmured, standing on that barren riverside beach, seemingly lost in thought.
"We're finally dealing with the Wild Boar Skins." Wang Ruixiang clapped a hand on his shoulder, his voice laden with meaning. "As long as you know what kind of goods they are—the rest is up to you."
Huang Hua drew a deep breath. "No problem. I'm a businessman."
Given that Zhenjiang Fort's garrison would certainly take action the following day—whether by attack or by sending emissaries—and given that the Haitian's ultimate purpose was to land Huang Hua ashore to establish contact with the Later Jin, he had to be ready to disembark in the morning.
Gifts and trade samples destined for Huang Taiji and his court were heaped in the cabin. The most striking item was a gorgeously decorated Western-style two-handed heavy sword.
"A fine blade. I just hope Huang Taiji can appreciate it—casting pearls before swine, otherwise." Wang Ruixiang could not resist drawing the weapon. "Hope this deal is worth it..."
The sword itself was unremarkable in principle—nothing more than tool steel, cold-forged by machine—but its modeling and ornamentation were lavish in the extreme. Hilt, guard, and scabbard glittered with gold and silver inlay; even the blade itself bore intricate decorations. Every element was the work of master artisans at Zhimingzhai.
Originally, a few Senators had wanted to embed radioactive luminous bodies in this "Sword of Kings" so that Huang Taiji might die the sooner. But radioactive materials were difficult to process, establishing a dedicated production line for a single sword was absurdly cost-ineffective, and one mishap could kill the craftsmen first.
"How is Huang Taiji supposed to wield this thing?" Huang Hua asked, somewhat anxious whether his gift would suit the customer's taste.
Wang Ruixiang shrugged. "He doesn't need to wield it himself—just have an attendant carry it."
"I'm not sure he'll like it..."
"Heh. This sword is only a stepping stone. Once you present the samples you've brought, he'll treat you as an honored guest—maybe even offer the hugging greeting."
The trade goods prepared for the Manchus had required considerable thought. The Later Jin's economic situation was dire: domestic production low, material shortages chronic, prices for everything sky-high. Aside from ginseng and furs, they could scarcely offer any bulk commodities—and those held little direct value for the Senate, except as goods for re-export.
As for horses, various metals, and population—the resources the Senate most urgently desired—though the Manchus could in principle supply them, these were strategic materials. The Manchus needed them too.
With scarce supplies and no adequate means of payment, Huang Taiji had always kept a tight grip on import-export trade. Goods unrelated to livelihood and state use were mostly forbidden. Tobacco, which the Trading Port had once considered pushing, was a case in point.
As for luxury and enjoyment items consumed by the upper stratum of the Eight Banners, those needs could largely be met through plunder and a small volume of imports. The Senate would find it difficult to sell them in quantity.
For the Manchus, the most pressing import needs were grain, followed by iron goods and cloth. Yet these were also the commodities most needed by the Senate itself—some had to be imported in large quantities even now.
After extensive deliberation, the Planning Institute, the Ministry of Commerce, and the Foreign Intelligence Bureau settled on a final export list: primarily cloth, paper, and salt, supplemented by tea, strong liquor, and finished medicines calibrated to Later Jin's circumstances.
Additionally, after further discussion, the Senators concluded that given the extreme conservatism the Manchus exhibited in foreign trade, to loosen their grip and make them willing to "sell a kidney" for it—that is, to part with commodities they themselves desperately needed—genuine treasures would have to be displayed before the upper echelon.
Thus, the final column of the product catalogue destined for Huang Taiji's eyes bore the heading "Weapons" and listed items that the Manchus could not refuse. Certain items appeared in the export catalogue for the first time.
After careful consideration, the weapons offered to the Manchus included not only bows and arrows manufactured on Jeju Island but also armor forged in Lingao.
Because the Eight Banners were few in number yet formidable in combat, the Manchus placed supreme value on protecting their soldiers. Every man of the Eight Banners wore heavy armor—some even double armor. Compared to the inferior iron plate issued to Ming combat soldiers, their equipment was of far higher quality. Historically, men struck by a dozen arrows might emerge unscathed, and even the poor-quality light firearms of the Ming army offered only limited penetration.