Chapter 10: The Secret Residence

Xiao Zishan and his companions quickly stood to return the courtesy. Their initial fear of the people of this other time had faded. They were, after all, just people. And Master Gao, with his fair dealings, had proven himself a man of integrity, a valuable ally for their future endeavors.

After the pleasantries, they got down to business. With their new hydraulic hand truck, they had brought over four pallets and more than a hundred boxes of goods.

Xiao Zishan’s supply of promotional items was exhausted. These new goods had been sourced from the wholesale market. They had mirrors of all shapes and sizes, disposable lighters, and an assortment of frosted and sandblasted glassware. Wen Desi, after some research, had learned that pearls were highly valued in the late Ming, and had purchased a large quantity of cultured pearls.

Master Gao, though he had come to expect strangeness from the Australian sea merchants, was still taken aback by the new items. He was particularly taken with the disposable lighter, a marvel of convenience compared to the cumbersome flint and steel.

He examined the Wenzhou-made lighter, the translucent plastic no longer a surprise. He flicked it several times, watching the flame dance. “The principle is the same as a flint and steel,” he mused, “but it uses oil instead of tinder, and a wheel to strike the flint. There is nothing rare in it, yet the craftsmen of your esteemed country have combined these simple elements into such an exquisite and convenient object. It is truly unparalleled.”

The three men exchanged a look. The ancients were not as ignorant as they had thought. Master Gao had grasped the lighter’s mechanism almost instantly.

“But this lighter cannot be refilled,” Wen Desi explained. “It is useless once the oil is gone.”

“Is that so? A pity,” Master Gao said, his thumb still flicking the wheel. “Why can’t it be refilled? It would be a shame to waste such a fine object.”

How to explain the concept of disposability? Wen Desi wondered. The throwaway culture of his own time would be incomprehensible, even horrifying, to this man. He mumbled something about the craftsmen working on improvements.

The goods sold for a total of more than thirty thousand taels of silver. A few full-length dressing mirrors nearly made Master Gao’s eyes pop out. Such a thing, in the palace, would leave even the Emperor speechless.

The pearls were also a hit. The chaos in Liaodong had cut off the supply of tribute pearls from the northeast, and the South Sea pearl harvest had been poor. The market was starved for them.

Master Gao, knowing their preference for gold, exchanged one thousand taels for them. He also had his servants bring out the porcelain from his warehouse, packing as much as would fit onto the pallets. He was still mystified by how they managed to transport so much cargo, but he didn’t dare to ask. He suspected they possessed some kind of transportation magic.

Xiao Zishan, staring at the chests of gold and silver, felt a wave of dizziness. Thank God for the hydraulic cart. How else would they move nearly a ton of precious metals? He was lost in thought when he heard Wen Desi ask about the house.

Gao Ju paused. “The matter is not difficult,” he began, “but you gentlemen are overseas merchants. According to the laws of the Great Ming, you cannot own property here. Of course, you are of Chinese descent, and you look and speak like Chinese. If you were to change your clothes and live quietly, it would be fine. But recently, with all these strange goods on the market, my establishment has attracted a great deal of attention…”

They understood. The tall tree attracts the wind. Their unprecedented wares had made them the talk of Guangzhou.

This was a major setback. Their plan had been to establish a base in the city, a trade portal for their future operations in Hainan.

Seeing their disappointment, Gao Ju revealed his own plan. He had been thinking about this for some time. The Australians, he reasoned, needed a foothold in the city, a place to store goods and live. It was the same reason the Franks had bribed their way into leasing Macau, though on a much smaller scale.

“I have another idea…” he said, stroking his sparse beard.

“Please, Master Gao, enlighten us.”

“You want a place to stay. I have a place. If you don’t mind, you can use it.”

He dismissed the maids, summoned two personal servants, and led them through a side alley to the backyard. The air was thick with the smell of mules and horses. He led them around a corner, to a small house at the end of the alley. An old servant, dozing at the door, leaped to his feet.

“Open the door,” Gao Ju ordered.

The old servant produced a key and led them inside. On the wall of the inner room was another small, iron-clad door. Beyond it lay a secluded, stone-paved path that ran along the base of the city wall. On one side was a stretch of wasteland, on the other, the high wall of a large estate. Weeds grew between the stones.

“The alleys lead to the main road,” Gao Ju explained. “The entrances are gated and usually locked. Though this is public land, ordinary people cannot enter.”

After a few hundred meters, they came to a dilapidated back wall. Gao Ju unlocked a door and led them into a small, bluestone-paved courtyard, planted with banana trees and flowers. Beyond it was a small, three-section courtyard house, clean and fully furnished.

“This is my outer residence,” he said. “It was kept in reserve.”

It was a safe house, one of several he owned in and around the city. The front of the residence was a grocery store, a front for his more illicit activities. A side alley connected the shop to the residence, providing a discreet entrance and exit.

Servants were already there, boiling water and serving tea.

“Those of us who trade on the seas must be cautious,” Master Gao sighed. “It is not an easy life.”

The smuggling business was a world of river bandits, sea pirates, and mountain strongmen, men who would kill for a pittance. And the officials, though they were on his payroll, were a constant source of extortion and threats.

“But recently, the pirates have become a plague. Both foreign and Chinese ships have suffered.”

Xiao Zishan saw an opportunity. “We sailed all the way from Australia,” he said, “and the journey was quiet.”

“You have heaven’s blessing,” Master Gao said with a bitter smile. “But it is still peaceful here compared to Fujian and Zhejiang. Haicheng has been completely ravaged.”

Since the second year of the Tianqi reign, the coasts of Fujian and Guangdong had been terrorized by pirates. A joint suppression campaign by the Fujian and Guangdong navies had brought a temporary lull, but now a new generation of pirates, led by Zheng Zhilong, Zhong Lingxiu, and Li Kuiqi, had risen to take their place. The coast of Fujian was their main hunting ground. Yuegang, in Haicheng County, once the largest export trade port in China, was in ruins.

“Here in Guangzhou, it has been quiet since the joint suppression last year. The Franks, to protect their interests in Macau, also patrol the mouth of the river.”

The pirates, it seemed, were focused on Fujian. That was a relief. At least they wouldn’t have to face a BOSS-level threat like Zheng Zhilong right at the beginning.

“Still, it is best to be careful,” Gao Ju warned. The coast of Guangdong was still infested with smaller pirate gangs and river bandits. As newcomers, they would be a tempting target.