Chapter 102: The Work Team and the Priest (Part 1)

For this reason, Wu Mingjin gave his full affirmation to the entire bandit suppression campaign and provided all necessary official support, such as issuing public notices of peace and wanted posters. To prevent any leakage of information during the campaign, Wang Zhaomin simply came to Bairen City every day to discuss matters. The price, of course, was to hand over the spoils of the bandit suppression campaign: the heads of the bandit leaders or the captives, to the county yamen.

Xiong Buyou, along with the rural social investigation work team led by Du Wen, entered Daolu Village the day after the raid on the Thirteen Villages.

This work team was composed of students from the rural cadre training course, personally taught by Du Wen and Ma Qianzhu. Two squads of soldiers from the army were sent to protect them. The deputy team leader was Dong Weiwei. This Ming Dynasty enthusiast, who had a special fondness for the Tianqi Emperor, finally had the opportunity to conduct rural social investigation in the Ming Dynasty. She had worked in rural propaganda in another time and space and was very experienced in rural social work. This time, she was eager to show her skills in this new time and space.

Two women conducting a social investigation was a strange sight not only to the locals but also to many in the transmigrator group. However, since someone was willing to volunteer for the most difficult social work, everyone was more than happy.

“Fuck! We fight and die, and Magistrate Wu immediately takes the credit,” Xue Ziliang said with great dissatisfaction.

Xiong Buyou said, “Giving him some benefits will keep him from plotting against us all day. Besides, we don’t need this credit, do we? And Magistrate Wu is essentially a good person, a relatively conscientious official.”

“About the heads—” Xue Ziliang was about to say something when he suddenly heard two women scream outside. The two of them hurried out.

At the entrance of the ancestral hall, Du Wen and Dong Weiwei were huddled together, trembling.

“What’s wrong? A mouse or a cockroach?” Xiong Buyou was puzzled.

“Needless to say, it’s this,” Xue Ziliang pointed to a row of pikes stuck at the entrance of the ancestral hall, each with the head of a bandit killed in battle impaled on it. Although the blood had been dried with lime, the ashen skin and the dark, severed necks were truly horrifying to look at.

“Team Xue, isn’t this a bit too much?” even Xiong Buyou, who had seen many dead bodies, felt a little creeped out.

“This is called intimidation,” Xue Ziliang said nonchalantly. “This is a non-pacified area. Many people are in league with the bandits. Without something terrifying, no one will be convinced.”

“I thought you Americans didn’t do this sort of thing—”

“Intimidating a hostile population is not a new tactic,” Xue Ziliang said, examining the heads. “It’s a pity we don’t have the head of that bandit leader, Dang something. It would be even better to hang it up in his old hometown.”

“OK, He Ming’s team should be back soon. I’ll have them all sent over for public display then,” Xiong Buyou said. “You can hang them for three days. After three days, we’ll send them all to the county yamen.”

Xue Ziliang was very straightforward. “Deal!”

“What? You’re going to hang these things for a few more days?” Du Wen felt a wave of nausea.

“Yes, and we’ll add a few more heads.”

“Then I’m not staying here—”

“Aren’t you a staunch communist? You’re not afraid of dying for the revolution, but you’re afraid of a few heads?” Xue Ziliang teased her.

Du Wen glared at him fiercely. She was about to quote some classic texts to explain that hanging heads was not communism and had nothing to do with her revolutionary spirit. Dong Weiwei said, “Forget it, let’s just stay here. I’ve looked around, and there are no decent houses in the village.” She plucked up her courage and looked at the heads again, as if trying to get used to their presence. “It’s only for a few days, and we have many soldiers and work team members with us. What’s there to be afraid of!”

Du Wen thought so too. Was she supposed to live in the peasants’ thatched huts with bamboo fences instead? As long as the heads were there, she would just hide inside and not come out, out of sight, out of mind.

“Alright! We’ll just have to overcome it,” she said with a solemn nod and went inside. The work team members immediately removed all the ancestral tablets and lanterns from the main gate and hung up a plain wooden sign with the words “Thirteen Villages Area Rural Social Investigation Work Team Headquarters” written in large, bold ink. A soldier, for fun, lit a string of firecrackers by the door, and they crackled loudly.

“Another new yamen has opened,” Xiong Buyou said.

Everyone burst into laughter. Just then, a burly figure in an ill-fitting wide robe strode over. It was a foreigner. The soldiers were all curious and crowded around to watch.

The transmigrators saw that it was the Jesuit priest, Jean-Dominique de la Roche, who had come to Lingao a few months ago to discuss missionary affairs. He had exchanged his crow-like black cassock for a green Songjiang cotton long gown, wore a six-in-one cap, and, true to his nature, had an ebony crucifix hanging around his neck, which looked very incongruous.

Behind him was Bai Duolu, his face a mask of misery, carrying a huge luggage bag and a plain wooden board.

“My child, let’s hang the sign here. This is the house that God has given us,” Jean-Dominique de la Roche said with a straight face.

“Yes, Father,” Bai Duolu said with a look of helplessness and regret. Why did I have to confess that I was a believer! Since his Catholic identity was exposed, the Executive Committee had automatically ignored all his other attributes. Although he had refused the title of “Bishop of Lingao,” Wen Desi did not let him go and wanted him to continue to contribute to the transmigrator group’s religious affairs. Thus, serving as Jean-Dominique de la Roche’s local escort became his glorious mission. His public title was the Secular Priest of the Lingao Church, and his secret identity was the Deputy Director of the Executive Committee’s Office of Religious Affairs. The director was naturally He Ying, whose public title was the Executive Committee’s Religious Affairs Officer.

After returning to Lingao from Macau, Jean-Dominique de la Roche had brought back the approval from the Jesuit order, which was in charge of all missionary affairs in East Asia, and had concluded a missionary agreement. He brought with him a large number of Chinese-language religious books printed in Macau and foreign money. He Ying had told him that the transmigrator group would not provide funds for the missionaries, and the Australian church could not provide funds for the time being. All expenses had to be sponsored by the Jesuit order.

So, Jean-Dominique de la Roche readily bought a piece of land on a side street in the East Gate Market—Dongmen Chuiyu had sold it to him for two hundred foreign dollars like a true profiteer. Then, the missionary hired the Lingao General Construction Company to build a small church—the Bairen Church—which would serve as the seat of the Lingao diocese.

Before the church was completed, Jean-Dominique de la Roche continued to live in the trading post. Every day, he had an appointment with Xiong Buyou to study the language in the trading post. He could now communicate in Mandarin without any problems, and this time he was learning the Lingao dialect. Bai Duolu was deeply impressed by his enthusiasm and studiousness. After chatting with him, he discovered that this was the third Chinese language Jean-Dominique de la Roche had learned. Before this, he had already learned Cantonese and Mandarin. In his spare time, he would also discuss theological issues with Bai Duolu. Of course, with Bai Duolu’s level, he couldn’t come up with any new ideas, but Bai Duolu gave him a shock. One day, he came with a porter carrying a box.

“What is this?” Jean-Dominique de la Roche was curious. This group of Australians was not particularly hospitable. He had to pay rent to live in the trading post and pay for his meals. Although it wasn’t expensive, it wasn’t free. Why were they suddenly giving him something?

“Father, please take a look. You will definitely like it,” Bai Duolu said with a mysterious smile.

The box was opened, and it was full of books, twenty to thirty of them. The binding was simple. He picked one up at random. It was a Chinese-titled Holy Bible, still smelling of fresh ink.

“This is?!” Jean-Dominique de la Roche flipped through a few pages and was shocked. His spoken Chinese was still awkward, but he had a good command of the written language. This was clearly a complete Chinese Bible!

This was a huge shock to him. Jean-Dominique de la Roche knew that to date, no missionary, including Matteo Ricci, who had achieved the greatest success for the Jesuits in China, had translated the entire Bible. During this period, only a few summary chapters had been translated: Michele Ruggieri’s Tianzhu Shengjiao Shilu (A True Account of the Holy Religion of the Lord of Heaven) translated in 1584, Matteo Ricci’s Tianzhu Shiyi (The True Meaning of the Lord of Heaven) in 1599, and Diego de Pantoja’s Shounan Shilu (A True Account of the Passion). In the strict sense, none of these were true Bible translations, but rather interpretations and arrangements of certain chapters. The difficulty in mastering the precise meaning of Chinese was one reason, and the doctrinal disagreements over many of the translated names was another. What both the transmigrators and Jean-Dominique de la Roche didn’t know was that at the same time, the first group of Chinese Catholics and Western missionaries were in a large mansion in Jiangnan, arguing endlessly over what “GOD” should be translated into.

Jean-Dominique de la Roche’s hands trembled as he flipped through a dozen pages. It was obvious that this translation was more fluent and accurate than any he had ever seen, and the wording and sentence structure also seemed to conform to Chinese usage.

“Is this a translation from the Australian church?!”

“Indeed,” Bai Duolu said with a smile.

“Excellent, excellent!” From his expression, it seemed he was about to kneel down and thank God. “I will send a copy to Macau immediately and ask the Provincial to approve it…”

“This batch of books is a donation from our Australian church to the mission,” Bai Duolu said. “This translation has been circulating in our country for hundreds of years.”

The implication was that if it wasn’t a problem, the Provincial should not casually change the wording, to avoid another dispute over the translation of names. Jean-Dominique de la Roche naturally understood this. He certainly didn’t object. Finding a lost church, and now obtaining a Chinese Bible translated by this church, these achievements alone were enough for him to receive the Pope’s grace when he returned to Rome in the future.

After receiving the book, Jean-Dominique de la Roche was as if on stimulants, going to the church construction site every day to inspect it. But so far, the site only had a wooden sign that said “Bairen Church Land,” and it had been planted with vegetables by the diligent laborers, which were growing lushly.

The Lingao General Construction Company was busy with various infrastructure projects and had been working in two 24-hour shifts for several months. Where would they find the time to build a church? Mei Lin would just laugh it off whenever he saw this pestering foreigner, and later, he simply avoided him.

After several unsuccessful negotiations with He Ying, Jean-Dominique de la Roche proposed to use the trading post or rent a house himself to start preaching and holding services. But he was politely refused by He Ying.

“According to the laws of our country, religious ceremonies cannot be held without a religious venue. So, without a church, you cannot preach,” He Ying said righteously.

“Is Australia ruled by such a group of godless people?!” Jean-Dominique de la Roche often complained to Bai Duolu.

Bai Duolu carefully reminded him, “Australia is a secular republic.”

“I know.” Although Jean-Dominique de la Roche was French, he was no stranger to this Italian specialty.

Just as Jean-Dominique de la Roche was fuming with nothing to do, He Ying suddenly paid him a visit.

“Father,” his words were gentle and pleasant, “we have prepared a church for you. You can begin your missionary work there.”

After the Dang Na Men bandit gang was eliminated, the Thirteen Villages area, which had long been controlled by bandits, fell under the control of the transmigrator group. However, the long-term turmoil had left the social environment there chaotic and the conflicts sharp. It was a place that needed religion to “purify” it: to soothe people’s hearts, improve social customs, and stabilize order. Working together with the work team might achieve a dual function. It was most appropriate to let Jean-Dominique de la Roche go there to preach.

Thus, Jean-Dominique de la Roche and his assistant, Bai Duolu, came to Daolu Village.

Bai Duolu hung a sign with the four Chinese characters “Daolu Church” and a line of beautiful Latin script on the other side of the main gate, complementing the “Social Investigation Work Team” sign. Everyone was dumbfounded. On both sides of the ancient ancestral hall gate hung a plain wooden sign, and the text on them gave it a rather modern artistic feel.

But Du Wen clearly did not welcome this co-tenant. She refused his move-in and was even more opposed to turning part of the place into a “church.” Bai Duolu had to step in to negotiate. After several unsuccessful negotiations, he had to call the Executive Committee for help. Finally, under the direct order of Ma Qianzhu, Du Wen reluctantly allowed them to move in.

With everyone’s coordination, the two sides divided the ancestral hall: the main gate and the entrance hall were shared. The work team occupied the first and second courtyards, and the church occupied the third. They also agreed that neither side would conduct any public propaganda attacking the other within the main gate.

But the peaceful and friendly atmosphere lasted less than a day. The next day, just as Du Wen was about to renovate the house to better suit her office and living needs, she found that the village’s masons and carpenters were already renovating the third courtyard into a chapel. “Father de la Roche” had a lot of foreign money to spend and had an advantage over Du Wen.

“We’ll see! Whether the people are afraid of the American imperialists, or the American imperialists are afraid of the people!” Du Wen’s voice echoed in the empty hall.

“He was sent directly by the Executive Committee to preach. We should be careful about our attitude,” Dong Weiwei reminded her.

“Letting this kind of imperialist element engage in feudal superstition, I really don’t know what Qianzhu is thinking!”