Chapter 289: Infiltrating Qiongshan

Lin Baiguang had given his two men a generous budget for their activities, wanting to see how they would handle the funds. Would they squander a large sum of money, or would they know how to use it wisely?

How to find a foothold, how to gather intelligence, how to use operational funds—all of this had been taught in their training. Now it was time to see if they could put their learning into practice.

After assigning their tasks, Lin Baiguang personally conducted a preliminary survey of the areas in and around the prefectural capital and the Haikou Guard garrison. He also observed the Baisha naval base from a distance, studying Haikou’s defense system.

By the standards of this era, Haikou’s defenses were quite formidable. Lin Baiguang’s career path was in governance, so while he had some knowledge of historical texts like the Zizhi Tongjian, he wasn’t particularly interested in historical minutiae. After D-Day, however, his work required him to delve into such details, and he had acquired a basic understanding of Ming dynasty military affairs.

The Baisha naval base was not just a single port. It had sub-camps at Dongying and Mangliao, forming a triangle of mutually supporting positions around Shenying Port. This naval network, combined with the Haikou Guard garrison on land and numerous forts to the west and south of the prefectural capital, created an integrated defense system protecting the entire Qiongzhou Prefecture.

The area around Shenying Port and the Haikou Guard garrison was dotted with beacons, watchtowers, and forts. Patrol boats crisscrossed the harbor, while the shores were lined with cheval de frise and patrolled by soldiers. The defenses were vigilant.

Haikou was the center of Hainan Island’s military and naval power, as well as a crucial hub for coastal defense. Its scale was not surprising.

However, Lin Baiguang believed that breaking through this defensive system would not be difficult with the Transmigration Group’s current military strength. If they were to attack in five years, it would be child’s play.

The brick-and-stone gun emplacements were mostly equipped with outdated Portuguese-style breech-loading cannons. He even spotted some ancient “crouching tiger” cannons, “bowl-mouthed” cannons, and other even older models. There were few of the newer, imitation Western-style artillery pieces. Even by the military standards of this time, the weaponry was obsolete.

It seemed the Ming government’s military reforms in Guangdong had not yet reached Hainan’s coastal defenses. But even if the forts here were built by the best 17th-century Western military engineers and all the cannons were replaced with Hongyi cannons, they would still be no match for the power of the Transmigration Group.

After a day of reconnaissance, Lin Baiguang felt confident. He mused that taking all of Hainan was no longer a problem for the Group. The real difficulty lay in the aftermath: they lacked the personnel to govern the territory and the troops to garrison it. A military victory wouldn’t translate into a stable occupation.

Returning to the temple, he wrote his first report to Lin’gao. In it, he proposed that the Qiongzhou Prefecture intelligence station could serve as a “practical training base” for new agents. The social environment here was relatively simple, and the Ming administrative apparatus was weak. If any trouble arose, a rescue would be easy.

He also suggested using the location as a springboard for intelligence work into Guangdong. Currently, all Guangdong operations were run by the Guangzhou station. Lin Baiguang argued that the Guangzhou station was overburdened with economic tasks. Furthermore, Guo Yi and the others were well-known figures in Guangzhou, making large-scale covert operations increasingly risky. A single mistake could deal a devastating blow to the Group’s economy. He recommended that all intelligence work outside the Pearl River Delta be separated from the Guangzhou station and managed by the new Qiongzhou station, with Guangzhou providing only support.

As for his own cover, Lin Baiguang decided after careful consideration to open a grain store in Qiongshan County. The Transmigration Group already had a partnership with a grain business in Leizhou, so they could easily transfer experienced managers and clerks. The business connections were already in place, making it an ideal cover.

Rice was a daily necessity for everyone. Lin’gao had many new products that could sell well here, but Lin Baiguang had no intention of creating a commercial sensation. He just needed a cover identity that would allow him to travel freely throughout Guangdong. Therefore, he would avoid dealing in any goods that could be traced back to “Lin’gao.”

The business didn’t need to be large. A starting capital of one thousand dan of brown rice would suffice. It would operate as a normal business. In the future, once the Group controlled all of Hainan, the grain store could continue to serve as an important tool for influencing the grain market, ensuring the investment wouldn’t be wasted.

Gao Di and Chen Tong were out for several days, leaving early and returning late. Lin Baiguang stayed in his room, planning future intelligence activities, and didn’t ask about their progress. One day, Gao Di returned first to report. He had found several potential properties.

Lin Baiguang listened as he described the location, layout, and features of each house, including the terms of sale.

Gao Di had selected three properties, all outside the city walls. They were small courtyards, either single or double-entry. All three were available for either purchase or rent. Two were moderately priced. The third, located on West Gate Avenue, was much more expensive because it included a street-front shop.

“This property has a three-bay storefront and a large front yard that could be used as a warehouse. It’s a perfect spot for a business cover,” Gao Di explained. “There’s also a small, quiet courtyard in the back with a rear gate that opens onto a network of alleys.” He added, “The price is higher than the budget you mentioned, but for a property with these features, it’s not unreasonable.”

The price was two hundred and eighty taels, including the fees for the middlemen and guarantors. For a property in this condition, the price was indeed fair.

Lin Baiguang saw that Gao Di was travel-worn and his voice was a bit hoarse. He knew the man must have spent the last few days running around and talking himself dry. The results, however, were quite good. Moreover, the property he found perfectly matched Lin Baiguang’s needs. It showed that Gao Di was not only capable of executing orders but could also think proactively about how to best accomplish a mission. That was a valuable trait.

Chen Tong reported that Hai Shuzu was a descendant of the famous Hai Rui. Thanks to his ancestor’s reputation, he was a respected member of the local gentry in Qiongshan County. However, the Hai family’s finances were modest. To uphold their ancestor’s honorable name, the family had always been law-abiding and avoided any shady dealings, relying solely on their small inheritance to support a large household. As a result, they were quite strapped for cash. Hai Shuzu had been trying to get rich through business. He had recently pooled funds from his clan, relatives, and friends to build a large ship for overseas trade. Unfortunately, the ship had reportedly been attacked by pirates. The vessel and all its cargo were lost, with only the manager and a few sailors returning. Creditors were now flocking to his door, and he was at his wit’s end.

Lin Baiguang already knew most of this—Hai Shuzu’s ship and cargo were currently under the control of the Maritime Court in Lin’gao. They had told his manager to have Hai Shuzu come in person to reclaim his property, but months had passed and he still hadn’t appeared. It seemed Hai Shuzu was not very bold. Hearing that creditors were causing a scene, Lin Baiguang smiled. External pressure always made things easier.

Chen Tong had also gathered some personal details about Hai Shuzu. Overall, he was an ordinary man, a conventional heir to a respected family, but with a stronger-than-average desire for wealth—a common trait for many in the late Ming era.

“One of his family’s servants is from Meizhou in Guangdong,” Chen Tong said. “He’s from my hometown. I’ve already connected with him as a fellow townsman, so it should be much easier to get in and out of the Hai household in the future…”

“Excellent,” Lin Baiguang nodded in approval.

As for their expenses, Gao Di had spent over ten taels of silver, which he claimed was used to network with “middlemen,” as well as to purchase some silk clothes for himself and hire a sedan chair.

“…Without a certain level of presentation, things wouldn’t have gone so smoothly,” he explained.

“The operational funds are yours to use as you see fit, as long as it’s reasonable,” Lin Baiguang said. “But your accounting is far too vague. Look at Chen Tong’s.”

Chen Tong had only spent four taels and three qian of silver, but he presented a detailed expense sheet, listing everything from treating people to tea and meals to a pair of shoes he gave as a gift. It was much clearer than Gao Di’s report, which had many entries simply labeled “entertainment expenses.”

“Although you have full discretion over these funds, they are ultimately public money,” Lin Baiguang lectured them. “The most important thing is the word ‘public.’ Public funds are not for private use. We are in intelligence work. We handle a lot of money, and we have many expenses. The more this is the case, the more transparent our spending must be. Every single coin must be accounted for. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Lin Baiguang paused and looked at the two young men. “Doing your job well is important, but learning how to protect yourself while doing it is even more important. If you aren’t careful with the details, you won’t be able to explain yourself when things go wrong. By then, it’ll be too late to plead innocence, and no one will believe you!”

“Yes, sir. We’ll remember that,” the two of them nodded.

“Good. Gao Di, you go ahead and buy the house. The one on West Gate Avenue.” Lin Baiguang took out eighty taels of silver from the small iron box he carried. “This is the deposit. The rest will be paid when the deed is transferred.”

“Should I spend a few taels to have the deed officially registered with the county’s household registration office and stamped with the official seal?” Gao Di suggested.

It was a very cautious approach. In Lin Baiguang’s eyes, it was a bit redundant—in three or four years, the Qiongshan county government itself would be gone, so its official seal meant nothing. But Gao Di’s thinking was thorough and deserved encouragement.

“Good. Do it that way.”

“Right away.”

And so, the establishment of the Qiongzhou intelligence station began in earnest. Lin Baiguang did not plan to be the shopkeeper himself; he knew nothing about the grain business. The Intelligence Committee would send someone from the Leizhou sugar enterprise. Zhu Fusheng, the owner of the Dachang Rice Shop, was happy to recommend one of his own clerks to be the manager and head clerk, and he expressed his willingness to establish business relations with this new “Wanfeng Grain Store.”

The manager and clerks from Dachang would not be involved in intelligence work. That would be handled by agents from the Lin’gao training program, who would pose as clerks and servants. This created two separate lines of operation, internal and external, which was better for management and secrecy.