Chapter 31: The Liaodong Population
“If that’s the case, we can diffuse light industry. Why diffuse a cannon factory? It’s not like ordinary people will visit it often.”
“My opinion is to sell Li Luoyou a full set of silk reeling factory equipment…”
“I think processing supplied materials is a good idea! We make money, get raw materials, and the apprentices get practice!”
“Nonsense—”
There wasn’t much debate on the technical issues, but the question of whether to sell the equipment and how to sell it almost led to a brawl.
“Forget it, everyone, stop arguing!” Huang Tianyu appeared at the office door with a dejected look. “He doesn’t want it anymore!”
“What?!” Everyone was shocked. Whether they supported or opposed the deal, the news was like a bucket of ice water. Of all the things manufactured in Lingao, some sold well, some sold okay, but no one had ever rejected something because it wasn’t good enough! In everyone’s mind, “Made in Lingao” was the equivalent of “Made in Germany” in the old world.
And now this native tycoon was saying he didn’t want it! The few who had been most fiercely opposed to selling the machines were suddenly at a loss. It felt as if a woman they disliked had been pestering them to sleep with her, claiming they could do whatever they wanted, and now suddenly she wouldn’t even let them touch her breasts. The emotional letdown was immense.
“Why isn’t he buying?”
“I hear he thinks it’s too expensive.” Huang Tianyu sat down on a box of parts.
“Who said so?” The ones who had been actively opposing the sale were now even more dejected—fifty thousand taels of silver, gone!
“Liu San said it. The official notification should arrive soon.”
A few minutes later, the phone in the machinery factory rang. The secretary from the General Manufacturing Office informed Zhan Wuya that the secretary from the Planning院, Chu Yu, had officially canceled the equipment order for the simple cannon factory.
The Political Security General Bureau was brightly lit—this compound was lit even at midnight. Secret policemen—regardless of the era—were accustomed to working at night. The courtyard was filled with the ringing of telephones, the sound of voices, and the heavy clatter of Chinese typewriters.
Wu Fo held the latest eavesdropping report, freshly compiled and printed just before midnight. A dozen native clerks sat in a room divided into small cubicles. Each cubicle was fitted with thick glass panels and sound-absorbing panels filled with kapok. Each monitor knew at least two dialects: Cantonese, Qiongzhounese, Leizhounese, Hainan military dialect, Hakka, Lingaonese… any dialect spoken in the area had someone here who could understand it. They listened intently to recordings made with various devices—computer microphones, tape recorders, recording pens—and then recorded the conversations in their notebooks with iron-tipped pens dipped in ink.
The sounds were played through cheap, mass-purchased computer speakers, one in each recording room, carefully housed in a protective wooden box.
The recorded eavesdropping reports were sent to the records office, where they were transcribed and typed up. The typing was done on several heavy Chinese typewriters. They weren’t brought from the old world but were locally made copies. Because the materials weren’t quite up to par, they were even bulkier and cruder than the originals. However, the native typists soon proved they could type much faster than the “chiefs.”
To conserve the lifespan of the equipment, the Political Security General Bureau had only installed listening devices in a few locations. Although the locations were secret, the council members could basically guess where they were: definitely in the commercial building, the county yamen, the county school, and the Jasmine Pavilion. The small teahouse opposite the yamen was packed with them. And the east courtyard of Runshitang could be monitored at any time.
Neither Yang Shixiang nor the distinguished guests staying in Runshitang knew that the house had hidden mezzanines and secret passages they were unaware of. Monitoring equipment could be installed in the mezzanine walls whenever needed.
99% of the eavesdropping reports were useless. Useful materials concerning public opinion were bound and sent to the Propaganda Department for reference; those involving complaints about grassroots staff and corruption were sent to the Cheka; those involving general crimes were sent to the National Police… Finally, reports involving “serious situations” were handed over to the bureau’s investigation department.
Even ordinary gossip, if it contained keywords, was handed over to a special team. These keywords were mainly related to high-ranking Ming officials like the county magistrate, local landlords, and the names of pirates active nearby. These individuals all had files in the Political Security General Bureau, and conversations involving them were categorized as “rumors” and filed into their respective dossiers.
Regardless of the outcome, the original drafts of all reports were to be archived. Zhao Manxiong had repeatedly emphasized in work meetings: to do security work well, the first step is to establish a complete database.
Wu Fo flipped through the reports and took out the one from Runshitang’s east courtyard—Li Luoyou’s arrival had elevated the monitoring of the east courtyard from “general concern” to “key focus.”
He read for a few minutes, his brow furrowed. What this Master Han said was ill-intentioned! He was clearly trying to sabotage the deal! He quickly dialed the Commerce Department.
“The Commerce Department is already closed for the day. Should I transfer you to the duty office?” the operator’s sweet, though still accented, Mandarin came through the phone.
“Oh, no need!” Wu Fo then remembered it was the middle of the night. It was impossible to discuss any business.
However, if the message could be delivered before work started tomorrow, Li Mei’s side would still have a chance to readjust, including the terms of the deal. This transaction was led by Wu De, and the relationship between the first deputy director and Wu De seemed to be quite close. Wu Fo didn’t dare to be negligent. He picked up his mobile phone to dial Wu De’s number.
“Wait!” He felt something was wrong. This matter was Wu De’s idea, but many people opposed it. Reporting directly to him was too blatant.
Thinking of this, he decided not to call Wu De, but Li Mei instead. She was the leader directly responsible for this transaction and was also very interested in it. She would definitely communicate with Wu De and come up with a new plan to save the deal.
From a professional perspective, this was the proper procedure and couldn’t be faulted.
However, her phone was turned off. Li Mei was nearly sixty and a light sleeper; she wouldn’t sleep with her phone on—unless specifically instructed to do so.
He immediately had the report sealed and sent to the dispatch office. The envelope was addressed to Li Mei of the Commerce Department.
“Urgent!” He stamped it and handed it to a clerk. “Deliver by 7 a.m. tomorrow!”
What Wu Fo didn’t know yet was that Li Luoyou had already clearly told Liu San that evening that he did not intend to buy the cannon factory equipment, and the Planning院 had already canceled the order.
After hearing Master Han’s words, Li Luoyou was horrified to realize he had never properly considered the future of the relationship between the government and the Australians.
The government currently tolerated their existence, but this wouldn’t last forever. Li Luoyou knew all too well the relationship between the government and the various Europeans who came to the Great Ming to make a fortune. The Europeans always hoped to occupy a stronghold on the Chinese coast for long-term, convenient trade. The local government would initially turn a blind eye, but once things got out of hand and could no longer be covered up, they would have to send troops to drive them away.
Generally, so far, besides the Portuguese, no other foreign power had been able to occupy a coastal area for long. Although the Dutch had occupied a place in Taiwan, they had been driven out of Penghu first.
This knot in his mind kept circling, causing him a great deal of headache. He decided that before the relationship between the Australians and the government became clear, he should get involved as little as possible—the Australians could just pack up and leave, but he had a family and a business; he couldn’t just run away.
Ultimately, he decided not to be in such a hurry to be a loyal patriot. Otherwise, when the fighting started, he might be branded an “Australian lackey” or a “traitorous merchant,” and would have to pay a hefty sum to appease the entire Guangdong officialdom to get through it.
After Liu San learned the deal was off, his first reaction was disbelief. Then he saw Master Han’s incredibly calm face—there was no expression on it, but Liu San felt he was being mocked.
He didn’t know whether he should include in his report the incident of Master Han visiting him to solicit a bribe and being rejected. He had a feeling that writing this report would likely make him the scapegoat for the failed deal.
He hadn’t reported the solicitation in a timely manner. If responsibility were to be assigned, he would clearly be the primary person responsible—even though no one in the transmigrator group would agree to such a bribe.
Liu San’s mood instantly soured. After much consideration, he decided to omit this part from his report, only writing that Master Han had visited to ask for a price reduction. The instruction not to lower the price came from above; he had faithfully executed it. Anyway, Master Han himself would never speak of the bribe solicitation.
Although Li Luoyou’s arms deal fell through, both sides were generally satisfied with the trade. On one hand, more money was always good. On the other, they had gained two supply channels. Li Luoyou’s prices were cheaper than Gao Ju’s and Huang Shunlong’s, especially for bulk goods.
Most importantly, Li Luoyou had agreed that whenever they needed, he could arrange for them to travel to Jiangnan and provide necessary assistance.
However, this assistance could only be provided secretly, not openly.
As for the capital, it was inconvenient to go for the time being. Li Luoyou clearly explained the reason: the transmigrators’ accents were too strange.
“It’s best to change this accent. The language you speak sounds like it has a Liaodong accent, which would attract too much attention in the capital.” The capital was full of spies from the Eastern Depot, and even the most trivial matters would be reported. If he were questioned by some idle agent, he couldn’t bear the risk.
As for going to Liaodong, Li Luoyou said it was possible to go for a look and do some business, but he couldn’t take responsibility for them staying there long-term.
“Life for Han people in the Tartar lands is very difficult! Even Fan Wencheng, a pseudo-Grand Secretary who rendered great service to the Tartars, was almost killed by the old Tartar just for being Han. You are so conspicuous; you absolutely wouldn’t be able to stay.”
Speaking of the situation of the Han people in Liaodong, Li Luoyou couldn’t help but sigh again, describing their suffering. He then mentioned the great raid of the previous year, when over a hundred thousand men and women were captured from within the pass, and he didn’t know how many were still alive.
“Incompetent generals, suffering people! The common people eat chaff and sell their children to pay the imperial taxes, only to feed such a bunch of useless trash!” Li Luoyou’s reverence for Marshal Yuan had now turned to hatred. He cursed him endlessly in his speech. Liu San thought that regardless of whether Yuan Chonghuan’s death was unjust, public opinion at the time was certainly extremely unfavorable to him.
“…The Tartars simply don’t have enough food to feed so many people!” Li Luoyou said angrily. “When the old Tartar was alive, if there wasn’t enough food, he would just kill Han people to reduce the population. Huang Taiji, after becoming the pseudo-Khan, has been more lenient towards the Han, but there’s still not enough food—”
With not enough food, they offered high prices to buy from within the pass, willing to pay ten or even more than ten taels for a shi of rice, several times the price in the Central Plains. Useless women and children were sold directly to the Mongols in exchange for cattle and sheep.
He had personal pain and had long traded in Liaodong. He had witnessed the miserable state of the Han people and captives in Liaodong firsthand and was powerless to help. He spoke of it with great sorrow.
After venting for a while, Li Luoyou remembered he was in Lingao, talking about these things with a group of overseas people who were not subjects of the Great Ming. He immediately stopped. “I’ve lost my composure. Forgive me! Forgive me!” he said with a cupped-hand gesture.
Thinking that since the Tartars were eager to sell their captives due to a lack of food, his side could very well buy them. The Tartars didn’t want women and children, and the Mongols wouldn’t pay a high price for them, but Lingao was in great need of them. During the work meeting upon Li Luoyou’s arrival, the purchase of the Liaodong population had also been discussed.
“On this matter, we are willing to relieve the people’s suffering,” Liu San said.
“Oh? What is your intention?”
“The Tartars can’t feed so many people and want to sell them. We will just buy them—”
Li Luoyou’s eyes lit up. This Master Liu San was right. No matter what, the Australians considered themselves descendants of the Huaxia. And Lingao was Ming territory. Coming to Lingao was a hundred times better than falling into the hands of the Mongols. However, he shook his head again.
“This is difficult to do!” he warned. “The Tartars are very cunning! They will never sell able-bodied men, only women, children, and the elderly… With my humble influence, I can redeem a dozen or so able-bodied men at a time, but a large number is very difficult.”
He didn’t continue. After all, the Australians were not simply doing charity. They wouldn’t necessarily spend a lot of money to bring back a large number of women, children, and elderly who couldn’t do heavy labor from thousands of miles away.
“We’ll take the women, children, and elderly too. Saving one is saving one,” Liu San said, putting on the air of a righteous hero. Women—Lingao already had a gender imbalance; bringing more women back could balance the gender ratio, and women were also very useful in light industry. As for children, they were the human resource the transmigrators loved most—nothing was easier to accept new things than a child with a strong sense of hatred.
“Master San is truly a man of great righteousness,” Li Luoyou said with admiration. “However, the Tartars value iron and grain the most. I see that these are also among the thirty-one goods you have guaranteed to purchase. I imagine your own needs are not met. How can you have a surplus to redeem them? This will be very difficult.”
“Only grain and iron?” Liu San was instantly doused with cold water. He asked hopefully, “Can’t they sell other things?”
“Although Huang Taiji is a Tartar, he is not without insight,” Li Luoyou said. “He only welcomes merchants who bring goods related to the people’s livelihood and the state’s needs. Grain and iron are best, but cloth and silk are also acceptable. As for purely luxury items like your glass mirrors, I’m afraid he would order them to be banned as soon as they are transported in.”
“I see.” Liu San thought this was tricky. If it involved the export of strategic materials, it would have to be approved by the Executive Committee. “That will require further consideration.”
“If you have such an intention, I am willing to act as a go-between.”
“Thank you, Proprietor Li!”
The two sides agreed: within the next three months, he would arrange for a few council members to secretly travel to Liaodong for a field survey to see if it was possible to purchase a large number of captives.
They would use Li Luoyou’s branch here as a contact point, with Gu Baocheng as the contact person. They would not make contact through any other channels. Li Luoyou produced a pair of horn seals with a floral signature. The two seals could be combined into one and also separated into a pair. He left one behind.
“For any letter or message, this seal will serve as proof. Seeing the seal is like seeing the person.”
He used this method for all his communications to maintain secrecy in his daily business. It was a simple yet effective method. Besides Saoye, he had two confidants in his inner and outer studies, each keeping these horn seals with different floral signatures for him. As for which seal corresponded to whom, only he himself knew.
The matter of redeeming captives had no direct benefit for Li Luoyou and might not even succeed, but it still eased his mind a little. His favorable impression of the Australians also increased.
In the following days, Li Luoyou continued his tour of Lingao. Wu Nanhai’s intensive farm left a deep impression on him. Then he visited the Catholic church in Dongmen Market—he had only accidentally learned there was a church here when he saw someone on the street wearing a wooden cross. When he asked, he found out there had long been a church here. So, at his request, a visit to the church was added to his itinerary.
At the Dongmen Market church, he was warmly welcomed by Wu Shimang and others. Although Li Luoyou had an indescribable sense of awkwardness about this Australian priest. The man was handsome and well-mannered, much more presentable than the smelly, unwashed German priest Ma Yangchun, but he couldn’t feel that this man was a priest from his conversation.
The deacon, Bai, was a bit more like it. Li Luoyou was very pleased that the Australians allowed the church to be built here. He was even more surprised to hear that a monastery had been established. It seemed the Australians had great reverence for God.
The church was not large, with a pointed roof, a small bell tower, and long glass windows on the walls. The architecture was simple and beautiful. Li Luoyou had a very good impression of the church and immediately donated circulation vouchers equivalent to one hundred taels of silver. Wu Shimang expressed his thanks and gave him a Chinese version of the “Catechism” in return. It was an introductory book for Catholics, exquisitely printed and beautifully bound. Li Luoyou was greatly impressed and immediately donated another hundred taels of silver for the printing of this book, and expressed his willingness to purchase five hundred copies.