Chapter 5: Clearing the Obstacles

One afternoon in early December 1630, the pale yellow sun slanted down on the White Goose Pond wharf. After the kūnzéi bandits retreated, the market here had returned to its former prosperity. The flower boats, which had fled in a panic, had all come back, resuming their old trade. In winter, the days ended early. Though it was only three or four in the afternoon, the sun was already setting in the west. The “old hands,” madams, and pimps on the flower boats were already bustling about, preparing for the evening’s business.

Scaffolding had been erected on the fire-damaged city tower, where artisans were busy rebuilding the structure that had been burned by rockets. The Five Goats Station, the official reception hall, and other buildings outside the city gate that had been destroyed by fire were also undergoing large-scale reconstruction. Pedestrians were as numerous as threads in a tapestry, and carriages and sedan chairs passed in a constant stream. The grim and desolate scene from last year, when the Australians had laid siege to the city, had vanished without a trace. Many people felt that after the kūnzéi ones’ visit, the four villages around Guangzhou were much more peaceful—the Fubo Army’s large-scale cleanup operation on Henan Island and along the banks of the Pearl River had eliminated a great number of bandits, ruffians, and local tyrants from the countryside.

At the entrance to the south city gate, a small sedan chair, surrounded by a dozen servants, approached from the riverside wharf near the Five Goats Station. Leading the way was a handsome young servant boy.

As the sedan chair entered the city gate, it suddenly encountered the Guangdong Provincial Censor, who was riding in a large, eight-man sedan chair of green wool and bright gauze. Yamen runners led the way, with guards in front and behind, clearing the path with shouts. The young servant boy quickly directed the sedan chair and its attendants to the side of the road to make way. They only resumed their journey after the entire procession of officials and horses had passed.

Inside the sedan chair, a pair of trained eyes watched the passing procession from behind a gauze screen. A servant walking beside the chair whispered, “That’s Gao Shunqin’s sedan chair!”

After the Guangdong Censor’s procession had passed, the group continued on its way. They wound through the city’s streets and alleys for what seemed like an eternity before finally arriving at a quiet, secluded courtyard. The person inside the sedan chair emerged, stretched their limbs, and breathed a sigh of relief. From the main room of the courtyard, a man dressed as a Ming merchant came out to greet them. It was Lin Biguang.

The usual procedures of exchanging secret signs were no longer necessary. The newcomer silently shook hands with Lin Biguang.

“I was wondering which squad leader the Executive Committee would send. So it’s you,” Lin Biguang said. “Aren’t you in charge of pacification warfare anymore?”

“I only drafted the outline for the pacification war and ran a pilot program. The results in Danzhou were quite good. The next step is to roll it out across all of Qiongzhou, with the army handling the specific implementation. Besides, for this mission, is there a more suitable candidate than me?” The newcomer was powerfully built, tall and sturdy. It was Xue Ziliang.

“And these are your boys?” Lin Biguang said, noncommittal about his self-praise, glancing at the attendants who had already lined up, awaiting orders.

Xue Ziliang said, “A total of eight men were selected. They are the best members of the squad.”

Lin Biguang asked Chen Tong, who had led them into the city, “Was it a smooth entry?”

Chen Tong nodded. “Smooth. The introductory post we brought wasn’t even needed. We even ran into Censor Gao’s procession at the city gate.”

Lin Biguang smiled silently. “Take these brothers to rest,” he ordered. “Let them rest and recover their strength.”

Chen Tong then led the members of the special reconnaissance team to rest. Lin Biguang brought Xue Ziliang into the main room. This was a secret base for the Guangzhou special operations branch of the Foreign Intelligence Bureau, furnished to look like the home of an ordinary merchant. He managed the entire team under the Black Dragon Society system of the Foreign Intelligence Bureau.

Lin Biguang didn’t invite Xue Ziliang to sit down. Instead, he walked directly behind a partition wall and opened a small, inconspicuous door. Inside was a long, narrow corridor. At the end of the corridor was another door. After unlocking it, they entered a windowless, pitch-black room.

Lin Biguang lit the gas lamp in the room, and it was instantly filled with light. Xue Ziliang looked around curiously. The room seemed quite large. Besides the one they were in, there were doors leading to other rooms.

“This is my safe house,” Lin Biguang explained. He took a bottle of kvass from a cabinet. “Let’s talk about the mission.”

“Alright,” Xue Ziliang said. “The Executive Committee has decided to permanently solve the Gao Shunqin problem.”

Gao Shunqin was the most ardent “anti-foreigner” in the entire Guangzhou officialdom. Whether it was the red-haired Dutch, the Portuguese, or the Australians who had appeared out of nowhere, he wanted to expel them all. Although Censor Gao had no brilliant plan to repel the enemy when the kūnzéi bandits were at the city gates, his uncompromising stance had won him the applause of many “angry youth” scholars in Guangzhou. Governor Li’s secret “paying for the enemy’s retreat” had been done covertly at the time, but rumors had recently begun to spread. Many scholars, forgetting their own pathetic state when the kūnzéi bandits were launching rockets at the city, began to passionately denounce Governor Li’s “treason for personal gain.” Gao Shunqin, whose previous memorial to the throne to prohibit the Portuguese from entering the city for trade had been well-received in the capital, was now full of confidence. He was preparing to take on Li Fengjie and submit a scathing impeachment memorial.

“Gao Shunqin’s position in the Guangdong officialdom is very important. His words and actions influence a large number of officials.” Lin Biguang had wanted to get rid of Gao Shunqin for a long time. Wang Zunde was already dead from illness and no longer an obstacle to the transmigrators’ control of Guangdong. But as long as Gao Shunqin remained in Guangzhou, both officials and commoners would have reservations when cooperating with Lin’gao. And a portion of the “anti-foreigner” elements—not just certain scholars, but also businessmen and artisans who had been harmed by the trade impact from Lin’gao—would rally around this banner, forming a sizable anti-Lin’gao faction.

“Have they decided to kill him?” Lin Biguang asked. Although he strongly supported removing this obstacle, he couldn’t help but worry about the consequences. Gao Shunqin was not a minor official; he was the Guangdong Censor. If he were killed, the imperial court would certainly investigate. For Guangdong, it would be nothing short of a political earthquake.

Xue Ziliang kept him in suspense. “To be precise, we’re going to make him disappear.”

“Disappear?”

“Yes. After discussion, the Foreign Intelligence Bureau believes that if he is killed, it will become a major case. It’s better to have him disappear, making it difficult for the court to make a judgment.”

“You mean kidnap him.”

“Correct,” Xue Ziliang said. “A bloodless kidnapping.”

“What’s the point of that?” Lin Biguang was a little disappointed. “Kidnapping is too much trouble! It would be better to just kill him and destroy the body. That would also count as a disappearance.”

“It’s difficult to completely destroy a body in Guangzhou city,” Xue Ziliang told Lin Biguang the plan. The special reconnaissance team intended to kidnap Censor Gao directly. Then, they would have him make occasional appearances around Guangzhou before finally taking him out of Guangdong.

“To make everyone think Censor Gao ran away on his own?”

“Roughly so.”

“Damn, that doesn’t make sense. He’s a court-appointed official. He’d have to be crazy to abandon his post and family and run away.” Lin Biguang found it incredible. “Why not use poison? Some kind of biological agent.”

“It’s precisely because it doesn’t make sense that it’s good. If everyone is speculating and can’t figure out the motive, it will have nothing to do with us,” Xue Ziliang said. “If we use other methods, whether it’s making him ‘die of illness’ or getting hit by a 70-mph carriage on the road, it will cause a public outcry, and the finger of blame will likely be pointed at us.”

Lin Biguang felt the plan wasn’t perfect. But Gao Shunqin really couldn’t be allowed to continue. The Guangzhou team would soon be returning to Guangzhou with huge business plans. The presence of such a hardline anti-foreigner leader would be a major obstacle.

For one thing, if he mobilized a few hundred scholars to surround the Zhiming Tower, it would be a huge headache for Pei Lixiu. If he then incited the common people to “burn down the Zhiming Tower”… Lin Biguang was quite familiar with the struggles over entering the city in Guangzhou and other treaty ports after the First Opium War.

The ideal solution would be to have Censor Gao promoted or transferred laterally, a so-called “soft” approach that would satisfy everyone. But the Senate did not yet have that kind of influence in the Ming bureaucracy.

“How do you plan to do it? What support do you need from us?”

“I need Gao Shunqin’s daily routine and the floor plans of the Censorate and his private residence. It would be best if the buildings have elevation markings.”

“The routine is easy. The two floor plans will take some time.”

“How long?”

“A week, I’d say,” Lin Biguang said.

“Also, get me a map of the entire city of Guangzhou, the more detailed the better.”

“No problem, I have that right now.”

He took out a large roll of paper from a locked safe and spread it out on the large conference table in the room. It was a large-scale traffic map of Guangzhou city.

“So detailed,” Xue Ziliang said, his eyes shining with delight in the light of the gas lamp. “No wonder Bei Wei said you have everything here and I didn’t need to bring it.”

“Of course. The map of Guangzhou in the Great Library was also provided by the Guangzhou station,” Lin Biguang said. “Manager Guo isn’t just a manager, you know.”

Xue Ziliang laughed. “Who can blame him for being one of the ‘first to have a woman,’ and even getting several of them. Those senators who can’t stand him are just jealous and resentful.”

Lin Biguang smiled noncommittally. He acknowledged Guo Yi’s contributions in his words, but he had no intention of attacking others.

“Has our equipment arrived?”

“It has. It’s right here.”

The special reconnaissance team’s weapons, equipment, and clothing were shipped separately, hidden among the cargo, and secretly stored in the special operations agency’s secret warehouse. Xue Ziliang checked; the seals on the boxes were intact, and the equipment was in good condition.

“As for the clothing, transportation, and other things you need, just give me a list, and I’ll arrange everything.”

Xue Ziliang was very satisfied. A lack of good coordination during a mission is a disaster—the so-called “fear of pig-like teammates.” The special reconnaissance team had been to the mainland for military reconnaissance and raid missions many times before, but this was their first time going deep into a major city to kidnap someone. From his experience in another world, such an operation would be a fantasy without the cooperation of local intelligence personnel. He was initially satisfied with the performance of the Guangzhou special operations agency under Lin Biguang’s control.