Chapter 39: Rice and Coal

Zhu Fuyuan reported the current situation to Yan Maoda. The operation of Dachang in the local area did not require the manager to be particularly skilled in business: every month, Vo Ngoc Giap’s steward would bring slaves and peasants from the manor to deliver rice, timber, and coal, and take away various sugar products and miscellaneous goods from the warehouse. The volume of trade between the two sides was very large.

“Vo Ngoc Giap has made a fortune from this business,” Zhu Fuyuan said with a hint of envy. “He has made a lot of money on our sugar goods.”

Vo Ngoc Giap bought crude brown sugar from Dachang at a price of 8 Spanish silver dollars per shi, and then sold it to Laos, Siam, and the Dutch for 10-18 Spanish silver dollars per shi. The profits from white sugar and rock sugar were even higher. As for the other goods transported from Leizhou, including “Australian goods” manufactured in Lingao and various daily necessities purchased from the mainland, they were all hot-selling items locally.

Seeing his own goods being bought by Vo Ngoc Giap and sold for a huge profit, Zhu Fuyuan couldn’t help but feel unbalanced. He suggested that they should expand their customer base and sales channels—preferably to the retail level, so that all the benefits wouldn’t go to the Vo family alone.

“There’s no hurry for this matter,” Yan Maoda said. “How is the rice supply situation?”

“It’s arrived. The rice we agreed on last year has all been delivered,” Zhu Fuyuan said hastily. “But Vo Ngoc Giap’s steward wants to raise the price again.”

Hearing that Vo Ngoc Giap was once again demanding a price increase for rice, Yan Maoda couldn’t help but frown. This was the third time Vo Ngoc Giap had demanded a price increase for rice in the past six months. Rice was a strategic material for Lingao, and Vietnam was currently Lingao’s main rice supplier. A price increase not only meant paying more in exchange goods but also implied that there might be some problems with the supply channel.

“Why the price increase again? There must be a reason,” Yan Maoda said. “Could it be that the steward is playing tricks?”

“He wouldn’t dare—our business with Vo Ngoc Giap is a big deal. The steward wouldn’t have the guts to mess around,” Zhu Fuyuan said. “The steward said that because the Trinh are currently on a southern campaign against the Nguyen, they are conscripting soldiers and grain everywhere. Vo Ngoc Giap, of course, has to provide a large amount of grain and provisions. It is said that in order to get enough rice, the peasants on Vo Ngoc Giap’s manor are about to starve—last spring they were eating thin porridge, and this spring they are actually eating bran.” Zhu Fuyuan said, “I heard that some peasants can’t go on and are preparing to leave the manor to flee the famine.”

The war Zhu Fuyuan was talking about was the Later Le Dynasty’s later North-South War. This war began in 1627 and lasted for nearly a hundred years. Between 1627 and 1672, seven large-scale battles broke out between the Trinh and the Nguyen. What the Senators encountered was the second major war, from 1630 to 1633. The Nguyen clan fully utilized their “turtle” strategy, and the fortress complex built under the guidance of the Portuguese severely damaged the southward-advancing Trinh army, resulting in a strategic stalemate.

This situation was bound to lead to a large number of peasants being forcibly conscripted. In the agricultural society of the Middle Ages, peasants were the most important productive force, and farmland lacking labor could not produce enough food.

“This is terrible.” Yan Maoda thought to himself that it seemed difficult to rely on Vo Ngoc Giap for a long-term supply of large quantities of grain. If they did not intervene, the North-South War of the Later Le Dynasty would, according to the historical trajectory, last for at least another 50 years.

“Once war breaks out, it’s hard to get grain,” Zhu Fuyuan said nervously. He had been working for the Australians here for more than a year and knew that the main purpose of the Australians setting up a post in Hai Duong was to buy grain. If grain became too expensive and difficult to buy, they might not continue to operate a warehouse here. His hard-won good job would be gone.

“Agree to his price for the rice,” Yan Maoda said after careful consideration. “How much grain can he deliver each month now? Are there any signs of a decrease?”

“He hasn’t delivered any rice in the last month. He said the government has requisitioned a lot, and the rice stored in the manor is not enough,” Zhu Fuyuan said. “And the next three months are the spring famine. We’ll have to get through the spring famine before the grain supply can be normalized.”

Zhu Fuyuan added, “Leader! Should we slow down the speed of our sugar shipments? We already have more than ten thousand shi of sugar stored in the warehouse…”

“It doesn’t matter!” Yan Maoda said. “Tomorrow, you tell Vo Ngoc Giap’s steward that if there’s no rice, he should bring more coal to exchange!”

“Exchange for coal?” Zhu Fuyuan was taken aback. In his opinion, this was a very bad deal. Although the price of coal was very, very low, watching the Australians buy shiploads of the dirty, smelly fuel, he really couldn’t understand it. Whether in Guangdong or Vietnam, firewood was both cheap and plentiful, and wealthy families could even use high-quality hardwood charcoal. He really couldn’t figure out why the Australians wanted to buy so much black coal.

“Yes, since he doesn’t have enough rice for the time being, we’ll exchange the stored sugar for coal and timber.” Yan Maoda waved his hand. “Don’t dawdle, get it done immediately!”

Zhu Fuyuan responded with several “yeses.” Seeing that Yan Maoda had nothing more to say, he immediately presented the warehouse’s account books. Yan Maoda accepted them for now—auditing was the job of the CHEKA, but as the superior in charge, he also needed to do his own self-inspection. He planned to look at the account books on the way to Hon Gai.

“This is Bei Kai.” Yan Maoda introduced Bei Kai to Zhu Fuyuan. “From now on, he will be the resident business representative in Vietnam. You can report anything directly to him!”

Bei Kai’s station was Hon Gai, but as a Senator business representative, he would, as a matter of course, have leadership over the trading posts and warehouses in Hai Duong and future coastal areas of Vietnam.

Zhu Fuyuan glanced at the short, dark man—he looked just like those Vietnamese people. How could he also be a leader? But having been an assistant for many years, he had long understood the principle of saying less and doing more when it came to the boss’s personnel arrangements.

“How is the matter I asked you to inquire about last time? Is there any concrete news?” Yan Maoda asked.

The last time Yan Maoda came to Hai Duong, he had specially instructed Zhu Fuyuan to investigate the ownership of the land in Hon Gai: did it belong to a certain manor lord, or was it a salary land of a Le Dynasty official, or was it ownerless official land?

“I made special inquiries. Hon Gai, and also Cam Pha, which the leader mentioned, are ownerless lands. It’s either mountains or tidal flats there, you can’t farm, so no one cares about it at all.”

“What are the procedures for buying land from the government here?”

Zhu Fuyuan smiled bitterly, “I’m afraid it’s very difficult. Merchants from the Ming Dynasty are like fat sheep here. Even buying a piece of land to build a warehouse is a big hassle. Money is secondary.” He paused. “If the leader insists on buying it, we must first demarcate the land and draw a map. Then I will go and run around, but I’m afraid it will cost a lot of money…”

“No need. We’ll talk about it when we get back.” Yan Maoda thought that it might not be necessary to spend money to buy it. With military force as a back-up, they could just start mining on the spot. The Northern Le Dynasty probably didn’t have the inclination to mobilize a large army to deal with them right now.

Yan Maoda’s party did not stay long in Hai Duong. After inspecting the warehouse and understanding the basic local situation, the Zhennan unloaded its cargo and set sail again, heading south to Hon Gai.

The distance from Hai Duong to Hon Gai is about 60 kilometers. The Zhennan could reach it in about 10 hours of sailing. Because they were sailing along the coastline, and Hon Gai was in the island- and reef-studded Ha Long Bay, to avoid hitting reefs and running aground, Zhang Da-bala decided not to sail at night, but to set off early in the morning and arrive just at dusk.

The Zhennan set sail early in the morning. Zhang Da-bala, in a business-like manner, took observations with a sextant and plotted the course on the sea chart. Unfortunately, his arithmetic skills were too poor. He pushed the navigation slide rule back and forth for a long time, and finally threw it down with a curse of “Bird!” and went back to the poop deck to look at the compass and follow the needle path.

Fortunately, this was a route he often traveled, a place where he could sail with his eyes closed, so to speak. Under his command, the Zhennan began to sail south.

The Zhennan sailed smoothly under Zhang Da-bala’s command. The Chinese-style hard sails fully demonstrated their superiority in adapting to the “winds from all eight directions” when sailing in coastal areas with complex wind directions. Although the ship’s speed was sometimes fast and sometimes slow, it never stopped.

On the poop deck, Bei Kai gazed at the beautiful coastal scenery, feeling that his more than half a year of hard study of the Vietnamese language was worthwhile—this land was too tempting. If he could become the governor-general of North Vietnam in the future… Bei Kai’s thoughts couldn’t help but drift to the graceful Vietnamese women he had seen in Hai Duong yesterday.

Bei Kai was a rather unremarkable “soy sauce” Senator in the Senate. His past profession had led him to the Postal and Transportation Committee, but he knew nothing about transportation, and Lingao’s postal system had not yet been formally established—and even if it were established immediately, he, a postal worker who had always been soliciting advertisements in the post office, had no research on postal services.

He was not an eloquent person and was unwilling to get involved in politics. Therefore, he was a marginal figure in the Senate. However, the expansionist nature of the transmigrator group and the scarcity of Senators gave even “soy sauce” Senators enough opportunities to stand out.

Just as he was lost in his thoughts about Vietnamese women while facing the sea breeze, the ship’s bell suddenly rang urgently. Bei Kai was startled. He saw sailors and marines pouring out from below deck. Some held the navy’s Type 29 cutlass, while others held short-barreled Minie rifles. Several sailors rushed up to the poop deck, quickly removed the oilcloth cover, revealing the black “typewriter” inside. Someone quickly opened a nearby iron box and took out the black spare ammunition drum.

“What’s going on?” Bei Kai was greatly alarmed. He saw that the covers of the six carronades on the deck had all been removed. Was this a sign of battle?

“Report: At the 7 o’clock direction, there are ships fighting. We are entering a state of alert first,” Zhang Da-bala rushed to the poop deck and explained.

“Are they pirates?”

“Should be.” Zhang Da-bala was not nervous. “Leader, don’t worry. This kind of thing happens often in this area. You can’t tell the fishermen from the pirates here. Our ship is large and we are on alert. They won’t dare to have any crooked ideas.”