Chapter 68: The Power Struggle

The main base of the Lingao Church was, of course, in the Li districts. Through the efforts of the missionaries, their coverage of the Li districts within Lingao County reached over 90%. A dozen villages had been fully baptized, and the number of believers had grown to five or six thousand. In the Han districts of Lingao, by assisting with the “post-bandit suppression cleanup,” they also achieved great success in proselytizing in several mountainous areas that had previously been severely plagued by bandits.

As the pacification war in northern Qiongshan unfolded, the missionaries followed closely behind the bayonets of the Fubo Army and the work teams, infiltrating the counties of northern Qiongshan. They achieved particularly significant results in Danzhou.

Wu Shimang not only proselytized extensively but was also very cunning. He knew that many in the Senate were wary of missionary work but had an urgent desire to “change customs and traditions.” So, Director Wu instructed the European missionaries and the activists among the local believers to vigorously promote the reform of customs and to practice it themselves among the faithful.

After discussions between Wu Shimang, Bai Duolu, and others, the focus of the “change customs and traditions” campaign was determined to be “cultivating hygienic habits and resisting undesirable social trends.” They used religion to promote various modern hygiene practices, such as washing hands before meals and after using the toilet, and cleaning up garbage around the house. Just as Aibeibe from the Ministry of Health began promoting “hospital births” in Lingao, Wu Shimang immediately had the priests preach about it during their sermons. He even generously organized a volunteer team to transport local pregnant women to and from the hospital in sedan chairs. Under the dual appeal of heaven and hell, the rate of hospital births in Lingao’s Han parishes shot up to 100%, even surpassing the consistently model Bairen Commune. The church’s reputation soared, and Aibeibe praised them highly, even presenting them with a brocade banner.

In addition, Wu Shimang established a “Ceremonial Services Department,” which blended ancient and modern, Chinese and foreign rites to create a set of simple yet grand ceremonial services. He cunningly named it “Australian-style Rites” and, depending on the ceremony, could exclude Christian elements, thereby circumventing the doubts of some transmigrators. For many naturalized citizens with little money, holding a wedding or a memorial service in a grand church cost nothing. The church had a fine choir, beautiful and solemn music, plenty of fresh flowers, and a kind priest who, regardless of whether you were a believer, would offer eloquent blessings or words of condolence. The ceremonies were both solemn and simple, and thus quickly became popular among the naturalized citizens.

News of the Lingao Church’s development, through letters from several friends, reached Zhang Yingchen, who was doing missionary work far away in Sanya.

For over a year, Zhang Yingchen had been using Sanya as a starting point to venture deep into the Li districts of Hainan Island, using medicine as a means to spread his “New Taoism” with considerable success. Particularly on his journey inland from Sanya, he had successfully “conquered” four villages and “infiltrated” ten. “Conquered” meant the entire village revered him as a god, while “infiltrated” meant he had gained a number of followers. He had also established a “Medical Lodge,” which served as both a clinic and a temple, in a major village.

Although he was working alone, he relied on his knowledge of modern Chinese medicine and the drugs purchased from Runshitang to practice medicine, moving freely through the Li districts. The effectiveness of his proselytizing was not much inferior to that of the Catholics. Of course, he had also encountered many dangers during his year-plus missionary career. The wilderness survival skills he had learned on the fly and the modern weapons and tools he carried were of great help, allowing him to escape danger several times. But being short-handed was always a major problem. Zhang Yingchen found that he couldn’t expand his team quickly. Director Wu could sit at the center, constantly raising money and managing the church, while the Jesuit priests went out to preach and proselytize. He also had Bai Duolu as his assistant to communicate with local believers, expand the congregation, and manage the church. They could advance on three fronts simultaneously, while he was completely overwhelmed.

The few “Taoist students” he had managed to recruit had to be temporarily placed in the Fangcao’di school for continued cultural studies because there was no one to train them. This was not part of Zhang Yingchen’s plan—he had originally intended to “cultivate” the boys himself. Now that they were in Hu Qingbai’s hands, he worried they might be indoctrinated with ideas that conflicted with what he intended to teach them.

Faced with these practical concerns, Zhang Yingchen was forced to end his activities in the Li districts early and rush back to Lingao before the annual meeting. He planned to first “set the stage” and establish a firm foothold.

According to Zhang Yingchen’s initial development plan, the core institution of New Taoism would be located in Ding’an County, home to the Taoist sacred site of Bija Mountain, where the Southern School’s patriarch, Bai Yuchan, had achieved immortality. With this aura, the conditions for building their own ancestral temple there were exceptionally favorable.

As for the start of construction, Zhang Yingchen had originally planned to wait until the situation in Hainan was fully stabilized and New Taoism had enough believers before beginning the construction and acquisition of religious facilities. At the very least, more believers meant more guaranteed funding. But the current situation forced him to act immediately—New Taoism could not be without its own religious facilities; a single medical lodge in Sanya was not enough. Since the Catholic Church was developing faster than he had anticipated, he had to act quickly as well.

Zhang Yingchen first established contact with the Foreign Intelligence Bureau—his ultimate goal was the mainland, and the Bureau controlled the funds, personnel, and systems for operating there. Religion itself was an effective tool for propaganda and infiltration. New Taoism, at least, appeared more “native” than Catholicism, so his talks with Jiang Shan and others were an immediate success. With the Bureau’s approval and connections, he also formed a formal partnership with Chen Tianxiong of the Leizhou station, designating the Zou Heshang Temple intelligence post in Hai’an as a temple under the “New Taoism” system.

But he also needed a temple in Lingao. No matter what, Lingao would be a “sacred revolutionary site” in the future, and New Taoism needed a place there.

The proposal to build a temple passed through He Ying’s hands with little difficulty, and he obtained the material application from the Planning Institute. However, raising funds proved to be a major challenge. The Ministry of Finance refused to allocate funds for the new temple—prior to this, all churches in Lingao had been self-funded. Although Daoquanzi’s religious scholarship was far superior to Director Wu’s, he had a significant disadvantage: a difficult source of funding.

The Lingao Church had the financial support of the Jesuit Order. In contrast, “New Taoism” could only receive limited operating funds from the Li and Miao Affairs Office, and of course, the Religious Affairs Office also allocated some funds to him. But compared to Director Wu, who could receive a box of silver coins from Macau every six months and sometimes solicit additional funds under various pretexts, Zhang Yingchen’s financial situation was dire. The Li people might revere him as a god, but they had nothing of value to fill the coffers of New Taoism.

Ultimately, Zhang Yingchen had to resort to borrowing. He mortgaged his transmigrator shares to take out a loan from Delong Bank, pooled all the remaining funds from the Li and Miao Affairs Office and the Religious Affairs Office, and finally secured a sponsorship from a certain society. Only then did he barely scrape together enough money to build the temple.

Due to the tight budget, Zhang Yingchen took a unique approach. Instead of building in the bustling Dongmen Market, he chose the Yongqing Temple, five kilometers west of Lingao County. This was a Taoist temple originally built in the Song Dynasty, rebuilt by the Taoist priest Zeng Daoning during the Hongwu era of the Ming Dynasty, destroyed by bandits during the Hongzhi era, and rebuilt by the county magistrate Wang Xi during the Zhengde era.

By now, it had been nearly one hundred and fifty years since the last reconstruction of Yongqing Temple. The temple was long abandoned, with only the stone foundations of the buildings remaining. Zhang Yingchen chose this spot firstly because the land price was cheap, lower than in Dongmen Market and even within Lingao County. Secondly, it was not far from the county town, with a road already built, making transportation convenient, yet it was relatively quiet and away from the hustle and bustle. The foundations of the buildings were well-preserved, which would lower construction costs. There were also many ancient trees on the site, which would create a pleasant environment after renovation.

Zhang Yingchen named the place Yunji Guan (Cloud Pavilion Temple). He personally drew the architectural plans and communicated his envisioned style to the designers of the General Construction Company to ensure they understood his concepts. However, due to limited funds, the entire project would be carried out in several phases. The first phase involved building his living and meditation courtyard, plus a courtyard for the “Taoist students” to live and study. He also built a scripture repository to store the various Taoist texts he had purchased and collected.

At this moment, the “master” of this “New Taoism,” Zhang Yingchen, who called himself “Daoquanzi,” was entertaining a guest in a quiet room of the newly built temple.

Zhang Yingchen wore the “new Taoist robe” he had designed himself, with his hair in a topknot and a beard. Due to his long period of missionary work in the Li districts, his face was dark and tanned, and his figure was lean, giving him a rather ethereal, immortal-like air.

He held a cup of clear tea, blew on it gently, took a sip, and only spoke after a long pause: “You want me to go to Hangzhou with you?”

“That’s right,” said the man, who was in his thirties and dressed entirely in Ming attire. It was Zhao Yigong, the same man who had applied to be the consul in Batavia a few days ago. He had signed up for the Foreign Intelligence Bureau’s training for field agents and was preparing to go to Hangzhou to start his work under the identity of a descendant of the Song imperial family.

“A wandering Taoist priest, going to Hangzhou to preach. What can I accomplish?” Zhang Yingchen said.

“Of course, you can. You’re a Taoist priest. It’s much better for you to come forward and organize charitable activities than for a newcomer like me to suddenly appear,” Zhao Yigong said. This idea had been approved by Jiang Shan and others, and had also received He Ying’s endorsement. Now it all depended on Zhang Yingchen’s decision.

It was far more reassuring for a religious institution to run charities than for a strange, wealthy outsider to do so. Zhao Yigong’s idea was for Zhang Yingchen to take the lead, first establish a temple, and then use it as a base for charitable work. Once they had built up a reputation, it would be much more convenient to step in and shelter refugees when the great famine in eastern Zhejiang broke out in 1632.