Chapter 69: The Great World of Guangzhou
“No. For something like this, you need a priest from a famous local temple to have any influence. A wandering priest like me has no foundation there. In the eyes of the scholar-gentry and the wealthy, I’m little more than a beggar. What kind of appeal could I have? Wouldn’t I just attract suspicion by stepping forward to provide famine relief?” Zhang Yingchen was, of course, interested in such an opportunity to infiltrate the mainland. But the prosperous Jiangnan region was not like the Li districts, nor was it like Hainan Island. Traditional Taoism had been rooted there for many years, with countless famous temples. At some of them, he would probably be driven away if he even tried to ask for a temporary stay. The religious world had always been a complicated place.
“That’s why you can start by establishing a unique temple…” Zhao Yigong said calmly. He had already seen the model of the Yunji Temple, approved by Zhang Yingchen, at the General Construction Company. He knew the Daoist priest’s “New Taoism” was different, and combined with their new medical knowledge and technology, it was very possible for them to make a name for themselves in Hangzhou.
Zhang Yingchen said, “You’re leading me down a dangerous path. I might end up being accused of spreading heresy and deluding the masses…” He pondered for a moment. “However, if we can open up a situation in Jiangnan, there is indeed much to be gained.”
“You can use medicine as an entry point for your missionary work. Healing the sick and saving lives will easily build your reputation, not to mention your medical skills and medicines are genuine,” Zhao Yigong said. He knew Zhang Yingchen was willing in his heart, just posturing to get better terms from the Foreign Intelligence Bureau. So he added, “Our intelligence system will fully support you.”
“Good, good,” Zhang Yingchen nodded with a smile. “It is also our undeniable duty to rescue the people of eastern Zhejiang from their suffering.”
The two sides reached a preliminary agreement on cooperation. Zhang Yingchen agreed to go to the Jiangnan region as a guest consultant for the Foreign Intelligence Bureau, and they would maintain secret contact during their operations. They would share intelligence, and the Foreign Intelligence Bureau would be responsible for providing support for Zhang Yingchen’s activities in Jiangnan.
“When our Great Song is restored, I will appoint you as the Superintendent of Temples…” Zhao Yigong joked.
“Actually, I prefer Longhu Mountain,” Zhang Yingchen said seriously.
After seeing Zhao Yigong off, Zhang Yingchen pondered for a while. There was much to be gained in Jiangnan. There were many wealthy people there, and if he could convert them, it would be a great help to the financial strength of New Taoism. But the influence of Confucianism in Jiangnan was very strong. Historically, several famous cults had failed to develop there. For him to take root and flourish would be no less difficult than it was for Catholicism to enter China.
As he was deep in thought, he saw the notice from He Ying on his desk, urging him to collect the religious head tax—the Religious Affairs Office had already pressed him several times about this. His missionary work in the Li districts was very successful, but according to the Religious Affairs Office’s requirements, every registered religion had to collect a head tax from each believer. This was a heavy burden for New Taoism, whose followers were mainly the people of the Li districts.
Zhang Yingchen was still not comfortable with the Religious Affairs Office’s management system. After his missionary work, he had to write reports and fill out numerous forms for the office, detailing the number of believers in each village.
“Isn’t this just nonsense? Taoism isn’t a monotheistic religion with a clear definition of a believer,” Zhang Yingchen thought. The religious head tax was clearly meant to suppress monotheistic religions and had little meaning for Chinese Buddhism or Taoism. As for the number of believers, he felt it could only be estimated, not accurately counted.
Thinking of this, he felt it was necessary to talk to He Ying, and especially to Director Wu, about the future direction of the Religious Affairs Office. In Zhang Yingchen’s view, it was wrong for Wu Shimang’s Lingao Convent to monopolize all the funding from the Jesuit Order. At least half of it should be handed over to the Religious Affairs Office for unified distribution.
Using Jesuit funds for religious activities had been approved by the Senate, but Director Wu’s advantage was too obvious. After more than a year of missionary work, Zhang Yingchen had come to the painful realization that no matter what he did, money was the most important thing.
The delegation from the Dutch East India Company successfully completed their mission. After signing the trade agreement, Van der Lanton sold all his goods, and the Magdeburg set sail from Lingao, fully laden with sugar, glassware, and general merchandise. The draft agreement would be submitted to the Council of the East India Company in Batavia and the Senate for review, and the final exchange of documents would take place after approval. The agreement was signed in three languages: Dutch, Chinese, and Classical Latin, with the Latin text being the authoritative version.
Prior to this, the two sides also signed a consular agreement. Although many transmigrators thought this consular agreement was useless, believing that in case of a falling out, cannons would still be the ultimate solution, Si Kaide believed that rules had to be established from this moment on.
Even if the 17th-century Dutch had no intention of seriously abiding by the consular agreement, as long as they signed it, Lingao would have a perfectly legitimate pretext to enforce it in the future. Just as Britain and France used cannons to force the Qing Dynasty, which did not understand European-style diplomacy, to understand and follow the rules, the Senate would also use cannons to instill the future rules of diplomacy in others.
As the Dutch set sail, various dispatched teams from Lingao also began their journeys. The first to depart was the Guangzhou Station team, returning to Guangzhou. They would reopen the station, resume their public identity, and then use their advantageous position on the mainland to help arrange the travel of intelligence personnel heading to Jiangnan, Liaodong, and Shandong. Guangdong was, after all, a major land and water transportation hub, making travel relatively convenient. The Qiwei organization also existed there. Under the current circumstances, the Foreign Intelligence Bureau deemed it unwise to travel by sea, preferring to start from Guangzhou, cross the Five Ridges, and enter the heartland of the mainland via Jiangxi.
The return to Guangzhou had been in the works since the formal peace treaty with Li Luoyou was reached. Although the agreement was signed in black and white, Guo Yi and the others had had enough of the Ming government’s slow efficiency in its implementation. It was not until the end of the second month that many of the terms of the agreement were finally implemented. Although some compensation and restitution work was not yet fully completed, it was mostly done.
During the wait for the treaty to be implemented, the Guangzhou Station personnel and the main planners from the Colonial and Trade Department discussed the next steps for the station’s business expansion. Now that the Guangzhou Station was returning to Guangzhou on the heels of victory, simply resuming their old business would not satisfy the ambitions of the transmigrators. Someone suggested creating a “window into the Australian lifestyle” in Guangzhou, not only to sell various goods but also to convey the various comforts and concepts of modern life to the wealthy people of Guangzhou and the whole of Guangdong, to “corrupt” them through exposure to the Australian way of life.
The concept was similar to the old Ziminglou, but the new version of the “window into the Australian lifestyle” would be more popular, targeting the relatively affluent common people rather than the exclusive clientele of a high-end club like Ziminglou.
The planned large-scale model of the Australian lifestyle was dubbed the “Guangzhou Great World” by some transmigrators. Similar to the Great World of the old timeline or more modern commercial centers, it was to be a large, comprehensive commercial complex integrating dining, lodging, and entertainment. Or, as some put it, they would simply build a shopping mall, where one could eat, drink, play, and shop, and spend a whole day without seeing everything.
This plan had been in the works since before the New Year. It started as a casual suggestion by a bored transmigrator on the internal BBS, then gained widespread support, eventually evolving from a large department store into a magnificent, fortress-like commercial center.
The transmigrators interested in this on the BBS created a detailed plan for the “Guangzhou Great World,” covering everything from site selection and architectural style to business models and the types of goods to be sold. Someone even drew up architectural renderings.
In accordance with the transmigrator military-political plan proposal system, this plan was officially proposed by the Feiyun Society and entered the formal discussion process of the Senate.
The proposal not only listed the use of the “Great World” to promote Australian goods and lifestyle but also highlighted its considerable economic benefits.
The exchange at the Great World would be two-way. The silver earned from selling goods there could be used to establish new industries on the spot, purchasing large quantities of local raw materials from the Pearl River Delta—especially the abundant agricultural products of this era. Besides being shipped back to Lingao for processing, these raw materials could also be processed in local factories in Guangzhou and then sold on the mainland. The large volume of trade would inevitably have a huge impact on the economy and life of this era in every aspect. Establishing factories locally would allow them to use the local population of Guangdong as cheap labor, rather than the current time-consuming and laborious mode of population transfer.
Wen Desi was also very supportive of this. In his view, the Guangzhou Great World was the model for his ideal “Delong Trading Company,” a model that could be applied anywhere in the future.
This grand plan caught Guo Yi and the people at the Planning Institute off guard. According to the plan Guo Yi had submitted to the Planning Institute, upon returning to Guangzhou, the first step was to restore the “Three Zis” industries. According to reports from the Guangzhou intelligence system, although the “Three Zis” industries were “officially sealed,” the yamen runners and clerks responsible for guarding them had engaged in widespread looting. The officials might have looked down on various wooden furniture and business equipment, but the small-timers took everything. The valuable goods had already been confiscated and sold, but things like furniture and furnishings were still in demand. After more than half a year, the “Three Zis” industries were in a dilapidated state, and even the Guangzhou Station’s residence on Huifu Street was in a mess.
After completing the restoration plan, the next step was to expand the business, with the project being a second branch of the Ziminglou—or a “flagship store,” larger and with more modern facilities than the first. The construction of the second store had already been in the plans; if not for the sudden Ming invasion, it would have been under construction already.
Of course, the Guangzhou Station team welcomed the “Guangzhou Great World” plan, but for the Planning Institute, this sudden large-scale project disrupted their plans, involving a large amount of unplanned investment and resource allocation.