Chapter 10: Sea Patrol
Ordinarily, a place like a coal mine would hold absolutely no interest for Qi Feng. Our dear Qi was a man of classical tastes, with little inclination to paint the rugged beauty of the working class or the grand sweep of industrialization.
His reason for wanting to visit the mine was a frustrating lack of suitable materials for the Mediterranean-style district he was designing. In Elder Qi’s vision, the buildings were a unified whole. The walls were to be whitewashed—simple enough. The foundations and enclosing walls were to be built of fieldstone—also manageable. The doors and windows, a clever interplay of blue and yellow—even simpler.
The one thing he couldn’t find anywhere in Lingao was the perfect, sunset-red roof tile of his dreams. The tiles fired in Lingao always had a reddish hue that was just… wrong. It didn’t match the color in his memory, always appearing dull and greyish. He had made special trips to the kilns and ceramics factories, commissioning several test batches, but none yielded the desired color. And without vibrant red tiles, how could the buildings possibly hold their own against the azure sea, the blue sky, and the verdant trees? Importing them was, of course, out of the question.
After much head-scratching, Qi Feng paid a visit to the Central Laboratory for Heavy Industry. This large facility provided chemical analysis for all the enterprises within the heavy industry system. He asked them to analyze the composition of the raw materials used for firing bricks and tiles. The lab’s conclusion: the area around Lingao was composed of marine sedimentary strata, which lacked the high-iron quartz clay he needed. The abundance of calcium and magnesium ions in the local clay would invariably cast a pale, greyish-white film over any fired product, dulling the red of the bricks. However, a similar type of clay was available at the Jiazhi Coal Mine.
Under the diligent management of Tang Menglong at the Jiazhi Mining Bureau, the original mine had been extensively developed in search of more lignite suitable for coking. Hainan’s lignite was generally of poor quality: high in ash, high in gangue, and low in calorific value. The Changchang coalfield had a theoretical reserve of 67.21 million tons, but only about 9 million tons could truly be called lignite. The rest was better classified as low-calorific-value fuel—essentially, coal with a lot of rock and rock with a little bit of coal.
To save on transport capacity, a coal washing plant had been established at Jiazhi. The vast quantities of coal gangue left over from the washing process were piled up around the mining area. Over time, these piles had grown into several small hills.
These mounds of waste had become a significant problem. They took up space, were prone to spontaneous combustion, and polluted the water supply. Director Tang had made several trips to the Planning Commission, passionately arguing the pros and cons of comprehensive utilization. Finally, the commission approved the construction of a brick factory on-site. The Changchang and Changpo mining areas, where the Jiazhi mine was located, were rich in various grades of mining clay. Combined with the abundant coal gangue, which could serve as both fuel and raw material, the factory could produce everything from common bricks and pottery to high-performance refractory bricks and high-temperature crucibles.
Although Lingao had a huge demand for bricks and tiles, transportation remained a bottleneck. The volume of tiles shipped from Jiazhi to Lingao was not large. Aside from some refractory bricks and custom ceramic parts for the industrial sector, the output mainly supplied the areas around Qiongshan and Wenchang, where Liu Xiang’s agricultural and water conservancy projects were the primary consumers.
Director Tang had also fired a variety of vessels and handicrafts and sent them to Lingao, marketing them to the construction, industrial, and foreign trade departments. The Great Library had quite a few of Tang’s flowerpots. Elder Qi had a native staff member wash one, and as soon as he saw it… Yes, that’s it.
He placed an order, sent over the blueprints, and the goods were produced, just waiting for a ship. But the ships returning from the Jiazhi mine were always loaded with coal. What little space remained was for cement-grade gangue, and any leftover capacity was filled with grade-four refractory clay and bricks. If he waited for his Grade III clay products to get on the schedule, he’d be waiting until the second half of the year, at least.
And so, Qi Feng shyly presented his need to the female pirate. As he finished, he stared into her eyes with an innocent, wide-eyed gaze. The effect was devastating. The pirate, already feeling flustered and awkward, felt that if this handsome man asked her to climb a mountain of knives or plunge into a sea of fire, she would do it without hesitation. Qi Feng kept explaining that he had a limited budget and couldn’t afford high shipping fees, but Li Huamei was too busy pledging her loyalty. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to see Qiongshan Prefecture myself… and my crew, they’re so clumsy… they don’t know how to sail in shallow waters, they need the practice… I’m so grateful that Chief… Chief Qi thinks so highly of me…” She was so eager to please she was practically singing an opera about offering up her worldly treasures. It didn’t even occur to her that her ship, the Hangzhou, couldn’t possibly navigate the Nantong River. But that was a problem for later. It was just a matter of moving some tiles. With her crew of brawny European devils, they could just make more trips with smaller boats if they had to.
But then Qi Feng mentioned the “Navy,” and the word jolted her. She suddenly remembered her mission: she was due in Kaohsiung tomorrow to transport cargo.
A wave of profound reluctance washed over her. In the past, she would have simply postponed the matter. But now, thinking of her undercover mission and her sister’s fate, her fervent desire to haul bricks for Qi Feng cooled instantly.
“No, um, my lord… no, Chief, taking you there is no problem. But I have to go to Kaohsiung right after. How about… Chief, you wait for my ship in Qiongshan…”.
“Oh, you’re going to Kaohsiung? Then don’t worry about it. I was mainly hoping to get more bricks and tiles back here. A pity, a pity,” Qi Feng said, rubbing his hands together with a hint of disappointment.
“Ah, I’ll take you as soon as I get back from Kaohsiung…”
She didn’t know what else was said after that. The unexpected encounter had sent her heart racing like a frightened deer. She hadn’t even managed to exchange her gold coins. She’d have to come back later. All the way back, she cursed herself for being so useless, unable to string together a coherent sentence.
The single-masted lateen-rigged sloop was not large, but it was fast and maneuverable. With a powerful, long-range cannon on its deck and two “typewriters,” it could sail with impunity in the South China Sea. What’s more, it flew the Morning Star flag—the banner of the current hegemon of these waters.
Zhao Zhulong—whose official name was the more respectable-sounding homophone, Zhulong—stood behind the helm, scanning the sea with a telescope. His ship belonged to the Hong Kong Coast Guard, tasked with patrolling the waters around the island, suppressing piracy, and ensuring the safety of shipping lanes and fishing operations.
It was monotonous work, mostly following a set route and inspecting suspicious vessels—especially those not flying the Senate’s approved sailing permits or fishing flags. But for Zhao Zhulong, it was an easy life. His legs were bad, unable to withstand the rigors of long voyages. A job that required him to be at sea only during the day and allowed him to sleep soundly at night suited him perfectly.
Zhao Zhulong liked people to call him Old Zhao. “Brother Zhao” was acceptable, “Master Zhao” was even better. “Uncle Zhao” would do in a pinch. What he particularly disliked was his given name, Zhulong—”Pig-Cage.”
His father had given him the wretched name. “A pig-cage in the water fills with gold,” his father used to say. “We’re fishermen. If we don’t go into the water, where do we go?”
Zhao Zhulong’s father was named Zhao Jinhai—”Golden Sea.” He died when Zhao Zhulong was fifteen, lost with his boat in a sudden storm.
His mother always said his father’s name was a curse. Jinhai, she’d say, sounded too much like jin hai—”entering the sea.” Once you entered the sea, how could you ever get out?
Zhao Zhulong lost his father at fifteen, went to sea with his second uncle at sixteen, and joined Jin Daxiong’s pirate gang at eighteen. A year later, Jin Daxiong was killed by a musket shot while robbing a Fujianese ship, and his gang scattered. Zhao Zhulong and a few good mates joined the larger fleet of Zhu Cai’ao.
After more than a decade at sea, braving countless dangers, he had finally managed to get his own small boat and a comfortable life. But then, Zhu Cai’ao suffered a devastating defeat, and his great fleet disintegrated. Zhao Zhulong, along with the leaders of his contingent, followed Shi Shisi and surrendered to the Australians in Lingao.
Like the other leaders, Zhao Zhulong had his hair cut, changed his clothes, and entered a study class. After six months of “political education,” he actually managed to earn a Class C diploma. His old boss teased him, “Zhao Zhulong, who knew? You’ve got the makings of a scholar!”
Zhao Zhulong just smiled and said nothing. Years at sea had left him with rheumatism and a slight limp. He studied because he wanted to stay ashore. Hadn’t Boss Hu Jiumei washed her feet and come ashore?
But he didn’t get to stay ashore. The Australians, seeing his bad leg, didn’t put him in the Navy but assigned him to a cargo ship. Zhao Zhulong changed his name to Zhao Zhulong and was given a small vessel for freight transport, naturally becoming an ensign in the Naval Reserve.
He spent two years on the Lingao-Guangzhou route, then joined the Da Bo Company as a captain, continuing to run regular coastal freight lines. Later, when Operation Engine Start began, the escort forces needed to be massively expanded. Experienced sailors were scarce; for a time, they couldn’t even find enough qualified captains. Zhao Zhulong, with his experience as a captain and in combat, was recalled to active duty. Because of his leg, he wasn’t suited for long-term fleet service, so as a consideration, he was assigned to the relatively relaxed Hong Kong Coast Guard.
At first, he found the lateen-rigged vessel unfamiliar, but after a month of training, he had mastered it. The principles of sailing by the wind were universal.
Today was his regular patrol shift. A typhoon had passed through Hong Kong a few days ago, and the sea was now calm, with waves no more than a meter high. The patrol boat sailed smoothly and swiftly, the chop of the waves barely perceptible.
Zhao Zhulong watched the sea for a while longer, then sat down. The rheumatism in his leg felt heavier and heavier. The general hospital had given him some plaster that brought relief, but it wasn’t a long-term solution. He had to find a way to get a shore posting.
But what would he do ashore? He had spent his entire life at sea. Though medically retired personnel were assigned jobs, the pay was much lower, and he still didn’t have a wife.
As he was lost in thought, the lookout shouted, “Suspicious vessel, port bow!”