Chapter 475: The Lesser Three Gorges

Suo Pu was secretly pleased. Guangdong had never been self-sufficient in grain. He had originally planned to procure grain through Guangxi, but he had no real idea how much could be transported from there. Now it seemed that not only could Guangxi export grain, but the quantity was also considerable. As for salt, it was already a major pillar of the Senate’s economy. Once Guangdong was occupied, all its salt farms would fall into the Senate’s hands, ensuring an inexhaustible supply.

He couldn’t help but nod and say, “Good.” His excitement was palpable.

Seeing the smile on his face and his apparent delight, Chen Hongyi, unsure which of his words had pleased the man, simply smiled along.

Suo Pu then asked many more questions about shipping. His tone was friendly, and the atmosphere of the conversation was relaxed. Chen Hongyi answered everything he knew, and they talked late into the night. It was only when Suo Pu heard the third watch being struck from the drum tower that he realized how late it was and had Lin Ming see Shopkeeper Chen out.

As he was disembarking, Chen Hongyi couldn’t resist asking Lin Ming, “Who is this master?”

Lin Ming didn’t answer directly, only saying, “Old Chen, you’ve hit the jackpot.” He then smiled and said no more.

Chen Hongyi shivered. He went home and lay awake for half the night, the word “crown prince” even crossing his mind.

The next morning, the boat continued its journey upstream, entering the territory of Zhaoqing Prefecture. Here, the river was still wide. Although they were traveling against the current, they could make reasonable progress by using both oars and sails when there was wind. After a few more days, the banks became more mountainous, and the current grew swifter, making navigation increasingly difficult. They often had to rely on trackers to pull the boat upstream.

One day, the boat entered the Sanrong Gorge, the location of the so-called “Lesser Three Gorges of the West River.” It was also a vital channel between Zhaoqing and Sanshui. From this point on, travelers left the vast Pearl River Delta and entered the mountainous region of western Guangdong.

As soon as the boat entered the Sanrong Gorge, the river narrowed abruptly, shrinking from nearly a thousand meters to just 370. The water flowed rapidly. On the north bank, the riverbed was a jumble of strangely shaped, jagged rocks, one of which rose like a high platform, known as the “Fishing Terrace”—a famous scenic spot of the Lesser Three Gorges.

Suo Pu watched the boat crawl along at a snail’s pace. Seeing the trackers hauling the tow ropes, stumbling along the towpath, he grew anxious. The Sanrong Gorge was 55 kilometers long. Being pulled upstream like this, they covered less than ten kilometers a day. It would take nearly a week just to get through this one gorge!

Because theirs was an “official boat,” a dozen or so civilian boats, traveling in their company, were moving even slower due to their heavy loads. Suo Pu estimated it would take them at least ten days to pass through the Sanrong Gorge.

“I can’t believe such a crucial waterway has no proper road development. What on earth are the local officials and people doing?” Cummins said, watching the trackers, their bodies nearly parallel to the ground, struggling to move slowly over the rocky shore.

“You’re blaming them unfairly,” Suo Pu said, watching the trackers chant as they struggled forward on the rocky beach. “The plank roads in the West River Gorges were built starting in the Ming Dynasty. Originally, there were no paths here at all. It was only after several efforts during the Ming Dynasty to chisel roads and build bridges that a basically passable plank road was created. Otherwise, the trackers would have had to haul the ropes from the cliffs halfway up the mountain…”

Cummins clicked his tongue. Hauling a boat in this terrain? It would be an achievement just to climb up there without falling…

“It was supervised by Chen Yilong of Gaoyao and completed only at the end of the Wanli era,” Lin Ming chimed in eagerly. “It’s called the ‘Gorge Mountain Land Route.’ It was incredibly difficult to build. Normally, only the trackers use it.”

Looking at the crude roads and bridges that appeared and disappeared among the cliffs, Cummins gained a more direct understanding of the “low level of productivity in ancient society.”

“The water here is very deep. A 3,000-ton steamship could reach Zhaoqing without any trouble,” Suo Pu said. “It’s just that there’s a shoal downstream. That ‘New Shoal’ would have to be dredged.”

“That’s a huge project,” said Cummins. Although he wasn’t an engineer, as a logistics staff officer, he had a good ability to assess the scale of engineering work. “The army couldn’t do it alone. The Executive Committee would have to organize the manpower and resources…”

“Of course. That’s why we need to make more use of the local shipping capacity. They know the waterways,” Suo Pu said. “It’s just that going upstream is too slow…”

“If only we had diesel engines. We could convert them into motorized sailing boats,” said Cummins. “These small steam engines are just too slow. And you have to carry your own coal…”

Suo Pu nodded. Power was indeed a problem for the construction of their grand “Shallow-Water Fleet.” Even the triple-expansion steam launches, whose manufacturing and use they had fully mastered, were only practical for short-distance travel. On longer voyages, coal and boiler water became a major hassle, especially for prolonged navigation in Guangdong’s extensive inland river system.

Despite the beautiful-looking plans for the inland fleet proposed by the industrial sector, he suspected that apart from shallow-water tugboats and gunboats, none of the other proposals would be viable—the power source was a fatal flaw.

The salt boat staggered upstream and finally entered the Dading Gorge. Here, the gorge widened, the river broadened, and the current slowed. However, there were also many river pirates. Small bands of them, operating small boats, lurked in the river’s tributaries. They saw plundered boats along the way. Suo Pu ordered the guards to be on high alert.

Although theirs was an “official boat” and flew the banner of the Qiwei Armed Escort Agency, pirates with whom they had “no relationship” still eyed them covetously from time to time. Fortunately, these pirates were small, isolated bands and, not knowing the details of the official boat, dared not make a rash move.

The banks here were mountainous, and upstream boats had to be slowly towed, making it no wonder this was a popular hunting ground for river pirates. The most rampant piracy on the Yangtze River was also in the Three Gorges section, from Yichang up to Chongqing.

It seems things in Guangdong are quite tricky, Suo Pu thought. The social conditions we have to face are a hundred times more complex than on Hainan Island. Just these endless mountains on both sides of the Lesser Three Gorges could serve as a place for “hiking and camping” even in the 21st century, let alone in the less developed 17th century. There might even be South China tigers in these mountains…

After passing through Dading Gorge, they entered the jewel of the Lesser Three Gorges: Lingyang (Antelope) Gorge. Of the three gorges, Lingyang Gorge had the highest mountains and the deepest water. It was formed by the West River flowing between Lingyang Mountain and Lanke Mountain. The main peak of Lanke Mountain, Lanke Ding, was 904 meters high, with overlapping peaks and rugged, strange rocks. The main peak of Lingyang Mountain, Longmen Ding, was 615 meters high, steep, and pressed close to the riverbank. The rolling, verdant mountains seemed to pour into the gorge, making it renowned for its danger, wonder, steepness, and beauty, surpassing both Sanrong and Dading Gorges.

However, the current here was even more rapid, and the towpath more treacherous. The trackers went ashore, bent over, and slowly advanced step by step, grabbing onto trees and clinging to the steep cliffs. A journey of twenty li (about 10 km) took three days. They couldn’t travel at night and had to moor the boat. The cries of apes and roars of tigers echoed from both banks. One night, they even heard extremely shrill screams for help, which was terrifying.

Finally, they passed through safely and arrived at the mouth of the gorge. They were now near the city of Zhaoqing, and the river became much calmer. There were mountain temples on both the north and south banks at the gorge’s entrance. The two temples faced each other across the river, and the monks would call out to one another, their voices echoing through the gorge, creating a rather charming scene.

As night fell, fishing boats moored in the tributaries for the night, creating a real-life scene of “river wind and fishing lights, with the sound of a midnight bell.” This was why the area was a must-see for scholars and poets traveling to and from Zhaoqing throughout the ages.

The terrain here was strategically important, a choke point for entering the Pearl River Delta. The Qing Dynasty once established a customs house here, and the Guangxi warlords later built fortifications to control the river.

If the Ming forces in either Guangdong or Guangxi wanted to stop the Fubo Army from advancing west into Guangxi, the Lesser Three Gorges of Zhaoqing would surely be their chosen line of defense. But what methods could they use? If they used artillery, placing Hongyi cannons on both banks could blockade the river, but they wouldn’t withstand the Fubo Army’s bombardment and marine landings. As for sinking ships to block the channel, the water here was too deep.

Zhaoqing was the seat of the Ming Viceroy of Liangguang (Guangdong and Guangxi). The current viceroy in the city was none other than Xiong Wencan, famous for his policy of pacification. However, because the Senate’s navy had launched a surprise attack on Xiamen, killing Zheng Zhilong and effectively destroying the Zheng clan’s power, and had subsequently forced Liu Xiang’s group to retreat to Chaoshan, where they were eventually forced to surrender due to internal and external pressures, Xiong Wencan’s achievement of “pacifying Zheng Zhilong and bringing peace to the seas” was far less glorious than in actual history. Of course, this didn’t stop him from taking credit for the downfall of Liu Xiang’s group, which led to a minor dispute with Zou Weilian, the governor of Fujian. In the end, they split the credit in their reports to the throne.

Given his usual style, the Executive Committee was surprised that he hadn’t sent anyone to “pacify” them. Everyone had thought it was inevitable, and there had been intense debates in the Senate about whether to accept pacification and what the terms should be if they did. But the envoy never appeared. This greatly surprised both the Executive Committee and the Senators.

The Foreign Intelligence Bureau’s agents planted in the viceroy’s yamen were too low-level to get close to Xiong Wencan’s inner circle and couldn’t understand his decision-making process. However, judging from his administrative actions over the past three years, he was mainly focused on cleaning up the mess of the Guangdong army after its defeat.

Unlike Liaodong, the gateway to the capital, Guangdong received no support in manpower or resources from the imperial court and had to rely on its own means. Fortunately, Guangdong was still a relatively peaceful and prosperous region in the late Ming, so it didn’t need to resort to the kind of ruthless exploitation seen in the Central Plains.

The Battle of Chengmai and the subsequent Battle of the Pearl River Estuary had almost completely destroyed the Ming’s field army in Guangdong. Except for the hopelessly corrupt garrison troops, the main field forces had been virtually wiped out. Only the forces of the Nanyue Vice-General and the Yao Defense Brigadier-General remained relatively intact. Xiong Wencan had pacified refugees, recruited new soldiers, and rebuilt the navy that had been annihilated at the Pearl River Estuary… In short, all his work was in line with the duties expected of a viceroy.

The Foreign Intelligence Bureau speculated that Xiong Wencan would not negotiate pacification with the Senate until he had properly organized Guangdong’s defenses. After all, pacification also required a position of strength.

“What a pity, Viceroy Xiong, that this achievement won’t be yours,” Suo Pu thought to himself, sitting upright in the forward cabin and gazing at the dark river surface.

Suo Pu knew that Zhaoqing’s military strength was limited. The only forces that could be called an “army” were the viceroy’s personal guard battalion and a small naval force that patrolled the West River. They would pose little resistance to the well-equipped marines and river gunboats.

PS: Note: At this time in history, the Viceroy of Liangguang was actually stationed in Guangzhou. Since the post was created in the Ming Dynasty, the viceroy was only based in Guangzhou for a few years in the early to mid-Chongzhen era; at all other times, the seat was in Zhaoqing. For the purposes of the story, the setting has been kept as Zhaoqing.