Chapter 167: The Grand Plan to Absorb Zhangzhou and Chaozhou

Under the ritual law of the Great Ming, directly describing a woman's beauty was an extremely rude act.

For example, saying that Grand Secretary Ye's granddaughter was gorgeous and moving, with bright eyes and white teeth and a pert, upturned nose—that was not praise, but insult.

Its severity was not much different from calling her a fox-spirit seductress to her face.

Thus, praise for women of high families was mostly tied to their virtue and talent, combined with special allusions.

For instance, the phrase "Xie-family orchids and jade" used the allusion of Xie Xuan of the Eastern Jin, referring to nephews and sons who could bring glory to the family gate.

And because Xie Xuan had an overly famous older sister, Xie Daoyun, who became renowned throughout the realm for a single line—"not as good as willow catkins rising with the wind"—

The *Shishuo Xinyu* commented on her: "Her bearing was free and open, and so she had the air of the grove," which was the highest praise for her temperamental beauty.

Therefore, saying a woman had "the talent for chanting willow catkins" or "the air of the grove" became the ultimate compliment, placing her on par with Xie Daoyun in both talent and looks.

But saying it so directly was too exaggerated, so the phrase "Xie-family orchids and jade" was used instead, as a moderating compromise.

Of course, saying it that way still carried ambiguity—one couldn't tell whether the praise was for talent or for appearance.

So the four characters "clear radiance, bright and pure" were appended afterward, clarifying that the earlier "Xie-family orchids and jade" praised both appearance and talent.

These two phrases of praise took eight hundred twists and turns, so euphemistic they might as well have been addressed to one's grandmother.

No wonder Ma Chenglie, a rough man, couldn't recall them on the spot.

Had Scholar Zhou not explained from the side, Lin Qian wouldn't have understood what the two phrases meant either.

After listening to the whole analysis, Lin Qian was somewhat incredulous: "She's really that beautiful?"

Scholar Zhou: "Helmsman, how vulgar!"

"Vulgar?"

"Utterly vulgar!" Scholar Zhou said with a solemn face. "Xie Daoyun's talent and beauty were such—how did the histories record her? 'Lady Wang's bearing was free and open, and so she had the air of the grove; the Gu family wife was pure of heart with jade-like radiance, naturally the flower of the inner chambers.'"

"The Gu family wife was Zhang Xuan's younger sister Zhang Tongyun, also a famed talented woman of that era—and how was she described? 'The flower of the inner chambers'!"

"Lady Wang was Xie Daoyun—and her? She stood shoulder to shoulder with the famous scholars of the Wei and Jin, transcendent and unworldly, free and elegant, with extraordinary bearing."

"Such a remarkable woman—did the histories record a single word of her appearance? No!"

Lin Qian smiled without speaking, concluding this was literati exaggeration.

By the Great Ming's standard of living and aesthetic criteria, no matter how beautiful a beauty was, she was only so-so.

Moreover, the identity of a Grand Secretary's granddaughter definitely added considerable water to those eight characters of praise.

After all, even Empress Dowager Cixi had records of being good-looking in her youth—had cameras not entered the Qing palace, later generations would almost have been deceived by the literati's pens.

Compared to whether Grand Secretary Ye's granddaughter was beautiful or ugly, Lin Qian found Ma Chenglie's wife rather more interesting.

That extremely euphemistic eight-character appraisal was not something just anyone could produce; he never expected that Ma Chenglie, that big rough fellow, had married a lady from a great household.

Hearing Lin Qian's remark, Ma Chenglie waved his hand awkwardly: "What great household lady? My humble wife is of common stock—her natal family has some fields and she's read a few miscellaneous books, that's all."

Lin Qian understood clearly: this meant his wife's natal family were small-to-medium landlords, open-minded, who had let their daughter study—and her cultural attainments were considerable, or she wouldn't have had contact with a literati family like Grand Secretary Ye's.

Lin Qian thought to himself that literati were exhausting to talk to—Ma Chenglie was usually so direct, but the moment it touched on scholarship and culture, he too started going in circles.

Regardless, the information Ma Chenglie provided was excellent!

Ye Xianggao truly was the perfect marriage alliance target.

First, the man didn't form factions—he touched neither the Donglin nor the eunuch faction, so he wouldn't drag Nan'ao Island into party strife.

Second, the man was upright and aboveboard, selfless and public-spirited; he had served twice as Chief Grand Secretary, yet his son was only a minor official by hereditary favor, and his family was simple with few members, no sprawling clan—indeed, after his own death, the Ye family declined quickly, so there would be no risk of consort-clan interference in government, power-grabbing,

or faction-building.

Third, the man had an excellent reputation and outstanding official standing—a perfect political shield; bearing the title of Grand Secretary Ye's son-in-law, whether one was a pure-stream official, a member of the eunuch faction, or a centrist, all would grant face.

Fourth, the man was very open-minded—Lin Qian had witnessed this at their last meeting; for reasons unknown, Ye Xianggao had even secretly aided Lin Qian, and the evidence impeaching Qian Zhong had never been submitted to the censorial officials—this made Lin Qian feel considerable goodwill toward Ye Xianggao.

Fifth, of course, was the eight-character appraisal of Ye Xianggao's granddaughter; Lin Qian ranked appearance last, but that didn't mean he didn't care at all—finding someone who was "Xie-family orchids and jade, clear radiance, bright and pure" was naturally better.

The target was set; next came considering how to achieve it.

In the Great Ming, civil and military were separate paths; directly requesting the marriage, Ye Xianggao could not possibly agree.

Even if he agreed, it wouldn't maximize the benefits.

Marrying Ye Xianggao's granddaughter was a highly political move; if well planned, it would bring enormous gains—such as obtaining the Garrison Commander post of Chaozhou, holding the Assistant Regional Commander position guarding the southern route of Fujian, controlling the two prefectures of Chaozhou and Zhangzhou, then rising to Regional Commander, and step by step devouring Fujian and Guangdong.

Although Nan'ao Island sat on a vital route, its land was ultimately too little—ample as a naval base, but lacking momentum for developing commerce and manufacturing.

Dongning Island had vast land, but development costs were too high; even with a flood of silver flowing in, construction and immigration would take a long time, plus there were native problems—in the short term it was better to develop basic agriculture and handicrafts.

So afterward, the best course was to expand toward the coast, to find every possible way to seize a prefecture or a province.

The two prefectures of Chaozhou and Zhangzhou were quite good—export-oriented economies, developed handicrafts, convenient shipping, and close to Nan'ao Island; Lin Qian had had his eye on them for a long time.

If he could occupy them, the development space, infrastructure, population problems, and land problems for a long time to come would all be solved at once.

To achieve the goal, first taking the Garrison Commander post of one of the two prefectures was a good choice.

Of course, the more legitimate position would be Prefect, but none of his men held scholarly degrees, and switching from a military identity to Prefect was absolutely impossible—Garrison Commander was already enough to influence the Prefect.

Think of Zheng Zhilong in history—didn't he control all of Fujian through the post of Fujian Regional Commander?

This process of legitimately exerting influence over the two prefectures and then seizing control was Lin Qian's mid-term strategic goal.

To that end, he needed to build a good reputation, exploit the disputes between the two factions, bind local civil officials with shared interests, and win over local magnates.

The entire operation, Lin Qian temporarily named it the Zhang-Chao Plan.

Forming a marriage alliance with Ye Xianggao, thereby seizing political resources, could greatly accelerate the plan's progress.

After pondering a moment, Lin Qian figured out how to lay out the scheme.

Plan step one: win a heaven-sized military merit.

Lin Qian said in a clear voice: "Regional Commander Ma, help me write a letter."

Regional Commander Ma said with difficulty: "Helmsman, for this kind of matter a letter won't do—we must send a matchmaker to the door, and for someone of Grand Secretary Ye's level, we'd need a high-ranking civil official."

Lin Qian laughed heartily: "Where has your mind gone? I want you to write to Eunuch Wei—isn't he worried you're uncontrollable? You volunteer to dispatch ships to Liaodong, win a battle, and put his mind at ease."

At this point, Lin Qian's voice turned cold: "The blood debt the Tartars owe from Guangning last year—it's time they paid!"

Two months later.

Two hundred li beyond Shanhai Pass in western Liaoning, a construction site was bustling with feverish activity.

The site spanned roughly six or seven li in circumference, square in shape, and one could faintly make out the form of a city wall.

This place had been called Ningyuan Guard during the Xuande era, abandoned long ago, and was now chosen as the site for the new Ningyuan city.

Two months prior, the memorial for rebuilding Ningyuan city had received red endorsement approval, grain and funds had been allocated, and the city walls had been rising with great urgency ever since.

Yuan Chonghuan, serving as the Ningqian Defense Circuit Commissioner, was inspecting the construction site.

He wore coarse hemp clothing, his trouser legs splattered with mud—were it not for the guards following behind him, he would have looked no different from the laborers and common folk building the walls around him.

"Hurry it up, all of you—once the city is finished, everyone gets a bonus," Yuan Chonghuan said with a furrowed brow, trying to boost morale.

The laborers responded with a listless murmur.

Yuan Chonghuan's brow furrowed even deeper. He glanced at the watchtower in the distance—no movement there—and felt somewhat relieved.

One had to understand that Ningyuan lay beyond Shanhai Pass, at the very front line of western Liaoning. Two hundred li further northeast from here, across the Liao River, lay the heartland of the Jianzhou barbarians.

During the construction of Ningyuan, the Jianzhou barbarians could cross the river and attack at any moment—the danger was extreme.

At this time, in the no-man's-land around Guangning city, large numbers of scout cavalry from both sides were active, with small skirmishes erupting every few days.

The Jianzhou iron cavalry hung over Yuan Chonghuan like a sword suspended above his head, allowing him not a single moment of rest.

Just then, a soldier on the watchtower spotted something and blew a horn.

All the laborers on the site straightened up warily, gazing northward—they saw only trees and dirt roads, not a single figure.

Yuan Chonghuan looked south instead and saw a column of cavalry raising dust as they approached. Only then did he relax.

The cavalry rode up close, and an old man among them dismounted. Yuan Chonghuan hurried forward to support him: "Supreme Commander, the front line is dangerous—why have you come in person?"

Sun Chengzong, Supreme Commander of Ji and Liao, said: "The construction of Ningyuan bears on the overall situation in Liaodong. I cannot rest easy without seeing it with my own eyes."

Having said this, Sun Chengzong walked freely about the site. At that moment, craftsmen were ramming lime-earth mixture, the rammed earth already half a man's height.

Sun Chengzong reached out and pressed lightly on the lime-earth, finding it firmly compacted. He then picked up a branch and stirred it in a bucket of glutinous rice mortar, feeling that it was quite viscous. Only then did he clap his hands and stand up.

Seeing that the Supreme Commander who had shown him such patronage seemed weighed down with worries, Yuan Chonghuan could not help asking: "Supreme Commander, has the eunuch faction created new obstructions?"

Sun Chengzong shook his head: "This time the eunuch faction has changed its ways. Not only have they refrained from obstructing the situation in western Liaoning, they have actually approved the construction of Ningyuan, allocated substantial grain and funds to the Denglai naval forces, and even transferred a contingent from the Fujian-Guangdong navy to help defend Pidao."

His official title was abbreviated as Supreme Commander of Ji and Liao; the full title was "Supreme Commander of Shanhai Pass and Superintendent of Military Affairs for Ji, Liao, Tianjin, Deng, and Lai."

In other words, the Tianjin navy, the Denglai navy, and the Dongjiang garrison at Pidao all fell under Sun Chengzong's jurisdiction.

The eunuch faction's allocation of materiel and grain to western Liaoning, Denglai, and Pidao could all be understood as support for Sun Chengzong.

Hearing this, Yuan Chonghuan said cheerfully: "Supreme Commander, this is good news!"

There was a common saying among the people: "The Ming army is invincible when fully paid."

Now the eunuch faction, for whatever strange reason, was generously supporting Sun Chengzong's defenses—giving money where money was needed, giving men where men were needed. Surely the recovery of Liaodong was within reach.

Sun Chengzong glanced at Yuan Chonghuan and saw how politically naive he was. He could not help sighing inwardly.

Since coming to Liaodong, he had promoted a batch of young commanders including Yuan Chonghuan, Zu Dashou, and Man Gui, and among them it was Yuan Chonghuan's grasp of military strategy, tactics,

and insight that Sun Chengzong admired most.

He was sixty-one this year, with not many years left to him, and in his heart he already planned to groom Yuan Chonghuan as his successor.

But the seat of Supreme Commander of Ji and Liao was not one where knowing how to fight sufficed. Yuan Chonghuan's understanding of the political situation and factional strife was so shallow that it would surely bring disaster in the future.

Therefore, even though Sun Chengzong was reluctant to raise the matter, to spare Yuan Chonghuan from stumbling in the days ahead, he had to explain it clearly to him.

He picked up a branch and drew on the ground: "Yuansu, look—here is Liaodong, and we are here in western Liaoning. Pidao is here, backed against the Yi dynasty. The Denglai navy is here, on the Jiaodong peninsula. Three directions converging on the Jianzhou barbarians in Liaodong—this is my three-pronged deployment strategy."

Yuan Chonghuan nodded. The three-pronged deployment strategy was the concrete embodiment of Sun Chengzong's principle of "defense as the mode of war"—he naturally understood it well.

"Among these three prongs, which should be given priority?" Sun Chengzong asked.

"Naturally, the city-building in western Liaoning takes priority." Having said this, Yuan Chonghuan suddenly realized where this was going.

The eunuch faction was now applying force evenly across all three prongs—seemingly unified in support, favoring none—but in truth there was a hidden agenda of pitting them against one another, harboring the malicious intent of making the three prongs check and entangle each other.

Take Mao Wenlong, for instance: he sat deep in enemy territory, acted erratically, and had long been beyond anyone's control. Giving him additional Fujian-Guangdong naval forces—what was the intent behind that? To cultivate a maritime feudal kingdom?

Furthermore, the Denglai navy only played a supporting role in transporting troops, grain, and pay in the campaign against the Jianzhou barbarians—it was nowhere near the main battlefield. What was the meaning of granting it support equal to western Liaoning?

Yuan Chonghuan laid out his thoughts, and Sun Chengzong felt quite gratified. Then he drew a few more strokes on the map, sketching in Jiangnan and the northwest as well.

"The imperial treasury is empty. There isn't enough grain and money to support both western Liaoning and Denglai simultaneously, let alone enough for the Fujian-Guangdong navy to sail north. So where did the silver to cover this deficit come from?"

Yuan Chonghuan exclaimed in shock: "Was it from shortchanging the military pay of Shaanxi and Xuan-Da?"

The Nine Border Garrisons could be divided into three regions—Shaanxi, Xuan-Da, and Liaodong—each consuming enormous amounts of silver every year. Whenever the court urgently needed money, it shortchanged the border garrisons' pay, and the arrears of hundreds of thousands or even over a million taels accumulated precisely that way.

Now the silver for building the city in western Liaoning had materialized, and the Denglai navy's grain and pay were fully supplied—naturally, Shaanxi and Xuan-Da had gritted their teeth to provide it.

Xuan-Da was manageable, but Shaanxi had suffered years of consecutive disasters, and the people there were heavily exploited by the authorities. If a popular uprising broke out, with the border troops rebelling alongside, the situation would be extremely dangerous.

Sun Chengzong sighed and said: "It doesn't stop there. There's also the increased Liaodong levy and the commercial taxes in Jiangnan."

The Liaodong levy oppressed honest farmers—there was nothing more to say about that.

But the commercial taxes touched the interests of the Donglin Faction. One could easily imagine how the eunuch tax collectors would extort exorbitantly and line their own pockets.

When the border troops rebelled, local uprisings erupted, and the Donglin Faction leveled their accusations, Wei Zhongxian could conveniently shift all the blame onto Sun Chengzong's head.

"Supreme Commander Sun's method of building cities exhausts the people and wastes their labor. Since the construction of Ningyuan began, not a single achievement of note has been made—instead it has destabilized the foundations of the Great Ming. What crime should the chief culprit Sun Chengzong answer for?"

Sun Chengzong had always been close to the Donglin Faction—so how would the Donglin Faction defend themselves?

Even more frightening was that Mao Wenlong had already set a precedent by using naval forces to win the great victory at Zhenjiang. Now the eunuch faction was strengthening the Denglai navy and transferring Fujian-Guangdong naval forces to Mao Wenlong.

If another great victory came at sea, would the Ningyuan city built with such massive mobilization become a laughingstock?

By the time Sun Chengzong finished explaining all this, Yuan Chonghuan's eyes were wide open, and his back was soaked through with sweat.

He could not understand it—a policy that appeared entirely well-intentioned, once dissected, turned out to be nothing but killing blows.

How much scheming must it have taken to devise such a vicious idea?

Yuan Chonghuan looked at Supreme Commander Sun's haggard face and could not help feeling wronged on his behalf. He thought to himself: "The Supreme Commander is already exhausted to this degree, yet the petty schemers at court still refuse to let him be. He must hold off the Jianzhou barbarians without, and contend with the eunuch faction within—the Supreme Commander's burden is too great!"

"Does the Supreme Commander have a plan to deal with this? Your subordinate is at your disposal!" Yuan Chonghuan said with cupped fists.

Sun Chengzong smiled: "Yuansu, just finish building Ningyuan city quickly. As for matters at court, I'll hold the line."

He said all this precisely to instruct Yuan Chonghuan, not at all to get Yuan Chonghuan's help.

At this level of factional strife, if Yuan Chonghuan got dragged in, he'd be nothing more than a pawn drifting with the current.

Even out of consideration for keeping talent for the state, Sun Chengzong wouldn't let Yuan Chonghuan get involved.

As for a plan of response, Sun Chengzong had actually already thought it through long ago—he would start with Mao Wenlong.

This man claimed to command hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians under him, yet the grain and pay allocated by the court vanished like mud oxen entering the sea—never enough—and he also resisted civil officials coming to the island to supervise the army, repeatedly paying lip service while acting otherwise, openly and covertly defying orders.

If he were actually useful, that would be one thing, but the key issue was that his battle merits were frequently exaggerated and difficult to verify—he could be called a man of constant victory reports with no real results to show.

Aside from the Zhenjiang Victory, it seemed this man had not achieved a single substantive military success.

Previously, for the sake of the greater situation, Sun Chengzong could tolerate Mao Wenlong's misdeeds, but now that the eunuch faction was transferring a Min-Yue naval force to his command, how could Sun Chengzong possibly sit by and do nothing?

More than ten days ago, Sun Chengzong had already sent word to court, requesting that the reinforcing fleet be placed under the command of the Denglai navy.

At the same time, the logistics and supplies of the reinforcing fleet were also to be handed over to the Denglai navy.

This fleet was deliberately arranged for Mao Wenlong by the eunuch faction, so Sun Chengzong's memorial would presumably not be approved.

So Sun Chengzong had also sent a letter to Pidao, requiring that the Mobile Corps Commander commanding the Min-Yue fleet come to see him immediately upon arriving in Liaodong.

When the time came, Sun Chengzong would persuade him with reason and sentiment, hoping that this General He would be someone who understood the bigger picture.

Otherwise, the situation in Liaodong would become increasingly dangerous.

At that very moment, inside the barracks on Pidao.

Mao Wenlong suddenly heard commotion from outside the tent. The noise had been going on for a long while, and instead of dying down, it was only growing louder.

He called over his personal guard: "Go see what's happening."

The guard returned after a moment, beaming with joy: "The Min-Yue naval reinforcements have arrived—it's Battalion Commander He! The common folk have packed the roads so tight not even water could get through!"

"What?" Mao Wenlong was utterly shocked.

That a reinforcement unit from the Min-Yue navy was coming to Pidao—Mao Wenlong had known this for some time; Wei Zhongxian had personally sent someone to the island to tell him.

It was just that Mao Wenlong hadn't expected the reinforcements to arrive so quickly—only half a month behind the eunuch messenger who had brought the news.

Given the distance between Nan'ao Island and Pidao, had these reinforcements flown here or what?

The second shock was the identity of the arrival—it was actually that Battalion Commander He who existed only in the tales of the common folk!

Mao Wenlong knew the arriving officer was a Mobile Corps Commander, but he had never imagined that Battalion Commander He and General He were the same person—there were two ranks between them! That was too fast a promotion!

Thinking back, his Zhenjiang Victory had been achieved by seizing Battalion Commander He's credit. Now that the real party had arrived, wasn't he in danger?

Ever since he had occupied Pidao, he had used court grain and pay to build up his power and fabricated no small number of battle merits, which had long made many court officials dissatisfied with him.

The Zhenjiang Victory was a credit he had stolen from someone else—if that were ever discovered, he would surely be punished for multiple crimes and executed outright.

At this thought, Mao Wenlong panicked—but only for a moment. He quickly steadied himself and asked: "How many men and how many ships did he bring?"

"Over three hundred fighting men, one large ship, and four small boats."

"Oh." Mao Wenlong relaxed. "Prepare a banquet to welcome General He."

Having given his orders, Mao Wenlong composed his expression, smiled, and walked out of camp to receive the guest—but the moment he lifted the tent curtain, the smile froze on his face.

In the distant bay, a towering three-masted warship lay at anchor. Its masts alone stood over ten zhang tall, making even the navy's Haicang ships look like little birds nestled beside it.

This was what they called "one large ship"? A giant vessel was more like it!

Beside that great ship were also two of the navy's largest-class Fujian junks—small compared to the giant vessel, true, but still larger than Mao Wenlong's own warships.

From the harbor to the island, soldiers in cotton armor stood everywhere. They carried weapons both long and short, some with muskets slung on their backs, but every single one was robust and erect, standing in place as if rooted, not moving a hair.

These were "fighting men"? Calling them elite household troops would be more than fitting!

And there was a dense crowd of people packed in the middle of the road—at a rough count, nearly a thousand. These people held melons, fruits, and vegetables, pressing forward continuously, shouting the name "Battalion Commander He" from their mouths.

This was called only three hundred men?

This man had court appointment on the outside and the support of the islanders on the inside—if Mao Wenlong made a move against him, it would be no different from cutting himself off from the world.

Leading his personal guards, he pushed through the crowd and walked toward Battalion Commander He.

Drawing near, Mao Wenlong saw a young officer in cotton armor cheerfully chatting with the people around him.

"Old Zhao, your little grandson is doing well?"

"Wu Er, are you adapting to life on the island? Eating enough these days?"

"Yingzi."

"Huniu."

Mao Wenlong was stunned. The young officer walked along, casually greeting the common folk around him, even occasionally calling out their names by name—and the people whose names he called were incredibly moved, some of the young women even bursting into tears on the spot.

Mao Wenlong had been on this island for so long, yet he couldn't name a single commoner.

While he was still dazed, Lin Qian had already walked up before Mao Wenlong, and the two sized each other up.

After all, there was the guilt of having stolen another's achievements, so Mao Wenlong was the first to raise his cupped fists: "General He."

"Commander Mao." Lin Qian returned the gesture with cupped fists—that sufficed as a greeting.

Mao Wenlong forced a smile: "I have prepared a welcome banquet. Please, let us speak in the camp."

"No need. I'm only passing through this old place on my way elsewhere, taking a look while I'm at it."

Lin Qian had come to Liaodong for a major matter and had no time to exchange pleasantries with Mao Wenlong.

Had it not been for Wei Zhongxian transferring him under Mao Wenlong's command, and the fact that Mao Wenlong had a notorious reputation in history, making Lin Qian want to see him with his own eyes, he wouldn't even have set foot on the island.

Before coming ashore, Lin Qian had already sailed a full circle around Pidao. Seeing that Mao Wenlong had managed the island with considerable vigor, and that the common folk he had rescued from Zhenjiang back then were living well enough, he felt reassured.

As for whether Mao Wenlong fabricated battle merits, nurtured bandits to bolster his own importance, or disregarded all discipline—Lin Qian didn't care.

The situation in Ming Liaodong was not something one Mao Wenlong could sway.

Mao Wenlong, hearing these words, was both embarrassed and uneasy. He stiffened his face and said: "Taking a look while passing through—what does the general mean by that?"

The implication was a reminder to Lin Qian, this roaming general, that he was under Mao Wenlong's command.

Two months ago, Ma Chenglie had sent a memorial to the eunuch faction requesting deployment to Liaodong, stating that he would send a warship to Liaodong and that all military pay and provisions along the way would be self-raised.

For the eunuch faction, if the Nan'ao naval forces came to Liaodong and achieved merit, they could suppress Sun Chengzong and earn some reputation.

If no merit was achieved, they could still see through Ma Chenglie's true strength.

Therefore, they arranged this reinforcement force under Lin Qian to be placed under Mao Wenlong's command—after all, compared to Sun Chengzong and Yuan Keli, Mao Wenlong enjoyed more of the eunuch faction's trust.

At this moment, one of Mao Wenlong's subordinates whispered a reminder: "Regional Commander, the Supreme Commander sent word the other day—once the Nan'ao naval reinforcement arrives, you are to go see him at Shanhai Pass immediately."

Mao Wenlong naturally remembered this matter, but the problem was that Wei Zhongxian had ordered him to keep the Nan'ao reinforcements here, and not let them get tangled up with Sun Chengzong and the Denglai naval forces.

This was a difficult situation.

Comparatively speaking, the consequences of offending Sun Chengzong were somewhat lighter.

Lin Qian said: "This humble officer has a plan, but I must present it to Supreme Commander Sun in person."

Mao Wenlong suppressed his anger and said flatly: "You, a roaming general, want an audience with the Supreme Commander? If you have a plan, write it up as an official document, and I will present it on your behalf."

"Oh? Then might I ask the Regional Commander—at this very moment in Fuzhou, are there any of your spies active?"

Mao Wenlong's expression shifted slightly, which Lin Qian caught in his sight, thinking to himself: just as I suspected.

Historically, in the third year of Tianqi, the Great Ming had attempted to subvert Liu Xingzuo, the Vice Regional Commander of Fuzhou, but the plan was leaked and ended in miserable failure.

When Nurhaci learned of this, he flew into a rage and sent a great army to carry out a cruel purge of Fuzhou's populace, which history records as the "Fuzhou Massacre."

Lin Qian's military objective on this journey was to prevent this massacre, while at the same time bleeding the Jianzhou barbarians dry.

Yahei

Pink Round

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