Chapter 197: The Four-Province Cornerstone Plan

The overall performance of curved spliced-plank ribs was only 80% of naturally curved timber.

Fortunately, Ruan's timber was all top-grade material with fine, dense grain, possessing formidable baseline strength on its own.

Combined with the new flagship's design, where the cannon and tonnage specifications were already conservative, the curved spliced-plank ribs were more than sufficient.

The bad news was that the curved spliced-plank technique on Nan'ao Island was still immature—building large warships still required high-strength teak.

Especially the top-grade stock collected by the royal courts of the Indochinese Peninsula, which meant that for quite some time, bringing the Indochinese Peninsula under the Military Commissioner's management would remain an important strategic objective.

The good news was that, thanks to this technique, Nan'ao Island's shipbuilding had shed its dependence on curved timber—any top-grade lumber could be utilized, no matter its shape, nothing turned away!

Even without top-grade stock, if they couldn't build a 64-gun warship, they could still rely on superior teak to produce a large 40-gun galleon.

The era when Nan'ao Island could only build yahat-type vessels due to the curved-timber constraint was about to come to an end.

Once Lin Qian issued the order to begin work, the craftsmen scattered at once, each off to attend to his own tasks.

To ensure shipbuilding speed, the timber for ribs, deck beams, hull planking, and decking was all processed simultaneously—a highly parallelized assembly-line operation. The craftsmen at Yandun Bay were burdened with heavy workloads and immense pressure, leaving no time for idle chatter.

Lin Qian walked to the edge of the dry dock and looked down.

To guarantee safe launching, the new flagship had not been placed on a slipway but was instead being built directly in the dry dock.

At this moment, the new flagship's keel and sternpost had already taken shape—that timber named Whale's Spine had been transformed into the midsection of the keel.

Three massive A-frame lifting gantries stood towering above the dock.

The timber of their twin support pillars was as thick as a man could encircle with his arms, and the cables hanging from the pulleys were as thick as an adult's forearm.

Two of the gantries were currently hoisting a sawtooth-shaped wooden frame into place atop the keel.

This component was called the "rib-positioning keel," and true to its name, its function was to position the ribs—the ribs were seated into the sawtooth slots, which further reinforced the keel.

This sight could not help but remind Lin Qian once again of the importance of timber.

Timber was like the steel of the pre-industrial era—a vital raw material for national defense and industry, and even charcoal was an important energy source. Seen in this light, the development of the Indochinese Peninsula was absolutely a top priority for the future.

For the time being, however, Lin Qian intended to lie low for a while, developing maritime trade, accumulating warships, and building up his strength.

That was why, when his earlier petition to be transferred to the post of Garrison Commander of Chaozhou had been rejected, Lin Qian had shown no reaction—he planned to trade compromise for a stable political environment and develop in peace.

Just as he was staring intently at the new flagship, a personal guard came riding up at speed.

The guard reached him, dismounted, and handed a sealed official document to Lin Qian.

Lin Qian opened it and saw it was a directive from the Ministry of War—his lateral transfer to Assistant Regional Commander of the Southern Route of Fujian had been approved.

The official seat of this post was on Xiamen Island, not far from Nan'ao.

Lin Qian had no intention of going there in person; instead, he sent word to Scholar Zhou to dispatch a trusted subordinate to hold the post.

The greatest significance of the Assistant Regional Commander of the Southern Route of Fujian position was gaining the territory of Quanzhou Prefecture.

Quanzhou had been a thriving hub of maritime trade since ancient times, though it had now declined as its waterways silted up.

Still, both Xiamen and Jinmen islands possessed natural deep-water harbors, suitable for building ports and stationing troops—indeed, they had been important foreign-trade ports in Zheng Chenggong's era. Lin Qian appeared to hold only two prefectures, but in truth, the maritime lifeline of all Fujian was nearly entirely in his grasp.

As for the other prefectures of Fujian, apart from the provincial capital Fuzhou, they could offer only limited industry and population—hardly rich territory—so Lin Qian was in no hurry to take them. In the future, his strategic target within the Ming realm would shift to Guangdong.

Compared with Fujian, Guangdong was far richer in natural resources—its land and population far surpassed Fujian's, and it possessed abundant iron, salt, and other resources. Most important among these was the iron-smelting industry, which, influenced by Ming policies, had become extremely developed in Foshan.

Nearly all of the steel and iron raw materials for the Bocarro cannon foundry in Macao came from Foshan.

And the vast majority of the Ming's southern armor and weaponry supply also originated from there.

If he could seize it, he would pose a threat to the Ming's strategic materials, and Lin Qian's power would extend further from the islands onto the mainland. Moreover, the coal mines of Hạ Long Bay in Jiaozhi were not far from Foshan either.

Seizing Guangdong Province would also allow early preparation for establishing a coal-iron complex and launching an industrial revolution in the future.

As for construction in Quanzhou, because too many projects were underway simultaneously and Nan'ao Island's silver reserves were insufficient, it was temporarily shelved—the priority remained seizing military power, with road and bridge repairs as a secondary means of winning hearts and minds.

Once the whale ships were built and trade expanded, then investment would be made in Quanzhou.

In Lin Qian's strategic conception, Fujian should focus on maritime trade, shipbuilding, and handicraft industries.

Guangdong would develop into a military-industrial heart based on Leizhou iron and Jiaozhi coal.

Zhejiang would develop textiles and light industry, focusing on civilian consumer goods.

Dongning would develop agriculture as its mainstay, with secondary processing of agricultural products and the energy industry on the side.

These four provinces would complement one another, their industries mutually supporting, linked by high-volume, low-cost maritime shipping—this should achieve rapid economic and military development, serving as the cornerstone of future grand ambitions.

Lin Qian picked up a tree branch and casually sketched a map of the southeastern coast in the sand, pondering ceaselessly.

At that moment, another fast rider arrived.

"Helmsman, an eagle ship has arrived at Qianjiang Bay dock—it's returned from Hirado and brought a letter."

Lin Qian took the letter and read it through.

The letter said trade at Hirado was proceeding smoothly, and Li Dan had treated the merchant convoy with great kindness, even hosting them at banquets on several occasions.

This year the convoy had arrived at Hirado somewhat late, and Li Dan had even ordered his men to delay selling their goods so the convoy's profits would not suffer too much.

The letter also said that Li Dan had asked about his son's affairs, and Lü Zhou had shown him the parallel-prose essay Li Guozhu had composed.

After reading it, Li Dan was greatly delighted, remarking that the teacher Lin Qian had engaged was indeed a great Confucian scholar, and that Li Guozhu had made remarkable progress—his expression was one of deep satisfaction. At the end of the letter, Bai Qing indicated that on this year's return voyage, there was no need to send ships for escort.

Lin Qian's brow furrowed slightly. He mounted his horse and returned to his residence.

"Geng Wu, go find the tutor who teaches Li Guozhu his studies."

An hour later, the old Confucian scholar walked slowly into the main hall.

After exchanging greetings, Lin Qian asked directly: "How has my nephew been doing lately?"

The old scholar said: "His teeth are good—very good, indeed! It's just that his ears aren't so good!"

Lin Qian asked again: "Has he met any outsiders recently?"

"He hasn't entered any other building—just his own little room, reading and studying characters every day, calm and composed, living a leisurely life."

Lin Qian was somewhat speechless. He glanced at Geng Wu, who said in a low voice: "Li Guozhu has a fierce temper—several great scholars were driven away by his tantrums. Only this one, with his poor hearing, can endure the boy's strange disposition."

Li Guozhu had previously made his living as a sea bandit, killing and robbing. Suddenly confined here under house arrest, unable to go out or meet people freely, forced to read and study every day—it was no wonder anyone would have a bad temper.

Lin Qian asked again: "Then how are his studies progressing? His parallel-prose essay seems rather well done."

The old scholar shook his head vigorously: "Is it good? Hard to say in a word."

As he spoke, he took a sheet of paper from his sleeve, on which was clearly written Li Guozhu's latest exercise.

"The young master may judge for himself."

How would Lin Qian know how to judge such a thing? He had Geng Wu take it to Xu Guangqi for a look.

After a while, Geng Wu returned and said: "Master Xu asked who wrote this. I said a relative of mine wrote it and asked Master Xu to correct it. Master Xu said the format was all wrong—poor scholarship was one thing, but a sloppy attitude toward learning was a grave error."

Lin Qian thought to himself: "However poor Li Dan's skill, he can't fail to tell good parallel prose from bad. If he's putting on a show to set my mind at ease, it's too theatrical by half. There must be some trick in it."

With this in mind, Lin Qian said: "Have Bailangzai take the Tianyuan, the Quanzhou, and the Huizhou north along the Ryukyu Islands to Hirado, to bring the merchant fleet home." "Yes!"

A month later, it was mid-winter.

The merchant fleet returned to Nan'ao Island.

Bai Qing and the others disembarked and went to the General's Mansion to meet Lin Qian.

The moment he entered, Jose said excitedly: "Helmsman, this time the fleet arrived late at Hirado. Thanks to Ship Lord Li's insistence on proper rules, making the other merchants wait for us before selling raw silk together, the price wasn't pressed down too hard."

Lin Qian asked: "Compared to the previous two trips, did the price of raw silk at Hirado fall?"

Lü Zhou said: "In the second year of Tianqi, when we first went to Hirado, Huzhou silk sold for two hundred taels a bale. In the third year of Tianqi, it was one hundred ninety taels a bale. This time, it was one hundred eighty."

The first time's price of two hundred taels was because they arrived early and seized the market.

The latter two times, the large influx of raw silk flooding the Hirado market with the fleet caused natural price fluctuations.

Lin Qian's investment in Zhangzhou to lower production costs was precisely preparation for the subsequent price drops in raw silk and the expansion of the Hirado market.

The current price fluctuation proved his investment was right.

But compared with the investment, Lin Qian was more concerned about Li Dan's movements.

"On the way back, were you followed by Li Dan?"

Everyone shook their heads.

Jose, gnawing on an apple, said: "Li Dan knows the helmsman's might. He surely wouldn't dare make trouble now."

Bai Qing said: "This time at Hirado, Li Dan invited us to banquets many times. He said that once his son finishes his studies and returns next year, he still wants to trade peacefully with us and split the market."

Though a bourgeois merchant like Li Dan had his compromising nature, how could he possibly be willing to split the market in half?

Even if Li Dan were willing, Lin Qian could never agree.

One stretch of sea could not have two overlords. He and Li Dan would sooner or later have to contend for a single victor.

Only the one who survived was worthy of continuing to trade.

Such an obvious matter—with Li Dan's discernment, he could not fail to see it.

With the three-year truce agreement nearing its end, Li Dan's show of goodwill was far too abnormal. Alarm bells rang loudly in Lin Qian's heart.

"By the way, during the banquets, was there a ship's physician present? How was Li Dan's health?"

"Aside from being somewhat thin and looking a bit weary, everything was as usual."

Historically, Li Dan was due to die within a few months—though whether he died of illness or was secretly murdered was not clearly recorded.

Lin Qian simply summoned Su Qingmei and had her see, based on Bai Qing's description, whether Li Dan showed signs of any illness.

Su Qingmei asked very detailed questions, but Bai Qing could not answer most of them.

Jose took a bite of his apple and said: "The banquets were all at night, the lamplight dim—it really was hard to see clearly."

After questioning for a long while, Su Qingmei said she could not make a diagnosis either, and Lin Qian had her withdraw.

Bai Qing said: "Helmsman, do you suspect Li Dan?"

Lin Qian did not answer, but asked instead: "Over at Hirado, what are the Dutch up to?"

"Hmm... the Dutch are hardly ever encountered. The trading post is still open, though."

Lin Qian's suspicions grew even stronger.

The Dutch core objective in East Asia was to purchase Ming goods and sell them to Japan, replacing the Portuguese position in trade between the two countries. That was why they had not hesitated to launch a major attack on Macao.

Historically, the Dutch attacks on Jinxia and occupation of Penghu were likewise to force the Ming to open its ports to trade with the Dutch.

But since the Battle of Macao, the Dutch goal of forcing open the Ming's gates had been shattered, and the Dongning Strait had been continuously blockaded by Lin Qian.

With only transshipment goods from the port of Hoi An, the Dutch could not possibly compete in the Hirado market.

Why were the Dutch not anxious?

They neither sought negotiations with him nor caused him trouble.

As if nothing were wrong, they kept the Hirado trading post running idle all the same.

Lin Qian understood capitalists too well. Dutch merchants could not possibly give up the fat prize of Hirado, and one Battle of Macao could not have thoroughly beaten the Dutch into submission. The Dutch and Li Dan both shared Lin Qian as a common enemy, and both had simultaneously maintained restraint.

Wasn't that a little too well-coordinated?

A man can guard against a thief for a thousand days, but no one can be a thief for a thousand days. Rather than sit and wait for death, better to lure the snake out of its hole.

With this thought, Lin Qian smiled: "Everyone has spent these years shuttling between the southeast and the southern seas—hard work indeed. Why not run a short route this year and take a rest?" Early in the twelfth month.

The fleet finished loading and unloading cargo at Nan'ao Island, then left the island in full force.

The townsfolk at the docks had long grown accustomed to the sight of a thousand sails departing, while the peddlers could only sigh that with the fleet gone, their customers would dwindle as well. The year's end drew near.

A colossal fleet crossed the East Sea from east to west and sailed into the waters of Zhoushan.

After replenishing supplies at Zhoushan, the fleet continued southwest along the coast.

This fleet comprised over a dozen large Guangdong ships and more than a hundred small Fujian junks and Haicang ships, like a sailing island.

The fleet's scale far exceeded that of the coastal guards—indeed, it had more ships than the Nan'ao merchant fleet—so concealing its movements was impossible.

Soon, news that a great sea bandit fleet was coming spread by fast horse through every province of the southeast, and in a moment the people of the southeast were seized with panic.

Faced with such a colossal fleet, the Ming coastal guards all bolted their naval stockade gates shut, not daring to give battle.

Thus the fleet drove straight in without the slightest resistance, sailing into Fujian waters and anchoring in the open sea south of Funing Prefecture and east of Dongchong Peninsula. Aboard the flagship Fubo, Li Dan stood on the stern deck, gazing toward the shore with an indifferent expression.

His navigator said: "Ship Lord, that over there is Dajin Station."

Li Dan did not respond, as if he had not heard at all.

Through the low walls of the stone sea-defense castle on the shore, soldiers could be dimly seen pacing and gazing about uneasily.

After a long moment, Li Dan spoke, his tone flat: "Open fire!"

"Yes!" The navigator relayed the order, and the five-colored flags on the Fubo waved.

Ten Guangdong ships received the order and turned their hulls sideways.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The cast-iron cannons along the broadsides thundered in succession.

Over sixty solid iron shot came crashing down.

Through the gunsmoke of burning black powder, the castle could be seen shrouded in churned-up earth and dust, with cries of alarm and screams drifting over from afar.

In but a moment, another volley of cannon fire erupted.

Over a dozen shots struck the city wall, producing tremendous crashes, stone fragments flying in all directions—one massive crenellation stone was blasted loose, flew two or three zhang into the air, spun as it fell, and landed with a dull rumble that shook the ground within the city.

"Ship lord, the Ming troops have fled." said the navigator.

Li Dan followed his gaze and saw soldiers pouring out from the rear of the fort; before long, no defenders could be seen within the city.

Li Dan ordered a halt to the bombardment and sent men to seize the fort.

By the time his men went ashore with sabers and iron cannons, the surroundings had fallen utterly silent.

The defenders of Dajin Station had fled clean away, and Li Dan's men occupied the fort without the slightest effort.

After stripping the fort of all its supplies, everyone withdrew, and in the end a great fire was set, reducing Dajin Station to ashes.

Once all had returned to the ships, the fleet sailed on to the next guard station—Dinghai Station at the mouth of the Min River—and repeated the same tactic.

Leaving behind the charred ruin of that guard station, Li Dan then attacked Meihua Station to the south.

His purpose was simple: to demonstrate his military might to the Great Ming.

By the conventions of the Ming court, the way to deal with sea bandits was nothing more than suppression or pacification.

If the court's offer of amnesty came, Li Dan could seize the opportunity to press conditions and have Lin Qian release Li Guozhu.

If the court's navy came to suppress him, that would play right into Li Dan's hands.

The reason he had crossed the sea to attack now was that he had calculated precisely that Lin Qian's merchant fleet had sailed south to the Nanyang, leaving Nan'ao's naval garrison undermanned.

If Lin Qian were arrogant enough to come attack, he would suffer a great defeat.

In raw martial strength and ship performance, he was no match for Lin Qian—but in trade connections and commercial networks, Lin Qian was far beneath him.

The coastal defenses of Nan'ao Island and the movement patterns of the merchant fleet had long since been thoroughly mapped out by Li Dan's agents.

Nan'ao Island had over a dozen cannon batteries of various sizes built upon it, defended like walls of bronze and iron—Li Dan dared not assault it directly.

But in open-sea combat, Lin Qian's navy was not yet worth worrying about.

And now it was the end of the twelfth month; Lin Qian's merchant fleet had set out at the start of the month and should already be anchored at Hoi An harbor.

Even if Lin Qian sent orders to Hoi An this very moment, with the fleet sailing back against the wind, it would take at least a month.

That was more than enough time for Li Dan to act on the open seas. All his earlier displays of fawning deference before Lin Qian's subordinates had been to lull the enemy into complacency, waiting for this opportunity. Deep in the night, in the waters east of the Min River.

Li Dan walked out of his cabin and gazed at the great fire at Meihua Station, lost in thought.

The sea wind blew over him, making his body tremble involuntarily.

He suffered from heart failure, a malady with no cure.

Those afflicted with this disease had uncertain lifespans—one might be fine during the day, only to grow cold in death after a night's sleep.

Over the past two years, he had increasingly felt his body failing—fatigue and shortness of breath growing worse, unable to lie flat at night, often waking gasping for air even when asleep, with swelling appearing in his wrists and ankles.

While he could still move, for the sake of his clan and the enterprise he had built with his own hands, he had to gamble everything.

This plan of "suppression and pacification in tandem, luring the snake from its hole" had been devised by Li Dan through agonizing deliberation.

If it succeeded, his family would be reunited, his clansmen and subordinates would enjoy official status under the Great Ming, and Li Guozhu would inherit his power.

The Ming court, needing to check Lin Qian, would not easily dismantle his organization, and his family's wealth and honor would be secure.

Even if he failed, things could hardly get worse.

For his son was already a prisoner, unlikely to see the light of day for a lifetime, and he himself was a dying man.

The rest of Li Dan's clan had already been settled in Manila, with a large sum of money left for them.

Li Dan took a deep breath, using the salty, cold sea breeze to dispel the tightness in his chest.

He looked toward his own fleet—these brothers under his command were the ones with truly no way back.

Should this plan fail, all of them would end up as food for the fish.

But so what? Making a living at sea had always been a matter of profit above all.

A few years ago, Zhong Bin had defected to the south for the sake of gain, and to this day no word of him had been heard.

Li Dan understood that as his health deteriorated, more brothers would desert him.

Rather than wait to be betrayed by his own men, better to put their lives on the table and gamble first!

Li Dan gripped the bulwark, murmuring: "Success or failure, all rests with heaven's will. Do not blame me."

At that very moment, firelight suddenly blazed in the eastern sky.

Li Dan thought he had misseen, and hastily rubbed his eyes—in but a brief moment, several more flames rose up.

Alarm bells rang out across every ship.

The lookout shouted: "Off the rear port side—fireship attack!"

Uncontrollable elation surged in Li Dan's heart. He thought: "He took the bait!"

"Lin Qian, today is your day of death!" Li Dan pressed a hand to his chest, his expression ferocious.

Out on the sea, more fireships were still being set alight.

There were fully twenty-odd of them, bearing down with the wind—yet despite the perilous situation, Li Dan's fleet calmly raised sail and veered aside.

During the day, Li Dan had already spotted hawk ships appearing on the sea surface.

Thus, dropping anchor was merely for show—the anchor never touched the seabed, purely meant to deceive the enemy.

Lin Qian's moves were spent, and he fell for the trap easily as expected.

On the sea, the hundred ship lanterns of Li Dan's fleet scattered wide, deftly avoiding the fire ships, and converged to strike the main force of the Nan'ao naval forces from both sides.

On the stern deck, Li Dan was in high spirits, his chest no longer constricted—he felt more than ten years younger, as if he had returned to that era when he roamed the seas undefeated. "Fire Sail Battalion warships, form a single line!" Li Dan shouted.

The navigator bellowed the order, and ten Guangdong ships lined up in a row, sailing northeast, plunging straight into the midst of the Nan'ao fleet.

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

Cannon fire thundered across the sea, and massive water columns erupted around the Fubo.

Cold rain fell, yet Li Dan felt his spirits grow even more feverish—the thrill of revenge made his body tremble slightly.

By the red glow of the enemy ship's cannon muzzles, Li Dan made out the enemy hull—it was precisely the Changfeng, the very ship that had cost Yan Siqi his life.

Now, facing the main Guangdong ships of the Fire Sail Battalion, the Changfeng's meager firepower was utterly useless.

"Open fire!" Li Dan shouted.

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

The ten Guangdong ships fired in succession, the sound shaking heaven and earth, echoing endlessly between sea and sky.

Over sixty solid iron shot streaked forth.

In the darkness, the sound of over a hundred wooden planks shattering layered together, exceptionally crisp.

Wood chips and timber chunks fell, and around the Changfeng, crackling splashes sounded like rain.

The Changfeng returned fire, but its muzzle flashes were clearly far fewer—it had evidently taken heavy damage from the ten Guangdong ships' volley.

The surrounding Nan'ao Island sea-scoop ships saw the Changfeng under siege and rushed to its rescue, their broadside Folangji cannons firing without cease.

So these were the so-called Sea Wolf ships?

Li Dan smiled. Lin Qian's forces were indeed stretched thin—he was even dragging out ships like the Sea Wolf, which were ill-suited for cannon battles, just to pad his numbers.

The Guangdong ships were solidly built with hard hulls; the Folangji cannonballs could hardly penetrate them, striking the hulls like a mere tickle.

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

The ten Fire Sail Battalion Guangdong ships fired another volley.

The cold sea wind carried the smell of sulfur into his lungs, and Li Dan felt his heart beating ever more powerfully.

Nearby, two Sea Wolf ships took cannon hits on their decks—crew, Folangji cannons, and sterncastle alike were pierced through in a single line.

Flesh and blood splattered everywhere across the sea surface.

The Sea Wolf ships, heavily wounded, retreated swiftly—but it was already too late.

On the Guangdong ships' decks, crewmen raised iron muskets and pulled the triggers.

In an instant, several hundred lead shot flew out, a storm of bullets sweeping across the Sea Wolf ships' decks.

When the gunsmoke cleared, only three empty Sea Wolf ships remained on the sea.

Rumor had it that since the Nan'ao naval forces were established, they had fought nothing but smooth battles and had never suffered casualties this heavy.

For a moment, the gunfire and cannon fire on the sea quieted considerably.

Li Dan ordered his men to continue bombarding the Changfeng.

At that moment, the clouds drifted apart, and dim moonlight spilled down.

The Changfeng's hull was shrouded in shadow.

With a volley of cannon fire, the Changfeng was like a whale struck by a dozen harpoons—great sheets of splintered wood burst from its opposite side like spurting blood. The entire hull shook violently, as if it might fall apart at any moment.

By now the Changfeng had no ability to fight back; its crew leaped overboard one after another to save themselves.

Moments later, the Changfeng's deck exploded, erupting in a vast blaze—hundreds of burning planks trailing black smoke shot out in every direction. A massive black object spun through the air, crashed into the water with a thunderous boom, and threw up an enormous splash.

The gunpowder barrels on the deck had blown up.

Li Dan gazed out across the sea. In the moonlight, he saw that the Nan'ao naval forces had brought fewer than thirty ships.

Most of them were Sea Wolf ships—not a single one of those European galleons was in sight.

That was only to be expected, for according to Li Dan's intelligence, the only galleon left on Nan'ao Island was the Tianyuan.

The rest had all been used to escort the merchant convoys.

Li Dan scanned the sea excitedly—as soon as the Tianyuan appeared, the Dutchmen hidden in the dark could make their move and hunt it down.

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen