Chapter 212: English Afternoon Tea

A moment later, Ran Qiu came to report that the tea leaves, white sugar, and milk were all prepared.

Lin Qian rose, begged Ye Xianggao's pardon, and headed to the main hall.

Ye Xianggao, full of curiosity, called for Bai Kou: "Go see how Ziyuan prepares his tea."

"Right away." Bai Kou acknowledged and walked off toward the main hall.

Viktor had not yet arrived. Lin Qian was directing the servants in making tea. He scooped up a handful of tea leaves—tender green mixed with pale green, the leaves curled—and asked, "What tea is this?"

Ran Qiu said, "Wuyi Songluo tea, this year's new harvest. Quite precious."

"No black tea?"

"Black tea? Does the master mean tea with a red-colored brew?" Ran Qiu looked puzzled.

Lin Qian had little interest in tea and couldn't say what the difference in processing between black and green tea was. He only knew that the English of later ages preferred black tea. "Never mind, we'll use this for now," Lin Qian said.

Since even Ran Qiu didn't know of black tea, the processing technique for it probably wasn't mature in this era. Using green tea to open the market was acceptable. Lin Qian asked for a teacup, laid gauze over the bottom, poured in the tea leaves, added half a cup of water to steep them, and once they were sufficiently brewed, lifted the four corners of the gauze to remove the leaves completely.

Bai Kou exclaimed in admiration: "Wow! That's a clever way to take out the tea leaves."

Ran Qiu, however, was unimpressed. The teacup itself had a built-in strainer, and watching the leaves unfurl in the brew was part of the pleasure of drinking tea. Removing them for convenience's sake—if others saw it, they'd surely call it burning a zither to cook a crane, a crude act devoid of elegance.

"Milk." Lin Qian extended a hand, and Ran Qiu handed him the milk.

Lin Qian poured the milk into the tea, then added two spoonfuls of white sugar.

Ran Qiu's face was full of suspicion.

Bai Kou, meanwhile, looked eager with anticipation.

After stirring it evenly, Lin Qian handed the cup to Bai Kou: "Try it."

Bai Kou took a sip, and her eyes lit up. "Delicious! Not hot, not bitter—sweet and smooth."

Lin Qian smiled faintly and had Ran Qiu taste it as well.

Her brow furrowed slightly. "It does go down easy, but... is this still tea?"

Lin Qian said, "As long as the tea sells, it can be called anything. Ran Qiu, learn how to make this. When the guest arrives, serve him a cup—the brew must be clean, with not a single tea leaf fragment. Bai Kou, find some fine teacups and set them out for him to choose when he arrives." "Yes." The two maids acknowledged and went off.

Hoi An harbor was more than two thousand four hundred li from Nan'ao Island.

With the Eagle Ship at full speed, it took five or six days to arrive.

But Bai Qing was extremely cautious. Considering that the Eagle Ship's Bermuda sails needed to be kept secret, and that Nan'ao's waterways and cannon batteries were best kept hidden from the barbarians, he kept Viktor blindfolded the entire journey—not even removing the blindfold for meals or bathroom breaks, leaving him to fumble his way through.

Thus, though the voyage was short, it was utterly miserable for him. When the blindfold was finally removed, his eyes were struck by the harsh light and took a long time to open.

Once his eyes finally adjusted, he was already being escorted to the front of Lin Manor.

He made his way nervously to the main hall and saw, in the seat of honor, a man of the Great Ming looking at him with a smile.

Lin Qian sized up the newcomer.

The man had shoulder-length golden hair and a goatee. He wore a brown finely woven wool coat over a red embroidered waistcoat, with knee-length breeches, long stockings, and buckled leather shoes.

His attire had an awkward quality—the Elizabethan era not yet faded, the Baroque era not yet arrived.

It bore similarities to the classic image of British East India Company officials in films, yet differed in every detail.

There was also one thing films couldn't capture: the man had a powerful odor—a pungent mix of body smell and perfume.

Lin Qian thought to himself: "No wonder foreign envoys bathe and change clothes before an audience with the Emperor. So it wasn't just empty posturing."

Lin Qian courteously invited him to sit.

Then, as rehearsed, Bai Kou came out with a tray and invited him to choose a teacup.

Viktor saw more than a dozen teacups on the tray, each with different patterns and shapes—blue-and-white, wucai polychrome, plain sancai, rice-yellow glaze—everything one could ask for.

Viktor was dazzled. He had thought "Kraak porcelain" was already the finest of Ming ceramics.

He hadn't expected his knowledge to be so shallow. Every piece on this tray was exquisitely beautiful—top-tier luxury goods by European standards. He couldn't help but feel this trip was worth it, that all the suffering along the way hadn't been in vain.

Seeing Viktor staring blankly at the cups, Bai Kou reminded him softly: "Please, honored guest, choose a teacup."

Lin Qian translated into English, and only then did Viktor understand. He picked the blue-and-white cup, the style he knew best.

After a while, a servant brought in the milk tea.

Viktor took a sip and immediately exclaimed in shock: "This... what is this?"

Lin Qian had wanted to say "tea," but considering the word probably hadn't been coined yet, he changed his answer: "We call it 'cha'." He then expounded on the benefits of drinking tea, its cultural and social value, and so on.

Viktor listened with rapt delight, but his purpose in coming was cooperation, not purchasing goods.

Even if he had sufficient capital, he would only buy porcelain, not tea leaves that had no market in Europe yet.

Cultivating consumption habits was a very long process. From tea's introduction to England in 1650 to the rise of English afternoon tea culture took nearly two hundred years.

Planting a seed of tea culture in English hearts today was enough for Lin Qian.

After finishing the tea talk, Viktor got to the point: "Captain, I have come to represent the British East India Company in forging an alliance with you. We share common interests in Southeast Asia—the Guangnan Kingdom. And we also share a common enemy: the Dutch.

The foundation for cooperation between our two sides is very broad.

Or, to put it plainly, the British East India Company is willing to place itself at your disposal. Even the possibility of the Kingdom of England becoming a vassal state of the Great Ming can be discussed.

All we ask is that you cede a tiny bit of trading profit."

"Heh heh." Lin Qian smiled and set down his teacup, thinking that this Englishman would say any lie for profit.

Common interests, common enemies.

England becoming a vassal of the Great Ming.

All of it was trickery to fool children.

In plain terms, he offered not a shred of real benefit—just trying to catch a wolf with empty hands.

But for Lin Qian, the Englishman's identity was actually an excellent cover.

He had been lacking an agent to handle arms sales and stir up trouble between the Trinh Lords and the Nguyen Lords—and now Viktor had delivered himself to the door.

When it came to playing the role of a troublemaker, if the English claimed second place, no one would dare claim first.

But before making his proposal, Lin Qian still needed to knock this Englishman down a peg. So he said unhurriedly: "I hear England and Holland are both Protestant nations, aren't they? Aren't you allies in the war against the House of Habsburg?"

Viktor was quite surprised, and only after a moment said, "It seems you are very familiar with the European situation, which I deeply admire. However, please allow me to make some small additions for you."

Though he called them small additions, it was in fact a lengthy discourse.

Because the current state of war in Europe was even more complex than the factional strife of the Great Ming — it truly could not be explained in a sentence or two. This great war, which later generations would call the "Thirty Years' War," began in 1618. Now it was 1626, and it had already been fought for eight years. Its cause was the religious conflict between Protestantism and Catholicism, erupting from within the Holy Roman Empire.

Gradually, all the major nations of Europe were drawn in.

Everyone's stated war cry was religion, but in reality it was all for their own interests and territories.

For example, France was a Catholic nation, but in order to dismember the Habsburg dynasty, it also joined the Protestant side.

Likewise, England was a Protestant nation, but to gain Spain's support, it had also made efforts toward a marriage alliance with it.

In simple terms, the combatants could be roughly divided into two sides:

The Habsburg side, comprising Spain, the Holy Roman Emperor, and some of the princes.

The anti-Habsburg side included the Dutch, the French, the Danes, the Swedes, and others — this side could be said to be each harboring their own schemes, each fighting their own battles, with an alliance so loose it could rival a crumbling, flaky sesame cake.

England, as an island nation of Europe, had core interests that could be said to have remained unchanged for a thousand years — still that old game of offshore balancing and splendid isolation. The best outcome would be for all the belligerent nations to exhaust their national strength in fighting, and then the English would be pleased.

With Viktor explaining it this way, the English truly did share aligned interests with Lin Qian.

"... Just two years ago, the Dutch brutally executed ten Englishmen on Ambon Island and illegally confiscated the trading post of the English East India Company. This massacre — we have never forgotten it!"

Viktor said through gritted teeth.

"To demonstrate my sincerity for cooperation, I can also share with you one piece of free intelligence.

The Spanish have dispatched five large warships to Southeast Asia, specifically to protect Manila."

"I already know of this matter."

"Then what of the Dutch response — I wonder if you are aware?" Viktor said with a mysterious smile.

Lin Qian gestured for him to continue.

Viktor said, "The Dutch Governor-General Coen's disastrous defeat in his expedition to Macao, the Spanish patrolling the Spice Islands, and the flourishing trade at Hoi An — these three matters fiercely provoked the Council of Seventeen into deciding to greatly reinforce Batavia.

Reportedly, it is a fleet of nine great ships — not armed merchantmen like Captain Ahat's vessel, but far stronger galleons."

The three matters that provoked the Dutch were all directly or indirectly related to Lin Qian; that the Dutch would reinforce their numbers was within expectation, only that it came so quickly was not.

He had just uprooted the Dutch trading post at Hirado, deepening his enmity with the Dutch further — surely armed conflicts with the Dutch would not be few. Having the English as intelligence spies was also an asset.

"Who is the current King of England?" Lin Qian asked.

"It is the great James I, sir."

"And the crown prince?"

"It is Prince Charles, who after coronation should be called Charles I."

In truth, Charles I had already been crowned the previous year, only the news had not yet reached the English East India Company.

"Hah." Lin Qian let out a light laugh, leaving Viktor baffled.

Charles I was a famously beheaded king; during his reign, England's social contradictions were acute and complex — far from something that could be resolved by money and military victories alone — and civil war would inevitably erupt in the end.

The civil war would cause tremendous destruction to England, and Cromwell's England after his rise would likewise be outwardly strong but inwardly weak; after his death, England would continue in chaos until 1660.

From this perspective, the English of today were also perfect allies.

There would be no situation where other European powers were suppressed only to let the English grow great.

With this thought, Lin Qian said, "Speak, then — what do you want?"

Viktor was overjoyed, his heart pounding, and suppressing his ecstasy said, "Noble Helmsman, I humbly beseech an opportunity to establish direct trade with the Great Ming — please allow our merchant ships to dock at your port."

"No." Lin Qian refused flatly. Nan'ao Island was currently a vital military and technological site; there was no way he would let the English roam freely on the island.

And allowing them to go to Yuegang would likewise be tantamount to giving the English an opportunity to spy on Nan'ao Island.

Viktor's heart sank, and he was about to argue.

But then he heard Lin Qian say, "I will permit you to trade at Macao, and the weapons from the cannon foundry may also be sold to you. I trust the English have the ability to turn a profit through arms."

Viktor's mood swung like a roller coaster, and he was instantly overcome with excitement. The profit margins on arms trade were no lower than porcelain, and against the backdrop of the Trinh–Nguyen standoff, with his position as advisor to the Nguyễn lord's court, he could liquidate extremely quickly and rapidly accumulate capital.

"... But I have heard that Macao is under Portuguese influence, and they are nominally also under Habsburg rule..." Viktor said with difficulty. "Is that so?" Lin Qian smiled meaningfully. "On your return journey, you might as well go see for yourself."

With that said, Lin Qian rose and painted a rosy picture: "If all goes smoothly, in the future we may expand the scope of our cooperation — perhaps even developing military and technological collaboration."

Viktor was extremely agitated and answered repeatedly, "Yes, yes. Rest assured, Helmsman — the courage and credit of the English nation are known throughout the world; the English never disappoint!"

Lin Qian had already walked to the rear courtyard, yet could still hear Viktor's voice carrying over: "... I shall forever be your most diligent messenger, your most loyal trading partner — you will be rewarded, rewarded with vast profits!"

After Viktor finished shouting, he felt his whole body brimming with drive — he could not wait to go see Macao.

However, just as he turned around, he was stopped by a servant: "Honored guest, please wait a moment — the Helmsman has instructed this be gifted to you."

Viktor turned to look: it was a complete set of blue-and-white porcelain tea ware, including the very cup he had used, now washed and placed in a box, along with ten catties of tea leaves.

Viktor thanked them repeatedly, inwardly full of admiration for the luxurious bearing of Eastern nobles.

Carrying his gifts, he returned to the harbor, but before he could even get a look at the port, his eyes were covered.

The sailor who blindfolded him said, "Apologies, but we're heading straight back to Hoi An now — bear with it a while longer."

Viktor said, "No — we're going to Macao!"

Two days later, Viktor arrived at Macao harbor.

Due to Lin Qian's monopoly on Hirado trade, Macao's trading status had greatly declined, with most of its trade goods now destined for transshipment to various European nations. Viktor went straight to the Bocarro Cannon Foundry — compared to arms, all these conventional commodities lost their appeal.

The soldiers guarding the foundry inspected the order signed by Lin Qian and permitted Viktor to enter.

Viktor found the manager and explained his purpose.

The manager smiled and said, "This way, please."

He then led Viktor to a corner of the warehouse, placed his hand on a cannon, and said, "These are the ones."

The manager patted the cannon at hand: "This one — a twelve-pounder Siren cannon, cast iron, with a maximum range of five hundred paces.

This one — a nine-pounder Falcon cannon, cast iron, with a range of four hundred paces.

This one—"

Viktor's brow furrowed tighter and tighter as he listened, thinking to himself, "Have Portuguese craftsmen really fallen to such a low standard?"

A range of four to five hundred paces, and they dare call this a cannon?

He leaned in for a closer look, seeing that the barrel was very thin, the body rough, and not a single mark or insignia on the whole piece.

This thing dares to call itself a cannon? This is clearly just an oversized musket!

Viktor glanced to the side — the cannonballs were fine, also cast from iron, just with a few more pits and bumps than usual.

But the fixed powder charge was astonishingly small, only a little over half the normal amount.

No wonder this cannon only had a range of five hundred paces — the powder charge simply wasn't enough.

Of course, given how thin the barrel was, a normal charge would certainly burst it.

"How much for one of these twelve-pounder cannons?" Viktor asked.

"A fair price — eight hundred taels apiece," the steward said sincerely.

For a proper twelve-pounder, that price would already be considered cheap.

But for a cannon with performance cut in half, it was nothing short of an exorbitant price.

Viktor looked over the other models of cannons and muskets — all of them followed the same pattern of skimping on quality.

He pointed to the other side of the warehouse, where over a dozen cannons sat in a row. Judging by size, they were three-pounder field guns, cast in bronze using the lost-wax method, with smooth surfaces. At a single glance, they were far superior to this batch of defective goods.

The steward smiled: "That batch has already been ordered by someone."

"Oh." Viktor nodded and tactfully asked no further questions.

"Is the customer unsatisfied with these guns?"

Viktor shook his head: "No, I'm quite satisfied with the performance. It's just that the exterior should look a bit nicer — preferably with some ornate decorations printed on." The company's purpose was profit; no one wanted to cultivate the Nguyen Lord into a regional power.

These "monkey-model" weapons were more than enough for self-defense, and everyone walked away happy.

But the English understood the essence of product packaging well — poor performance didn't matter, as long as the exterior looked good, they could fool the Nguyen court into opening their purses.

The steward rubbed his hands together and smiled: "That's simple."

Viktor said: "Six-pounders — I'll order ten to start."

After the Lantern Festival, Ye Xianggao's family prepared for their return journey.

But having stayed on the island for over half a month, Ye Xianggao had developed some attachment to Nan'ao Island.

He was unwilling to participate in rebellion, yet he also could not bring himself to turn a blind eye to Lin Qian's "financial crisis."

According to Baikou, on the day of the Lantern Festival, Lin Qian had been forced to come up with the method of tea, cow's milk, and white sugar in order to sell tea to visiting guests. After Baikou delivered the tea set, she had originally wanted to eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation, but Ye Xianggao sent Ye Heng to drag her back.

Lin Qian received guests in the main hall, making no attempt to hide anything — so open and aboveboard.

How could Ye Xianggao stoop to the petty act of eavesdropping from behind a wall?

As Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao, holding real power over an entire province, when finances were tight, he would rather humble himself to personally sell tea than reach into the pockets of the common people, extort merchants, or solicit bribes from officials.

What extraordinary integrity was this?

If even three out of ten Ming officials were capable and incorruptible like Lin Qian, how could the affairs of the realm have declined to such a state?

During this half month, the Lin household's food and daily expenses — not lavish, but certainly top-tier — showed no sign of any financial crisis.

Even Ye Xianggao had nearly been fooled. Now that he thought about it, it was all because Lin Qian cherished family ties and didn't want his in-laws to worry.

This sentiment alone made Ye Xianggao feel he could not stand idly by.

So that evening, using chess as an excuse, Ye Xianggao pulled Lin Qian into his room.

Lin Qian's chess skill had improved rapidly — he now played thirteen-line Go with Ye Xianggao.

While playing, Ye Xianggao probed for openings in conversation with indirect questions.

But thirteen-line Go was far more difficult, and Lin Qian was so focused on his moves that he never considered whether Ye Xianggao had any subtext. Ye Xianggao talked for a long while, yet Lin Qian showed no reaction at all.

Finally, Ye Xianggao set down his pieces and said: "Enough. How much longer do you intend to keep things from me?"

Lin Qian's heart tightened, thinking to himself: "Grand Secretary Ye has connections everywhere — of course I couldn't hide the troop deployments in Fujian from him."

He sighed and said: "Your grandson-in-law had no choice in the matter."

Seeing this, Ye Xianggao thought he had spoken too harshly, and softened his tone: "Since you've married Zhen'er, we're family. If there's a problem, just say it directly — this old man can help."

"Ah?" Lin Qian was quite taken aback.

Ye Xianggao said: "Go on, how much silver is the household short? This old man has some spare funds at home — I don't know if it will be enough to cover the gap."

"Short?" Lin Qian was utterly bewildered.

Ye Xianggao snorted coldly, pulled a newspaper from his bosom, and pointed at the "Nan'ao Bond" printed on it.

"You've even taken out loans in the newspaper — did you think this old man wouldn't see it?"

Lin Qian didn't know whether to laugh or cry: "These bonds were originally meant to gather idle capital from the people and maintain government credit — they weren't issued because of a lack of money." "Then the tea?"

"The tea is to cultivate the English habit of consumption, to prepare for future exports."

Seeing Ye Xianggao frozen on the spot, Lin Qian had a flash of inspiration and seized the opportunity to change course: "The word 'bond' really wasn't well chosen. Better to call them 'silver yuan notes' — thank you for the guidance, Grandfather."

Since ancient times, the Chinese have never liked the word "debt." "National debt" was fine in the modern era, but if issued too widely in the Ming, it would absolutely cause panic among the people.

The same thing, with a different name — the people's acceptance would increase dramatically.

Ye Xianggao snapped back to reality and said: "If you want this old man to help you scheme, it won't be that easy."

Seeing Lin Qian seem about to rise, Ye Xianggao said: "Don't try that 'three visits to the thatched cottage' routine on me."

Lin Qian picked up a black stone from beneath him and smiled: "I was just picking up a chess piece."

Ye Xianggao couldn't let go of his loyalty to the emperor and love of country, nor could he let go of his precious granddaughter and great-grandson, nor could he abandon the people of Fujian — he was truly torn and conflicted.

If Lin Qian had begged him to come out of retirement, he certainly would not have agreed.

But when Lin Qian didn't even make a gesture of asking for help, Ye Xianggao felt slighted and couldn't help but offer a hint: "I've been on the island for half a month, and I've noticed that most of the generals at Nan'ao haven't married yet?"

"Indeed, military matters keep us busy, and my subordinates are also..." Lin Qian suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his expression shifting.

He immediately rose and made a deep bow: "Thank you for the guidance, Grandfather!"

Ye Xianggao stroked his beard and smiled without speaking, thinking to himself: "Indeed, this sensitivity and intelligence are just what a man who would accomplish great things ought to have." At the same time, he could not help but sigh: "If the Emperor had even half of Ziyuan's intelligence... no, not even intelligence — if he would merely listen to counsel, the realm would never have come to such a state."

That evening, after Lin Qian finished his training, he said to Ye Zhen: "In Fuqing and Nan'ao, do you know any unmarried women of marriageable age? They should come from families of clean and simple background, be virtuous in character, and have proper bearing."

Ye Zhen lightly punched his arm and teased: "The way you say it, these women are like objects... I do know quite a few — why do you ask?" "I was just thinking — we've been married for two years now, and apart from Eldest Brother, none of the other brothers have settled down. That hardly seems loyal of us." Lin Qian said it lightly, but in truth, helping his brothers find wives was far from being merely a matter of loyalty.

It was only after Ye Xianggao's reminder that Lin Qian suddenly realized — as his power steadily grew, the standing of his brothers and commanders rose along with it.

It was not yet a problem now, but in the future, as his territory expanded and he absorbed local gentry and officials into his fold, someone would inevitably use marriage to forge kinship ties with Lin Qian's brothers and commanders.

When that happened, if his men became woven together in an "I-in-you, you-in-me" web, the internal cohesion of the ranks and Lin Qian's absolute authority would be destabilized. Moreover, after marriage, with families all remaining on Nan'ao Island, everyone would have ties and attachments in their hearts — which would help steady military morale and consolidate fighting strength.

On top of that, helping people arrange marriages was also a great deed of goodwill that won hearts — those whom Lin Qian helped match would remember his kindness for a lifetime. Therefore, Lin Qian not only had to arrange marriages for his brothers and commanders, but also for mid- and low-ranking officers, and even for his personal guards and ordinary soldiers.

For the soldiers, this was an excellent opportunity to demonstrate Lin Qian's paternal care and to shape his image as a benevolent leader.

It could be said that this was a great undertaking with a hundred benefits and not a single harm.

Lin Qian, busy with military affairs, commerce, and governance, had forgotten such a major matter — that was truly a grave oversight.

Fortunately, Ye Xianggao had reminded him in time.

Thinking of this, Lin Qian looked at Ye Zhen, then gave her a hearty kiss.

He had truly chosen the right wife.

Yahei

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