Chapter 243: The Gale Is Coming

The Navy Department and the Army Department were two branches under the Military Affairs Directorate, responsible primarily for force building and logistics of their respective services.

To put it plainly, aside from routine troop management, what they did most was ask for money.

Specifically, they drew up various development plans, formed procurement budgets, and then went to the Civil Affairs Directorate to demand funds.

Every year at the start, the Nan'ao Government Affairs Hall would formulate that year's fiscal budget, with military expenditures set at fixed quotas.

But there were always unexpected situations that required ad hoc spending.

Even without unexpected situations, no one ever thought their military budget was too large.

Thus the ministers of the Navy and Army departments were constantly bickering and sparring — arguing in the Military Affairs Directorate, then arguing again in the Government Affairs Hall.

From time to time they would also drag in the Director of the Civil Affairs Directorate to argue.

Of course, these arguments were meant to justify the strategic value of their budgets, iterate their operational concepts, and also served as mutual checks and balances. In essence, they were healthy competition that promoted the overall development of the Nan'ao military.

The Army and Navy departments had been established for less than a year.

Both ministers had risen from the grassroots of the Military Affairs Directorate, with no conflicts of interest, no personal grudges — they even had a personal friendship.

Often, after arguing in the Government Affairs Hall, they would go out to a restaurant together in the evening.

There was quite a sense of mutual admiration between them — rivals and friends at once.

This time, Nan'ao's grand shipbuilding program — placing orders for six warships and five troop transports in one stroke — was the achievement of Navy Minister Shen Yuan's relentless lobbying.

After all, since the Candle Dragon had been launched, no large warships had been under construction.

Meanwhile, the Army had kept expanding, adding another twenty thousand men.

Behind this lay objective considerations of timber shortages and the expanding scale of land warfare.

But that didn't stop Minister Shen from seizing the opportunity to play the victim and plead hardship.

Using the signing of the Treaty of Manila as his entry point, he brought in the Navy Department's staff officers, interviewed a large number of Spaniards and Portuguese, and produced a research report.

The report's theme was the possible reactions of the House of Habsburg upon learning of the Treaty of Manila.

The report pointed out that Spain differed from England and Holland, which only cared about commercial interests.

Its rulers, the Habsburg family, placed the defense of religious orthodoxy and family honor above economic benefit — they would make every effort to maintain the image of the "empire on which the sun never sets."

Similar to Emperor Wu of Han's militarist excesses — preferring to exhaust the people to the point of destitution rather than abandon the principle of "though far, must be punished."

Its reckless entanglement in the Thirty Years' War at incalculable cost in Europe, its prolonged confrontation with the Ottoman Empire, and its war of attrition to suppress the Dutch — all served as evidence. The Treaty of Manila would most likely not be ratified by the Habsburg court, and what would inevitably follow was an even greater naval war. Though dispatching troops across half the globe would be required, Spain might still need several years of preparation.

By the time its expeditionary navy truly arrived, it could even be a decade later.

But Nan'ao could not afford to leave itself unprepared.

To put it in numerical terms: the Navy was the one, the Army the zero. Only by securing command of the sea did building an army make sense — otherwise everything was a castle in the air. Therefore, to protect its overseas interests, the Nan'ao Navy must forever maintain overwhelming superiority!

In short — build ships!

This research report, showing considerable foresight, left the other colleagues in the Government Affairs Hall dumbfounded, and earned Lin Qian's genuine appreciation.

And so this massive order was settled.

The Army Department had also wanted to produce a similar report studying the Ming military situation, but before the project was even approved, the Navy Department shot back with one line: "The Army spends nearly a million taels of silver every year, and that's still not enough?"

The Army Minister had nothing to say.

Now that the prefectures of Guangdong had been pacified and the new army's combat operations had decreased, Lei Sanxiang, Ma Chenglie, Huang Hetai and others had fortified the Fujian-Guangdong border to an impregnable degree — there was indeed no need to increase expenditures.

The Army's research report had to be shelved.

Of course, just because the Army Department didn't research it didn't mean no one did.

The General Staff was dedicated to strategic analysis, and also handled intelligence work.

Among its subordinate organs, the Army Staff Division specialized in studying the Ming dynasty's military strategy.

According to intelligence, Ming official Ma Maocai had just submitted a memorial titled "Full Account of the Great Famine" a month prior. According to his account: since the seventh year of Tianqi, northern Shaanxi had seen no rain for a year, grass and trees withered and scorched, and the common people could only eat tumbleweed, tree bark, and guanyin clay.

Social order in Shaanxi had completely collapsed — the populace had all turned to banditry.

Additionally, in the second month of the eighth year of Tianqi, Wang Jiayin rose in revolt at Fugu in northern Shaanxi, was elected leader of the rebel alliance, and his momentum was immense — with it, large numbers of border troops in the Shaanxi region also rebelled.

The Ming court was urgently dispatching armies to suppress them, while simultaneously vigorously levying the Liaodong levy and suppression levy in provinces that had not revolted, especially the Jiangnan provinces. In the third month, in southern Jiangxi, the three counties of Longnan, Anyuan, and Changning suffered floods; the people, unable to bear the onslaught of natural and man-made disasters, fled south into Guangdong territory. As of now, over twenty thousand refugees had poured into Guangdong.

Against this backdrop, the Ming court's forces in Jiangxi and Huguang were as fragile as paper — posing essentially no threat to the Nan'ao army.

The Army Staff Division was thus able to devote more attention to the North China and Liaodong regions.

Since the beginning of the eighth year of Tianqi, the Emperor had appeared in public with decreasing frequency, and even on the rare occasions he did appear, his demeanor was listless and his complexion poor. Rumors had spread in the capital that the Emperor's dragon body was ailing.

Meanwhile, Hong Taiji had launched another western campaign, utterly crushing the Mongol Ligdan Khan and opening the road from Mongolia to breach the Great Wall and enter the passes.

The Army Staff Division deduced that the Jianzhou barbarians would very likely breach the passes and invade the interior between this autumn and next spring, seizing the capital region.

The deduction was reported up to Lin Qian. After weighing it repeatedly, he wrote it up in the form of a memorial and submitted it to the Office of Transmission in the capital.

The signature read: "Former Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao, Ming Dynasty."

Objectively speaking, submitting this memorial was disadvantageous to Lin Qian, but he could not stand by idly and watch the Jianzhou barbarians pour through the passes to slaughter without doing anything.

When the memorial reached the Directorate of Ceremonial, Wei Zhongxian was exceedingly excited.

In his view, Lin Qian's use of his former official title in the memorial, combined with the fact that the Nan'ao army had not advanced north after taking Guangdong —

These were all signs of a sincere desire to submit, of Lin Qian testing the Ming's attitude.

So Wei Zhongxian, on the one hand, sent eunuchs to relay messages to Lin Qian, promising to enfeoff him as Marquis Zhenhai, intensifying his efforts to win him over.

On the other hand, he presented the memorial to His Majesty as glad tidings.

Inside the warm pavilion of the Qianqing Palace, the Tianqi Emperor, newly recovered from a serious illness, lay wrapped in a cotton quilt on his bed, staring blankly into space.

He was obsessed with carpentry, often working day and night without rest on his woodworking, which had long since depleted his constitution. Since the seventh year of Tianqi, defeats in the Liaodong campaigns and the unending natural and man-made disasters across the realm had left him anxious and vexed, adding another layer of illness on top.

What finally broke him was Empress Zhang's miscarriage.

Since ascending the throne, the Tianqi Emperor had had three sons — all of whom had died young.

In the third year of Tianqi, Empress Zhang had once been pregnant, but unfortunately also miscarried.

Since then, the Tianqi Emperor had remained without an heir.

Finally, in the tenth month of the seventh year of Tianqi, Empress Zhang became pregnant once again, filling the Tianqi Emperor with immense joy. He exhorted his inner attendants a thousand times over to watch over her with the greatest care. Yet inexplicably, a wave of impeachments against the Empress's father swept through the court, with charges including embezzlement, deceiving the sovereign, and disrespect—more than a dozen grave crimes in all. If the charges were confirmed, his head was as good as lost.

The Tianqi Emperor, on one hand unwilling to punish the Empress's father, and on the other seeing the hundred officials all speaking as one, wavered in indecision.

When Empress Zhang heard of this, she grew anxious and wished to see the Emperor in person. But as she left the palace gate, she tripped on the threshold, fell onto her belly, and miscarried the child. The Tianqi Emperor and Empress Zhang were deeply devoted to each other, and he had been filled with hope for this child. Stunned by the terrible news, he immediately fell gravely ill.

He barely managed to pull through the crisis, but it left a root of illness behind—he feared wind and cold, had no strength for anything, and even lost interest in his carpentry. He lay in bed all day, growing ever more despondent.

Wei Zhongxian came to pay his respects, hoping that the news of Lin Qian's willingness to submit would lift His Majesty's spirits.

Unexpectedly, after hearing it all, Tianqi merely replied flatly: "I see."

And nothing more.

Wei Zhongxian exhausted every trick, said many more things to comfort and please Tianqi, and even shed tears.

Tianqi remained listless throughout.

Wei Zhongxian could only take his leave in helplessness.

With the Emperor neglecting state affairs, Wei Zhongxian grew ever more monopolizing of power, unscrupulous and unbridled—this was a good thing.

But the Emperor must not die of illness!

If the Emperor died, Wei Zhongxian would become rootless duckweed, collapsing in an instant.

To this end, he had spared no effort in seeking physicians and medicines.

His partisan Huo Weihua presented a miraculous prescription called the "Spirit Dew Drink."

This medicine was in truth distilled rice water stored in silver bottles. Whether it had any efficacy was unknown—but after His Majesty tasted it, he found it clear and sweet, and could eat a few more mouthfuls. Even if it was just two extra bites of rice, that was still good.

So Wei Zhongxian agreed to present this medicine to His Majesty daily.

Now Wei Zhongxian felt he had lifted a rock only to drop it on his own feet. Had he known His Majesty would end up like this, he would never have schemed to frame the Empress's father.

As for the warning that Hong Taiji would cross the pass—no one paid it any mind...

In the fifth month, Wei Zhongxian's envoy Li Chaoqin arrived at Nan'ao. After meeting Lin Qian, he extended the offer of the title of Pacifying Sea Marquis.

A marquis—one rank higher than the earl from last time—and the title "Pacifying Sea" sounded far more imposing as well.

Lin Qian gave a slight smile and again politely declined, while routinely inquiring about the health of the Emperor and the Factory Director.

Li Chaoqin was quite honest. After he finished saying that the Emperor's dragon body was unwell, that he had fallen ill but was now out of danger, Lin Qian ordered his servants to see the guest out.

Li Chaoqin had already mentally prepared himself for Lin Qian's noncommittal attitude, so when he was shown out, he was not too surprised.

He departed Nan'ao Island by sea, disembarked at Yuegang, and transferred to a carriage to return to the capital.

When Li Chaoqin left Yuegang, he happened to catch rainy weather.

At that time, the Great Ming's official roads were mostly rammed-earth roads, and by their usual nature, this was when "the heavens sent great rain, and the road became impassable."

Li Chaoqin initially wanted to order his men to turn back to Yuegang to take shelter from the rain.

But when he lifted the carriage curtain, he discovered not only that the road was perfectly passable, but that the surface had not a trace of standing water or mud.

Besides Li Chaoqin's own convoy, there were also great numbers of travelers and merchants on the road braving the rain. Everyone wore straw hats and straw rain capes, and apart from a few specks of mud on their shoes and trouser cuffs, they were entirely clean.

Li Chaoqin's eyes went wide. Even the capital's flagstone roads could hardly achieve such efficiency of passage.

He looked down at the road beneath the travelers' feet. The surface was two zhang wide, grayish-black in color, perfectly level, without even a single rut or ridge. Camphor trees were planted on both sides. When Li Chaoqin had come, he had boarded a ship at Fuzhou to reach the island, so he had not seen this road.

In his memory, the Great Ming's official roads were generally rammed earth, and prosperous cities would pave flagstone roads—but either kind inevitably had potholes and depressions.

How could there be a road this perfectly flat? Was it paved with a single slab of stone?

Had Lin Qian split an entire mountain into stone slabs?

"Hey, you there."

"Godfather!" The young eunuch riding alongside tugged his reins and hurried over with a fawning smile.

"What road is this?"

"Reporting to Godfather, this is the Tingyue Road. Starting from Yuegang, passing through Longyan, and reaching Tingzhou—over five hundred li in total."

The young eunuch was in charge of Li Chaoqin's itinerary and was especially familiar with the road conditions along the way.

The Tingyue Road official highway connected the port, the mountain regions of western Fujian, and the land route's strategic throat. Outwardly it could defend against Ming troops, and inwardly it could repel mountain bandits and roving brigands. It was an important work-relief project of Fujian.

This road had been approved in the fifth year of Tianqi, and after multiple surveys and designs, construction began in the sixth year of Tianqi.

To date, it had taken two and a half years and was finally completed, having just opened to traffic not long ago.

The section beyond Zhangzhou was built as rammed earth, while the stretch from Yuegang to Zhangzhou was paved with cement.

The cement road used a layered paving method: workers manually leveled and compacted the original earth official road, used coarse sand and gravel as the cushion layer, lime-earth mixture as the base layer, and cement mortar as the surface layer.

To prevent cracking from thermal expansion and contraction, an expansion joint was placed every two zhang, filled with tung oil and hemp fiber.

To prevent water from pooling on the surface, the road had a fish-back crown in the middle and deeply dug side ditches on both sides, and culverts were built beneath the road in areas prone to flooding. This road-building technique and materials were basically similar to the cement roads commonly seen in modern villages.

Due to the technical limitations of the Great Ming's iron industry, no steel rebar was laid in the cement road, so the road's structural strength was not high.

Fortunately, the Great Ming had no hundred-ton kings—even heavy freight carts rarely exceeded half a ton.

Moreover, the people of the Great Ming possessed a peculiar sense of morality when it came to building bridges and roads, with virtually no corruption or slacking.

Even more so, this was a key project of the Nan'ao Administrative Affairs Bureau, and Zhou Qiyuan had dispatched considerable manpower to supervise.

Thus this road not only cut no corners, but actually had a large safety margin, basically able to avoid settlement and cracking.

As for frost-heave cracking and load-fatigue cracking, current technology could not yet avoid those.

So the lifespan of this cement road was inevitably far shorter than modern ones.

Lin Qian estimated this road could last at most ten years, during which only fine cracks would appear, not affecting use.

After ten years, the cracks would multiply and widen, with localized damage appearing, requiring frequent repairs.

After thirty years, the entire surface layer would need a full overhaul.

After Li Chaoqin heard of the enormous scale of work involved in building this road, he was stunned speechless, and sighed inwardly: "Sea merchants truly profit enormously! No wonder Lin Qian is unmoved even by the marquis title conferred by Nine Thousand Years."

The young eunuch said with concern: "Godfather, the rain outside is heavy. Let down the curtain and rest—don't catch the damp. Fortunately the road isn't bumpy, so Godfather can get some sleep."

When he had come, the stretch from Xianxia Pass to Nanping County had been so bumpy it nearly shook him to death—he couldn't sleep even if he wanted to.

The carriage now rode smoother than a seagoing junk, and oddly enough, he no longer felt sleepy.

He hung up the carriage curtain and kept gazing out the window, asking questions from time to time about what he saw.

"Those people planting trees by the roadside—who are they?"

The young eunuch said, "Godfather, those are craftsmen hired by the Thoroughfare Ministry, specially tasked with road maintenance."

The Thoroughfare Ministry was a subordinate department of the Works Construction Directorate, responsible for road construction and upkeep.

"What town is that up ahead?"

"Godfather, that's not a town—just a tea stall for resting. Because so many merchants pass through from north and south, it's grown prosperous. The locals call it 'Ten Li Market.'"

Li Chaoqin looked at Ten Li Market and saw it had everything—wine houses, inns, teahouses, tailor shops—and even a good number of residences.

He sighed inwardly: "Truly, money makes the mare go. Scatter some silver, and even this godforsaken wasteland becomes more prosperous than the capital's outskirts." They traveled on for a good while longer; after passing Ten Li Market, vast stretches of farmland appeared on both sides of the road.

Li Chaoqin was from Zhejiang; before entering the palace, his family had also farmed the land, so he knew a little about agriculture.

Seeing the fields, he frowned and said, "Why are all these dry fields? Why isn't rice being planted?"

The young eunuch replied, "I've heard that Fujian suffered a great drought from the beginning of last year to the beginning of this one—the water in the paddies all dried up. By the time rain finally came, the planting season for rice had passed, so they planted sweet potatoes, millet, soybeans, and other coarse grains instead."

"What did you say?" Li Chaoqin was taken aback.

"Your son said the fields were planted with coarse grains."

"Not that—the part before. You said Fujian was drought-stricken from last year to this year?"

Li Chaoqin's heart jolted. He looked around and saw the road crowded with travelers, Ten Li Market bustling with commerce, and farmers working steadily in the fields.

This was what a place that had just suffered a great drought looked like?

What should a place that just suffered a great drought look like? Even if not as dire as described in the "Memorial on the Great Famine," it certainly shouldn't be a case of forgetting the pain once the wound heals—right after the rain, everyone should be basking in harmony and joy?

Li Chaoqin knit his brows: "Do you think I've never worked the land?"

The young eunuch trembled with fright and hurriedly said, "Your son would never dare deceive godfather—the drought in Fujian truly happened.

Thanks to Marquis Zhenhai's effective disaster relief—distributing grain, relocating people, building roads—the calamity didn't spread further.

The Tingyue Road we're traveling on now—the section north of Longyan—was built during the disaster.

Among the common folk, this road is also called the Helmsman Road. The authorities wouldn't allow it, saying too many roads were already called Helmsman Road; if they all shared the name, they'd be impossible to tell apart in the future, so they forcibly changed it to Tingyue Road."

After hearing this, Li Chaoqin cursed inwardly: "Damn it! No wonder so many people rebelled with Lin Qian—the man truly knows how to win hearts. As expected, money really is wonderful!"

He leaned back in the carriage, silent, recalling what he had seen at Lin Qian's residence—no carved beams or painted rafters, no bells and drums or jade delicacies. As a maritime merchant, he himself dealt in rhinoceros horn and ivory, yet at Lin Qian's estate, he hadn't seen a single piece.

Could it be that Lin Qian spent all his money on the army and the common people?

Did such a man truly exist in this world? What was he after?

Li Chaoqin pondered for a long time but could not fathom what Lin Qian sought. He only vaguely felt that trying to persuade him to surrender by offering titles of nobility would be useless. Here was a man who came from sea banditry, a mere soldier, yet he carried the lofty air of a scholar.

Hypocrite! A poseur! Disgusting!

After despising Lin Qian's character for a good while, Li Chaoqin stared blankly out the window.

On both sides of the Tingyue Road stretched field after field of farmland. Along the ridge paths between them grew banyan and camphor trees—fresh green and tender green mingling with earth tones and dark green, extending all the way to the lush mountains in the distance.

In the drifting rain and mist, it looked like an ink-wash painting that had been softly blurred.

A gentle breeze arrived, carrying moisture thick with the scent of soil. Rice seedlings and leaves swayed lightly in the wind, rustling softly.

Farmers in the fields leaned on their hoes, straightened up, and savored the coolness.

Li Chaoqin stared without blinking at the scene before him for a long time, and inexplicably thought of his own hometown.

He thought of how, if farming hadn't been so poor that it couldn't sustain life, his father wouldn't have castrated him and sent him to the capital.

Perhaps he too could have lived and worked like these farmers, inside a landscape painting—married a wife, fathered a son, without all the scheming and flattery, living a simple, ordinary life.

After daydreaming for a moment, Li Chaoqin smiled bitterly and shook his head, casting the absurd notion from his mind.

He ordered the driver, "The road is good—make haste. The palace is waiting for our report!"

At the same time that sweet rain fell from the heavens over Fujian and the drought receded.

Guangdong's sweet rain was far more abundant than Fujian's.

In the main hall of the Guangzhou prefectural office, Ye Yifan sat before his desk, brows knitted in worry.

The Guangzhou patrol inspector walked into the hall, cupped his hands, and said, "Prefect, this morning I sent men to walk through every ward of Guangzhou city—all of them have flooding. In a few wards bordering the river, the water has risen to shin depth."

After Nan'ao took charge of Guangdong, both the guard station troops and the camp soldiers had been streamlined, and some usable men were incorporated into the patrol inspectorate.

The patrol inspector's personnel had also been replaced, and the office's functions expanded, making it responsible for urban security and for preventing and combating crime.

At this moment, the patrol inspector's straw rain cloak was dripping steadily, his trouser legs soaked through—clearly, the flooding on the streets outside the prefectural office was no small matter either. Ye Yifan said, "Tell the patrol inspectorate to guard the gates of every ward and market tightly, and strictly prevent bandits from seizing the opportunity to cause trouble. Also, pass word to Garrison Commander Zhao to have his soldiers guard Yongfeng Granary and all the shops."

"As you command." The patrol inspector cupped his hands, turned, pressed down his straw hat, and walked back into the curtain of rain.

Ye Yifan walked to the eaves and watched the raindrops fall without cease, sighing inwardly: "Fujian just ended its drought, and now Guangzhou is flooding. Old Man Heaven, are you blind? Don't you know where the rain should fall? Sigh... I only pray the rain stops soon."

A moment later, another figure in a straw rain cloak hurried in from outside the prefectural office.

"Prefect." The newcomer cupped his hands in greeting—it was the Works Office clerk.

At present, Nan'ao's administrative reforms had only just advanced to the provincial level; the prefectures and counties still maintained their original systems.

Guangzhou Prefecture still had its original three offices and six bureaus, though many of the former petty clerks had been arrested for soliciting bribes. Now the various clerks and bureau heads had all been replaced with men from Nan'ao Island. The Works Office clerk said, "Prefect, I have ordered the corvée squad to recruit laborers for emergency repairs on all the city's dikes. As long as the rain doesn't get heavier, we should soon have the flooding under control."

Ye Yifan's expression relaxed somewhat: "If the laborers aren't enough, send word to Garrison Commander Zhao and have the city garrison soldiers help repair the dikes."

"Very well." The Works Office clerk acknowledged and hurried back out.

Boom!

At that very moment, a dull clap of thunder sounded from the sky, and Ye Yifan felt deeply agitated.

He remained in the main hall until late into the night. Throughout, the various bureaus came to report in succession; the news was generally favorable, and the flooding within the city was gradually receding. His newlywed wife, née Lu, entered the prefectural hall supported by a maidservant, wearing a straw rain cloak.

Ye Yifan was buried in reviewing documents and, hearing footsteps, said without raising his head, "What is it?"

Lu said with concern, "Husband, I made you a bowl of soup—drink it while it's hot."

Ye Yifan looked up in surprise and saw his wife's smiling face in the dim lamplight. He couldn't help rising and walking over to her: "The water is this deep—why did you come?"

Lady Lu said, "Naturally I came through the water. If you, my lord, can wade through it, then I can too. Come now, my lord, drink the soup while it's hot."

The maidservant took a bowl of chicken soup from the food hamper, still warm.

"My mistress said that you, my lord, have the people's welfare at heart. With this heavy rain flooding the city, she knew you would be up late working, so she made this soup with her own hands and insisted we bring it to you."

Lady Lu blushed shyly and said in a low voice, "You talk too much. Go tidy up the room!"

The maidservant rose with a smile and headed to the rear courtyard of the government office.

Every government office in the Ming dynasty had a rear courtyard with living quarters prepared for the chief official and his family.

But the fashion of the time favored extravagance, and the rear courtyards of government offices were rather crude, so officials generally found separate lodgings elsewhere in the city.

Since Ye Yifan had taken office, however, he had spent no few nights at the government office, so often that his wife and maidservant had become quite familiar with the place.

Ye Yifan drank his chicken soup in the main hall while his wife sorted his official documents beside him, then ground ink for him.

The sound of wind and rain filled his ears; before his eyes were candlelight and a beautiful companion; at the tip of his nose was the fragrant aroma of chicken soup.

Ye Yifan felt this scene was extraordinarily warm and tender.

Lady Lu seemed to sense something and looked over as well, exchanging a smile with her husband.

Just then, a fierce gust of wind swept past, bringing with it a tremendous roar, blowing even the lid of the food hamper tumbling across the hall.

Fortunately, the documents were held down by Lady Lu's paperweights and did not scatter.

The wind rose strangely. Ye Yifan set down his spoon and gazed intently toward the outdoors.

Sure enough, before long another fierce gust came, and then the rain suddenly intensified.

Ye Yifan started up in alarm. As a native of Fujian, he was all too familiar with this sight.

This was a typhoon!

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen