Chapter 307: The Thunder Pool and the Spider Gu

At these words, all the generals turned pale with shock.

Someone advised: "Your Excellency, the rebel fleet is trapped in the Yangtze where they can't deploy their strength. If you let them into Poyang Lake, it would be like a fish returning to water — disadvantageous for us!" Mao Yuanyi said: "Has Your Excellency forgotten the Battle of Poyang Lake two hundred years ago? At that time, Chen Youliang came from the direction of Wuchang and entered Poyang Lake first to besiege Hongdu (Nanchang), but he failed to guard Nanhu Zui, allowing the Founding Emperor's fleet to charge straight in — only to be surrounded and annihilated by the Founding Emperor at Poyang Lake."

The Battle of Poyang Lake was the most important battle in Zhu Yuanzhang's unification of the empire, and every general present knew it like the back of their hand.

"We have many ships, but on the narrow river surface we likewise cannot deploy well. If we stubbornly hold Nanhu Zui and recklessly attack on the Yangtze, we'd instead let the rebels exploit their artillery advantage."

Yuan Chonghuan pointed to the sand table before him as he spoke.

"Gentlemen, please look — the waters of Poyang Lake are vast, but from the lake mouth to the Old Lord's Temple area, the waterway winds and narrows, with reefs standing everywhere and many dangerous shoals and whirlpools. What I intend to do is show weakness to the enemy, withdraw the entire force south of Xieshan, lure the rebels into the lake mouth, then surround and annihilate them."

This plan was extremely risky — no normal commander would use it. Clearly the enemy had come from afar, so all the offensive pressure was on them; for the Ming army to hold fast and grind the enemy down was the sound strategy.

But Yuan Chonghuan had been backed into a corner by the Emperor and had no choice but to resort to a dangerous gambit.

Next, Yuan Chonghuan made numerous other arrangements — hiding warships in the upper reaches of the Yangtze west of Nanhu Zui, sinking wooden stakes beneath the water at Nanhu Zui, concealing cannons at different positions on both banks, and preparing fire ships.

Every matter was utterly trivial and tedious, yet Yuan Chonghuan handled it all personally, exhausting his mind and energy.

At last everything was arranged, and Yuan Chonghuan said: "We can't just withdraw like this — we must feign defeat to lure the enemy in.

The rebel troops excel at naval warfare and are utterly cunning, so this battle must not merely be a loss — it must be a devastating, bloody loss, so that the rebels take the bait."

The naval commanders under Yuan Chonghuan all vied to volunteer for the mission.

After weighing his choices, he ultimately selected Wang Xi to go into battle — a man who was the Commander of the naval camp at Juehua Island in Liaodong, and one of the few confidants Yuan Chonghuan had among his naval officers.

Only by sending him into battle could Yuan Chonghuan be confident that the feigned defeat would not turn into a real one.

Wang Xi clasped his fists and said: "Please, Supreme Commander, give me twenty fire ships. The northwest wind has been strong lately, and with wind and current in our favor, this is the perfect opportunity for a fire attack. With fire ships backing me, I might even smash straight through the enemy formation!"

Yuan Chonghuan laughed heartily: "Good! Then I'll give you fifty fire ships!"

"Thank you, Your Excellency!"

Because the Ming army held both Nanhu Zui and Jingjiang Kou, they could freely shift troops between the Yangtze and Poyang Lake. That night, Wang Xi's fire ships and warships set out for the Yangtze — not counting the fire ships, there were over a hundred large and small warships, all fully prepared.

Around the fourth watch the next day, Wang Xi ordered the fleet to sail without ship lanterns — fire ships in front, warships behind — attacking toward the Nan'ao anchorage.

Just as they emerged from Jingjiang Kou, a red signal flare burst into the sky over the river.

Wang Xi cursed inwardly at how tight the enemy's reconnaissance was, then ordered his ships to light their lanterns and charge downstream at full speed.

A northwest wind was blowing across the river, and Wang Xi's fleet had wind and current in their favor, moving at great speed. By moonlight, the tall hulls of the Nan'ao fleet were already visible. "Whoosh!"

Flames suddenly erupted from the lead ships — ahead of the fleet, fifty fire ships were ignited one after another, turning the river water a blazing red.

The Nan'ao fleet spotted the fire ships and opened fire with their broadside cannons. Thunderous gunfire rolled across both banks of the Yangtze. After several volleys, several fire ships were struck, and with tung oil splashing everywhere, they exploded into brilliant balls of fire.

But there were still over fifty fire ships, and they were racing downstream with the current — it was simply impossible to sink them all with shipboard cannons.

The remaining fire ships plunged headlong into the Nan'ao formation, and towering flames erupted. Wang Xi shouted excitedly: "It's working! Burn! Burn, damn it!" The fire ships gradually clustered together, the blaze growing ever larger until it formed a wall of fire, with flames rising several zhang high.

Just then, another volley of cannon fire rang out — several more fire ships were sunk, and even some of Wang Xi's warships took hits.

Wang Xi sneered inwardly, dismissing it as nothing more than the desperate struggle of a cornered beast.

As the warships drew closer and closer to the fire ships, the crews could finally see clearly — the fire ships had never plunged into the Nan'ao fleet at all. They had been stopped upstream, a hundred paces away.

Panic seized Wang Xi, and he quickly called out: "Slow the ships!"

On one bird boat, Luo Dagu gripped a bamboo pole a mere two zhang long and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Everyone keep sharp now — hook every single one that comes through, don't let any fire ship break into the fleet!"

The crewmen shouted their assent in unison.

Fifty paces upstream of them, the fire ships had already been stopped by a temporary river-blocking cable.

This simple river-blocking cable was designed by Lin Qian, inspired by the Ming dynasty's river-blocking cables, and was purpose-built to stop fire ships.

The cable used several bird boats as floats, with a simple, lightweight structure that could be deployed on the river at any time.

The main body of the cable was made of abaca rope — a top-grade ship-cable material native to the southern part of Luzon and Mindanao. Abaca ship cables far surpassed the palm-fiber ropes used by the Ming army in tensile strength, water resistance, fatigue resistance, and every other respect.

With the Ming army's current technical means, even cutting through a thick palm-fiber rope required a great axe — let alone cutting through abaca rope.

Moreover, the abaca rope used for the river-blocking cable had been soaked in alum water in advance, and before each night's deployment, it was wrapped in wet river mud, so it could not easily be burned through. The bird boats serving as floats had all flammable materials removed — no deckhouses, no sails, no rigging — and were coated with wet mud and wet animal hides, carrying fireproofing to the absolute extreme.

Each boat's hold was filled with river water, mud, and sand, giving them enormous deadweight and extremely deep drafts. With their hulls perpendicular to the river current, they created tremendous water resistance, and they were anchored as well — even a Haicang ship ramming into them couldn't budge them.

What's more, the Ming fire ships were all shallow boats and fishing vessels — the largest among them no bigger than a bird boat. Running into the Nan'ao temporary river-blocking cable, they simply couldn't break through, and could hardly burn through the cable either — they could only cluster together and burn themselves out.

The temporary river-blocking cable sat about a hundred paces from the Nan'ao fleet, and between them patrolled more than twenty bird boats, each with several men aboard holding two-zhang bamboo poles tipped with barbs and spikes, looking like oversized Han halberds.

If any fire ship managed to slip past the river-blocking cable, it would be hooked by the patrolling bird boats and towed to shore.

Luo Dagu's bird boat was doing exactly that.

The Ming sentry boats could hardly approach the Nan'ao naval formation, so although they knew the Nan'ao fleet stretched a line of bird boats across the river front every night, they had no idea what purpose they served. Seeing the fire ships gradually burn out, Wang Xi said in a low voice: "Charge!"

He was here to feign an attack and lure the enemy — even if it was dangerous, he had to grit his teeth and charge hard.

The temporary river-blocking cable was meant to stop fire ships and had no soldiers stationed on it, so when the Ming warships attacked, they easily hacked through the connections between the abaca rope and the hulls with great axes and broke through. The fleet shot downstream like an arrow loosed from a bow.

Seeing this, Luo Dagu ordered the bird boats to scatter and take cover.

Aboard the Zhulong, Lin Qian watched through his telescope as the enemy fleet charged fearlessly toward them, and said calmly: "Open fire."

Bailangzai relayed the order in a loud voice.

Firelight flared along the Zhulong's broadside, illuminating the river surface in an instant. Cannon thunder rolled one after another, deafening to the ears.

Though the Yangtze was wide, it had many shallow shoals, and the main channel was narrow — the Nan'ao fleet could not deploy in full.

Only eight gunboats of fifth-rate and above formed the line of battle at the front.

But even so, their broadside cannons totaled nearly two hundred guns. Under the barrage, solid shot fell as thick as grapeshot, and grapeshot fell as dense as a net.

After several volleys, over a dozen Ming ships were hit — especially the lead warships, which were nearly blown completely apart. Not a single intact corpse remained on their decks; casualties were extremely heavy.

The lookout shouted: "Fifty paces!"

The narrow channel limited the battle line's maneuverability, leaving them no choice but to stand fast and pound away with their guns.

Besides, these Ming troops were using old-style firearms — even if they closed to close range, it wouldn't matter. Reckless maneuvering that ran them aground would only do more harm.

On the gun deck, the gunners had already switched to the smallest grapeshot.

At a furious roar from the gunnery chief, the broadside cannons' muzzle flashes lit up the river surface as bright as day in an instant.

Through the gunsmoke, grapeshot flew out, a patch of darkness visibly streaking through the air.

Only the sound of violent splashing came from the river, followed by flying wood splinters and the screams of soldiers; even fifty-plus paces away, one could smell a hint of sweet, bloody odor amid the sulfur.

The surviving Ming troops fought back with tiger-crouch cannons, dragon-spitting-water, Folangji cannons, and the like, putting up a tenacious fight — for a moment they even inflicted casualties on the Nan'ao navy. On the open decks of every ship, the Folangji cannons that had not been used in ten thousand years all opened fire at once; the many cannon blasts mingled together, echoing and resounding along the shores of Pengli, lingering long without ceasing.

"Twenty paces!" the lookout on the Candle Dragon shouted.

Lin Qian said in a low voice: "Order the Sea Wolf ships to move forward and engage."

The five-colored flags, coordinated with signal lights and flares, passed the order; more than thirty Sea Wolf ships slipped out through the gaps in the battle line and charged straight at the Ming warships. In the instant the two fleets crossed paths, the Sea Wolf ships fired from both port and starboard simultaneously; the entire river surface was lit by the muzzle flashes, blazing like a river of stars.

Moments later, signs of rout appeared among the Ming troops, and more and more ships quickly turned about and withdrew.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

The sound of the gong signaling retreat rang out across the river.

This battle was won without any suspense, causing many Nan'ao naval commanders to heave a long sigh of relief.

After all, they had been anchored here for a full month now; Yuan Chonghuan had held fast and refused to come out, and the helmsman had not attacked either. With provisions visibly dwindling and the dry season fast approaching, everyone had been tense with anxiety.

Today's battle had finally opened a breakthrough.

Seeing the Ming troops retreat, the Sea Wolf ships immediately gave chase at their heels.

Lin Qian said: "Order the Sea Wolf ships to fall back."

At these words, everyone was greatly puzzled. Bailangzai said: "Helmsman, let's press the attack while we have the chance!"

A staff officer aboard also said: "Helmsman, the enemy has lost and their morale is surely broken. We can seize the opportunity to take Jingjiang Mouth and Nanhu Point, and sail straight into Poyang Lake!"

But Lin Qian merely shook his head and said: "The waterways in this area are treacherous. Chasing a defeated enemy in the dark is too dangerous. The pressure to attack is on the Ming side anyway — there's no need for us to rush."

When attacking the Three Hills of Jingkou, Lin Qian had just reined in military discipline; at this moment no one dared to act rashly, and all could only obey orders.

Aboard Wang Ying's flagship.

The lookout said: "The enemy has retreated."

Wang Ying turned to look back and saw that not only had those dozen-odd galleon ships not moved, even the pursuing Sea Wolf ships had all pulled back.

In anger he pounded the railing with his fist and raged: "A pack of ball-less cowards! Cough, cough, cough..."

This movement pulled at his wound, causing him to cough up several mouthfuls of fresh blood. During the attack just now, a grapeshot round had struck him square in the lower left chest; since then he had been coughing blood without stop and breathing with difficulty. He suspected his lung was injured, and feared his life was not long for this world.

Thinking of how many brothers had been lost in this battle, how many warships had been sunk, and how even his own life was now spent, yet the plan to lure the enemy out had still fallen short at the final step — a nameless rage surged in his heart, and he coughed up even more blood, his face as pale as paper.

An hour later, the Ming naval force returned to the great camp at Xie Mountain. Wang Ying was already breathing as faint as a thread of silk; he was carried off the ship and brought before Yuan Chonghuan.

Wang Ying struggled to rise, then knelt and said apologetically: "Your Excellency, this subordinate... cough... this subordinate has failed what Your Excellency entrusted..."

Seeing this trusted confidant who had followed him since Liaodong come to such an end, Yuan Chonghuan felt a wave of grief in his heart.

Yuan Chonghuan helped Wang Ying up and personally supported him back to the camp tent. Along the way he ordered his men to summon the finest military physician to treat his wounds, to let him rest well, and that once the wound healed, they would wipe out the rebel troops together...

Wang Ying listened quietly the whole way, replying with a word or two from time to time, but mostly just coughing.

Yuan Chonghuan felt his voice growing fainter and fainter, his body heavier and heavier, and even his coughing weakening. Casually taking hold of his wrist, he found the pulse had already stopped.

The short stretch of several dozen paces from the dock to the camp tent — in the end, he never made it.

Yuan Chonghuan slowly laid Wang Ying's corpse down. Covered in blood himself, he suppressed his fury and asked: "How many dead and wounded?"

The subordinate commander who had returned with him said: "We lost thirty ships, with roughly five hundred dead and wounded."

Yuan Chonghuan was silent for a long while, then said: "Pull back the ambush forces at Nanhu Point, Jingjiang Mouth, and the other positions as well. Give up Xie Mountain too. The entire army withdraws to the waters of Lord Lao Temple."

Past the waters of Lord Lao Temple, ahead lay the open, plain-like expanse of Poyang Lake. Once Lord Lao Temple fell, there would be no more natural defenses to hold.

This move of Yuan Chonghuan's was dangerous to the extreme, but he had no choice. To force Yuan Chonghuan into battle, Lin Qian had sent ships to provoke and harass beneath the walls of Nanjing from time to time, stirring up a stream of urgent reports from Nanjing sent one after another to Beijing.

On the other side, the Nan'ao naval force had also seized control of the canal mouth at Guazhou. Though the grain transport had not yet been cut off, having the empire's north-south lifeline gripped in another's hand was hardly a comfortable feeling.

Today, another urgent dispatch urging battle had arrived from the capital, ordering Yuan Chonghuan to swiftly annihilate the rebels.

The rebel Lin had been facing off against him across the river for over a month now, bearing the pressure of logistics yet stubbornly refusing to launch a single attack, able to hold the line steady and not fall for the plan to lure him out.

And the Emperor's patience was far less than that of this Lin, who came from sea bandit stock.

Yuan Chonghuan found it utterly absurd.

Still, Yuan Chonghuan was also a stubborn, self-opinionated man who prided himself on his talents — especially his passion for military affairs.

For instance, in the second year of Tianqi, when Guangning fell and panic gripped the court and the country alike, Yuan Chonghuan — then serving as Bureau Secretary in the Ministry of War — rode out of the pass alone to survey the terrain, then spoke a startling declaration: "Give me troops, horses, money, and grain, and I alone am enough to hold this position."

With a temperament like his, making him admit he could not defeat Lin Qian was truly more painful than killing him.

That was why Qian Longxi had resorted to provocation to force him into battle.

After Yuan Chonghuan arrived in Jiangxi, he had shrunk into defensive positions everywhere, refusing to engage Lin Qian — not because he feared Lin Qian, but because the finest troops of Jiangnan were all in his hands, a matter of grave consequence; he merely sought stability.

Now that he was about to stake everything on one throw, even if the Nan'ao naval force truly did charge into Poyang Lake, what of it?

Yuan Chonghuan commanded no fewer than twenty thousand naval troops, with over a thousand warships of various sizes — including nearly two hundred swift wolf ships, ten Shock-the-Sea Tigers, and even his flagship was a newly built Fujian junk. All told, his cannons numbered close to a thousand.

If it truly came to battle on Poyang Lake, whether one would be like the Hongwu Emperor who established the realm on all sides, or like Chen Youliang who fed the fish and shrimp of the lake — that remained to be seen.

The next morning, the Ming troops at Hukou and other places, following Yuan Chonghuan's orders, abandoned their armor and retreated in the direction of Lord Lao Temple.

Calculating the distance, it was equivalent to retreating nearly a hundred li in one go.

But three days passed, and still the Nan'ao forces never came to attack, leaving Yuan Chonghuan frantic with anxiety, scratching his head and ears — he felt that the dynamic of attack and defense had somehow inexplicably reversed.

It was now nearly mid-August. In another month, the Yangtze's water volume would gradually decrease, and by October the dry season would officially begin. Why was the rebel Lin not anxious in the slightest?

Even if the rebel troops could flee before the dry season, with such a huge fleet anchored on the river, how were they solving their supply problem?

Hukou was separated from the mouth of the Yangtze by fourteen hundred li, and from Zhoushan by nearly seventeen hundred li.

Transporting grain over such distances incurred enormous losses. What gave the rebel Lin the confidence to keep stalling?

Yuan Chonghuan knew that Lin had not sent men ashore to requisition grain, and moreover there were no large prefectures or counties in this area — no place for Lin to levy grain from. Yuan Chonghuan racked his brains without finding an answer, so he sent Han Runchang to investigate. The result shocked him greatly.

The rebel Lin was actually doing business along both banks of the Yangtze!

Han Runchang clasped his hands and reported: "According to the common folk near Leichi, the people at first dared not make contact with the rebels. But gradually they discovered that the rebels paid very promptly — and paid entirely in silver dollars. This reputation spread throughout the area around Leichi...

To this day, a regular market has formed by the shores of Leichi — a small market every three days, a large market every six days..."

Leichi was a large cluster of lakes north of Poyang Lake; the famous saying "dare not cross the line of Leichi" originated from this very place.

The southern shore of Leichi suffered frequent floods, unstable geology, and rampant warfare and banditry, so it had always been sparsely populated, with no large prefectures or counties, only a scattering of villages.

And most terrifying of all, this place was rife with spider gu, a disease where the sufferer's limbs grew weak and thin while only the abdomen swelled, making them look like a spider with thin legs and a big belly—hence the name. Among the common folk it was also called the big-belly disease.

Ming dynasty medical texts listed four terminal illnesses—wind, consumption, drum, and blockage—where "drum" referred to this very disease.

The incidence of spider gu was extremely high; those afflicted were certain to die within a few years. In the Leichi area, a dozen or more villages had been wiped out entirely this way, making that godforsaken place even more desolate.

Lin Qian was actually doing business in a place like this?

Not to mention whether anyone would come to the market—wasn't Lin Qian afraid his army would catch the gu too?

Han Runchang said: "The traitor Lin not only isn't afraid, he's actually sent military physicians to treat the sick, and while at it, cleared out the bandits near Leichi. According to the Nan'ao physicians, spider gu hides inside oncomelania snails and can move through water, so as long as one doesn't go into the water, doesn't drink unboiled water, and doesn't catch the snails, one will be safe.

The treatment method is to boil pumpkin seeds with betel nut into a decoction..."

Yuan Chonghuan gave a cold snort and said: "Spider gu originates from water poison—who doesn't know that?"

He didn't ask whether the treatment was effective or not; since a market had already formed in the Leichi area, the prevention measures must have had some effect.

On the shores of Poyang Lake, there were also many commoners afflicted with spider gu. Yuan Chonghuan had Han Runchang pass the method to the physicians, telling them to diagnose and treat the people of Jiangxi. After doing all this, Yuan Chonghuan couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion, thinking to himself that the commoners' support for the rebels wasn't entirely due to being deceived—at least the traitor Lin had truly done some practical things.

But then he thought of how Lin Qian, while facing off against him, could still dispatch troops north of the river to treat the sick and suppress bandits, and a feeling of being slighted welled up within him. Han Runchang continued: "When I went north of the river, I saw that the Nan'ao fleet, besides silver, had also brought small quantities of brown sugar, salt, dried meat, and such, making the Leichi market even more prosperous. Grain merchants from Wangjiang County and Huangmei County would even come occasionally."

Yuan Chonghuan sighed, realizing it was no longer possible to wait for the Nan'ao army to exhaust its supplies. If he waited any longer, Lin Qian might well build shore fortifications north of the river.

But neither could he sail out of the Yangtze estuary to fight Lin Qian—he would rather be dismissed or beheaded by the Emperor than do something that would doom his entire army. After thinking it over and over, Yuan Chonghuan had no choice but to write a letter of challenge and order someone to deliver it to Lin Qian.

The next day happened to be the sixth-day grand market at Leichi, and people from the surrounding areas flocked in to exchange goods.

Lin Qian sat at a tea stall, watching the commoners coming and going in the market, and from time to time he would see several patients with swollen bellies, their faces full of worry. Zheng Zhilong said: "Helmsman, no need to worry—these patients aren't contagious."

The big-belly disease had been circulating in Jiangnan for over a thousand years. Through countless bones and corpses, the common people had already figured out its pattern: apart from contact with water, there was no other mode of transmission.

And Lin Qian knew that this disease was actually called schistosomiasis, spread by parasitic worms, with the oncomelania snail being the parasite's only intermediate host. Without passing through the snail stage, the eggs excreted by patients could hardly infect people, so the market placed no restrictions on patients entering or leaving.

And the fish and shrimp in Leichi were not hosts for the parasite either, nor were the rice and other grain crops around the area affected, so anything bought as military provisions could be eaten with confidence. In later ages, this disease had basically been brought under control in the early years of the founding of the nation, and the new generation of common people knew almost nothing about it.

Now, hearing with his own ears the tragic sight of entire villages dying out, and seeing with his own eyes the big-bellied patients, he felt deeply moved inside.

The common people should not have to die young and unjustly, generation after generation!

Lin Qian knew the disease's mechanism, so he had the ship's physicians treat patients with deworming medicine—namely pumpkin seeds and betel nut—and it did prove remarkably effective. Of course, this so-called remarkable effect, in Lin Qian's view, merely meant fewer people died; most patients would still die, the transmission route was still not cut off, the snails were still alive and well, and more healthy people would still be parasitized.

To truly eradicate this disease, one would have to eradicate the snails—to mobilize the strength of the masses, with the whole people joining in snail elimination, requiring large-scale draining of water and burning of fields in dry season, reclaiming land from lakes, draining standing water, spreading poison, controlling drinking water, and managing human waste.

The strength of the Great Ming couldn't accomplish it, and Nan'ao couldn't do it now either. It would require a powerful, unified central government mobilizing the nation's full strength to push it through.

Aside from schistosomiasis, there were many other diseases tormenting the common people—smallpox, plague, filariasis, goiter, and so on. If one really started listing them, it would go on endlessly like a rapid-fire monologue.

Some diseases Lin Qian at least knew how to treat—goiter, for instance, was caused by iodine deficiency and required eating more seafood, such as kelp, seaweed, and ocean fish.

But most diseases had different names in the Ming than in later ages, with bizarre and varied symptoms. Lin Qian wasn't trained in medicine, so he was at a loss. For example, in the southwest there was a disease called "heart-attack flip" where people died suddenly without any warning; in severe cases, an entire village would die overnight. Whether it was even a disease or ghostly vengeance was still debated in the Ming medical community.

Only through the advancement of science could the causes of these diseases be determined.

And all of this required the land of Cathay to have a new government as its backing—a new government that respected science and human life, a government willing to place the lives and deaths of the common people before dreams of imperial glory.

At this moment, gazing at those patients with their swollen bellies carefully asking about prices, Lin Qian felt nothing but heavy responsibility on his shoulders. The common people of Cathay could not go on living like this.

Just then, a personal guard brought in Yuan Chonghuan's messenger.

The messenger glanced at the market, his eyes full of contempt and disdain, and said: "Chief, aren't you afraid of courting disaster by staying in a place like this?" Lin Qian was already in a bad mood, and upon hearing this, he said coldly: "Less nonsense—what did that barbarian Yuan send you here for?"

"Chief" was a term from the martial world, no longer fitting for someone of Lin Qian's current standing. Since the messenger showed him no respect, Lin Qian saw no need to be courteous either.

Chastened, the messenger produced Yuan Chonghuan's letter of challenge.

Lin Qian had the physicians inspect it, then opened it, and saw that the letter was written quite politely, speaking of inviting Lin Qian to "drift a boat on Poyang Lake, and together enjoy the misty rain of Pengli."

It also said: "Let us each rely on our sails and masts to realize our ambitions, each displaying the strategies within our breasts. It is my only wish that when our two armies meet, we do not harm the fishermen and woodcutters on the lake."

After reading it, Lin Qian said: "Go back and tell His Excellency Yuan that I'll wait for him on the Yangtze. Now get lost."

After the messenger was driven away, Zheng Zhilong said: "Helmsman, after mid-September in the Yangtze basin, the water level will gradually drop. We need to leave time to reach the sea—we can't afford to be bogged down much longer."

Bai Qing said: "I say that barbarian Yuan is nothing but a turtle hiding in its shell—he won't come fight us. Why not just go downstream and attack Nanjing? I don't believe that barbarian Yuan won't come to its rescue."

Zheng Zhilong frowned and said: "No. Setting aside whether we could even take it, if we really did strike at Nanjing and threw the north into chaos, what then?" The two argued a few more rounds, until Lin Qian slowly said: "Who said I intend to be bogged down trading blows with that barbarian Yuan?"

Everyone fell silent, looking at Lin Qian in disbelief.

They heard him say calmly: "Have the entire army inspect their weapons and equipment. In three days, we set out for Poyang Lake!"

Yahei

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