Chapter 2097: Taizong Chronicles 39: The Beginning of the State of Gouwu

"One pull of gold, hey-yo, two pulls of silver, hey-yo, three pulls of jewels sparkling bright."

At the outer harbor of Shanghai County, accompanied by the bold, powerful, high-pitched and resounding sail-raising work chant, under the strenuous pulling of a dozen or so sailors, the enormous sail slowly rose along the mast until it was fully spread, taut with tension, like a wing hanging from the heavens.

This was a three-masted Fujian junk. Though not as massive as the treasure ships, it was equally filled with the "industrial beauty" of this era, and every part of the vessel reflected the resolute bearing of the sea-faring adventurers of the Great Han era.

Moreover, compared to the treasure ships that were practically wonders, the Fujian junk was far more popular among merchants and commoners alike — the hull design was more suitable, the handling more agile and flexible, the speed faster, the cargo capacity not inconsiderable, and most importantly, the price was far more affordable. One could be had for 8,000–10,000 strings of cash, though of course that was the "factory price"; in reality it was higher, since the shipyards naturally wanted to make big profits. But some things simply couldn't be bought with money alone.

Compared to civilian vessels, the development of naval warships naturally advanced even faster, having long since passed the era of craving size and completeness. Especially after the first generation of gunboats officially entered service, the preference shifted toward sturdiness, speed, and agility.

In fact, by the fourth year of Yongxi, the treasure ships that had once been a marvel of the East Asian seas were no longer in vogue — the construction costs were simply too high, and the maintenance and operating costs were equally steep.

Of course, it was only ordinary people who couldn't afford to buy or maintain them. Within the government and military systems, they were still used extensively — for one thing, both could marshal sufficient manpower and financial resources to operate and maintain the vessels; for another, treasure ships held greater value for many bulk transport needs, such as the military supplies and equipment still being shipped to the garrisons in the South Seas.

"Oh-ho, ye-ho! Ah-jia-li-la, ah-hai!" Amid the enthusiastic anchor-raising chant, the heavy anchor was hauled up from the water. With the mooring lines cast off, the junk, maneuvered by the sailors aboard, cut through the waves, slowly departing the harbor and heading for the mouth of the Yangtze, leaving behind a trail of rippling water and churning muddy waves.

Berths at Shanghai harbor were always in short supply. Before long, guided by a pilot boat, another junk sailed in, docked alongside, dropped anchor, and tied up.

Then the tax collector came aboard to inspect, register, and levy duties, while the ship's master deftly summoned the loading foreman from the dock and gave him a round of instructions.

Everything went smoothly. This was a cargo vessel from Goryeo, and the shipowner was from the Cui clan, a great family of Goryeo. With such credentials, and being a friendly state, the harbor naturally wouldn't treat them shabbily. The Great Han and Goryeo were uncle-and-nephew states, after all, with close relations. Merchants from Goryeo often enjoyed certain privileges within the country, for no other reason than that they brought in genuine gold and silver, as well as large quantities of copper and iron ore.

Under the foreman's arrangements, several dozen laborers began bustling about, working as diligently as worker ants to unload cargo from the ship. Among this crowd of common toilers, one middle-aged man looked somewhat out of place — not exactly a crane among chickens, but he was nonetheless someone you could pick out of the crowd at a glance.

He worked with obvious vigor. Where others carried one bundle of goods, he could carry two at once, and his steps remained steady, without even a heavy breath. In the dead of winter, he wore only a single thin garment, and his bare shoulders bore not just knotted, powerful muscles but also several fierce, hideous scars.

His face was weathered by wind and frost, and his eyes were resolute yet faintly wild. Even as he toiled on the dock, he carefully observed the vessels coming and going in the harbor, as if gazing upon one breathtaking beauty after another.

Under normal circumstances, a man with such bearing would never have fallen to the level of a dock laborer. But a tiger fallen to the plains, a dragon playing in the shallows — behind it all, there was a story.

This man was named Shen Bailong, a native of Changguo (Zhoushan Island), from a family of fishermen for generations. Strong and powerfully built since childhood, he had come to the Shanghai waterfront to make his way at the age of twenty. Through sheer grit and willingness to fight, he had carved out a name for himself on the docks, earning the nickname "Shen Bailong."

But in the end, coming from the lowest rungs of society, making something of yourself meant fighting your way up every step. Relying on brute labor alone would never amount to much, and Shen Bailong was clearly not a man content with mediocrity. Besides working the docks, every year he would also specifically sign on for a foreign trading voyage.

So a year ago, having accumulated a certain amount of capital through some special means (such as theft and robbery), Shen Bailong scraped together a cargo ship, loaded it with cloth, medicinal herbs, ironware, and porcelain, and, taking along several dozen brothers, set out to sea to begin his own maritime shipping business.

His destination at the time was Jinlan Prefecture, the royal city of the Kingdom of Linyi. That place was undergoing major development and needed large quantities of all sorts of resources from the mother country. Under normal circumstances, so long as he reached Jinlan Harbor, whether he brought back gold and silver or local products like bluewood, nanmu incense, and ivory, his goods would multiply several times in value without any problem.

But Shen Bailong was not a man favored by heaven. Even with thorough preparations, not long after setting sail, before he had even crossed the Liuqiu Strait, he was robbed. A band of pirates who seemed to come out of nowhere stripped Shen Bailong clean — cargo and ship alike.

Fortunately, the pirates didn't "exterminate them to the last." They gave Shen Bailong and his men a few small rafts and told them to swim back to the mainland on their own. If they survived, it was heaven's will; if not, the ocean had already claimed far too many lives.

Shen Bailong was lucky again. Drifting along with the currents, he floated all the way to Liuqiu Island, where fishermen rescued him. But of the brothers who had gone to sea with him, some were dead, some were missing — only three were saved along with him.

That experience was, of course, etched into Shen Bailong's memory, unforgettable to this day. He was no good man — he even considered himself a ruthless one, for how else could he have made his stand on the Shanghai waterfront? But by the same token, there were clearly people in this world even more ruthless than he was.

Shen Bailong was certainly not crushed by it. On the contrary, it stirred up his anger and his ambition. Falling back on his old trade, he spent several months fishing around the Ryukyu Islands, repaying the lifesaving kindness as best he could, saving up enough for the journey home, and then, with the three brothers who had refused to abandon him, returned to the Shanghai waterfront.

But the winds of change here had shifted faster than anyone could imagine. After half a year without sight or sound of him, the legend of "Brother Bailong" had all but vanished from the streets. The dock where he had once scraped out a living had been taken over by another crew, and as for his old connections — no need to even mention them. Even if those people were merely the lackeys of the powerful and wealthy, when had they ever truly treated men like him as human beings?

For Shen Bailong, everything seemed to have returned to the starting point. He would have to begin all over again — except, unlike ten years ago, he was no longer young, and he had no more years left to squander.

Faced with this impasse, he naturally had to seek a breakthrough. Shen Bailong at one point considered resuming another old trade — finding some foreign merchants and knocking them over for a job, quickly rebuilding his capital.

But after some investigation, he gave up the idea. A man had to walk the straight and narrow!

Of course, the fundamental reason was that after all these years, traveling merchants had more or less learned their lessons. Their guard was up, and none of them were easy marks.

On the other hand, the government's crackdown on such matters had grown increasingly severe. The various trade guilds and gangs — whether to maintain market stability, bow to official authority, or simply to protect their own turf — had also strengthened their defenses against roving bandits and robbers. Of course, the infighting and bloodshed within the trade itself, between guilds, was another matter entirely.

In short, this particular bowl of rice wasn't as easy to eat as it used to be. In that robbery case from autumn, the Hubei merchant had lost everything, his life included, but the gang of Jiangbei bandits who had done the deed hadn't fared any better — they were all drowned in the river, and the bandit leader's corpse was still hanging by the seaside, serving as a signpost for passing ships.

Therefore, Zhang Bailong ultimately decided to first be a law-abiding citizen, settle down for the time being, and take up the old trade he least wanted to do — manual labor.

Over these past few months, he earned barely enough to feed himself with hard, bitter work, all the while reflecting on the past ten years of his life. He came to realize deeply that his former glory had been nothing more than a patch of ground on a single dock. Along the two rivers of Song, and across the two prefectures of Su and Xiu, how many similar docks and cargo yards were there? In the end, he was still a small man.

Were it not for a stubborn, upward-striving spirit sustaining him, the brothers who had followed him through life and death depending on him, and the elders of his fishing village on Changguo Island waiting for him, he might well have sunk into despair under the weight of his disappointment and the crushing toll of physical labor.

Here on this dock, with every piece of cargo he moved, every bundle he carried, the oppression in Shen Bailong's heart grew heavier by a measure.

After a full day of toil from dawn to dusk, perhaps the only thing worth being happy about was that it was payday.

At the various docks of the Shanghai waterfront, the rates and timing of wage settlement were inconsistent — some paid monthly, some semi-monthly, some every ten days, some every five — but never daily. Clearly, the former arrangements were more convenient for control and exploitation.

As luck would have it, the dock where Shen Bailong worked was none other than Dock Number Three, where he had first made his name. He wasn't eager to collect his wages either, and didn't go himself, instead having his brother Shen Haiqiong collect them on his behalf — a younger brother from the same village who had been through life and death with him.

As for Shen Bailong himself, after finishing his shift, he threw on a padded robe and sat on the pier, staring blankly into the distance. The waves crashed endlessly, and the winter sea wind cut to the bone, but Shen Bailong felt none of it.

"Big brother!" It was only when his brother Shen Haiqiong's voice came, tinged with a hint of grievance and anger, that he stirred. The other brothers beside him wore the same indignant expressions.

If there was one trait that defined Shen Bailong most, it was probably his innate charisma. He had returned to Shanghai with only four men, and within a few months, a dozen or so brothers had gathered around him again, supporting one another, huddling together for warmth, surviving together on this Shanghai waterfront.

"What happened?" Shen Bailong asked.

Shen Haiqiong pulled a few strings of cash from his bosom — estimated at less than four strings in total — and said: "Zhou Laizi docked our wages again. This time it's even worse — every brother had 30 wen deducted. He says it's Lord Gong's order, and from now on, eating and sleeping on the dock will cost money too."

Hearing this, Shen Bailong's brows immediately knit together, the shadow between them visibly deepening. He looked up at the brothers gathered around him — all of them burning with righteous indignation. They were all good men, earning hard-won wages, enduring humiliation and insult in silence day after day, and still their sweat and toil had to be skimmed by petty scoundrels!

All eyes were fixed on him. Shen Bailong knew he had to do something, or morale would collapse — and how could he lead the crew then? To start over, he couldn't do without the support of his brothers.

"Haiqiong, the brothers' blood-and-sweat money can't come up short. Take my share and distribute it to everyone to make up the docked amount. If it's still not enough, cover it from yours, and I'll pay you back later!" After thinking it over, Shen Bailong instructed Shen Haiqiong.

Hearing this, Shen Haiqiong looked reluctant, but facing his big brother's stern gaze, he did as told and distributed the money on the spot.

When that was done, the way everyone looked at Shen Bailong had changed — moved, earnest, and with a trace of guilt. A big brother so generous and righteous was definitely someone worth following.

Sensing the change in everyone's eyes, Shen Bailong grew even more confident in his decision. He waved his hand: "You've all worked hard, brothers. Go get some rest!"

Soon, only four people remained on the dock — Shen Bailong, Shen Haiqiong, and the two life-and-death brothers who had come back with them.

"Where is Zhou Laizi?" Tightening his padded robe, Shen Bailong asked.

"Over by Warehouse Number One!" Shen Haiqiong answered immediately. "What do you have in mind, big brother?"

Shen Bailong didn't reply. He simply strode off toward Warehouse Number One, and Shen Haiqiong and the other two, without a moment's hesitation, followed close behind.

Zhou Laizi lived up to his nickname. Though judging by appearances was wrong, he nonetheless gave off a sense of being sinister and cunning. Of course, at least within this bottom rung of society, he was a man of no small ability — he could read, do accounts, inventory goods, and keep the people and cargo on the dock in perfect order. That was why Lord Gong, the actual master of Dock Number Three, had entrusted him with such an important role. As a result, on Dock Number Three, Zhou Laizi threw his weight around with impunity. Supervisors, foremen, even the big shots of the underworld — none dared to bristle in his presence, for his backing was Lord Gong. And Lord Gong was the younger brother of Gong Yi, the Chief Constable of Xiu Prefecture — a real brother, at that.

But right there in front of the warehouse, the once-untouchable Zhou Laizi was being firmly pinned under Shen Bailong's foot, while several thugs lay around them, all groaning in pain.

Facing Shen Bailong, whose bearing was fierce and whose gaze was murderous, Zhou Laizi wisely chose to beg for mercy: "Brother Bailong, please lift your noble foot! Let's talk things out — there must be a misunderstanding! A misunderstanding!"

Seeing Zhou Laizi's pathetic display, a flicker of contempt passed through the depths of Shen Bailong's eyes, but his tone remained cold: "Whether there's a misunderstanding, I think Mr. Zhou knows full well. You should be well aware of why I've come!"

"Isn't it just about the wages? That's easy to resolve! Easy!" Zhou Laizi hurriedly said.

Hearing Zhou Laizi say this, Shen Bailong lifted his foot, his expression unchanged, but he pulled a dagger from his waist and twirled it in his hand, sending a chill of terror through Zhou Laizi.

Without the slightest hesitation, Zhou Laizi scrambled to his feet, took a bag of copper coins from an iron chest nearby, and handed it to Shen Bailong. Shen Bailong took it, opened the bag for a glance, pulled out three small strings and tucked them into his bosom, then tossed the rest back to Zhou Laizi, saying coldly: "I only take what's rightfully mine!"

Then he called out to Shen Haiqiong and the other two and left. Watching their retreating figures, Zhou Laizi's face quickly darkened. One of the knocked-down underlings scrambled up, supported him, and called out with great concern: "Mr. Zhou, are you alright!"

Zhou Laizi liked being called "Mr.," but at this moment, he cursed inwardly: "Waste!"

"Go fetch that Wang Ling for me!"

Soon, a sallow-faced man hurried over. Seeing Zhou Laizi nursing his injuries, he was greatly "startled"—he naturally knew the situation—and immediately stepped forward to curry favor, cursing: "Shen Bailong dares to offend Mr. Zhou!"

"It's all because of your affair!" Zhou Laizi promptly rewarded this Wang Ling with a slap across the face.

Wang Ling didn't dare resist, even saying the slap was well-deserved, then said: "That villain Shen Bailong doesn't even put Mr. Zhou in his eyes. So disobedient to discipline, and gathering his own faction among those dried fishermen—sooner or later he'll be a scourge on the docks."

"Now, it's no longer just a spat between the two of you!" Zhou Laizi said coldly.

Hearing this, a gleam of joy flashed through Wang Ling's eyes. He was the one who had replaced Shen Bailong's former position, and had been deeply displeased ever since Shen Bailong returned alive. Now, seeing Shen Bailong so foolishly offend Zhou Laizi, his heart was overjoyed.

"How about reporting this matter to Officer Gong and asking him to handle it?" Wang Ling suggested.

"If you can't even deal with a single Shen Bailong, how will the Officer look at me?" Zhou Laizi gave Wang Ling a cold look, thought for a moment, then ordered in a low voice: "Find someone from outside. Get rid of him!"

"Yes!" Wang Ling was somewhat startled, but still quickly lowered his head in acknowledgment. He had only been thinking of driving Shen Bailong away; he never imagined Zhou Laizi would directly want to kill someone. This scholar, truly ruthless at heart.

On the other side, at the night market not far from Pier Number Three, four people gathered together. Shen Bailong was treating them, eating meat and drinking wine, though the atmosphere was somewhat oppressive.

It was Shen Haiqiong who, somewhat uneasy, said to Shen Bailong: "Big Brother, we've vented that anger, but for the sake of a few hundred coppers, offending Zhou Laizi like this—if he retaliates, it won't be pleasant."

"I know!" Shen Bailong nodded, picked up the bowl of yellow wine, and downed half of it in one gulp.

Seeing this, Shen Haiqiong offered an idea: "In my humble opinion, it's Zhou Laizi colluding with that Wang Ling to squeeze out us brothers. Didn't Big Brother have dealings with Officer Gong before? Why not go find Officer Gong—he's always been fair."

Hearing this, Shen Bailong sneered twice: "Officer Gong's fairness only applies to those useful to him. Tell me, between me and Zhou Laizi, who does he value more?"

"This..."

"Shanghai is no place to stay!" Shen Bailong finished the remaining half bowl of wine and said firmly: "I don't want to keep muddling along like this either!"

"Where does Big Brother want to go?" Shen Haiqiong immediately asked. Judging by his expression, it was clear that wherever he went, he would follow. Shen Bailong had that confidence too.

"To Jinlan Prefecture!" Shen Bailong said: "The South Seas have been recruiting people all this time. We're countrymen—once we go, we'll surely find a place to use our skills. Isn't that better than suffering this foul air here? Last year, I couldn't bring the goods over. This time, I'll go alone and see what that Jinlan Harbor is really like!"

"But how will we settle the travel expenses?" Shen Haiqiong pondered, saying: "These past few months, we brothers haven't saved much money. Going overseas, the boat fare isn't cheap!"

"A single coin can defeat a hero." At this moment, Shen Bailong suddenly gained a profound understanding of that saying. His hand instinctively reached for the dagger at his chest.

Just as he was fretting, Shen Haiqiong suddenly slapped his forehead and said: "Big Brother, I heard a rumor today. They say the county office has posted a notice about recruiting a group of people to form a reclamation corps, heading to Boni Island in the South Seas. Those interested can register at the county office!"

Hearing this, Shen Bailong was somewhat surprised: "Who's behind this, that the county office would personally make arrangements for it?"

"They say it's some big figure in the capital. This time they're recruiting a thousand people, but I don't know what the treatment will be. Going overseas to reclaim land—that's a life-threatening job." Shen Haiqiong said.

"Right now, what I fear most is not even having the chance to risk my life!" Shen Bailong took this quite philosophically, and made the decision: "Haiqiong, tomorrow come with me to the county office to ask about the situation. If it's suitable, going to that Boni Island might not be a bad way out. Why does Zhou Laizi dare to throw his weight around with us? Only because he has Officer Gong as his backing.

But then again, what are Officer Gong and even Captain Gong behind him compared to the big figures in the capital?"

Clearly, Shen Bailong had some awareness—a strange, impulsive feeling that this might be the most important opportunity of his life, one that could change his fate.

The very next day, Shen Bailong brought Shen Haiqiong to Shanghai County town to inquire about the Boni Island reclamation corps. The county office had evidently opened a dedicated channel for this matter—they were directly brought to the registration desk and even fortunately met the person in charge, who was inspecting the recruitment progress.

He was a middle-aged man in brocade robes with an extraordinary bearing, refined and elegant—clearly someone who had received a high education. Shen Bailong dared to step on Zhou Laizi, but he didn't dare raise his head before this seemingly frail middle-aged man. An unprecedented sense of humility enveloped his body and mind. After all, not to mention nobles from the capital—in ten years of struggling in Shanghai, he had never even seen the Shanghai County Magistrate.

And the identity of this visitor exceeded his imagination—he was actually a military advisor of the Wu Duke's estate, known only by the surname Zheng. But that was already enough. Enough for Shen Bailong to make up his mind to follow to the South Seas and Boni with no regrets even unto death.

Zheng the Military Advisor was somewhat satisfied with Shen Bailong's performance, even asking a few more questions about his background. Especially upon hearing that he had been robbed by pirates and still returned alive to Shanghai, he became even more interested. When tested on his knowledge of waterways and monsoon conditions, Shen Bailong could hold his own, and as for his physical condition, one look at his build told the story.

So Zheng the Military Advisor made the decision on the spot, giving him the position of reclamation corps squad leader, with a monthly wage of five strings of cash. Shen Bailong naturally expressed profuse gratitude, and took the opportunity to mention that he still had over a dozen brothers. Zheng the Military Advisor only thought briefly before readily agreeing.

The reclamation corps lacked manpower, but it lacked talents like Shen Bailong even more. Yes, in Zheng the Military Advisor's eyes, this was a talent—with some maritime experience, a certain degree of leadership, considerable courage, and decent luck. In the early stages of reclamation, he was worth putting to significant use.

Duke Wu Liu Hui was still confined in the Court of the Imperial Clan. This reclamation corps operating under the name of the Wu Duke's estate was organized by order of Liu Wenyu, Liu Hui's eldest son. Its purpose, of course, was to go to Boni Island and develop the fief granted by the Emperor.

Compared to the other uncles and elders, the Wu Duke's estate wasn't so fortunate—with the court directly taking action, they had to rely on themselves and slowly develop and manage. Of course, with that identity, the resources they could mobilize were still considerable.

Zheng the Military Advisor had led this team to Shanghai to make preparations, organizing only the first batch—going ahead to Boni West Island to establish a foothold. If things went smoothly, there would be a second batch, then a third. Compared to his father, Liu Wenyu was far more practical, knowing this was a long-term process.

The next day, Shen Bailong brought his dozen-plus brothers to report in. Not one of them held back; all expressed willingness to follow their Big Brother on this adventure.

Then, the group was arranged to a camp on the outskirts of Shanghai County. It was only then that Shen Bailong realized—this was no reclamation corps; they were clearly being trained like an army. The trainer was obviously a military officer, even wearing armor.

In the winter of the fourth year of Yongxi, in the eleventh month, Shen Bailong, as a squad leader of the Wu Duke's estate reclamation corps, embarked on the journey to Boni Island in the South Seas, aboard a fuchuan—a vessel he had spent the past ten years only gazing at from afar, never daring to touch.

This choice not only let him dodge the hidden arrows from behind but also opened a new chapter in his life as a founding meritorious official of the "Gouwu Kingdom" in the South Seas.