Chapter 190: Take My Bai Yin, Leave My Ship

Antonio stared at the five-masted, twenty-one-sail ocean-going vessel, and he would soon own two such ships—bought with his own silver, and once again, he saw hope.

"What puzzles me is why this ship is here," Antonio asked, frowning as he gazed at the majestic vessel.

The Ming Emperor has incredible audacity!

Antonio could not understand: this ship was derived from Ming state vessels and clinker-built giants, especially its rows of cannons, which filled him with dread. He could not fathom why such a ship had appeared in Lu Song.

"Perhaps your Excellency the Viceroy did not grasp my question: Lu Song is to Ming as the Cape Verde Islands are to Spain and Portugal. The Cape Verde Islands and the Azores are now entirely free. It is hard to imagine why the Ming court would decide to station such heavy firepower in Lu Song. Does the Ming Emperor not fear that the Governor of Lu Song, the Red Barbarians, the Japanese pirates, the Black Barbarians, and outlaws might unite and invade Ming's coastal regions?"

"We are deeply concerned about this issue, because pirates from the Azores constantly harass our ports—like Du Guesclin, once a nobleman, now a pirate, who allied with the French to seize our ports and demand ransoms, causing us immense hardship." Antonio did not believe the Ming court lacked such concerns, yet the Ming decision had already placed this ship in Manila.

The Azores were free without any rules at all—was such freedom truly freedom? But if freedom had rules, was it still freedom?

Yin Yin Zhengmao fell silent for a moment before saying: "The court's demands of me are not high: block the Red Barbarians from eroding Ming's maritime borders, prevent them from joining forces with the Japanese pirates and outlaws to trouble Ming; cooperate with Ming in suppressing smuggling and tax evasion; and I have done even better—I recruited many sea bandits, settled them in Lu Song, and even assumed the court's function of exiling criminals."

"To earn others' trust, you must first be strong enough yourself."

Yin Yin Zhengmao's imperial assignment included military, economic, cultural, and political duties—and he fulfilled them well, even exercising initiative to stabilize Ming's maritime borders on his own. Having done so much, he naturally deserved the court's trust and rewards.

"Reward those who do well, punish those who fail—isn't that only natural?" Yin Yin Zhengmao finished, then chuckled.

The imperial surname lord who built his achievements did not believe in rewards and punishments, just as Wang Wang Chonggu, Minister of Justice of Ming, did not believe in law.

Antonio shook his head: "You're right—in theory, yes. But reality has no justice."

Antonio had traveled the world his entire life, seen too much. He did not believe in justice. From his observation, Ming had no justice either. Justice was merely a game rule—a painted dream sold to make people believe. Only those skilled at manipulating the rules could thrive.

Deng Deng Zilong smiled after a moment's thought: "Captain, our Viceroy Yin is actually a lost imperial clansman. He's returning to the capital to reclaim his lineage—and he's already changed his surname!"

Antonio's eyes lit up, nodding vigorously: "If that's true, then everything makes sense."

Yin Yin Zhengmao made no further denial—he was now officially recognized by the court as an imperial surname lord.

"Reality has no justice," Yin Yin Zhengmao repeated Antonio's words, deeply moved. This problem was widespread in Ming too.

In fact, more than one person had told him similar things—urging him to declare himself king—and there were many such voices.

Banditry flared across Guangdong and Guangxi; the Viceroy Li Qian failed to pacify the land. Yin Yin Zhengmao was sent in crisis, arriving with nothing—poor, destitute, no resources. Sea bandits rode roughshod over him. He fought back, crushed the Japanese pirates, pacified the land, and achieved it all.

In the fifth year of Emperor Longqing, May, powerful gentry monopolized salt from Guangdong to Guangxi. Yin Yin Zhengmao reformed the salt system: the government now transported and sold salt from Guangdong to Guangxi, wresting control from the gentry. Guangxi's people tasted affordable salt for the first time; Guangdong's salt workers received their due pay for the first time.

In the second year of Emperor Wanli, he eliminated the last bandit force.

Now, returning to the capital, Yin Yin Zhengmao found mountains of memorials denouncing him. The censorial officials painted him as a greedy, cruel, scheming villain. Yin Yin Zhengmao admitted he was greedy—but he was greedy to pay his mercenary troops. Without them, he could not crush the Japanese pirates. The court gave him not a single coin, yet expected him to ride and fight.

But Yin Yin Zhengmao understood the court's plight: the state treasury and imperial treasury were so empty even rats couldn't be fed. There was truly no money to fund his campaign against the Japanese pirates.

So Yin Yin Zhengmao had no choice but to prey on the gentry.

Denunciations against him were rapidly declining; petitions calling for his return were increasing. Ling Ling Yunyi had become the gentry's greatest nightmare—and even Yin Yin Zhengmao's reputation improved.

Yin Yin Zhengmao was exceptionally capable, yet in the court's eyes, he remained a scheming, greedy villain. What if the Emperor had not sent him to Lu Song? How would things have turned out?

Zhang Zhang Juzheng, fearing Yin Yin Zhengmao might become a warlord, withdrew his support. The censorial attacks overwhelmed him, and he was eventually sidelined. Worse yet, he might have become a victim of court factionalism, like Hu Hai Zongxian. The Ming mercenary troops who had fought for years, surviving mountains of corpses, might be disbanded on the spot—transforming from loyal ministers into sea bandits threatening Ming's shores.

What could be more cruel than raising a blade against former comrades?

If sea bandits rose again, the vicious cycle would begin: the more Ming crushed them, the more they multiplied, the stronger they grew.

Reality has no justice—this is a timeless truth. Things that ought to be never are.

Officials meant to enforce imperial decrees became mouthpieces for private clans and tools to exploit the people. The gentry did not pacify the land—they squeezed the people dry. The Emperor, meant to govern diligently, sank into luxury and pleasure. Southern Yamen runners, meant to hunt bandits and quell unrest, became urban predators, feathering their nests and devouring the innocent.

The world is always like this: what ought to be, never is.

"Viceroy Yin, I am lost," Antonio said, deeply distressed over the loss of his two ships, his path in life suddenly unclear. He needed guidance—and he felt Yin Yin Zhengmao was the perfect person to ask.

Yin Yin Zhengmao smiled broadly: "I'm not your priest."

Yin Yin Zhengmao understood Western culture well—seeking counsel from priests was common there.

"I don't know what meaning any of this has," Antonio said helplessly. True, Yin Yin Zhengmao was not his priest, with no obligation to answer his existential questions—but he had no one else to turn to.

"Then let's begin with why Philip II cannot be emperor," Yin Yin Zhengmao decided to guide him. On one hand, the Ming Emperor was one of Antonio's investors—though these investments required real silver: weapons, ships, trade privileges.

On the other hand, Yin Yin Zhengmao was willing to explain because Antonio had brought abundant crops to the Emperor.

These crops were vital to diversifying Ming's agricultural structure. The imperial surname lord had seen the Baqi Bureau cultivating superior seeds and witnessed the positive effects of Ming's relentless land reclamation and the planting of sweet potatoes.

Furthermore, Antonio arrived annually with ships, flooding Ming with vast quantities of silver—fueling the Single Whip Reform and easing part of Ming's coin shortage.

Yin Yin Zhengmao spoke with certainty: "Philip II is king of the empire where the sun never sets. His fleets span the entire New World. Yet he is not emperor—only a king—because he still cannot establish a functional system to ensure stable governance. That is why Philip II cannot be emperor."

"Emperor—Caesar—I believe this Latin translation is more precise. It means not merely conquest, but ritual, law, and moral order."

"I don't understand," Antonio shook his head again. He had no idea how Yin Yin Zhengmao's analysis of Philip II's failure to become Caesar related to his own life.

Yin Yin Zhengmao looked at Antonio: "What you do is right—not meaningless. In the West, the common people love and support you. But without power, the common people can achieve nothing."

"Whether nobles or religion, Philip II's power is an insurmountable mountain for you. You must constantly strengthen yourself. The common people have strength, but this strength must be channeled through more effective means to manifest."

"More clearly: you need more muskets, more cannons, more loyal junior officers, more disciplined soldiers. Otherwise, when you challenge Philip II for the Lesser Franks, he will simply execute you as a trophy—adding to his glorious exploits."

"If you have twenty thousand men, he must weigh the cost of subduing you. If you have fifty thousand, he will hesitate. If you have one hundred thousand, he will recognize you as king of the Lesser Franks!"

"Power must be held in your own hands!"

As Yin Yin Zhengmao spoke his final words, he clenched his fist before Antonio.

Antonio didn't understand—but Luo Li did. In essence, Yin Yin Zhengmao's entire speech boiled down to: Orders. Place orders quickly, Antonio. Pay up.

A five-masted ocean-going vessel required at least 150,000 taels in silver; the accompanying military equipment added another 50,000 taels. To fully arm such a vessel, Antonio would need to spend even more silver.

Luo Li could only say: Yin Yin Zhengmao was truly a Ming scholar—demanding orders with such unshakable confidence.

Yin Yin Zhengmao was not deceiving Antonio. This bastard wanted to claim the Portuguese throne. Without an army, only popular support would get him beheaded.

Yin Yin Zhengmao was also extremely busy in Lu Song. Lu Song had changed: the water gate of the former Red Barbarian fortress had not been blocked—it was now covered by cannon platforms extending over the sea. Thus, Yin Yin Zhengmao's old tactic of overwhelming force could no longer be replicated.

Previously, the city had no drainage channels, not even a single latrine. Now, muddy ground had been replaced with wooden planks, and bathhouses and latrines had been built.

Yin Yin Zhengmao despised Westerners for not bathing—their body odor was overwhelmingly foul.

Yin Yin Zhengmao managed Lu Song's affairs, planting vast quantities of palm and sugarcane. Lu Song's pillar industries were oil and sugar—both urgently needed by Ming. He was also developing new pillar industries.

Palm cultivation had expanded to 120,000 hectares; sugarcane to 230,000 hectares. He continuously recruited destitute peasants to come to Lu Song for livelihood, giving them land upon arrival—promising and delivering.

After finishing his final official document—a minor case: two merchants on Ming Street in Lu Song had quarreled—Yin Yin Zhengmao noted such disputes were increasing. This did not mean Lu Song's security was deteriorating; rather, people previously resolved disputes through private violence. Now they brought them to the governor's office for judgment, hence the increased workload.

Previously, when merchants clashed, they simply gathered men and fought. After a small brawl, the loser, dissatisfied, would seek allies to regain face—escalating from small fights to large brawls, sometimes sparking full-scale unrest in Lu Song. Verbal disputes routinely turned into mass fights. Even Manila saw three or four such disturbances annually.

Since Yin Yin Zhengmao's governorship, merchants had learned to seek judicial resolution. Yin Yin Zhengmao had personally seen two merchants who had been arguing in court yesterday, now drunk together at a tavern today.

A scholar requested an audience. Yin Yin Zhengmao set down his brush and looked at the man—he was Chen Chen Chengyi from Guangzhou Dianbai, Guangzhou.

This man was a juren from Guangzhou. He had failed the imperial exams three times. To become an official, he came to Lu Song. After nine years, he would be granted a special imperial examination and return to the capital.

Yin Yin Zhengmao feared no empty-headed fools coming to the island—such fools would never come to isolated Lu Song.

"Viceroy Yin," Chen Chen Chengyi bowed deeply. Yin Yin Zhengmao was a legend in Guangdong and Guangxi—having crushed the decades-long Japanese pirates threat in four years. No matter how much the powerful gentry smeared him, Chen Chen Chengyi and the Guangdong people still deeply appreciated him.

Yin Yin Zhengmao smiled warmly: "No need for formalities. On this island, there are no rigid rules—we all serve the Emperor."

"What should I do?" Chen Chen Chengyi asked, bewildered.

"Don't you rest for two days? The voyage must have exhausted you," Yin Yin Zhengmao smiled. "No rush."

"My family has been sea merchants for generations—I'm not tired," Chen Chen Chengyi said firmly.

Yin Yin Zhengmao loved such people—arriving and immediately working. He assigned Chen Chen Chengyi to oversee copper and gold mines. Lu Song had both gold and copper deposits, and mining required organization. In a few months, they would know if Chen Chen Chengyi could handle it.

Chen Chen Chengyi was no empty-headed scholar. He had failed the imperial exams for years—not for lack of learning, but lack of a renowned master. His family was wealthy, but he could not find one. He passed the juren exam at twenty, yet at thirty, after three failures, he still wanted to be an official—so he came to Lu Song.

Chen Chen Chengyi was utterly bewildered by Yin Yin Zhengmao. He had spent his life studying the sages—and now the Viceroy told him to mine copper. He truly didn't know how.

Yin Yin Zhengmao gave Chen Chen Chengyi an official manual on copper mining and sent him off with Lin Lin Afeng's guard troops. Their destination: Paracan, a small town east of Manila with about 15,000 people, home to many illicit gold-mining pits.

Upon arrival, Chen Chen Chengyi understood his task: turn the illicit pits into state-run mines.

No war occurred. Lin Lin Afeng's newly recruited guard troops, though powerless against Yin Yin Zhengmao's elite mercenaries, held overwhelming advantage over the short, lowland native miners.

Lin Lin Afeng's soldiers were tall; the miners barely reached Chen Chen Chengyi's chest. In a real fight, the guards would win. After occupying the site, Chen Chen Chengyi began improving gold-washing methods and copper-smelting techniques.

The gold-washing methods here were extremely inefficient—there was no copper extraction process at all.

Chen Chen Chengyi did not fixate on gold-washing—too dependent on luck. Smelting copper was far more stable. He began improving the local copper-smelting techniques.

Copper-bearing mountains always contained earth and stone. Digging several zhang deep revealed copper veins wrapped in gangue—shaped like ginger nodules, speckled with copper, also called copper ore.

After washing off the earth and impurities, smelting could begin. Almost all copper ore contained lead.

The smelting furnace was quickly built. It had two openings: one high, one low. When the ore melted, copper flowed out the lower hole, lead out the upper one. Copper-zinc alloy became brass; copper-tin alloy became bronze.

Chen Chen Chengyi had no intention of further refining. This stage was sufficient. The produced copper ingots would be shipped to Manila, then sent back to Ming.

Conditions were crude. Chen Chen Chengyi's ingots were ugly—sand pits dug in the ground served as molds.

But however ugly, they were copper ingots. After solving crude smelting, Chen Chen Chengyi began organizing peasants to farm—palm and sugarcane. Yin Yin Zhengmao had indeed sent him to mine copper and wash gold—but Chen Chen Chengyi was a Ming man. He cared deeply about encouraging agriculture. To be an official and neglect farming and sericulture—was that even being an official?

With farmland, more people would come. With more people, copper mining and gold washing would improve.

Plantations began appearing along riverbanks. Chen Chen Chengyi personally led twenty or so guards and two interpreters to search for arable land.

The first batch of copper was shipped back to Ming: 150,000 catties of copper, packed into a five-masted ship, alongside vast quantities of palm oil, fish oil, and sugar.

Yin Yin Zhengmao wanted to test the ship's performance. Ocean-going vessels must cross oceans—so sailing fully laden was part of sea trials.

Accompanying them was Antonio's own large sailboat—he had purchased what he needed in Manila and was heading north again.

At Xinggang in Songjiang Prefecture, the two ships anchored. Compared to the four-masted vessel, the thousand-liao five-masted ocean-going ship was an entire circle larger.

The officials responsible for weighing and taxing were Antonio's old acquaintances: Zhang Jin, eunuch of Nanjing's military readiness, and Zhang Cheng, eunuch supervisor of Songjiang. In the first year of Emperor Wanli, it was these two eunuchs who had weighed and taxed Antonio's first arrival. The maritime commissioner of the Doushui Pavilion was still Luo Luo Gongchen—the same man who had pushed for bringing sweet potatoes and potatoes into the capital and fought to tax foreign ships.

Songjiang's Regional Commander Chen Lin and Provincial Governor Wang Daoqun also arrived at the port.

Annual foreign ship taxation was a major event—the symbol of the Emperor's southern treasury. Sea taxes were split evenly between state and imperial treasuries.

"What state treasury, what imperial treasury? All the money belongs to His Majesty. Why split it every year? So troublesome," Zhang Jin waved his sleeve. Taxing foreign ships had been the burden Zhang Cheng and Luo Luo Gongchen had taken upon themselves—acting first, reporting later.

Zhang Jin didn't understand why the Emperor, his predecessor, and Emperor Emperor Jiajing had separated the state and imperial treasuries. To him, all taxes should go straight to the imperial treasury. The court could simply ask the Emperor for funds.

That was how an Emperor should be.

An Emperor knew how to generate wealth. Besides managing imperial estates, he also split revenues with the state treasury. The eunuchs naturally resented this—all the silver belonged to His Majesty!

Zhang Jin's view made sense under a wise ruler—but what if the Emperor was a glutton who only took and never gave? All silver flowed into the palace. The Emperor lavished it on entertainers—spending hundreds of thousands on lantern festivals. A battle in Danning Garrison cost the same.

Zhang Cheng smiled. The separation of state and imperial treasuries was the result of a long struggle—not formed overnight. It was the final compromise between Emperor and ministers. Eunuchs, in this power struggle, were merely the Emperor's claws and teeth, with little decision-making power.

Literati daily curse the eunuchs as traitors who ruin the state; yet during the Emperor Jiajing and Emperor Longqing eras, the eunuchs were quiet, and the Great Ming did not flourish.

The Great Ming is a system; when it slides downward in a dive, every flesh-eater within this system, without exception, is guilty.

Antonio again failed to understand: the largest cargo unloaded from the Great Ming's ships was copper ingots, not the more precious gold; there were at least three gold-panning sites on Luzon Island, yet Yin Yin Zhengmao seemed more intent on mining copper.

"One hundred and fifty thousand jin of copper can cast ten million copper coins; according to Great Ming's reckoning, that's ten thousand Zhen Guan, ten thousand taels of silver. After all this effort, just for so little copper coin?" Antonio asked his old acquaintance Luo Luo Gongchen.

"The captain is adored by commoners in the West, but that looks more like a claim to the throne than genuine care for the people," Luo Luo Gongchen said bluntly; they were all familiar, so no need for formalities.

"You! You! You… slander with bloody lips!" Antonio truly panicked, even using a proverb—he as a noble had paid great attention to the lives of commoners.

Luo Luo Gongchen smiled and said, "Copper coins are what the Great Ming's commoners use; gold and silver are for the flesh-eaters. Master Zhang Yuanfu's principle has always been: the people are the foundation of the state; when the foundation is firm, the state is secure. The Emperor does not ignore silver and gold, but equally, the common folk must spend money—copper coins are made specifically for them, so the Emperor pays closer attention to copper ingots."

"So that's how it is—I understand now," Antonio exclaimed in sudden realization.

"Esteemed eunuch official, can I still visit the Porcelain Tower this year? Just one look would satisfy me; if I don't see that tower, it's as if I never came to the Great Ming," Antonio requested permission from the Military Preparedness Eunuch Zhang Jin to visit the Bao'en Temple Porcelain Tower.

"Uh, yes, but only from outside," Zhang Jin agreed, though he didn't quite understand why Antonio was so obsessed with the tower.

In Antonio's eyes, that tower was a miracle, the symbol of civilization in his heart; King Philip II, upon seeing paintings of the Porcelain Tower, repeatedly demanded a replica be built in his palace, but his secretary told him it was impossible.

The Great Ming mobilized over two hundred thousand soldiers and civilians to build the Porcelain Tower, taking more than a decade to complete; Seville of the New World Trading House had only one hundred and fifty thousand people—how could they build it?

The Great Ming's feelings toward the Porcelain Tower were deeply complex: it was built during the Yongle era by Emperor Emperor Chengzu Wen to honor his mother, Empress Ma; from the moment construction began, opposition never ceased—accusations of exhausting the people's strength, extravagance, and wanton waste poured forth endlessly.

After Emperor Emperor Chengzu Wen passed away, the tower, due to public opinion and criticism, went unattended for over three years.

For Antonio, this sacred tower was the destination every time the great ships arrived—he came with the devotion of a pilgrim; one glance confirmed he had truly arrived.

"The Great Ming Emperor promised me I could purchase a Great Ming ocean-going ship. Is that promise still valid?" Antonio asked his second pressing question: buying ships.

Zhang Cheng, the Eunuch Provincial Military Commander of Songjiang, smiled and said, "The Emperor's word is golden; since he promised, he meant it. You may place your order here, but you must come to the capital to receive the Emperor's edict before we can deliver it. See that one? It's already launched."

Antonio's eyes lit up; his expression grew relaxed and joyful. He laughed heartily: "Take my silver and have your men leave my ship!"

"I want two!"

The attitude of the Emperor's close attendants largely reflected the Emperor's own stance.

In the Great Ming's institutional design, the eunuchs' power derived entirely from the Emperor himself; the Emperor was the very foundation of their existence, so the possibility of eunuchs betraying their master was virtually zero. Even the day before Liu Jin's downfall, no one expected him to die so swiftly.

Wei Wei Zhongxian called himself "Nine Thousand Years"—yet wasn't the Emperor Chongzhen Emperor, who succeeded his brother, able to dispose of him just as easily?

The only eunuch in the Great Ming to betray his master occurred during the Tianshun era of Emperor Ming Baozong: Cao Cao Jixiang rebelled. His rebellion was as absurd as a child's game, yet rebellion was rebellion: Grand Secretary Li Zhang Xian was wounded, Left Grand Censor Kou Shen and Marquis Wu Jin were killed, and the son of Duke Huaining Sun Tang was slain.

Antonio's experience entering the capital felt like flying—he rode a hydrofoil sailboat, escorted by a Coastal Patrol Inspector, who sped him to Tianjinwei.

Antonio, an old sea captain, began trembling the moment he stepped ashore, clutching a pillar and vomiting violently, nearly expelling his stomach; he collapsed on the ground—riding a hydrofoil sailboat was an utterly unprecedented experience.

Seasickness—even the oldest captain still gets seasick.

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End of chapter