Chapter 2887: Reunion (3)

Schneider walked back from the window to his seat. The Eastern trade Hu Wumei had brought up had clearly piqued everyone's interest. Lin Dan sipped his tea, and the shrewd, warm look of a businessman reappeared on his face. "Speaking of Japan, things aren't too peaceful over there this year..."

"What? That bothersome shogunate up to something new?" As captain of the Daishuang, Li Guangfa had escorted China Merchants' trade ships to Hirado more than once and was fairly knowledgeable about Japan.

"It's that Christian business again!" Lin Dan said. "The Shimabara domain in Kyushu, I hear it's very unsettled. The hidden believers are secretly organizing, preparing to rise up..."

"Didn't the shogunate ban them all?" Ren Fu asked curiously. "The persecution drove a lot of people out. The National Army alone recruited several thousand! I hear the Nanyang Company is recruiting now too."

"A government decree doesn't wipe things clean! It's only driven them underground—they've all become hidden believers." Lin Dan tossed back a cup of wine. "At the end of the day, it's not really about religion or no religion. It's about the Shimabara lords, Matsukura Shigemasa and his son Matsukura Katsuie, running amok and stirring up popular fury..."

After Lin Dan had thrown in his lot with the Senate, he worked under the Southeast Asia Company for several years and, through a fortunate connection with Ping Qiusheng, shifted to the Japan and Korea trade. His business wasn't huge, but for an independent trader, it was quite respectable.

As an independent trader, unlike the staff of China Merchants or Rentang, he was not subject to the Planning Institute's oversight and enjoyed greater freedom in his activities in Japan. Under the shogunate's old laws, Chinese merchants were confined to Nagasaki's "Tang Quarter." But since the First Fleet's "friendly visit" to Nagasaki and its appearance in Edo Bay, restrictions on "Great Song merchants" had been relaxed. At the very least, they could now travel freely through Kyushu and the Chugoku region. Lin Dan had gone pretty much everywhere he could and was well acquainted with Japan's social conditions and popular sentiment.

"These two, father and son, are new daimyo installed after the Tokugawa established the shogunate. They were outsiders to begin with. To curry favor with the shogunate, they falsely reported their domain as a hundred thousand koku when it was really only forty thousand. Everyone knows: you report a hundred thousand, and the shogunate collects taxes and levies troops accordingly. When Edo Castle was being rebuilt, they volunteered contributions on top of that. Where did all that money and rice come from? The blood and sweat of the peasants in their domain! After 1634, Shimabara suffered droughts and years of poor harvests. The peasants couldn't pay their annual tribute and miscellaneous taxes, so this Matsukura Katsuie had those who couldn't pay strapped in straw raincoats and set alight. They burned screaming—and he called it the 'straw-coat dance'! Think about it: treat people like that, how could they not rebel?"

"No wonder! Officials like that beg for revolt!"

"It hasn't erupted yet, but it's seething underneath. Those Christians had all gone into hiding, worshipping in secret. Now they're preparing to seize the moment and rise up. Between them and the Matsukura clan, old grievances and new cruelties have kindled together. When it blows, blood will run deep."

"If fighting breaks out, will the Senate intervene?" Schneider asked eagerly.

Li Guangfa gave him a look, and Schneider immediately realized he had misspoken. Such matters were fine for the others to discuss as gossip, but as a naval officer, he shouldn't be talking about them in a public setting.

"Hard to say." Lin Dan crossed his arms, still holding forth. "If you ask me, it's not actually a big thing. Shimabara is a tiny place. Even if it blows up, it's only a matter of tens of thousands of people—not like the roving bandits in the Ming, who come in forces of a hundred thousand plus. And the territory is small; there's no room for an army to maneuver. Tokugawa Iemitsu is a capable ruler. It'll be suppressed in a year or a year and a half at most." He sighed. "It's just that war disrupts business."

Hu Wumei said, "Not necessarily. When war breaks out, consumption is highest. Whether it's the rebels or the shogunate's forces, they all need to buy guns, cannons, and gunpowder. Plenty of military supplies to sell!" He rubbed his hands together, clearly itching to get a piece of the action.

"Arms are a Senate monopoly—we can't touch those. But the sons of the daimyo houses will pay high prices even for our discarded old uniforms and military swords, calling them 'Southern Barbarian style.' And let me tell you, the daimyo over there now covet Lingao glass mirrors and chiming clocks. Even Australian-style furniture and furnishings have become hot commodities."

Ren Fu, hearing this, frowned slightly. His Planning Institute caution prompted an instinctive reminder: "Boss Lin, the Senate has its own regulations for trade with the Japanese. There are lines you'd best not cross."

"Naturally, naturally," Lin Dan waved his hands repeatedly. "I wouldn't dare overstep. It's all legitimate goods—lacquerware, sulfur, and copper coming over, and our cloth, books, sugar, and silk going there. There is one amusing thing, though: the Dutch trading post in Hirado has been quietly inquiring about our steam engine blueprints. They approached me through back channels, but I played dumb and fobbed them off."

This drew a round of low chuckles. Wang You, stroking his sparse beard, said leisurely: "Speaking of steam engines, my sugar refinery in Gaoxiong just installed its third five-horsepower unit this year. In the old days, sugar boiling depended on the weather. Now, once the steam gets going, it runs day and night. Sugar yield is up by more than thirty percent. It's just that these machines are delicate—you have to bring a technician all the way from Lingao to tend them, and his wages are higher than the manager's." His tone carried both a hint of swagger and a thread of genuine heartache.

"You old miser, still quibbling over that?" Hu Wumei teased, jangling his gold ring. "Machines are expensive, but they don't complain of fatigue or slack off. When you do the math, you're still ahead. My shipyard in Sanya—if it weren't for the steam crane and the steam saw, how could I have taken on the Nanyang Company's repair orders? Just the deposit alone is more than I used to make in a whole year of raiding with the old gang."

Once the topic opened up, the conversation shifted to each man's business and circumstances over the years. Those who had done well—like Li Guangfa and Schneider, whose naval careers were progressing smoothly, or Hu Wumei and Lin Dan, who had built up substantial maritime trade operations, or Ren Fu, who served as a "cadre"—spoke with an unavoidable touch of self-satisfaction, yet also exuded the ease and confidence of men who had found their stride under the Senate's new order. Their gestures and words, as they discussed new ventures, naval escorts, and increasingly "standardized" trade channels with the mainland, were peppered with phrases like "our Lingao" and "the Senate's decision."

Yet some had remained largely silent. Only after the discussion of Japanese affairs concluded did a dark-complexioned man with large, knobby knuckles hesitantly raise his wine cup, looking toward Ren Fu, and say in a somewhat dry voice: "Director... Director Ren, I hear you're serving in the Planning Institute?"

Ren Fu looked over and recognized an old acquaintance from the camp days, named Chen Xiazi—a man of few words, a boat owner with just a single vessel. He was related to Zhu Cailao by kinship and was considered part of the "inner circle." Because of that, Ren Fu knew him well. When Nanri Island was attacked, everyone else was fleeing, but Chen Xiazi, dazed and confused, had been dragged to fill the front line. He lost both his ship and his crew, and only survived because Schneider, fleeing for his life, happened to pass by and fished him out of the water, carrying him to Dadan.

Ren Fu nodded, his tone even: "Still at the Planning Institute. Old Chen, I hear you've been running transport over in the Chaoshan area?"

A bitter smile squeezed onto Chen Xiazi's face. "Yeah... got two old Guang-style boats, picking up short-haul freight. But this trade nowadays—it's all about licenses, quotas, and waiting in line for harbor berths... not like the old days when you could come and go as you pleased." He paused, seeming to summon great courage, then lowered his voice: "Director Ren, you... you know a lot of people in the Planning Institute. I was wondering if you could... help put in a word? My two boats are getting on in years, always needing repairs. I'd like to switch to a new-style barge, but I hear the shipyard's schedule is packed. If it could be moved up a little..."

He didn't finish, but the meaning was obvious. Beside him, another somewhat down-at-heel middle-aged man seized the opportunity to lean closer. This was Mr. Shen, formerly the camp accountant, now helping with the books at a small general store, living modestly: "Brother Shi, Brother Li, and Boss Hu... I hear all the organs and major factories are recruiting naturalized citizen cadres who can read and do sums. My good-for-nothing boy has been in the national school for a few years, can read and write a bit, but his constitution is too weak for heavy labor. I was wondering... could any of you help recommend him? Even an apprenticeship in clerical work would do..."

All at once, two or three other old hands who had not fared so well looked over with expressions of hope and embarrassment, words dying on their lips. The atmosphere in the private room, just beginning to warm up, was now tinged with a subtle awkwardness and tension.

Ren Fu, Hu Wumei, and the others exchanged glances. They had expected this—such gatherings inevitably produced such requests. After all, without some hope of gain, why would anyone come to reminisce with you, smiling through your life stories and glory days? But Ren Fu was somewhat in a bind. He could indeed put in a word with the shipyard, but it would be bending the rules. And it was not worth it.

Yet to flatly invoke "the Senate's rules" would be cold and unfeeling. After all, Chen Xiazi had been on good terms with him back in Zhu Cailao's old camp.

While he hesitated over how to help, Hu Wumei spoke first, his tone generous yet measured: "Chen Xiazi, I've heard a bit about your shipping situation. Rules are fixed, but a man can still move within them. Come to my shipyard in Sanya another day. I can't build ships there, but I repair them every day. There are old boats the Nanyang Company has retired that are actually still in decent shape. I'll have my manager talk to you and see what can be worked out within the regulations. But Old Chen, you know the Senate's rules as well as I do: every procedure that should be followed can't be skipped, every fee that should be paid can't be scrimped. This favor, at most, is pointing you toward a clear path."

Ren Fu nodded to Mr. Shen, his tone sincere but businesslike: "Brother Shen, your son's future is a serious matter. The various organs and factories do recruit regularly, but everything requires a public examination and political vetting. Here's what I'll do: when the next recruitment notice comes out, I'll have someone notify you so your boy can register according to procedure. If he passes the written exam, I might be able to put in a word at the interview stage, but whether he succeeds or not will depend on his own ability."