Chapter 333: Xiong Dao's Mission

Yu Xianke stayed in Fuzhou until after the Lunar New Year before returning to Chaoshan. During this period, he had been making contacts on multiple fronts, trying to persuade some high-ranking official in the government.

However, reality was cruel. The rapid decline in strategic importance had greatly diminished the Liu Xiang Group's influence, so no big shot was willing to wade into these murky waters. And after Yu Xianke had ultimately exhausted the wealth and goods he brought on the rotten bureaucratic system, he could only return home dejected.

After going back and exchanging information with the Grand Steward, both men shook their heads repeatedly. Although the situation was now clearer than before, it was of no use: the face-to-face talks proposed by the two northern powers were something Liu Xiang could not carry out, at least not something he would consider right now.

"Oh well, I'll just have to head south," Liu Xiang said dejectedly.

Yu Xianke could only nod in agreement at this: "Things having come to this, going south to Guangzhou to make some arrangements might not be out of the question."

Liu Xiang sighed: "Ah, easier said than done."

Although the news coming from Guangdong sounded promising — Guangzhou officialdom was still interested in offering recruitment and amnesty to Liu Xiang. But this matter had been discussed before; Liu Xiang knew his own bitter plight — he lacked the territory and commercial channels needed for a transformation.

Macau and Xiamen had already locked down the northern and southern trade routes. Even if Liu Xiang transformed like Zheng Zhilong, his merchant fleet would be seized before reaching Fujian — what business could he possibly conduct?

In this way, even if Guangzhou officialdom granted him amnesty, without business and territory, Liu Xiang would sooner or later return to his old path of plunder. After this would come turning hostile with Guangdong officialdom, his credibility turning negative, and then the government becoming resolved to exterminate him...

This foreseeable future weighed heavily on Liu Xiang's mind, yet something even more vexing was happening: on the fifth day after Yu Xianke's return, two streamlined sailing ships, each equipped with four cannons, exchanged fire with pirate patrol boats north of Nan'ao Island, killing and wounding multiple pirates before sailing away unhindered.

Nan'ao Island lies at the boundary between Fujian and Guangdong, a most critical location.

As early as 1575, during the Wanli reign, the Ming court had placed Nan'ao Island under the joint administration of the two provinces, with Xiongzhen Pass as the boundary, establishing the nation's only island General Headquarters: the "Fujian-Guangdong Nan'ao Regional Commander's Residence." At the same time, the court established the position of "Deputy Regional Commander Stationed at Nan'ao for the Coordinated Defense of Zhangchao and Other Areas," under which were placed one battalion each of Fujian and Guangdong troops — the very Nan'ao Deputy Commander position that Zheng Zhilong had once meddled with historically.

By the Qing dynasty, the rank of this Deputy Commander was elevated to Regional Commander, its importance growing ever greater.

Now that the Kun People's cannon ships had come to Nan'ao Island to stir up trouble, without a doubt, the next step was a massive southward advance.

Although the Kun People's actions carried a hint of provocation toward the Nan'ao Deputy Commander's defense zone, Liu Xiang dared not pin his hopes on the officials.

Thus, on March 5, 1629, the Liu Xiang Gang, having rested and reorganized for several months, began surging out in large numbers from the Chaoshan region, heading straight for the sea lane chokepoint the pirates knew best and the richest in the south: the Pearl River Estuary.

The powerful northern neighbors, having received the news, did nothing, merely watching coldly as their rival departed into the distance.

What Liu Xiang did not know was that after leaving this time, he would never return to the Chaoshan region where he had built his power. The southern lands would become the final stage for all Chinese-style pirates, and the script would unfold on schedule.

After withdrawing his gaze for a moment from the warm southern lands, the giant secluded in his corner turned his attention once more to the cold, damp Jiangnan.

"Waves surge, waves flow, in the waves the surging river waters never cease..."

Dressed in a coarse homespun short shirt, garbed like a fisherman, the boatman wearing a straw rain cape rowed with vigor while cocking his ear to the tune drifting down from the cabin deck. Though he could not understand this foreign melody with its strange lyrics, the boatman still sensed a touch of bleak melancholy from the singing.

The one singing was Xiong Dao.

The boat had departed from Hangzhou, following the Qiantang River downstream. Upon reaching Jinshan Guard, it could turn north and enter the territory of Songjiang Prefecture. Navigating through the dense waterways of the Yangtze River Delta, a journey of merely thirty to fifty li by water would bring the boat to the prefectural city of Songjiang, and another thirty to fifty li north lay the future pearl, the present-day Shanghai County.

After belting out a song of the Shanghai Bund, Xiong Dao's passion was dispelled the moment the cold river wind hit him, his heroic spirit instantly gone. He tightened the bamboo rat fur robe around him, glanced at the desolate cotton fields on both banks of the river, and immediately felt the chill seep into his body. He hastily turned around and ducked into the cabin.

Normally, cotton fields in the middle and lower reaches of the Yangtze could begin sowing in the third or fourth month. The renowned Songjiang cotton of the Ming dynasty relied on the vast cotton fields north and south of the Yangtze to supply its raw material.

This situation had led to the Yangtze Delta, originally a land of fish and rice, becoming a region that purely purchased commodity grain by the late Ming. Grain farmers had turned into cotton and mulberry farmers, and the crops of the entire Su-Song-Chang Region had transitioned into cash crops.

However, in Songjiang Prefecture in 1629, cotton was not easy to plant: although it was already the warm spring of the third month, the cold climate of the Little Ice Age had caused late sowing in cotton fields everywhere. That was why, when Xiong Dao had cast his gaze around earlier, the land on both banks was still a bleak expanse, with not even a single farmer in the fields to be seen.

After ducking into the cabin, Xiong Dao immediately felt much warmer: this damned damp cold of the Jiangnan region was something he, a northerner by birth, found extremely hard to get used to. Because the air humidity was relatively high, and the current temperature was only about ten degrees above zero, no matter how thick the furs he wore, his underwear always felt damp, and his whole body was chilled.

After exhaling a breath, Xiong Dao hurriedly plopped down into a chair and stretched out his hands to warm them by the fire. As a wealthy merchant, his travel arrangements could naturally not be frugal: a luxurious, double-decked flat-bottomed boat was currently sailing along the river. The boat was finely crafted, its materials meticulously chosen, and its interior decor lavish and extravagant, perfectly befitting his status.

And what Xiong Dao was using to warm his hands at this moment was a common item from later generations: a tinplate honeycomb briquette stove.

Speaking of stoves, the original task Hangzhou Station had received was to begin selling these stoves and honeycomb briquettes this year.

Who knew that after the year-end General Assembly, the higher-ups' policy had changed: establish a local foothold and actively expand employment.

With this change, importing finished stoves from Taiwan became unrealistic. Although the animal-powered machinery transported from the Kiln District was all good equipment processed by machine tools, animal power was still animal power, and low production efficiency was unavoidable.

Take the tinplate used for the stoves, for example. The authentic Taiwanese goods were thin steel plates produced by the Steel Plant, while the locally made Hangzhou versions? Thick iron sheets hammered out by animal-powered forging hammers. In this regard, whether in appearance or durability, the authentic goods completely crushed the knockoffs.

However, policy was policy, and could not be altered. Thus, Xiong Dao had no choice but to open a workshop in Hangzhou, hiring a large number of workers to use animal-powered machinery to produce knockoff stoves and honeycomb briquettes.

As a result, the original model of a blockbuster product had to be changed to a slow, gradual rollout.

Although Mingrong had quickly discovered the many advantages of this stove — fuel-saving, convenient, able to preserve kindling — since production capacity could not keep up, dumping was out of the question. The only option was to support agents in various regions to slowly distribute the goods — this was also one of the purposes of Xiong Dao's current trip.

What sat before Xiong Dao now was an authentic stove. However, what burned in its chamber was not honeycomb briquettes, but bamboo charcoal used by the wealthy classes of the Ming dynasty. This bamboo charcoal was made by smoldering bamboo, had no smoky odor, and was very expensive.

As he warmed his hands, watching the bamboo charcoal in the stove chamber crackle and burn slowly, Xiong Dao sank into deep thought.

His trip to Songjiang Prefecture this time carried an important mission.

With the cargo throughput at Tangzhuang constantly increasing, and the semi-public recruitment of refugees proceeding, the already overburdened Tangzhuang Dock was now completely unable to cope.

One had to understand that the Qiantang River was never a place suitable for combined river-sea transport. Not only was the river mouth shallow, but it also frequently experienced various tidal bores, greatly affecting the entry and exit of deep-draft seagoing vessels.

Under these circumstances, Hangzhou Station naturally turned its gaze northward to the Shanghai Bund — there was no port location more suitable for "international trade" than Shanghai, a point fully verified by later generations.