Chapter 603: Crawley's Fantastical Journey (VI)

Aboard the Lady Jacob, which rose and fell with the waves, Old William stood on the deck, his great beard dancing in the wind.

The next moment, Old William reached into his coat and produced a flat, molded, embossed, pure-silver flask. Taking a sip of the "authentic" Tai-Peng Rum inside, Old William pointed ahead through the sea wind and shouted, "That's Macau, do you see it, Viscount Crawley!"

The time was already early April of the 16th year.

After the earlier banquet at Hongji Port, the Lady Jacob had lingered at Hongji Port for another half a month.

The reason for such a long stay was that Old William, leveraging his identity as a Dutch collaborator, had "wangled" a crucial piece of inside information: the opening of Guangzhou's doors.

Now, the opening of doors is one thing when blasted open by someone else's naval guns, and quite another when you proactively initiate it to attract investment.

For the Chinese, they have a profound experience of both operations. The former turns a nation into a "semi-feudal, semi-colonial" sick man; the latter turns a nation into the world's second-largest GDP old rogue. The contrast is stark.

In short, isolationism and sakoku are unacceptable. The decline of China in modern history actually had its foundations laid as early as the sixteenth century: the moment foreigners crossed the ocean's barriers to knock on the door, it already signaled that the native civilization had fallen behind.

Why else do all sci-fi films default to alien civilizations being advanced? It's simple: because crossing time and space itself represents technological superiority.

In this plane, when the time reached the 16th year, the Crossing Faction entrenched along the southeastern coast of the Great Ming finally began the process of guiding the people under its rule to proactively open its doors.

This opening of doors, though finally tacitly permitted by the imperial court in its latest decree, was, to be honest, something that certain well-prepared individuals intended to proceed with according to their existing timetable, regardless of the court's tacit permission or not.

It was merely a matter of self-deception, or rather, how much face to leave the imperial court.

Fortunately, the court now had a well-informed and steady hand at the helm, so it did not get entangled in such minor issues.

Thus, the Lady Jacob, by virtue of Old William's status as a shareholder, secured a place among the first batch to participate in the opening of doors.

Next, in late March, the grand fleet, having settled all matters, finally departed from Annam's Hongji Port to return in triumph. The long-waiting Lady Jacob also joined the formation, mingling with the transport fleet as they set off together.

With the total number of ships exceeding a hundred, the grand fleet's formation was a magnificent sight, drawing a long trail over a dozen nautical miles across the sea surface.

In early April, on this day, the grand fleet arrived in the waters off Macau.

At Macau, this three-way junction, the previously tightly organized grand fleet immediately parted ways. A large number of transport ships and a portion of the escort ships scattered in all directions—some continuing north along the coastline toward Tai-Peng Min-Zhe, others vanishing into the various river systems of Guangnan.

The remaining main force of the grand fleet dropped anchor on the spot.

The Lady Jacob mingled among them and, unlike the several other European ships that had come with her, did not enter the Macau Inner Harbour but obediently dropped anchor in the outer sea.

Early the next morning, four new seagoing ships emerged from the Macau Inner Harbour and joined the fleet. Immediately, the grand fleet weighed anchor and began to sail up the broad Pearl River, heading straight for the outskirts of Guangzhou City.

Of the four ships that joined later, three were European-style soft-sail ships, flying the royal flags of the Dutch, Spain, and Portugal from their masts. The sole hard-sail ship was a Red Single Ship from the Wo State.

At this point, the truth was revealed. These few "foreign" ships were the icebreakers to be used this time in response to the "opening of doors" policy.

Unlike the Lady Jacob, which had been squeezed in at the last moment, the latter ships were undoubtedly diplomatic vessels that had come prepared.

These included the Dutch, who had always maintained a relatively high degree of cooperation, and the Spanish, who had been enjoying good days these past two years.

Also, standing on the bow of the Red Single Ship, greedily surveying both banks of the Pearl River, were Japanese Samurai with their moon-head hairstyles.

Historically, as early as the "Tribute Dispute" in the early Jiajing years, the Ming government had officially banned trade with Japan.

And this time, the Japan Trade Ship entering Guangzhou implicitly carried a hidden layer of meaning: the Ming government had formally lifted the trade ban on Japan—at least, under the protection of a certain power base in the southeast coastal area, the Japanese could now freely enter and leave the port.

So the Japanese were in a very pleasant mood this time.

Where there are those in a pleasant mood, naturally there are those who are not.

In a bad mood were the Portuguese ships trailing at the very end of the great fleet.

Originally, since the Jiajing era, the Portuguese had been the only foreign merchants authorized by the Ming government to come to Guangzhou City at designated times each year to purchase silk and porcelain. Exploiting this advantage, and leveraging Macau as a superb transit point, the Portuguese had reaped countless trade profits for decades.

Now, the good days of the Franciscan devils were over.

First, Macau City was forcefully breached, and the Franciscans lost their core trade stronghold. And this opening of doors also stripped the Franciscans of their Guangzhou trade privileges, reducing them to the same trade status as their mortal enemies, the Dutch.

Everything the Portuguese had built over the previous decades in trade with the Ming was reduced to nothing overnight.

Of course they were in a bad mood.

But no matter how bad their mood, the Portuguese still actively participated in this opening of doors. They no longer had the capital to be tsundere; if they failed to recognize the situation, there would be no share of future maritime trade for them.

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And so, led by the two mighty ships that dominated East Asian sea power, the fleet sailed up the newly cleared and planned main channel of the Pearl River, finally anchoring at dusk on April 7th of the 16th year in White Goose Pond outside Guangzhou City.

Feeling the oppressive presence of Guangzhou City in the darkness, gazing at the brilliantly lit flower boats in the night, and even the splendid lights of the New District in the distance, the Dutch and Spanish, including Crawley, were exceptionally excited. Due to the Portuguese's desperate obstruction over many years, the former had never had the chance to enter the Ming interior, and this time they could finally achieve their wish.

When the morning sun rose the next day, the scheduled grand ceremony began.

First, bursts of roaring echoed across White Goose Pond—the fleet was firing a gun salute.

Next, the eight gates of Guangzhou City opened wide, and a large number of Provincial Standard troops escorted Governor-General of Liangguang Xiong Wencan and a host of prefectural and county officials as they surged out from the city.

Next came the large crowd of ordinary Ming People who had gotten word and come to watch the excitement.

Order at the scene was very good. In recent years, White Goose Pond had frequently hosted similar grand spectacles, so everyone now knew where to stand.

Before Xiong Wencan's large contingent reached the dock, the Loyal and Brave Count Cao Chuan (false), dressed in a grand scarlet count's robe, disembarked first from the Zhenman, bringing his subordinate officers and arriving early at the dock to wait.

The two sides met cordially at the dock.

What followed was standard procedure.

Lord Cao first reported the general outline of the expedition to Governor-General Xiong in his capacity as Special Forces Deputy Commander of the Guangdong Military District: "In relentless combat with the enemy, relying entirely on the soldiers' dedication, we have achieved complete success."

After briefly listening to the report, Governor-General Xiong replied with a congratulatory message: "A trifling Satsuma jumping about, I imagine it could not withstand the General's single strike of Mount Tai. For today's occasion, I too have made preparations."

At this, host and guest exchanged a knowing smile, everything understood without a word.

At this, the peripheral onlookers all exchanged knowing smiles, as if what everyone heard and saw was one and the same thing.

But the truth was not so.

For the majority of onlookers, Regional Commander Cao had this time led his men to Haedong to teach a lesson to the Samoyed State, which had dared to disrupt the trade routes.

But for Xiong Wencan and the various informed nobles and officials, Regional Commander Cao had this time led his men out to sea to teach the Annamese a lesson for seizing territory.

Only the Transmigrators knew that this voyage was not just for Annam, but also harbored the hidden purpose of evading the imperial court's summons and denying the Chongzhen Emperor any pretext.

After the formalities with Xiong Wencan were concluded, a crowd of officials from various Guangzhou government offices came forward to offer their congratulations.

It must be said that the military officers of the Great Ming in the past could never have put on such airs. Let alone going out on a "bandit suppression campaign," even a newly appointed Regional Commander would not have had a single civil official come to congratulate him.

However, times had changed. The one surnamed Cao had clearly become a power unto himself, entrenched in the southeast, one hand covering the sky, a living, breathing Cao Aman of the present age. And with that old scoundrel Xiong Wencan colluding with him and aiding his villainy, most of the upright gentlemen in Guangdong now chose to feign compliance—a wise man does not fight a losing battle. Cao Bandit's silver and avenues of wealth were truly plentiful; this wave of corruption was too much for this official to resist, so better to build connections first.

After exchanging cordial, brotherly pleasantries with the assembled civil official colleagues, according to usual custom, it should have been time for everyone to return to the city collectively for public-funded feasting and public-funded opera.

But this time there was an extra step in the process.

The next moment, the foreign merchant representatives of every nation, long since fully prepared and dressed in formal attire, lined up and stepped forward.

Seeing the sudden appearance of a large crowd of colored-eyed people, the onlookers immediately broke into a flurry of hushed murmurs.

Yet that was all. The emergence of these golden-haired (red-haired, black-haired, brown-haired), green-eyed foreigners did not cause any sensation. This was because in years past, Guangzhou City had also regularly seen Franciscans.

Xiong Wencan, who had long been prepared, received the envoys of each nation in turn.

The procedure was very simple: the merchants queued up, stepped forward to bow and salute, then presented letters written by their respective nations' East Asia Governor-Generals to the Ming Governor-General, along with their Gift Lists.

On Lao Xiong's side, after a subordinate received the documents, he would offer a few gentle words of encouragement, and regardless of whether the foreigners understood or not, that counted as sending them on their way.

Very quickly, the brief and convenient procedure—yet one of immense significance—the new Open Door policy, completed its historic first transaction.

The location was aboard the Jacob's Wife, anchored not far from the pier, where Crawley and Old William, uncle and nephew, watched the entire drama unfold with great relish.

By the time all the welcoming procedures were finished, it was already approaching high noon. At this hour, the big shots naturally went into the city to wine and dine, while most of the rest scattered like birds and beasts. And the fleet that had previously displayed its spectacular formation on White Goose Pond finally reached its moment to disperse and return home—the main force Battleships turned around and headed Downstream to Huangpu Military Port, while the guests, including all the trade vessels, all went to the New District Pier.

Crawley and his people could finally set foot on dry land now.

To welcome the First Group of foreign merchants, the New District had already made preparations in areas such as quarantine, trade, and tourism training.