Chapter 1605: A Confidence Rooted a Century Deep

1605. Chapter 1605 — A Confidence Rooted a Century Deep

"What you say, my lord... is indeed sound reasoning." After pondering for a moment, Liu Jing nodded. "I too hope our two nations can quickly return to normal."

"In that case, my lord, please waste no time in explaining matters on our behalf. Tell your country that on our side, no obstacles whatsoever remain to restoring trade — copper can resume export immediately, and all other preparations here have either been completed or are genuinely underway." A smile reappeared on Naitō Tadashige's face. "Furthermore, regarding the visit to the Great Han, I ask that your court grant a reply as soon as possible. Should your court consent, I am ready to depart at any time. The official sent to relieve me as Nagasaki Magistrate will be arriving shortly anyway, and when he does, I can simply hand all affairs over to him."

"Very well. Since you put it so, my lord, then I... then I shall give it my utmost this once!" After a long hesitation, Liu Jing finally seemed to steel his resolve. "I will go back at once and write a letter, laying out the stakes plainly to our country, conveying your nation's sincerity in full, and urging them to cease their obstinacy and restore trade immediately. However... can you guarantee, my lord, that copper exports will resume at once, and that nothing of this sort will happen again?"

"That I can guarantee." Naitō Tadashige answered solemnly. "We were indeed somewhat rash before, and we have been reflecting internally. How could we do anything of the sort again, and cause everyone needless trouble? This storm is best brought to an early end; there is no need to let it drag on."

"My lord, my deepest thanks!" Liu Jing rose with a grave expression and gave Naitō Tadashige a deep bow. "I believe that so long as your sincerity is made amply clear, our country will not persist in its obstruction, and everything will soon take a turn for the better."

"Then I shall await your good tidings. Time is pressing, so I must ask you to act swiftly." Naitō Tadashige's smile deepened. "Take back those gifts that were returned — you may distribute them as you see fit. When you have accomplished this great task, we will naturally have another gift ready for you, one that will absolutely ensure you want for nothing the rest of your days."

Liu Jing bowed deeply once more, then departed the official residence.

After Liu Jing had left, Naitō Tadashige still did not go and rest, but instead remained bent over his desk, continuing to review the documents. He had far too much to attend to lately, and the accumulated strain had added many white hairs to his head.

Temporarily taking over Takenaka Shigeyoshi's duties had seemed a minor matter at first, but recently he had discovered just how tangled it all was. Takenaka Shigeyoshi had entrenched himself in Nagasaki for a long time, meddling everywhere, and many matters could not be straightened out at a stroke.

And beyond Nagasaki's local affairs, the Great Han's unsettling movements worried him even more deeply. The trade dispute between the two nations had dragged on far too long and was already harming Japan's domestic interests; he had to bring these unpleasant frictions to an end as soon as possible.

Speaking of which, he could not help once again feeling great dissatisfaction with the earlier decision by the shogunate's high council to ban copper exports — though at this point, saying anything was too late.

The Great Han official appeared to have been persuaded by him, and could now be of some help in re-establishing normal trade between the two nations as quickly as possible. Yet it also seemed there was much he was powerless to affect, and he might not be able to help all that much.

After thinking for a long while, Naitō Tadashige decided to write a letter to the Great Han court, to be forwarded through Liu Jing. He would adopt a humble tone, forcefully argue the importance of trade between the two nations, and convey Japan's sincere desire to reopen trade and begin trade negotiations as soon as possible, so that talks could be held early and he himself could visit the Great Han at an early date.

He immediately took up paper and brush from beside him and began to write, but his mood was so agitated that he wrote in fits and starts, several times feeling so dissatisfied that he simply tore the paper up and started over. For some reason, a vague unease always lingered in his heart, as if a heavy stone were pressing down upon his head.

Feeling extremely vexed, he set down his brush and leaned back in the Nanban-style chair, closing his eyes to rest.

Gradually, he began to sink into a hazy state of consciousness; everything around him blurred, as if he had entered an empty void.

All that he had been pondering earlier circled through his mind again, and without realizing it, he once more sorted through every piece of intelligence concerning the Great Han.

It was simply too suspicious. According to reports coming in from all sides, the Great Han had been making unsettling moves on every front. Even more suspiciously, the Japanese trading house stationed in Goryeo had sent no word at all for nearly a month now, as if nothing whatsoever were happening there.

Because merchant traffic between the two nations had never been frequent, no one had thought much of it at first. But now, viewed in light of the Great Han's strange movements, it seemed peculiar no matter how one looked at it. A few days earlier he had dispatched an envoy to Busan in Goryeo to gather information, but no word had yet come back; presumably he would have to wait a while longer.

All of this, every bit of it, had probably begun with that decision.

When the decision to ban copper trade was first made, they had deliberated and weighed it repeatedly, assessing every possible reaction from the Great Han and preparing corresponding contingency plans — yet now they were discovering that the Great Han's response was entirely different from anything they had guessed.

Yes, it was far too strange. The mission stationed in the Great Han's capital had been sternly rebuked the entire time, yet the Great Han now showed no inclination whatsoever to reach a swift compromise, still negotiating at an unhurried pace. Did they want to talk or not? Naitō Tadashige could no longer fathom it at all.

And these covert actions — did the Great Han truly believe that Japan would simply accept that they were the work of pirates? Did they truly believe that this side would swallow its anger in silence? Even if the Great Han had always acted decisively, such measures seemed far too aggressive, almost as if they gave no thought to preserving future relations between the two nations. Judging from past interactions, he did not think the high officials of the Great Han court were such irrational men.

Could it be... could it be that they really intended to settle this with swords? After pondering deeply for a long while, Naitō Tadashige's mind suddenly flashed with this thought.

An adjutant beside him had raised this very conjecture a couple of days ago, but it had been quickly dismissed by him and the others. They believed that although the Great Han was massing its navy in the waters off Japan, it was meant to blockade Japan's foreign trade and pressure the shogunate into complying quickly, to redraw the rules of trade according to their will — not to launch a military invasion of Japan.

This was not arrogance on their part, but rather that the shogunate's external strength was sufficiently immense to give them confidence.

The shogunate system that Tokugawa Ieyasu had painstakingly built single-handedly had enormously expanded the Tokugawa clan's dominion over Japan and bequeathed a vast military apparatus. Under the Tokugawa shogun, besides the daimyo, there were also the hatamoto — hereditary minor lords dedicated solely to military affairs. These hatamoto, much like the hereditary local military officers of the Great Ming such as chiliarchs and centurions, or the noble knights of Europe, possessed designated lands and stipends, and were generationally bound to the profession of soldiering in defense of the shogunate.

The shogun commanded close to five thousand hatamoto, and together with the gokenin and attendants they numbered in the tens of thousands, known as the "Eighty Thousand Riders of the Hatamoto." These tens of thousands formed the shogunate's innermost core of military force and the very cornerstone on which they relied to maintain their rule over Japan. Beyond these elite troops directly under the hatamoto and the like, the shogunate and the pro-shogunate daimyo also controlled vast lands and populations, from which soldiers could be selected and conscripted when needed. If the shogunate committed its full strength, it could mobilize an army of several hundred thousand from its home base in the Kantō region alone.

With the shogunate possessing such formidable military power, the Great Han across the sea would surely not weary its troops on a distant expedition, wasting manpower and resources to no purpose — even the Mongol Yuan, with all their military might, had failed to defeat the Kamakura shogunate, let alone the present Edo shogunate, which was incalculably stronger than the Kamakura era. He trusted that the Great Han court could make a wise judgment.

Although there were other reports that the Great Han was massing troops in Goryeo, the reported scale did not at all resemble a full national mobilization for a distant campaign; it looked more like a small force being assembled to suppress internal revolts across Goryeo. According to reliable intelligence, the Great Han had recently and forcefully deposed Goryeo's reigning monarch, Yi Hon, provoking unrest in various regions. Perhaps the Great Han was sending troops into Goryeo precisely to quell that discontent. How could they possibly imagine that the court of the Central Plains would be so recklessly audacious as to dare a full-scale invasion of the shogunate with a mere few thousand soldiers?

It was precisely after carefully assessing the intelligence currently available that Naitō Tadashige and his staff had ultimately reached their judgment and formulated their present response.

But... what if that unlucky guess turned out to be true? Naitō Tadashige asked himself again.

He knew full well this was likely needless worry, yet the shadow in his heart could not be dispelled no matter what. In fact, after receiving the Great Han envoy, this unease had only grown more intense.

His breathing grew heavier and heavier; he felt as though he were caught in the midst of a violent storm.

Better to believe it true and prepare than to dismiss it and be caught off guard. Taking a few extra precautions could only be a good thing; at worst, if everything turned out peaceful, they could simply revert to normal.

At last he made his decision. He straightened up again and once more took up paper and brush from beside him.

Only this time, he was no longer writing a letter of appeal to the officials of the Chinese court, but an official dispatch — a dispatch reporting these recent developments to the shogun, Tokugawa Iemitsu.

Out of fear of incurring the shogun's wrath and being held responsible for the deterioration of bilateral relations, he had been reluctant to report such matters upward, preferring to try to resolve them himself first. But now, under this heavy pressure, he could no longer afford such concerns. If the two nations went to war and he had made no prior report — had not even been aware — then even if Japan won the war, he would likely be ordered to commit seppuku by the shogun before that ever happened.

Because he had ample experience from before, he wrote quite smoothly this time, quickly dashing off a draft and appending his own cautious assessment. He advised that the shogun had best make some covert preparations in secret, just in case, but that the overall priority should remain preserving the greater framework of relations between the great powers, and that no further actions should be taken that would aggravate the conflict between the two nations.

Once he had finished writing, he called out, summoning one of his attendants inside.

"Have this letter properly prepared and send someone to deliver it to Edo, to be presented to the shogun," he ordered offhandedly.

The attendant immediately assented and took the letter, intending to leave.

But before he could go, Naitō Tadashige stopped him and added a new order. "Also, dispatch some additional men. From this moment on, the Great Han trading house in Nagasaki is to be placed under surveillance. I want a clear record of everyone coming and going there. And be careful not to reveal your traces!"

"My lord?" The attendant looked puzzled. "Have there not always been men monitoring the Great Han trading house?"

"That sort of monitoring is nothing but a show. What use is it?" Naitō Tadashige shook his head. "The people in Nagasaki have dealt with foreign merchants for too long; they are all cunning and lazy by nature. They have long since become useless — how could they shoulder an important task? You are to assign different men to the surveillance, and you will personally take charge. Report to me directly the moment anything unusual occurs. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord!" This time the attendant dared not question further and hastily agreed.

"I can only hope I am worrying over nothing!" Naitō Tadashige suddenly let out a long sigh and spoke words the other man could not understand.

From that day onward, the Nagasaki authorities visibly tightened their security around the Great Han legation, and the port defenses also began to be slowly reinforced. These subtle changes naturally did not escape the people at the Great Han trading house, and so Liu Jing too began to act with great caution.

It was at this moment that Zhou Pu hurried back to Nagasaki. He had originally intended to return to the trading house at once, but Tōgō Shigekata, the guard escorting him, quickly noticed that something was amiss, and so they were forced to first take cover nearby. Only as night was about to fall did they blend in with a group of Chinese merchants, Zhou Pu disguised as a guard, and make their way back into the consulate.

The moment he entered, he immediately sought out Liu Jing.

"Liu, what has happened today? I saw the security outside is far tighter than before."

"You have finally returned, my lord..." Liu Jing's expression was rather haggard, as though he had not slept well for days. "It has been like this lately. The shogunate seems to have grown suspicious of us."

He then relayed to Zhou Pu everything he had heard during his meeting with Naitō Tadashige.

As his account went on, Zhou Pu's originally fairly good mood plummeted straight to rock bottom.

"My lord, though I exerted every effort and managed to bluff my way through with that Elder, they have clearly become suspicious. They have begun keeping our people under surveillance everywhere, and it will be far more difficult to get anything done from now on." At this, Liu Jing's face turned somewhat ashen. "It is not just here — the men I sent out have also reported back that the port area is now on high alert, with troops everywhere standing at strict readiness. Ah, my lord, it is not our own safety I fear for, but that the court's great enterprise may be affected..."

"Do not be anxious." Though Zhou Pu felt some worry himself, he understood that as a man bearing the responsibility of leadership, the more critical the moment, the less he could show any wavering, lest those below lose heart. "Our nation is making preparations everywhere; it is only natural that the shogunate would catch wind of some things and grow suspicious. This was within our expectations and is nothing to fear. The fact that Naitō Tadashige spoke to you as he did shows that he still harbors wishful thinking in his heart, hoping our two nations can preserve their original relationship. So long as he clings to that hope, he will not turn against us now. For the time being, we are at least safe. Besides, what needed to be done is largely done; there is no longer any need for us to take further risks. Even if they realize the truth belatedly, what can they do to us?"

He then gave a cold laugh. "As for the shogunate's defenses at Nagasaki port, what is there to fear? You have seen their cannons yourself — they are nothing but a pile of scrap metal. Smashing them to pieces would be effortless. Whether they are on guard or not, blasting open their fortresses is simple enough. That is not something we need to worry about."

"What you say... does make sense." Liu Jing nodded slightly, accepting Zhou Pu's argument.

He then asked Zhou Pu, "So, my lord, after this trip to Kyoto, what results did you achieve?"

"The harvest was exceedingly rich." Zhou Pu smiled and nodded. "It went far more smoothly than I had anticipated. I directly sought out those court nobles in the capital, and even spoke with their Ministers of the Left and Right. It's only a pity that circumstances prevented me from meeting their sovereign... Nevertheless, everything that needed to be said has been made clear. They have agreed to our terms and promised to serve our purposes."

"Th-this... this is wonderful news!" This good tidings also thoroughly dispersed the dark clouds hanging over Liu Jing's heart. "Now that both the local magnates and the Japanese imperial court can be driven by us, what need is there to fear the shogunate!"

"So, as I said, the situation is already excellent." Zhou Pu smiled and patted his shoulder. "You and I merely need to endure a trifling inconvenience for now. With the homeland's military advance imminent, we will soon hold our heads high once more."

"My lord speaks the truth," Liu Jing immediately concurred. "Then shall we simply report the actual situation to the homeland now, and urge them to advance their troops?"

"The actual situation must be reported, but we cannot use urging—only a suggestion. After all, it is His Highness the Crown Prince personally overseeing matters there; we cannot afford any disrespect." Zhou Pu shook his head. "What we need most right now is to ascertain the exact timing of the homeland's military advance. Only then can we notify the capital in advance and coordinate with the Kyushu magnates."

"Then shall I simply dispatch a messenger tomorrow?" Liu Jing immediately asked.

"I will go personally. It is best that I alone take the lead in these matters." Zhou Pu answered in a low voice. "Entrusting it to another would only add unnecessary risk."

"Very well... then everything rests upon you, my lord!" Liu Jing first agreed, but soon grew puzzled again. "But my lord, your current hairstyle... is no different from a Japanese person's. I fear it will not be so easy for you to set sail."

Since it is an attempt, then persevere and walk it through. Thank you all for your support.