Chapter 233: February, Year 12 of Hongwu

The twelfth year of Hongwu, February eighteenth.

Borneo North Bank, Zhenhai City.

It is a newly built city, just completed, nestled against the mountains and the sea; the city wall is made of cement and stone blocks, about Three Zhang high, with a perimeter of six li.

Dozens of modern cannons are mounted on the wall, their black mouths pointing toward the sea.

The layout inside the city was designed by Xu Da according to the regulations of a Great Ming prefectural city: a cross‑shaped main street, with the Prefect's office at the center, and military camps, warehouses, markets, and residences arranged to the east, west, south, and north.

Now the city houses ten thousand stationed troops, and together with artisans, laborers, and merchants totals five or six thousand people, forming a bustling frontier town.

Zhu Yong stands on the western dock of the city, holding a bamboo pole in his hand, fishing.

Chang Yuchun squats beside him, also fishing.

Behind the two stand a dozen Imperial Troops, including dark‑faced Zhang Wuhe and white‑faced Chen Heng.

"Prince, you've been fishing for an hour and haven't caught a single fish," Chang Yuchun says, glancing at Zhu Yong's fish basket, which is empty.

Zhu Yong stares intently at the sea and says, "No rush; fishing requires patience."

"I've already caught three," Chang Yuchun waves his own fish basket.

"That's because Uncle Chang was lucky."

As soon as the words finish, Zhu Yong's fishing line suddenly drops.

"Got one!" Zhu Yong's wrist twitches, bending the bamboo pole into an arc.

Water splashes fourfold on the surface as a large fish over two feet long struggles desperately.

Zhu Yong steadily reels in, and shortly a silvery, gleaming big fish is hauled ashore.

"Good fellow, a grouper! Must be five or six jin," Chang Yuchun says, leaning over.

Zhu Yong removes the fish from the hook, tosses it into the basket, and laughs naively, "Extra dish for tonight."

Chang Yuchun sees his smile and laughs as well.

This simple Prince, fierce as a beast in battle yet like an ordinary youngster when not at war, can be delighted for half a day by catching a single fish.

The two continue fishing.

The sea breeze brushes lightly, and the sunshine is just right.

In the distant sea, several Great Ming warships glide by slowly, their flags fluttering.

Further away, the outlines of a few small islands are faintly visible.

"Uncle Chang, tell me, how many islands are there in the South Sea?" Zhu Yong suddenly asks.

Chang Yuchun thinks for a moment and says, "They're countless; I've heard the locals say the islands on the sea are as numerous as cattle hair—some inhabited, some uninhabited, some huge, some only the size of a palm."

"With so many islands, occupying them all would take how much effort?"

"Indeed not; but we're not in a hurry. We'll take it slowly, first seize the large and important ones, and worry about the small later," Chang Yuchun says.

Zhu Yong nods and says nothing further.

He actually has a count in his mind.

In a previous life he saw on a map that the South Sea region contains far more than ten million islands.

But the truly valuable ones are only a few large ones: Sumatra, Java, Borneo, Luzon, and the strategic points on both sides of the Strait of Malacca.

He intends to take all those places.

Not for expansion, but to control the sea routes.

Great Ming must go to sea, trade, and venture farther, so it must control this sea.

Otherwise, future colonizers would choke Great Ming's throat from here.

In his past life he studied so much history that he knows how those Westerners, with a few ships and a few cannons, seized this bountiful sea.

In this life, he will leave those people with no way out.

……

At noon, the two haul in their rods and return to the city.

There are six fish in the basket total: three for Zhu Yong, three for Chang Yuchun.

After entering the city, the two head straight for the Prefect's office.

Inside the Prefect's office, Xu Da is handling official business, his desk piled with documents.

Seeing Zhu Yong enter, Xu Da rises, bows, and says, "Prince."

Zhu Yong waves his hand and says, "Xu Shu, no need for formalities; I caught a few fish, had them stewed, let's eat together at noon."

Xu Da smiles and replies.

The three go to the back hall, sit down, and drink tea.

"Prince, the stationed troops in all regions have been arranged," Xu Da reports.

Zhu Yong nods and asks, "Is the grain supply sufficient?"

"Sufficient; the silver allocated by the Ministry of Revenue hasn't been spent yet, and near each city we have opened military farms, planting sweet potatoes and corn; in two months we can harvest a crop," Xu Da says.

"What about officials? All in place?"

"All in place; Liu Wenyuan brought over seventy officials, assigned to each city, and these days they are busy registering the populace and surveying the land," Xu Da says.

Zhu Yong lifts his tea cup, takes a sip, thinks, and asks, "Do the local natives submit?"

"Some submit, some resist. Over at Manzhe Boyi, a few native chieftains resisted and were suppressed by the stationed troops; over at Java, a few descendants of sultans tried to stir trouble but were pacified by the local Prefect."

"Over at Siam, the monks are quite cooperative, helping to persuade the populace," Xu Da says honestly.

Zhu Yong nods and says, "If they resist, we fight until they submit; if they submit, we treat them well, give them benefits, so they know following Great Ming is stronger than following those native kings."

"Understood," Xu Da says.

Chang Yuchun interjects from beside, "Prince, what shall we do next?"

Zhu Yong thinks for a moment and says, "Wait..."

"Wait?"

"We wait for Imperial Father's decree, we wait for the court to send more officials, we wait for the first batch of immigrants; South Sea is so vast, our few tens of thousands cannot manage it alone, we need people to farm, to trade, to settle."

Zhu Yong said.

Xu Da nodded and said, "Prince is right; conquering a place is easy, holding it is hard; only when there are many Han People can these lands truly bear the name Great Ming."

Chang Yuchun scratched his head and said, "Then, until when must we wait?"

"No rush," Zhu Yong looked out the window, "It's only just begun; there's plenty of time."

……

On the twentieth of the second month, a steam clipper sailed in from the north.

A civil official in his thirties disembarked, surnamed Zhou, given name Wenbin, sent by the Ministry of Personnel.

"I, Zhou Wenbin, request an audience with Prince Wu," Zhou Wenbin knelt and saluted.

Zhu Yong helped him to his feet and said, "Lord Zhou, you've had a hard journey; was the trip smooth?"

"With Prince's blessings, the journey was smooth. Prince, I, by order of the Ministry of Personnel, have brought thirty‑seven candidate officials and the first batch of immigrant list," Zhou Wenbin said.

Zhu Yong took the list and skimmed through it.

The immigrant list recorded two thousand households, about eight thousand people, mostly impoverished peasants from Jiangxi and Huguang, with some craftsmen and merchants as well.

"When will the immigrants arrive?" Zhu Yong asked.

"Your Prince, the first batch is about five hundred households; they can arrive next month. The rest will come in stages; all should be here within the year," Zhou Wenbin said.

Zhu Yong nodded, "Very well, Lord Zhou, you've worked hard. Rest for now; tomorrow we'll discuss settlement matters."

Zhou Wenbin took his leave.

Xu Da watched his back and said, "Prince, the court's move this time isn't slow."

"Imperial Father and elder brother have it in mind; now that South Sea has been taken, we must quickly populate it. The sooner we fill it, the firmer the foundation," Zhu Yong said.

……

In the latter part of the second month, Zhu Yong, accompanied by Chang Yuchun and Wang Baobao, set out by boat to inspect various locations.

First they arrived at Malacca.

A small town had already been built here, with a garrison of one thousand, led by Chen Heng.

Chen Heng took them on a tour around the town.

"Prince, Malacca truly is a fine spot. You see, this strait is the essential passage for east‑west traffic; if we control it, all passing merchant ships must pay tax."

Chen Heng pointed to the distant strait and said.

Zhu Yong nodded and said, "The garrison must hold firm; don't let pirates find a loophole."

"Understood, sir."

Then to Sumatra.

Here the garrison numbered five hundred, mainly to monitor the island's indigenous people.

The local indigenous chief has already submitted, bringing people to deliver grain and fruit.

Zhu Yong saw the chief; he was a man in his fifties, dark‑skinned, wearing a tube skirt, with a headscarf wrapped around his head.

"Prince, we humble folk are willing to submit to Great Ming, to be its subjects for generations," the elder knelt and kowtowed, his Mandarin halting.

Zhu Yong helped him up, "Elder, no need for excessive courtesy; having submitted to Great Ming, you are now Great Ming's people. If any difficulty arises, feel free to seek the garrison's aid."

The elder nodded repeatedly, tears of gratitude streaming.

Zhu Yong had someone give him some Cotton Cloth, salt, and ironware; the elder left, thanking him profusely.

Chang Yuchun watched his back and said, "Prince, can this man be trusted?"

"Whether he's trustworthy or not, we'll see later; as long as we remain strong, they will keep submitting. If they truly rebel someday, we'll just fight them again."

Zhu Yong said.