MLMD -Chapter 417 Fan Wencheng Arrives

More than a dozen Qing soldiers, their minds consumed by rage, spurred their horses desperately as they followed the tracks left by the Ming troops. Along the way, they showed no concern at all for their mounts’ stamina. In less than two hours, they galloped dozens of miles at full speed, finally catching up at the hour of You with the night scouts who were withdrawing toward Jinzhou with their spoils.

On the flat, open plain, hundreds of head of livestock and several dozen warhorses made for a conspicuous target, visible from several li away. As the saying goes, when enemies meet, hatred flares all the more fiercely. Nelehe, whose entire village—young and old alike—had been slaughtered, rode at the very front. Behind him followed more than a dozen comrades from the Bordered White Banner. By now, hatred had completely clouded his reason, and he paid no attention at all to the surrounding terrain. Among these Qing soldiers, the only one whose mind was still relatively clear was the man holding the rank of Boshiku. He glanced at the dozen or twenty Ming soldiers ahead, then at the large herd of cattle and sheep, and felt that with the speed of their horses and the power of their bows, they should still be able to keep these Ming troops from escaping. In the end, he made no move to dissuade them.

Bang…

A dull gunshot rang out. A Qing soldier riding behind Nelehe toppled from his horse and slammed headfirst into the ground.

“Bad—there’s an ambush!”

Having fought the Xuan–Da Army so many times, countless Qing soldiers had already died beneath its firearms. By now, the Qing had developed a deep-seated fear of the Xuan–Da Army’s muskets. The moment the gunshot sounded, everyone’s heart leapt into their throat. Many instinctively ducked low, trying to evade the lead bullets—but it was already too late.

Gunshots rang out one after another from all around. The Qing soldiers who were galloping at full speed fell one by one like kites with their strings cut. Some of those who prided themselves on their riding skills attempted the trick of hiding beneath their horses’ bellies, dangling from the stirrups. What they hadn’t expected, however, was that these despicable Ming soldiers not only lay in ambush—they even fired at the horses. Each gunshot was accompanied by a burst of blood. One warhorse after another let out a mournful cry before collapsing helplessly onto the ground.

In less than three minutes, the once-dense gunfire came to a halt. All of the dozen or so Qing soldiers who had given chase lay dead in pools of blood.

“Move in… go take a look!”

The night scouts, having reloaded their lead bullets, slowly approached the Qing soldiers lying strewn across the ground. Every musket was fitted with a bayonet, the cold gleam of steel aimed at the fallen enemies.

Suddenly, a voice called out, “Boss Lin, there’s still a Tatar here who’s alive. What do we do?”

“You idiot. Why are you even asking me about this? If you want to take him prisoner, then bring him back. If not, just give him a quick death. Don’t waste my damned time.”

“Oh…” The voice sounded rather aggrieved. Soon after, a low, muffled scream rang out.

Two ke later, after finishing up the battlefield, the twenty-plus night scouts rejoined the retreating column. This time, however, the group had gained six or seven additional warhorses, along with a pile of weapons and armor. Strictly speaking, the Xuan–Da Army had little use for Qing weapons and armor, but even if they didn’t want them, plenty of others did. Taken back, these items could still be sold for a tidy sum. After all, no one ever turns their nose up at silver. Thus, Ming soldiers usually gathered such spoils and sold them at a discount to the logistics and supply camp upon their return.

The deaths of a dozen Qing soldiers were nothing more than a trivial incident—something White Kai and the dozens of night scouts would likely forget before long. But for the Manchu women who had been abducted, the impact was immense. Watching the warriors who, in their eyes, had once been brave and invincible fall dead one after another amid the crackle of gunfire—without even getting close to the Ming soldiers—some women who had still clung to hope of rescue felt the light in their eyes fade away.

After eliminating these Qing troops, White Kai’s group did not linger. They quickly departed with their spoils. By the time a large Qing force arrived several hours later, all they saw were more than a dozen corpses of Qing soldiers and warhorses, stripped of clothing and armor.

Such incidents continued to occur throughout areas under Qing rule. The Ming army’s highly aggressive “raiding the fields” tactics provoked tremendous anger and panic among the Qing. In response, the Qing organized multiple counterattacks, with losses on both sides. Many Ming settlements beyond the passes were also attacked by Qing forces. Yet what the Qing had not anticipated was that their assaults on these settlements met with setbacks from the very start—because they were astonished to discover that all the residents of these settlements were equipped with muskets.

Yes, you heard that right—muskets. Beginning at the end of last year, Yue Yang had started distributing firearms to the residents of Liaodong, with the aim of strengthening the self-defense capabilities of the Han populace in these settlements. Of course, these were not the long-range, high-powered Minié rifles used by the Xuan–Da Army, but rather muzzle-loading smoothbore muskets with an effective range of only about a hundred paces. Even so, these smoothbore firearms inflicted heavy casualties on the Qing soldiers. Each settlement had anywhere from one or two hundred people to five or six hundred, and at least half of the residents were armed with muskets. If too few Qing troops came, they simply couldn’t crack these settlements. If too many came, the settlers would light signal fires for help. On the plains of Liaodong, once a signal fire was lit, it could be seen clearly from dozens of li away. Within just a few hours, nearby garrisons would arrive to provide援cements. This quickly left the Qing in a severe dilemma: send too few troops and they couldn’t take the settlements; send too many, and they risked being wiped out by Ming forces rushing to the scene. Thus, they found themselves in an extremely passive position…

In the blink of an eye, it was already May. After more than two months, Weihai Guard had undergone dramatic changes. The once-small pier had turned into a massive construction site. The docks could truly be described as a sea of people. Countless laborers carried stone blocks, timber, and cement back and forth. Viewed from above, a ring-shaped harbor was gradually taking shape.

Yue Yang walked along the docks with his hands clasped behind his back. Following him were Fang Yizhi and Mao Xiang. As he watched the harbor steadily take form, Yue Yang felt a surge of joy in his heart. Turning to the two beside him, he said, “Mizhi, Bijiang—this dock has reached such progress in just over two months. You two deserve much of the credit. It seems you’ve grown quite a bit over these past two years.”

Fang Yizhi and Mao Xiang hurriedly responded with modesty, “Your Excellency flatters us. Any small achievements we’ve made are entirely thanks to your cultivation.”

Yue Yang merely smiled faintly and said nothing more. In another world, Mao Xiang was a literary figure, while Fang Yizhi was a scientist and philosopher. But in this world, after joining Yue Yang’s command, he had not allowed them to continue merely wielding brushes and ink. Instead, he sent them down to grassroots positions for training—first to work at the farms in Wulizhai of Yingzhou Prefecture, then to study at military workshops. After nearly two years of tempering, both their experience and abilities had grown tremendously. They were no longer the frail, pale scholars who couldn’t even truss a chicken. Their formerly weak bodies had become strong; their fair complexions had turned a healthy wheat color. More importantly, they were no longer bookworms who only buried themselves in dead texts. The energy unleashed when practice was combined with knowledge was astonishing. Now, both men had become capable of standing on their own. In Yue Yang’s view, sending either of them to serve as a county magistrate—or even a prefect—would pose no problem at all.

After making a circuit of the docks, Yue Yang asked, “When will this harbor be completed?”

Fang Yizhi replied, “Reporting to Your Excellency, if construction continues at this pace, it should be completed by early next year. However, our supply of cement is starting to fall short. We must have Shanxi increase its deliveries.”

“Not enough cement?” Yue Yang frowned slightly. Over the years, cement—a new construction material prized for its high strength, frost resistance, low shrinkage, and moldability—had quickly become popular throughout the Ming. The manufacturing process itself wasn’t complicated: mix loess, gypsum, and some iron-bearing minerals, then fire them. Gather a few craftsmen and a hundred workers, and a cement factory could be set up. It was just that in an era relying mostly on manual labor, output was limited. Although cement had begun to gain popularity in northern provinces like Shanxi, in Shandong it was still something of a novelty. The cement used for dock construction was nominally shipped from Shanxi, but in reality, most of it had been brought over by Yue Yang from the modern era. Otherwise, given the state of the roads at this time, the transport costs alone would have been unbearable.

“It looks like we’ll have to build a cement plant here,” Yue Yang thought to himself. He was about to discuss the idea with the two men when Mao Xiang added, “My lord, we’re also running short on timber. We need to accelerate procurement.”

“What? We’re short on timber too?”

Hearing this, Yue Yang felt a wave of irritation. During this period, he had built twelve shipyards around Weihai Guard and hired a large number of shipwrights to replicate the vessels he had brought over. Although he possessed detailed blueprints and models, construction was still in its early stages, so progress was slow. Correspondingly, timber consumption was enormous, to the point that supplies for shipbuilding were falling behind.

“Ah…” Yue Yang let out a long sigh and fell silent. Fang Yizhi and Mao Xiang exchanged glances behind him, guilt showing in their eyes. As subordinates, they felt pained that they could not ease their superior’s burdens.

At this point, Yue Yang lost any desire to continue inspecting the site. He immediately instructed, “Mizhi, write a letter in my name at once. Have Wulizhai transfer several dozen cement-factory craftsmen here to select sites and build at least three cement plants. They must go into production within three months. Construction of the docks must not stop. Understood?”

“Yes, Your Excellency!” Fang Yizhi agreed at once. After all, cement factories at this time required little in the way of advanced technology—two or three months was more than enough.

“As for the shipbuilding timber…” Yue Yang trailed off, sinking into thought. In this era, ship timber mostly came from Southeast Asia, Korea, and Liaodong. Southeast Asia was still Zheng Zhilong’s domain, and before his fleet was completed and combat-capable, Yue Yang did not wish to provoke him. That left only Korea and Liaodong. But Korea was now under Qing control, leaving Liaodong as the sole option. With his mind full of concerns, Yue Yang slowly returned to his residence…

While Yue Yang was so busy with Shandong’s development that his feet barely touched the ground, a group of visitors arrived at Weihai Guard. At first glance, they looked like a caravan of merchants. But an experienced observer would notice that aside from a handful of attendants, the remaining dozens were all robust men. Their palms were thick with calluses, and their eyes were far sharper than those of ordinary people. Clearly, these were no mere showpieces.

“My lord, should we find a place to settle in first?” one man asked softly, leaning close to the middle-aged man at the front.

“No rush. Let’s go take a look at the docks first.”

The leading middle-aged man had a gaunt face and wore a gray long robe. His hair was tied into a Daoist topknot, secured with a jade hairpin. A gentle smile always rested on his face; were it not for the occasional glint of shrewdness in his eyes, he would have looked exactly like an ordinary merchant. This group was none other than Fan Wencheng and his entourage, newly arrived at Weihai Guard.

After receiving Dorgon’s orders, Fan Wencheng had set out for the Ming with his attendants. He first went to Jinan, only to find that Yue Yang was not there. Later, he learned that Yue Yang had gone to Weihai Guard to inspect the harbor, so they hurried there without delay.

As Fan Wencheng’s group headed toward the seaside docks, they failed to notice that another group passed them at a distance of less than half a li—and among them was the very man Fan Wencheng sought.

Seeing the endless stream of workers at the docks, Fan Wencheng, visiting for the first time, was full of curiosity. He stopped a young man hurrying past and asked politely, “Young fellow, may I trouble you with a question?”

The young man looked at Fan Wencheng, then at the companions around him, and nodded. “Go ahead, but make it quick—I’ve still got work to do.”

Fan Wencheng said, “With so many people gathered at this dock, may I ask what is happening that makes everyone so busy?”

The young man sized him up curiously. “Sir, is this your first time in Shandong?”

“Indeed it is,” Fan Wencheng replied with a gentle smile. He took a small ingot of silver from his pocket and handed it over. “We’re merchants newly arrived from the north, here to see what business might be done. We’d always heard that Weihai Guard was rather quiet. Why does it seem so different now?”

The young man weighed the silver in his hand, smiled in satisfaction, and said with a hint of pride, “That’s last year’s news, sir. Weihai Guard used to be quiet, that’s true. Ever since the Japanese pirates caused trouble back in the Jiajing years, the court enforced the sea ban, and most of the military households fled. Naturally, the place grew deserted. But last year, after Marquis Yue took charge of Shandong, he began collecting commercial taxes, pushing new policies, and reopening maritime trade. Only then did things gradually pick up. As for real prosperity—it started when Marquis Yue decided to build this harbor. See all these people? They’re all working here. One hundred cash a day, paid daily, never delayed. Folks from nearby prefectures and counties have all come!”

“All this is dockland?” Fan Wencheng exclaimed, staring at the dock’s embryonic form, which stretched like a long dragon. Even with his breadth of experience, he was taken aback.

“Of course!” the young man said proudly. “Marquis Yue is like someone Heaven sent to bless us Shandong folk. Life here used to be bitter—often you’d eat one meal and have no idea where the next would come from. In years of disaster, many had to flee and beg until the next year. But now that Marquis Yue is here, things are much better. The government pays to repair canals and dig wells, and gives us seeds and tools. Even in the slack farming season, we still have food to earn. Look—even women earn fifty cash a day, and men all get a hundred. I wouldn’t have dared dream of such a thing before. Someone like Marquis Yue—who can fight the Tatars and govern the state—is a talent that appears once in five hundred years! Don’t you think he’s a god sent by Heaven to save the suffering?”

“Hmph!”

At these words, a burly attendant behind Fan Wencheng snorted coldly and was about to speak, but a companion quickly pulled him back. Fan Wencheng himself remained expressionless, still smiling gently. “Indeed… Marquis Yue truly is a capable minister of the Ming. Even I admire him greatly.”

“See? You think so too,” the young man said smugly, gesturing at the bustling crowds. “Just wait—once this harbor is finished, hundreds of great ships will be able to dock here at the same time. Amazing! By then, we’ll never have to worry about finding work again.”

Fan Wencheng merely smiled without responding. He then pointed toward an area in the distance guarded by soldiers and asked, “Young man, what are those people over there doing?”

The young man glanced over casually. “Oh… that’s the shipyards. They’re for building ships. Marquis Yue is rebuilding the Weihai Guard navy.”

“Rebuilding the navy?” Upon hearing this, the color drained slightly from Fan Wencheng’s face, which had worn a gentle smile all along.

“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?” the young man asked, sensing something off. “With the sea ban lifted, of course you need a navy. Otherwise, what if pirates show up?”

“Oh… nothing,” Fan Wencheng replied, forcing a smile. “I simply didn’t expect Marquis Yue to move so boldly.”

“All right, young man, thank you for your trouble. We’ll look around some more. Please, go on with your work.”

After sending the young man on his way, Fan Wencheng walked a few more steps, his expression darkening. At that moment, an attendant leaned in and whispered, “Lord Fan, this Yue Yang is too dangerous. In my opinion, we should find an opportunity to eliminate him. Once he’s dead, this puny Ming state will fall right into our Great Qing’s hands!”

“Idiot!” Fan Wencheng snapped, glaring at him. “If Yue Yang were so easy to kill, it wouldn’t be our turn to do it. Don’t forget why we came here. If you delay the Emperor’s great plans, even dying ten times wouldn’t be enough to atone!”