Beiyang Dream

Chapter 73 My legs are thick, hurry up and hug me!

Just after 8 p.m., the dishes from the welcome dinner were cleared away.

The room still smelled of bak kut teh and curry, mixed with the heat of the Southeast Asian night, sticking to our bodies. Chang Desheng settled Duan Qirui, Shang Dequan, Wu Dingyuan, and Kong Qingtang in the west wing guest rooms, one room for each of them, and cleaned them thoroughly.

He came out of the last room and stood in the hallway listening.

Inside, Wu Dingyuan's snoring had already started, like a bellows, whooshing loudly.

"Well, they're all fast asleep."

Chang Desheng then turned and walked towards the backyard. Passing through the moon gate and around a banana grove, a bright and open space suddenly appeared before him—a pavilion with ventilation on all sides, eight kerosene lamps with glass shades hanging neatly, and a large, round, pale white moon in the sky.

In the center of the pavilion was a large round mahogany table, around which five people were seated.

Seated at the head of the table was Luo Zhenxing, dressed in a silk jacket, holding a small purple clay teapot in his hand. To his left was Zhang Bishi, smiling like a Maitreya Buddha. To his right was a young man in his early twenties, with thick eyebrows and big eyes; this was Luo Xinglan.

Luo Jingrou sat next to her brother, wearing a light green dress instead of the one from the banquet. Her hair was also styled in a new updo, revealing a slender, white neck. Chang Desheng couldn't help but glance at her a few more times…

Hessmann sat next to Luo Jingrou, but he didn't touch the pot of cold tea on the table. This German had brought his own army green enamel mug and was sipping it; it smelled like coffee, cold. Drinking this so late at night, isn't he afraid of having insomnia until dawn?

"Lord Chang has arrived," Zhang Bishi said first, pointing to the empty chair opposite Luo Zhenxing. "Sit down, sit down."

Chang Desheng didn't stand on ceremony, plopping down and pouring himself a cup from the white porcelain teapot. The liquid was dark brown, looking like a medicinal soup. He picked it up and took a sip.

Bitter. Astringent. And then there's a strange, inexplicable sweetness.

"..." Chang Desheng pondered for a moment, his facial features scrunching up. "It's a long story!"

Luo Jingrou smiled, her dimples flashing under the light: "Guangdong herbal tea, it's good for cooling down."

"To cool you down?" Chang Desheng put down his cup, smacked his lips, and said, "I'm not usually prone to getting a sore throat, it's just this flavor that's making me feel irritated. Is this what you Cantonese people like?"

Luo Jingrou said in Hakka dialect, "It's all about the flavor of home."

At this moment, Zhang Bishi cleared his throat and called out Luo Zhenxing's courtesy name:

"Zhenbang, let's get down to business."

He paused, waiting for everyone to look at him, before continuing:

"This shipment arrived in Penang aboard the Britannia. I'll give you the quantity..."

Luo Zhenxing's hand, holding the teacup, froze in mid-air.

"1300 Mauser 1888 breech-loading rifles," Zhang Bishi said in a low voice, but every word was firm and clear. "They are in active service with the entire German Army, brand new. The grease in the barrels hasn't even been wiped off yet, they're sealed in oil paper, ready to use as soon as you open the box. One hundred of them are to be sent to Tianjin to appease Li Hongzhang." Luo Zhenxing's teacup swayed slightly.

"Forty Maxim machine guns, water-cooled, each with three spare barrels. Brand new, brand new stock." Zhang Bishi glanced at Luo Zhenxing and added, "The serial numbers and trademarks have been worn off—he knows the rules."

"Sixty 60mm mortars, complete with sights and mounts. Also without trademarks or serial numbers."

He picked up his glass of herbal tea, took a sip, and then said:

"In addition, there are 1.5 million rifle bullets, 500,000 machine gun bullets, 30,000 artillery shells, and 8,000 hand grenades. Most of them are stacked in warehouses on Penang, filling three warehouses."

Luo Zhenxing slammed the teacup he was holding onto the table with a "clatter".

These words... were actually meant for him! Zhang Bishi, that old fox, was as tight-lipped as could be. Such a large-scale arms smuggling operation, he didn't even reveal a word to his brother-in-law, until today, when everyone was here and the goods had arrived, he finally announced it like listing dishes.

Zhang Bishi didn't stop, and continued speaking, his tone still unhurried:

"Four hundred rifles, eight machine guns, and eight mortars have already been shipped to Xiaolanfang. Ten basic loads of ammunition have been allocated. Also arriving with this shipment are..."

He gestured with his chin toward Hessmann.

"Mr. Hessmann, and his twenty-two German officers, all retired from the Prussian Guard, are all experienced in combat. Our instructors have more than enough of these new guys."

Luo Zhenxing looked at Zhang Bishi, then at Hessman, then at Chang Desheng, and then back at Zhang Bishi.

His eyes rolled around and around.

1,300 rifles, 40 machine guns, 60 cannons, and more than 20 German officers…

What the hell are they trying to do?

Luo Jingrou spoke at this moment, her voice clear and crisp:

"Father, Brother Zhenbang is the top student in this class at the Beiyang Military Academy. Li Hongzhang personally recommended him for the fifth-rank official hat and appointed him as an inspector of the Beiyang German Army Division, giving him the power to report directly to the Emperor."

She paused, glanced at Chang Desheng with a hint of smugness in her eyes, then turned back to her father:

"When he was in Berlin, Kaiser Wilhelm II summoned him alone and they talked for more than an hour."

Luo Zhenxing's eyebrows twitched.

Zhang Bishi added from the side, also in Hakka, but with a slightly stronger tone:

"Brother Xingbang, I've told you before, Lord Chang wasn't just studying in Germany. He acted as a go-between between Li Hongzhang and the German Emperor. Many of the conditions the Germans are offering to the Beiyang government were negotiated through him—do you understand?"

Luo Zhenxing picked up the herbal tea and tilted his head back to gulp down a large mouthful.

He put down his cup, staring at the grain of the mahogany on the table, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface.

For a moment, my mind was buzzing.

Is the Beiyang government going to... join forces with Germany to wage war against the Netherlands?

Is this a dream?

The Luo family, living along the Pontianak River, had toiled tirelessly, clearing land and cultivating it. Now in their fifth generation, they had carved out 30,000 acres of rubber plantations from a malaria-ridden area, struggling to survive amidst the watchful eyes of the indigenous chiefs and the Dutch. Their ancestors had irrigated this land with their blood and sweat, their fathers had used silver to smooth things over, and by Luo Zhenxing's generation, they had finally amassed a vast fortune—tin mines, rubber plantations, and warehouses—earning an annual income of six or seven hundred thousand taels of silver. But what did it all amount to?

Dutch taxes grew heavier year by year; the Sultan's extortion became increasingly ruthless. The officials in Batavia outwardly accepted his "tribute," but secretly remained wary of him as the "descendant of the first great ruler of Lanfang." The Sultan of Pontianak, Abdul Rahman, with the tacit approval of the Dutch and only a few thousand ragtag followers, dared to demand a million in "ransom money" from him.

If you give it, it's a bottomless pit; if you don't, wolves will come and steal it.

A century of hard work and generations of dedication, ultimately amounting to nothing more than a piece of meat on someone else's chopping block because they lacked a strong enough military force. As for the Qing Dynasty…

He subconsciously touched his buzz cut.

Why should the Qing Dynasty support someone who doesn't even have a queue?

The reason he donated a seventh-rank official title was because all the prominent Chinese businessmen in Southeast Asia had donated, and if he didn't, people would think that Luo Zhenxing's rubber plantation had lost money.

But he never expected...

Unlike other Qing Dynasty officials, Li Zhongtang actually did things after receiving money.

The Qing Dynasty actually had such a fine Grand Secretary! Is this going to be a cause for celebration?

Although I can hardly believe it, these foreign guns, cannons, and even a fifth-rank official from the Beiyang government... have all really arrived!

Also, what about those twenty-three German soldiers?

The Luo family never tried to curry favor with Emperor William! Why did this guy's thick legs just come out and let someone hug them?

This is such a good thing, it just doesn't seem very real!

Chang Desheng couldn't understand Hakka, but looking at Luo Zhenxing's expression—a look of utter disbelief, his eyes darting around like beads on an abacus, as if a pie had suddenly fallen from the sky and landed in his hand, and he was still wondering if the pie was poisoned.

He thought to himself: Well, they've been completely taken aback by our "dowry list".

Thinking of this, he pushed the cup of herbal tea forward and spoke, his voice low:

"Uncle, let's not beat around the bush."

Luo Zhenxing suddenly looked up.

"His Majesty the Emperor of Germany and Li Hongzhang of the Beiyang Army have reached an agreement." Chang Desheng tapped the table with his index finger. "They have agreed to help you secure your rule over Pontianak."

He paused, observing Luo Zhenxing's expression, but his tone left no room for argument:

"But it's not the 'Lanfang' that your family has inherited. In Batavia, the Dutch governor's office must still be the legitimate owner—you need to understand this."

Luo Zhenxing's breath hitched.

"After this is done, you'll be in charge of Pontianak." Chang Desheng leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp as a knife. "Whether you choose to be called 'Kaptan,' or follow the example of those local chieftains and call yourself 'Sultan,' or adopt a 'municipal governor' like the Westerners, it's all up to you. But one thing is certain: the Dutch flag must still be flown, and not a single penny of the taxes due to the Dutch can be reduced. And you cannot touch the Dutch interests in Pontianak..."

He lightly traced a line on the table with his finger:

"You can only eat Sudanese food, food from indigenous people."

Luo Zhenxing's breathing became noticeably heavier.

His chest heaved, and he gripped the purple clay teapot tightly in his hand.

Those two thick golden thighs—no, they were two pillars supporting the sky! One was the German Emperor, and the other was Li Hongzhang of Beiyang—and they were just stretched out for him to hug?

How could he not be excited?

"And the price?" Luo Zhenxing finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse. "There's no such thing as a free lunch."

"That's great." Chang Desheng laughed, leaned back, and held up one finger. "Three things."

"First, a piece of land in Pontianak Port should be designated and leased to the German Navy as a supply anchorage for ninety-nine years. Second, a German settlement should be established near the port area, with municipal administration and police services to be handled by the Germans themselves. Third..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Luo Zhenxing, then over Zhang Bishi:

"The Beiyang Fleet is raising funds to add ships. Li Hongzhang's intention is that with a new ruler taking office in Pontianak, there needs to be some demonstration of 'coastal defense.' Five hundred thousand taels, to be paid in full at once..."

He pointed in his direction:

"Leave it to me."

There was a moment of silence in the pavilion.

Luo Zhenxing stared at Chang Desheng for a long time, then suddenly laughed, a hearty laugh.

"Five hundred thousand taels... in exchange for Pontianak, for the Luo family's century-old foundation to no longer be extorted, for a 'legal' banner recognized by both the Dutch and Germans." Chang Desheng counted on his fingers, doing the math for his future father-in-law. "Uncle, which is more worthwhile, this deal or being ripped off piecemeal by that damned Sultan every year?"

He gestured with his chin towards the west wing:

"The guns and cannons were specially approved by the German Emperor. The men were the best I picked from the Beiyang Army and the Prussian Guard. Those thousands of Sultan's men, with their hundreds of lousy guns... they're just there to be target practice for our newly arrived Maxim!"

"Once we've cleared out the Sultan's people..." Chang Desheng's tone suddenly turned cold, "you will be the sole person in charge of Pontianak and Xiaolanfang!" He leaned forward, his voice even lower, each word like it had been chilled to the bone:

"You must remember this! No man is without ruthlessness... You must make it so that no one but you can help the Dutch govern this land! Only in this way can Pontianak and Lanfang become the foundation of the Luo family for generations to come."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone present:

"Only then could the Chinese in Southeast Asia have a true home in this foreign land!"

Luo Zhenxing let out a long breath.

That breath was deep and long, as if it were expelling all of Lanfang's pent-up frustration, humiliation, and resentment from her very core.

"As long as we can destroy the Sultan of Pontianak... we, Xiao Lanfang, are ready to risk everything!"

"Yes, that's how it should be!" Chang Desheng nodded, a smile finally appearing on his face. "Don't worry, with me and Sergeant Hessman, this battle... is guaranteed to be won!"

"it is good."

Luo Zhenxing stood up without hesitation, clasped his hands in a fist and bowed deeply to Chang Desheng:

"Lord Chang, I entrust my life, my fortune, and the well-being of the Chinese in Pontianak entirely to you. Tomorrow at the ancestral hall, I will publicly bestow upon you the 'Lanfang Sword,' granting you oversight of all defenses for Xiao Lanfang, and the power of life and death will be entirely yours!"

Chang Desheng also stood up to return the greeting, his voice steady:

"Don't worry, Mr. Luo."

He looked up at the night sky outside the pavilion.

"It's time for the situation in Pontianak to change."