Beiyang Dream

Chapter 81 They gave too much

July 8, 1891, evening.

Pontianak, the Kapitan government office of the Chinese.

Captain Kemp sat there, listening to Chang Desheng present facts and reason for a while, and his previously tense expression visibly relaxed. This relaxation, however, startled the kneeling Sultan Rapolon, who had just finished defecating. Although he didn't understand German, he understood the Dutch!

The Dutch were indeed white foreigners, but the "foreign content" of the Netherlands had long since diminished! They couldn't even suppress the Aceh Sultanate for twenty years; those white-skinned soldiers sent from the Dutch mainland were all loose and ineffective, barely any better than their own royal guards. If that guy named Luo had latched onto the powerful allies of Britain, Germany, and France, what could the Dutch possibly do? Would they really wage war against France, Germany, or the British Empire for Pontianak?

If that guy surnamed Luo had any sense, he could have offered the Dutch a step up, created some kind of "autonomous state," and promised "not to become independent." Those Batavian bureaucrats would definitely have sold themselves out!

Don't believe them!

Sultan lunged forward, trying to grab Kemp's trouser leg, but Wolfgang stopped him with the butt of his rifle. He shouted hoarsely in Dutch, "Lord Kemp! Don't be confused! These Chinese—there are four hundred million of them! A full four hundred million!"

"If you let them occupy Pontianak, in less than ten years... no, five years! You won't find a single Malay in the entire West Borneo! It will be full of Chinese! Full of them!! Dutch rule in West Borneo will be over! Do you think Batavia will let you off the hook?"

Kemp's eyelid twitched.

Four hundred million people, the Celestial Empire of the Eastern world... equivalent to Rome in the West! And that's not just a thing of the past, but a thing of the past, present, and future! If Chinese were allowed to enter Borneo, in ten years, there would be over a million Chinese in West Borneo, and the Lanfang Republic might truly return. Chang Desheng didn't understand Dutch very well, but judging from the Sultan's demeanor, he roughly understood.

This bastard is begging for mercy and trying to sow discord with facts.

But it doesn't matter, now the Chinese in Borneo hold "truth" in one hand (Maxim Truth, Little Cannon Truth, Mauser Rifle Truth) and "sincerity" in the other.

"Uncle," Chang Desheng turned to look at Luo Zhenxing, "it's time to show some sincerity."

Luo Zhenxing nodded, took out a thick, yellow envelope from his pocket, filled with sincerity, and sealed with sealing wax. He walked up to Kemp and handed it to him with both hands.

"Captain," Luo Zhenxing said, "this is just a small token of my appreciation for tea."

Kemp stared at the envelope, knowing what was inside—Chinese people loved doing this kind of thing—but he didn't take it right away.

Luo Zhenxing pushed the envelope forward again: "There's one for Commissioner Van der Pohl too. Same amount, ten thousand taels of silver." Kemp smiled, but still didn't move.

Luo Zhenxing understood what this guy meant: he thought it wasn't enough! So he added, "From now on, you and Commissioner Pol will each receive a thousand silver dollars as an advisory fee every month. There's also a sum of money to be sent to Batavia... to smooth things over; we have to do some 'greasing the wheels'."

Chang Desheng listened attentively, learning as he went. He realized he'd been too generous with his money before... taking whatever was offered, being too honest—that wasn't right! He needed to learn to raise prices; the Dutchman was doing just that!

Originally it was a one-time payment of 10,000 silver, but now there's an extra 1,000 a month, and after a year it'll be 12,000... The commissioner from Boer and the commissioner from Batavia also get paid, so wouldn't that be a way for everyone to make progress together?

That's the level of a seasoned specialist!

Just as Chang Desheng was beginning to understand, Kemp finally reached out and took the envelope.

"I have money too!" When the Sultan saw that Kamp had taken the money, he knew he was doomed, so he quickly shouted at the top of his lungs, "Lord Kamp! I have money! My palace... my palace is full of gold, silver, jade, and jewels! I'll give it all to you! All of it! More than they gave!" Although Chang Desheng couldn't understand the Sultan's Dutch, he could guess what he meant.

He leaned forward and said to Kemp in German, "Captain, this Sultan... has nothing left, he's a proletarian Sultan!" Proletarian... Sultan? What kind of word is that?

Kemp turned to look at him.

“His army is gone,” Chang Desheng said. “Pontianak is now under the Luo family’s control. The palace… Mr. Luo’s men should have already gone in. Even if he really was rich, where is the money? Is it in Mr. Luo’s hands, or is it in his own hands?”

"Even if we take a step back and say that he really does give you money... and you accept it, and Commissioner Bohr accepts it, then what? You report to Batavia that the Chinese, with the support of the Qing Dynasty and Germany, have rebelled and seized Pontianak, and ask Batavia to send troops to counterattack? Leaving aside whether Batavia will even send troops, what about you two as advisors and commissioners? Would you still be fit to be?"

Germany and the Qing Dynasty... Kemp's heart sank. If either of these two countries made a move, even the Dutch East Indies couldn't handle it. If both of them attacked together, what could Batavia do? They could only find a scapegoat!

"But it's different if we accept Mr. Luo's money," Chang Desheng added.

Kemp asked, "How...how is it different?"

"Mr. Luo won, but he doesn't want independence. He still wants to operate under the Dutch banner and serve as a Dutch official," Chang Desheng said. "You can pass on a message for him, saying that the Sultan is brutal, massacring Chinese, looting Chinatown, and inciting popular uprisings. Mr. Luo is 'restoring order' and 'protecting the borders and people.' In Batavia, there's a way to step down, and they can collect extra taxes every month... Won't they be happy?"

"You two, you'll continue being consultants or specialists, and you'll even get an extra thousand taels of silver each month," Chang Desheng chuckled. "That's not hard to do, is it?"

Kemp weighed the envelope in his hand. What did it matter to him how many Chinese people there would be in West Borneo in five or ten years? By then, he would have long since retired and returned to the Netherlands to live out his retirement.

Rasultan was still shouting, his voice already trembling with tears: "Lord Kamp! I swear! All the treasures in my palace are yours! All of them..." Kamp suddenly looked up and glared at him.

"You can't give it to me." Kemp had already turned his back on him. "Your army is gone. Pontianak is already in Mr. Luo's hands. Your palace..." He glanced at Luo Zhenxing, "is also in Mr. Luo's hands. What do you have to give me?"

"I really do! I really do..."

"Enough," Kemp interrupted him, stuffing the envelope full of banknotes into his pocket and patting it. Then he looked at Chang Desheng and said in German, "The Sultan... cannot be kept."

Chang Desheng nodded.

He winked at Wolfgang.

Wolfgang stepped forward and grabbed the Sultan by the collar. The Sultan tried to struggle, but was held on either side by two mercenaries and dragged out like a dead dog.

But Luo Zhenxing, standing to the side, raised his hand to stop him: "Wait!"

Chang Desheng and Kamp both looked at Luo Zhenxing.

Luo Zhenxing gritted his teeth and said, enunciating each word clearly, "This Rahman massacred our Chinatown; his crimes are heinous. He should be publicly tried, convicted, and punished according to the law! Only in this way can we inspire the people!"

Chang Desheng nodded. That makes sense!