Beiyang Dream

Chapter 85 The Four-Party Talks: The Key is Britain!

March 14th, late at night.

The side hall of the Pontianak Royal Palace was unbearably hot, like a stuffy, airtight steamer.

Chang Desheng sat on a teakwood carved chair, with a bamboo mat placed under him, but it still couldn't block out the stuffiness and stickiness all over his body. He picked up the cold tea on the table, tilted his head back and gulped it down, then dropped his wrist, and the bottom of the bowl slammed heavily onto the table.

It made a crisp "thump" sound.

There were only four people sitting in this side room.

Zhang Bishi slowly fanned himself with a palm-leaf fan. A thin layer of oily sweat covered the fat man's forehead, but the wind he fanned did not bring any coolness; it was all hot air.

Luo Zhenxing frowned, his fingers tracing the maps spread out on the table, muttering something under his breath, probably reviewing and verifying the details of the negotiations the next day.

German Consul in Singapore, von Ertel, clutched a white handkerchief and kept wiping the sweat from his forehead.

He was trying to stay cool, so he rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt high, but the weather in Southeast Asia was unbearable. No matter what material he wore, it felt like he was wrapped in a layer of wet linen.

Sergeant Hessman remained seated ramrod straight, but the back of his neck was covered in sweat, which trickled down his neck and into his collar, making him extremely uncomfortable. To be honest, Southeast Asia was no place for humans, especially before the invention of air conditioning.

No wonder that after two or three hundred years of colonization, Europeans didn't end up with many white gentlemen. I heard that the Dutch built beautiful mansions in Batavia, but for eight months of the year they were so hot and listless that they just stayed in their mansions to cool off. The British occupied Singapore, but the garrison troops had to be rotated every other year, otherwise many would fall ill.

So, these white people were ultimately just passersby in Southeast Asia...

Chang Desheng pondered to himself that whether they were British, Dutch, or Germans, they would eventually leave. But whoever could seize the most weapons before these white men departed would be the future leader of Southeast Asia!

Thinking of this, he took another sip of cold tea, cleared his throat, and began to explain what was going on tomorrow:

"Gentlemen, we're going to talk to the Dutch about the four-party treaty tomorrow. But let me make this clear first..."

He paused, then held up two fingers:

"The key to this meeting is not whether the Dutch accept Pontianak's autonomy, but whether the British in Malacca will overturn the table." von Eitel paused in wiping his sweat. He looked up at Chang Desheng, his brows slowly furrowing.

The British... they're everywhere!

“Commissioner,” he put down his handkerchief and picked up his coffee cup, “I don’t understand what you mean. What does this have to do with the British? The Dutch have run out of cards to play. They don’t have many men in Borneo, and the Sumatra gunboat is no match for them. They’re not going to turn against our two countries over Pontianak… Do you really think they can cause any trouble?”

"They can't get over it." Chang Desheng laughed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "But the Dutch can pull people over."

"Recruit people?"

"Yes, recruit them," Chang Desheng said with a wry smile. "Recruit the British. Britain now dominates the seas, and the Strait of Malacca is their key point for controlling maritime trade between East and West. If the Dutch went to Singapore and complained to Britain, saying, 'The Qing Dynasty and the Germans have colluded to build a naval base in Pontianak and are trying to seize control of the shipping lanes,' do you think the British would do?"

Von Ertel didn't speak, but slowly put down his coffee cup.

The British... they're everywhere!

"So," Chang Desheng leaned back, crossing his legs, "tomorrow when we talk to the Dutch, whatever we say and do must be something the British can't find fault with. Not only can they not find fault, but they also have to feel that... the current situation in Pontianak is most advantageous to them." Luo Zhenxing chimed in at this moment. He picked up a document that had been prepared beforehand on the table, cleared his throat, and said in fluent Dutch, "Consul, we've discussed it. Pontianak under the Pontianak Autonomous State Council will be more open and have lower business costs than under Sultan Rahman. We've already decided..."

He pushed the manuscript forward:

"Pontianak implements an open door policy."

Von Ertel took the manuscript and quickly glanced at it. His brows furrowed again.

The manuscript reads:

"First, the four coal mines in Pontianak, namely Bali, Xinding, Mengjiaying, and Daofang, are open to all foreign investment, including British and German investment, on an equal footing, and will be subject to open bidding."

"Second, businessmen from all countries can participate in the bidding for projects such as the expansion of Pontianak Port, the construction of shipyards, and the dredging of waterways."

"Third, the Pontianak Autonomous State protects the lives and property of nationals from all countries, safeguards free trade, and does not impose exclusive privileges."

After reading it, von Ertl looked up at Chang Desheng, his eyes conveying the message: Open door? What about Germany's special interests? Did we send the Leipzig all the way here just to do charity?

Chang Desheng understood what he meant.

These white imperialists talk about openness, but they crave privileges! He sneered inwardly—it's the kind of privilege that's only open to themselves, not to others!

"Sir Consul," he waved his hand, smiling like a storyteller in a teahouse, but his words betrayed no less calculation, "Open doors are just polite words for the British, not something to use to strangle our own people. Think about it..."

He extended his first finger:

"First, these four coal mines were all discovered by Chinese miners. Even if the British wanted to come, they would have to start from scratch, exploring, recruiting workers, building roads, and constructing transportation lines, which would take two to three years before they could even find any coal. But Germany is different."

He looked at Hessmann:

"Sergeant Hessmann's men have been surveying the Balik coal mine for three days now, haven't they? With Mr. Luo's cooperation, finding ore veins, building roads, and recruiting workers are all no problem. Even the Chinese have the capital to start the mine. Germany only needs to provide the technology to take a stake in the Borneo coal mine. By the time the British company executives realize what's happening and complete their board procedures, our German-Chinese joint venture coal will already be shipped to Singapore and ready for sale!" He then held up a second finger:

"Secondly, the development and operation rights of Pontianak Port should be preferentially given to German companies. The port isn't even finished yet; leasing it to Germany is just a formality. Why arouse the British's suspicion? It's better to open it up first, and once the Germans have built the docks, breakwaters, coaling stations, and shipyards, who will control the port then? Need I say more?"

The third finger:

"Third, the Pontianak Autonomous Army wants to buy weapons from Germany and hire German instructors for training. How many instructors? Fifty? One hundred? We'll discuss it. Anyway, nominally they're 'commercial security consultants,' what can the British say? The port is protected by security personnel hired by the port authority, all retired German officers and veterans... Isn't that reasonable and legal?"

As Von Ertel listened, his brow slowly relaxed, but not completely. He looked at Hessmann not to ask for advice, but to request a professional "risk assessment."

Hessmann sat up straight, his voice sounding serious and professional:

"Consul, based on the current situation:"

"First, Pontianak's defenses are still very weak. The Pontianak Autonomous Army has just been established, and its training and equipment are insufficient. There is only one Leipzig, and my personnel total twenty-four. The Dutch East India Fleet is not a threat, but the British Far East Fleet has three cruisers permanently stationed in Singapore." "Second, if Britain intervenes non-militarily—for example, by sending two cruisers to conduct 'navigational safety surveillance' outside Pontianak harbor—our coal, rubber, tin ore, and coconut oil will not be able to be transported out, and Pontianak will become a dead port. At that time, all the terms of the secret treaty will lose their basis for enforcement, and even if it is leased to Germany, it will be in vain."

He paused, then looked at Chang Desheng:

"Mr. Chang's strategy is correct: establish the facts first, then formally recognize the status. Within twenty-four months, complete the initial construction of the port, resume coal mining, and conduct basic training for the autonomous army. Once everything is a fait accompli, the political and economic costs for the British to overturn the table will be too high... After all, even if they don't control the port or participate in the mining of coal and tin, they can still take the most profits through their control of the market, financial system, and maritime transport." This German was quite honest. In this Pontianak incident, the Germans, the Beiyang government, and the local Chinese in Pontianak contributed money, guns, men, and ideas, and many people died, but in the end, the British still made the most profits.

Control the oceans.

Von Ertel remained silent for about ten seconds.

Then he picked up the now-cold coffee, took a small sip, and found it bitter and astringent.

He put down his cup and looked at Chang Desheng, seemingly wanting more assurances to give to Berlin.

Chang Desheng was overjoyed; he had been prepared for this. He started counting on his fingers again—this time it wasn't three, but five.

"First, Britain's core assets are the Strait of Malacca and Singapore. As long as these two places remain untouched, they won't bother with the mess on the west coast of Borneo. After all, Pontianak is quite far from Singapore."

"Secondly, Britain is engaged in a 'great game' with Russia in Afghanistan and Persia. That's a struggle for land power, which is related to India's security. In the Far East, as long as India is not threatened, Britain doesn't have much free time."

"Third, the British are very pragmatic; they look at the return on investment. Our 'Open Door' policy is ultimately putting money in the pockets of British merchants. At the very least, they'll come to Pontianak to open banks, do business, transport coal, rubber, tin ore... all of which are profitable ventures. Who would stop them?" "Fourth," he lowered his voice and leaned forward, "Li Hongzhang will pass a message to the British consul in Tianjin: The Qing Dynasty's presence in Southeast Asia is solely for protecting its overseas Chinese, and it absolutely has no intention of taking territory. That's a reassuring statement."

"Fifth," he concluded, giving a thumbs-up with a sly smile, "the British would love for someone to keep Russia and France in check in the Far East. The British are probably secretly pleased with Germany's little bit of influence in Pontianak... as long as that influence doesn't threaten Singapore."

After listening, von Eitel let out a long sigh. He looked at the draft of the secret treaty on the table, then at Chang Desheng, and finally nodded: "Alright. The four provisions—priority mining rights in coal mines, port development and operation rights, arms procurement orders, and the dispatch of military advisors—will be written into the secret treaty. However, the public wording of the Open Door Treaty in the four-party agreement needs to be carefully drafted."

"Furthermore," he added, in a serious tone, "Pontianak cannot sign any exclusive agreement with Britain alone. If Britain wants to intervene, it must obtain Germany's consent."

"Great!" Chang Desheng slapped his thigh. "Write this in too!"

Luo Zhenxing had already brought pen and ink. There were three secret agreements, one in German and two in Chinese, with each party—German, Qing, and Kun—holding one copy.

Von Ertl took out his pen and signed his name on each secret agreement.

Chang Desheng took it and signed on behalf of the Beiyang government. He also used a fountain pen, signing the three characters "Chang Desheng" in a beautiful, flowing style. He still needed to practice his calligraphy, but his fountain pen handwriting was quite impressive.

When it was Luo Zhenxing's turn, he picked up a pen and wrote the three characters "Luo Zhenxing" on the paper, stroke by stroke. Then, he took something out of his pocket—a neatly folded flag.

Red background, black text.

He carefully unfurled the flag and gently placed it below the signature. The light from the oil lamp shone on the flag, making the red background appear as if it had been soaked in blood, and the two black characters "Lanfang" looked heavy.

No one spoke inside the room.

When can we truly return to our homeland after more than a hundred years?

Chang Desheng looked at his father-in-law and said in a low voice, "Uncle, remember, build high walls, store up grain, and weigh things slowly... Now is not the time." Luo Zhenxing nodded, his eyes filled with complex emotions. He carefully folded the Lanfang flag and put it in his pocket. Then he pushed the draft treaty to be used tomorrow in front of von Eitel: "Consul, please take a look."

Von Ertl took it and flipped through it. His gaze lingered on a few clauses:

The first five articles are all bilateral between the Netherlands and Pontianak, nothing more than the usual rhetoric of Pontianak paying tribute to the Dutch East Indies in exchange for autonomy... Article 6: "The Qing Dynasty enjoys consular jurisdiction and the right to send advisors in Pontianak."

Article 8: "The Pontianak Autonomous State implements an open-door policy."

Article 9: "The Pontianak Autonomous State shall hire German military advisors to train its troops and purchase the necessary munitions from Germany."

"Will the Dutch accept this?" he asked, his eyes still fixed on the terms.

"Definitely," Chang Desheng said with certainty. "They have no choice. The Aceh War is burning through money every day, and Roab could agree to provide 100,000 guilders in taxes to the East Indies authorities every year—30,000 more than what Sultan Rahman gave. The Dutch will collect the money while seeing that the treaty also has Germany's signature guarantee, so they won't cause any trouble."

He paused, then added:

"As for Britain, as long as there is an 'open door' policy and some benefits are offered later, they will not need to take any action."

He stood up, paced back and forth in the room a few times, and then stopped by the window. In the distance, on the river, a few mast lights flickered in the darkness—those were the Guangjia, the Leipzig, and that poor Sumatra.

"Tomorrow's negotiations," he said calmly, looking out the window as if he were talking about someone else, "the more we win, the more face we have to save for the Dutch, and at the same time, we have to save enough for the British."

He turned around:

"Ideally, everyone would appear to have won, but in reality, only the Sultan and his indigenous tribes would have lost..."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Bishi laughed heartily, cracking the walnuts in his hands.

"Zhenbang, you're right. It's best if we all win and let the indigenous people lose!"

He turned his head and looked out the window again, a slow smile spreading across his face.

The Luo and Zhang families, these Southeast Asian Chinese businessmen, have finally figured it out. They know the key to developing and growing in Southeast Asia: to have a long-term vision, to hold onto the gun, and to be good at accounting!

There's finally hope in this game in Southeast Asia. The first step (murder) is complete, the second step (negotiation) is underway, and the third step (counting the money) is about to begin.

And this is just the beginning.

In Korea, Yuan Shikai was already at his breaking point. Li Hongzhang's telegram instructed me to head north as soon as possible.

A bigger game, bigger clients, bigger projects—all are waiting.

This time, Lao Tzu's journey through time is finally about to take him soaring to the heavens.