Chapter 44: Time Is Running Out
The letter explained the reason for the meeting at great length, with extremely sincere wording.
But Lin Qian saw through the trick at a glance; it was nothing more than the Hongmen Banquet ploy.
Afraid that Lin Qian wouldn’t dare to come, they first arranged the meeting place in Guangzhou.
Then they sent Zheng Zhilong as a hostage.
But the letter was already wary of Zheng Zhilong, clearly the councillor didn’t consider him one of their own.
This so-called hostage had no weight at all.
Considering the level of corruption in the Great Ming Imperial Court, even in Guangzhou, the councillor would have no qualms about making a move.
If he went rashly, it would be no different from suicide.
If the councillor killed him, the ship would be leaderless, and they could seize the galleon by sending troops at the opportunity.
This way, they saved silver, got the goods, and gained an extra galleon for free—one stone killing three birds, what a clever scheme.
But seeing through the trick was one thing.
How to respond was another matter entirely.
Any normal person would know they could just not go.
But with hundreds of thousands of taels of silver in goods, it would be hard to find a buyer in a short time; Lin Qian wasn’t a legitimate merchant and couldn’t sell them retail box by box.
Most crucially, it was now the beginning of July in the 48th Year of Wanli; the Wanli Emperor died at the end of this month in history.
The Taichang Emperor who succeeded him reigned for less than a month before passing away as well.
In just over a month, two emperors died in succession, dealing a heavy blow to the Great Ming Empire’s administrative system and nearly paralyzing it.
And for Lin Qian, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
If compared to stocks, it was the kind of market you couldn’t miss even if you skipped the college entrance exam.
To catch this top-tier market wave, Lin Qian had to save up capital.
He had to take a risk.
Time was running out!
In a flash, Lin Qian’s mind raced with ideas, and a plan quietly formed.
Lin Qian remained composed, finished reading the letter, handed it to Zheng Zhilong, and asked, “Spanish—can you read it?”
Zheng Zhilong’s heart sank; he wasn’t a fool and had already guessed what it meant for the councillor to write in Spanish.
He forced himself to stay calm, took the letter, read it through, and gave a wry smile.
Spanish and Portuguese share many similar words, like some kanji in Japanese.
Through these few words he recognized, Zheng Zhilong had already guessed his fate.
He had been treated as the councillor’s pawn to be discarded.
He had always prided himself on his intelligence, mature beyond his years; at fifteen he self-taught Portuguese, at sixteen he went to Macau and became an enviable interpreter, and through effort, he gradually won the trust of his Portuguese masters, serving as the councillor’s envoy on various occasions.
He never expected that in the end, he was just a chess piece.
His Portuguese master discarded him like an unwanted stray dog.
Zheng Zhilong looked back and realized that the sloop that had brought him had already sailed back on its own.
Zheng Zhilong could only force a smile and say, “It seems I’ll have to impose on Elder Brother Lin for the next few days.”
Lin Qian waved his hand: “Talking like that is too distant. Come on, Brother Yiguan, let’s smoke a cigar.”
Zheng Zhilong followed Lin Qian to the Captain’s Cabin like a walking corpse.
The last time he came here, he was full of high spirits.
Now he felt every step heavy, and the luxuriously decorated Captain’s Cabin seemed like a prison cell.
Although Lin Qian treated him no differently on the surface, Zheng Zhilong knew in his heart it was only for the councillor’s sake.
Once something happened to Lin Qian during the meeting with the councillor, the first to be chopped to pieces would be him, the hostage.
After smoking a cigar, it was lunchtime.
Lin Qian made an excuse about arranging matters and had Zheng Zhilong go to the lower deck restaurant to wait first.
After Zheng Zhilong left, Lin Qian closed his eyes and reviewed his plan in his mind to ensure there were no issues.
Five minutes later, Lin Qian opened his eyes and sent someone to call Zhou Xiucai and Jose.
Moments later, they pushed the door open and entered, just as they saw Lin Qian writing intently at the desk, pen flying.
“Helmsman.” The two greeted first.
“You’re here?” Lin Qian didn’t look up. “You two, rent a small boat from the fishermen and go to Macau to help me investigate this Councillor Andre…”
Andre was the name of the Portuguese councillor.
Jose had told Lin Qian some basic information about the man before, but not in depth.
“Including his competitors, political enemies, main businesses, size of his forces, personal character, hobbies, habits, and so on…”
Lin Qian finished speaking, stopped writing, and handed what he had written to Zhou Xiucai.
“The specifics are all written on the paper; just follow them. Time is limited—you must bring back the information before the tenth of the first month of July. I’ll wait for you at Poshan Wharf; that’s the mooring spot for the Pearl River Tanka People.”
Zhou Xiucai took the paper and read it carefully.
Lin Qian said to Jose, “Macau has tight defenses. Do you have a way to get in without drawing attention?”
“Going to Macau is no problem…” Jose hesitated for a moment. “But can I ask the reason? Is there a problem with Councillor Andre’s business?”
Lin Qian appeared relaxed: “Don’t worry, everything is going smoothly. In a few days, I’ll go negotiate the price with him in person. Gathering more information beforehand can’t hurt.”
The two felt relieved and left the Captain’s Cabin.
Lin Qian then had Lei Sanxiang and Chen Jiao called in.
When Chen and Lei entered, Lin Qian was still writing at the desk.
Lin Qian kept writing without pause and said, “In the next few days, I need to make a trip to Guangzhou, about five days. I have some instructions for you during that time.”
Chen Jiao and Lei Sanxiang exchanged a glance, then clasped their fists together and said, “Please give your orders, Helmsman.”
Lin Qian wrote as he spoke: “After I disembark, the galleon will immediately weigh anchor and sail northeast for about six hundred li, to a place called Nan’ao Island.
The galleon will anchor there for a few days to familiarize itself with the routes and local waters, then return here after five days.
Keep the voyage discreet—don’t hug the shore, don’t make a show of it.”
Chen Jiao said, “Nan’ao Island faces Chaoshan across the sea; I know the place.”
Lin Qian finished writing, picked up the paper, blew it dry, handed it to Chen Jiao, and said, “Knowing the route makes it easier. I’ve written down responses to various situations on the paper.”
Chen Jiao unfolded the paper; he recognized a few characters and could barely read it.
After reading, Chen Jiao looked worried: “Helmsman, has something gone wrong with the Franks’ business?”
Lin Qian nodded: “Yes, the councillor wants to meet me in Guangzhou in five days.”
“That damn bastard—is he trying to pull a Hongmen Banquet on us?” Lei Sanxiang said angrily.
Though illiterate, Lei Sanxiang knew the Hongmen Banquet allusion—that was Chinese wisdom.
Seeing how many instructions Lin Qian had given, Chen Jiao understood he planned to go, and advised, “These Frank barbarians are treacherously cunning; Helmsman, no need to bother with them. We can just find another buyer.”
“Elder Brother, rest assured—on this trip, not only will I be fine, but I’ll squeeze more silver out of these Frank devils.”
Chen Jiao wanted to advise further, but Lin Qian cut him off: “Elder Brother, we’ve known each other so long; you should know me. I don’t bet on things without certainty. Relax.”
