Chapter 88: Drawing
Xie Er looked up in surprise, only to see Lin Qian sitting upright in the stern cabin, looking at him with a half-smile.
Lei Sanxiang came over from the bow, entered the stern cabin, leaned the Ogre-head Saber against the wall, sat down on the chair, took off the stilts, and muttered: “Li Kuiqi that stupid blockhead is too tall; with him around, the family could save on buying an ox.”
On this trip, among the brothers, Lin Qian only brought Lei Sanxiang and Bai Langzai.
Chen Jiao didn’t come, so no one was there to banter with Lei Sanxiang and cheer him up, leaving Lei Sanxiang somewhat unaccustomed.
Lin Qian said: “Fortunately, third brother handles the stilts steadily.”
Lei Sanxiang chuckled: “This thing isn’t that high; I can still manage standing still like a guardian deity.”
Lei Sanxiang’s gaze turned to the mast of the Two-masted Fuchuan Ship, where the large Lin flag was still fluttering in the wind.
“This flag has prestige; it would be perfect to hang on the galleon.”
Lin Qian laughed: “No need to hang a flag; the galleon itself is flashy enough.”
Lei Sanxiang scratched his head: “True. By the way, why does their ship also fly a Lin flag? Is it your clan?”
Lin Qian shook his head: “In Huangyan County, Lin is a big surname, but there’s only one Lin Clan in Huangyan. The term ‘clan’ isn’t for just any Lin to claim, right, Xie Er?”
Called out, Xie Er shuddered and forced a smile: “Helmsman Lord, your presence outshines the master in Lin Mansion by far.”
He flattered with words, but racked his brains for an escape, his eyes constantly scrutinizing Lin Qian’s face.
As ship manager of the manor, Xie Er had met many from the Lin Clan headquarters and other big Lin families in the city, yet he had never seen this man before him, which greatly puzzled him.
He secretly glanced outside the ship and saw it heading north, gradually nearing Nan’ao Island; Xie Er was inwardly overjoyed.
He thought these sea bandits were indeed foolish young thieves, unaware the island was guarded by the navy; once close, they would likely be inspected by navy ships, and he could escape then.
Xie Er’s expression fell into Lin Qian’s eyes; Lin Qian merely gave a light laugh.
The moon rose over the eastern mountain as the fleet slowly docked in Houjiang Bay.
The Two-masted Fuchuan Ship cast ropes; ship workers on the pier pulled it close, secured the ropes, laid the gangway, then men climbed the spiral ladder aboard, went down to the cabin, and methodically counted the goods.
The remaining Haicang Ship and Cangshan Ship docked nearby; the sea bandits streamed off, laughing and chatting loudly.
From the Haicang Ship deck, Xie Er glimpsed the scene sideways, shocked to the point his eyelids forgot to blink.
When did Nan’ao Island become a bandit den?
Or had the Vice General… turned bandit?
Xie Er’s hands were bound behind his back; he had knelt on the deck all night, his legs too numb to stand.
Lin Qian found two men to support him, one on each side, and took him off the ship.
On the pier, Xie Er stared at the scene ahead, unable even to walk, letting the two drag him along.
He saw the harbor packed densely with countless large and small ships blanketing the entire bay, stretching into the darkness.
On the island loomed a great city with broad straight roads, neat houses, some still lit, extending endlessly without apparent end.
Night had fallen not long before; pedestrians still walked the roads, roadside stalls abounded, taverns, inns, and medical halls welcomed guests, distant sounds of chickens and dogs filled the air—a lively scene.
Among the pedestrians were men and women; the women wore no veils or headscarves, no high-collared robes, and did not bow their heads to cover their faces.
They walked the roads just like men, even side by side with them, without evasion.
He had sailed for years, passing Nan’ao Island countless times.
Each time, only Shen’ao Port showed signs of life; elsewhere was desolate—never such bustle.
Xie Er plunged into confusion and deep self-doubt, thinking: “Am I dead, and this a mirage? Right, rumors tell of a Ship City in the South China Sea where souls of sea dead are forever trapped… not here, surely? Alas! My newlywed second concubine!”
Supported all the way off the ship, Xie Er then crossed another pier to board a different ship.
This ship’s rails towered to heights Xie Er had never seen; even the giant ships of the Franks in Macau were not this massive.
The rails were so high the gangway was steeply angled; to prevent slips, anti-slip wooden strips were nailed along the spiral ladder, making it truly like stairs underfoot.
Xie Er boarded Santa Ana and was led to the captain’s cabin, seated at the round table near the door.
Bai Langzai untied the rope behind his back.
Xie Er felt his arms numb and senseless; only after a moment did needle-like pain pierce them.
Lin Qian brought the candlestick, bamboo brush, and ink, placing them on the round table.
“Draw.” Lin Qian said.
“Draw what?”
“Don’t play dumb; how could you have lived this long without knowing what I want you to draw?” Lin Qian said disdainfully, then told Bai Langzai, “If it’s not done in half a shichen, drag him to the ship’s rail and kill him.”
“Good.”
Lin Qian sat back at the navigation table, pulled out the Spaniards’ parchment book, and continued reading.
Xie Er took the brush, glanced at Bai Langzai—who stood motionless beside him, right hand on the dagger at his waist, eyes cold as if unwilling to wait the half shichen—and looked again.
He glanced at Lin Qian, who leaned near the White Worm Wax, constantly turning pages.
“May I ask, Helmsman Lord, do you want me to draw Lin Mansion’s layout?”
“Draw carefully; errors or omissions mean death too.” Lin Qian flipped pages without looking up.
Xie Er swallowed, dipped the bamboo brush in ink, and slowly drew on the paper.
In less than half a shichen, he finished; he glanced at Bai Langzai, who took the map to Lin Qian’s table.
Lin Qian took it; Xie Er’s draftsmanship was crude but the content barely discernible.
Lin Mansion was enclosed by high walls topped with battlements, corner watchtowers and bastions, entrance a gatehouse like a city gate.
The map showed no scale for courtyards, only the manor as six bays in three rows with six large bays, split into east and west courtyards, cross-courtyards, countless side rooms, ear rooms, annexes, guest rooms, inverted rooms, plus one garden and several waterside pavilions.
Lin Qian estimated from house count: the manor around twenty mu, size of two football fields.
By function: ancestral hall, residences, study, carriage yard, granary rooms, mill house, weaving rooms—all present.
Outer walls meshed with inner houses and courtyards in intricate complexity; the map alone dazzled the eyes.
For the uninitiated, even a map might lead to getting lost in the manor—not to mention high outer walls and inner guards.
Taking it unprepared was pure fantasy.
In the Jiajing era, Japanese Pirates ravaged the southeast, once breaching Huangyan County city, yet Lin Mansion outside stood firm against assaults, proving defenses solid.
If Lin Qian were merely an ignorant tenant farmer or ordinary man, this detailed map would convince him mostly.
Unfortunately, in his previous life Lin Qian was a designer; traditional Chinese architecture layouts had been a course.
Xie Er’s petty trick fooled him not.
“Drag him out and kill him.”
Lin Qian set down the map and said flatly.
