Chapter 64: Control

With Liu Yu’s shout, Lian Jincheng was left frozen in place.
Deng Cunyu quickly stepped in to ease the tension for his subordinate: “Captain Liu, it’s indeed Jincheng’s fault. Fortunately, nothing serious happened. Let’s just let it go.”
But Liu Yu called out to Lian Jincheng again: “I still have something to discuss with you…”
He turned to Desmond and said, “We have a small business. I wonder if Mr. Desmond is interested?”
He slowly explained his counterfeit money business: “It’s a very profitable venture. Are you interested, Mr. Desmond?”
Desmond was stunned. He hadn’t expected that merely engaging in illegal trade would lead him into such a massive fraud case, and now he had to dive into the world of counterfeit money production as well. His reputation was ruined forever, and Desmond resolved, “I’m a legitimate businessman and am willing to cooperate with people like you who are also honest.”
The air was filled with the smell of money. Hands were shaken, everyone was enthusiastic, and they began discussing the counterfeit money business. Desmond said excitedly, “I have some expertise in this area. Who doesn’t know the Dutch ‘Scissor Hand’? I can bring in one or two experts.”
Liu Yu replied casually, “Great! Jincheng has been working too hard and carrying too much burden. Not only does he have to help me train the troops, but he also has to handle technology research and manage so many people in business. It’s better to let him focus on technology while I take care of the overall structure.”
With just a few words, Lian Jincheng was excluded from the core management of counterfeit money production. Deng Cunyu understood what was going on but still had to agree, “Jincheng has indeed lost weight lately. He needs to rest more.”
Lian Jincheng’s smile was bitter.
……
“This is the 12,000 taels of silver you deserve, along with a check issued by the Oriental Bank of Commerce. Please accept it, Mr. Desmond! Um, I still owe you another 20,000 taels. Here’s the IOU—please keep it safe.”
The loan fraud went quite smoothly. Although there were some setbacks, thanks to Liu the Broker’s thorough knowledge of his former colleagues—using either threats or seduction—he managed to pull in almost everyone involved in the loan process, from senior managers to local staff, in Haiphong.
It must be said that the legend of “Shanxi Gold” had been passed down in Vietnam for centuries, giving it great credibility. When news spread that a Dutchman led an expedition to discover a large gold mine, it caused a sensation throughout Haiphong.
As per procedure, two French officials were sent to Shanxi to review the loan. This initially made Liu Yu nervous, but as soon as they arrived, Liu the Broker took them to Hanoi for drinks, after which they returned to Haiphong very satisfied with their full wallets.
Liu the Broker was extremely generous. This was almost a risk-free business, with public relations costs being the only expense. Yet the final profits were somewhat disappointing.
The loopholes in the counterfeit money business weren’t fixed, and the loaned money wasn’t even enough to cover Desmond’s 150,000 taels. In the end, Liu Yu added another 12,000 taels and issued an IOU for 20,000 taels before seeing Desmond off.

Although there was still a balance of 220,000 taels of silver left to collect, it was the first time for Demons to earn so much money. With a set of Snider firearms and ammunition-making machines that had long been obsolete in the West, along with a large inventory of weapons, he had already made a profit of over 60,000 taels of silver, not to mention future earnings.

The steamship carried the silver and some specialties from Shanxi, heading downstream. Demons was still eager for more: “I’ll come back to make even more money.”

After seeing Demons off, Broker Liu asked at the dock, “Commander Liu, it’s our turn to take the lead now. What’s the first step?”

Borrowing money wasn’t as simple as just getting the loan—at least one had to learn from Yin Guangxia by putting on a good show, setting up a few small factories, then regularly buying gold from the market and taking it to the coastal defenses to sell again, creating the illusion of prosperity.

Liu Yu smiled faintly, while Broker Liu, who had once been a senior officer at the Oriental Bank of Commerce, patted his chest and assured Liu Yu, “I’m very familiar with this. Don’t worry.”

He had previously been in charge of post-loan audits and knew all the methods well. But Liu Yu still smiled and said, “The first thing… I was afraid it would scare Mr. Demons, so I sent him away first.”

“What is it?” Broker Liu asked. “Is it about opening another gold mine?”

Liu Yu smiled. “We can go around Shanxi City.”

“What do you mean?”

Liu Yu made a victory V sign at Liu Dayu: “From now on, it’ll be our Xiliu Camp that rules Shanxi!”

Over there, Ye Mengyan was on his knees, begging Zhang Biao, “Captain Zhang, Grandpa Zhang, please spare me! With such conditions, how could I dare report back to the governor?”

Zhang Biao snarled, “I give you half an hour. When time’s up, I’ll bring in the cannons and infantry to storm in.”

Ye Mengyan was terrified, but the conditions set by Xiliu Camp were indeed harsh. Crying, he said, “I’m at least the intermediary who brought them under Xiliu Camp’s rule. Can’t you show some mercy?”

“Sure!” Zhang Biao already held the petition for payment. “As long as you repay those 130,000 taels of silver, everything will go back to normal.”

130,000 taels! Even in an inland province of China, that was a huge burden, let alone in a Vietnamese province that was only equivalent to an ordinary county in China.

Although Shanxi was known for its wealth in Tonkin, what profit could an ordinary county yield? 130,000 taels of silver was overwhelming for Ye Mengyan. “Please be reasonable! We only owe you the military pay from that expedition to the Ten Continents—totaling only…”

But Xiliu Camp’s calculation was different: “According to the calculations from that expedition, each person in our Xiliu Camp spends four silver dollars per month. Since we arrived in Shanxi in the 31st year of Thiệu Đức, Xiliu and Uya camps have accumulated a debt of over 130,000 taels of silver…”

Liu Yu’s calculation was absolutely exorbitant. He even included the elderly, servants, apprentices, and workers in the payroll list to reach the 130,000-tael figure—he just wanted Shanxi Province to be unable to repay this debt no matter what.

Ye Mengyan continued to explain, “In Vietnam, we only calculate pay for troops deployed on military campaigns. Your camp has been stationed in Shanxi for a long time, so there’s no need to pay them.”
Zhang Biao’s eyes widened like copper bells. “Stop wasting my time with nonsense. All I know is that the governor of Shanxi owes us money from the Xiliu Camp. Our commanders tried to collect it but failed, so we had no choice but to bring troops to demand payment. Once the debts are settled, the military control can end.”
Ye Mengyan felt utterly helpless—how could they get by from now on?
The Xiliu and Wuya camps had four elite squads and six guard units, all of the finest troops in Northern Vietnam. Even their guards were more combat-effective than Huang Zuoyan’s personal troops. Although Shanxi was known as one of Vietnam’s strongest military regions, with 2,500 soldiers, they would be defeated by these forces within a single day if a fight broke out.
When the governor heard that Li Yangcai had been captured, he thought a turning point had arrived and was planning how to take control of the Xiliu Camp. Unexpectedly, the Xiliu Camp actually killed the governor himself.
Recalling Liu Yu’s conditions, he felt chilled—these weren’t conditions at all; they were like having a knife to his throat. The Xiliu Camp wanted to take control of most of Shanxi, leaving the governor with only scraps.
Liu Yu had described his own conditions as “even worse than the Treaty of Nanjing.” As the victim, he felt utterly devastated.
Yet their opponent was Zhang Biao, a famous fierce general from the Xiliu Camp. This time, they even brought four cannons, ready to bombard the city. Although there were many cannon positions on the city walls, Guan Qi and the other commanders said, “When Zhang Biao had only 37 men, he killed hundreds of Huangqi troops—this is something I saw with my own eyes. Now he has hundreds of strong soldiers and cannons to back him up. How can we resist?”
A sixth-rank civil official from the southern region had suffered such a crushing defeat—truly lamentable.
He could only say, “I can convey your message, but if your army takes over all of Shanxi, what will become of us redundant officials?”
Liu Yu had already thought of a solution for the governor of Shanxi: “What else can we do? Naturally, keep the officials but reduce the number of soldiers. That way, we can save a lot of money.”
The governor of Shanxi looked extremely displeased. He repeated Ye Mengyan’s words, “Keep the officials, reduce the soldiers… It’s the only way to fix this crisis. We’ll follow his advice and cut down some of Shanxi’s elite troops.”
Black battle flags fluttered everywhere in Shanxi Province. Usually, people would give these elite troops a second glance, but today they realized these troops weren’t there for training—they seemed determined to stay.
They radiated a murderous aura, ready to fight at any moment, while the Vietnamese soldiers originally responsible for defending the region had disappeared without a trace.
Even if they encountered a few Vietnamese soldiers, those soldiers became timid like rabbits, terrified of facing those two flags.
Zhang Biao stood at the city gates of Shanxi Province, unaware that he was in danger. The muskets and cannons on the city walls could reduce him to pieces, yet he just paced around, holding a revolver, waiting for a reply from inside the city.

He glanced at his pocket watch; one hour was about to pass. He picked up his revolver, while the company’s Remington rifles were already aimed at the city walls, ready for battle at any moment. The pulley system on the city wall lowered Ye Mengyan down again, and Zhang Biao rushed over to grab him. “At the last minute, has your governor decided to resist to the end? Brothers, get ready!” Seeing his fierce expression, Ye Mengyan hurriedly said, “Don’t fight! Don’t fight! The governor agrees to all your conditions—everything!” With those words, Ye Mengyan’s face fell in despair. “I’ve ruined Nan Tian… I’ve ruined the entire southern kingdom…” The impenetrable city gates were opened. Hundreds of Vietnamese soldiers were stationed on the city walls, equipped with quite advanced cast-iron and bronze cannons, even more sophisticated than the four cannons carried by Zhang Biao. Yet they just stood there blankly, staring at the crow flag adorned with willow leaves and the Big Dipper, watching as the Crow Camp passed by them. “The governor has decided to disband you! Those who wish to stay in the unit, follow me!” Their officer said weakly, “Follow me!” The soldiers fell silent suddenly, and the officer continued loudly, “You will be disbanded. Those who want to stay in the unit, follow me!” Suddenly, the soldiers erupted into loud chaos, forcing Zhang Biao’s company to send a platoon back to quell them. They saw a group of Vietnamese soldiers hugging each other. “We can go home now! We can go home!” “My scout has reached the designated position…” “My scout has entered the city of Shanxi Province and begun taking over guard duties…” “My platoon has successfully completed its mission, disarming about two hundred Vietnamese soldiers…” “My scout has completed the handover with the Vietnamese forces; five hundred of their soldiers are willing to serve our army…” “The Flower Sect is cooperating well with our army and has taken control of two county towns.” Reports came in from all directions. Liu Yu marked the key points on the large sand table. Liu Da Maiban and Deng Cunyu could clearly see that the entire province of Shanxi was now under Liu Yu’s control. “Almost no shooting, no fighting, no resistance…” Liu Yu sighed. But Liu Da Maiban was astonished. “Are you crazy? Li Yangcai has already been captured by the Qing troops. Aren’t you just giving them targets?” Liu Yu smiled. “I owe this to Mr. Desmond. Without the ammunition, weapons, and equipment he provided, I wouldn’t have had the courage to make such a decision.” Liu Da Maiban was speechless. In terms of troops, Liu Yu already had four infantry companies and six direct platoons. He was even about to form two more infantry companies, having reserved the third platoon from each company for the old unit. Roughly estimated, the Xiliu Camp had combat strength equivalent to that of eight infantry companies—strength unmatched in all of Northern Vietnam. It wouldn’t be difficult for them to wreak havoc not only in Shanxi but throughout Northern Vietnam. The Vietnamese forces were no match for them at all. What was even worse was that this army could reload Remington rifle bullets, produce three types of rifle ammunition, and convert front-loading guns into breech-loading ones. With such a steady supply of weapons, the Vietnamese had no chance.

The remaining troops, including the Xiliu Camp, were originally part of the Black Flag Army. Liu Yongfu must have been pleased to see someone blocking the entrance to Hanoi, shielding him from the French artillery fire. The Qing army had a large number of troops and advanced firearms, but they lacked the courage to come to Shanxi, fearing they might anger the French in Hanoi and trigger international conflicts. As for the French, they were also overconfident yet underpowered; without sending troops from Cochinchina, they couldn’t defeat the Xiliu Camp. After careful consideration, Liu Daimai Ban could only sigh, “The supplies Desmond brought you have turned into your lifeline.” The 100,000 taels of silver Liu Yu invested were not wasted, so as soon as he sent Desmond away, he decided to take action and turn Shanxi into his own impregnable domain. Currently, he was merely a foreign army, with the political organization in the hands of the Vietnamese. This was also why many peasant armies that entered Vietnam failed—although the Vietnamese forces were weak, they could control the local areas and receive continuous support, while these peasant armies would find it hard to recover after just one defeat. “This time, I specifically trained forty advisors and deployed them everywhere.” These were cadres he had been training since last year, many of them young people from Shanxi who had come to join him. Liu Yu taught them key aspects of administrative management, with a particular focus on controlling local governments. Now, these cadres could be put to use. Vietnam’s system was similar to that of ancient China, with administrative agencies ending at the county level. Below the county, towns and villages were autonomous units. In Vietnam, one province was roughly equivalent to one Chinese county, and one Chinese county was equivalent to one Vietnamese village. Shanxi Province had more than a dozen counties, and now 70% of them had advisors from the Xiliu Camp stationed there. Only 30% of the less important counties were left to the governor of Shanxi. As for the status of the advisors, given the presence of Xiliu Camp troops inside and outside the counties, it was self-evident. Historically, when the French ruled Vietnam, they largely preserved the existing government institutions but sent advisors from higher to lower levels to control the entire country. But Liu Yu didn’t just want them to act as mere figureheads; this was only a temporary measure. His next step was to turn these counties into indestructible strongholds for the Xiliu Camp. The entire province of Shanxi should only know of the Xiliu Camp and not of the State of Vietnam. But before that, Liu Yu could only proceed temporarily. Realizing this, Liu Daimai Ban said, “Genius. Truly genius.” After reviewing Liu Yu’s conditions, he initially thought they were harsh, but later felt that some remnants had been left for the governor of Shanxi, without crossing the Vietnamese’s bottom line. At least on the surface, the governor of Shanxi remained the highest ruler of the entire province, able to issue orders throughout the province, though in some areas, he needed the approval of the Xiliu Camp advisors in the counties. The existing government institutions were also all retained. “Your ambitions are truly great… Are you trying to intimidate Vietnam?” Liu Yu smiled. “It’s just an intimidation tactic. If I didn’t show the Vietnamese what I’m capable of, they might think I’m easy to bully.” The more arrogant the Xiliu Camp became, the less daring the Vietnamese were to take action.

As expected, by the third day, everything returned to calm. Shanxi seemed unchanged—people continued to pay their taxes as usual, the governor of Shanxi still resided in his castle, and his personal guards had been greatly reduced. It was as if nothing had happened; he strolled around leisurely every day, only occasionally sending one or two reports to Thanh Hóa.

As for the people of Shanxi, they had long accepted the fact that there was another authority in the province. They went about their usual business, but all documents sent up and down between various counties had to be reviewed by the advisors from Xiliu Camp.

They had grown numb to the constant changing of the banners on the city walls. This region had been under the rule of the Black Flag Army for ten years. They were merely puzzled why the Black Flag Army hadn’t sent anyone to take control of the county offices. Now, they could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

They felt lighter-hearted. This region had never had a good opinion of the Nguyễn dynasty. Historically, it had been territory of the Mạc and Trịnh families, with the Lê emperors being the most revered. Ever since the Nguyễn clan suppressed the Tây Sơn rebels, they had never lived in peace.

The only problem was that they still felt they were ruled by people from the north, but compared to southern rule, it didn’t seem so bad—after all, many of the high-ranking advisors were from Shanxi itself.

With such attitudes, the military control of Shanxi by Xiliu Camp seemed to have existed since the beginning of time. Everyone avoided addressing the issue of legitimacy and simply obeyed the advisors’ orders.

Meanwhile, Liu Yu sent a letter to Huang Zuoyan, swearing that the military control should be lifted immediately once the unpaid military salaries were settled, and civil governance restored…

But everyone knew it was impossible. Not to mention where the 130,000 yuan in military salaries would come from, even now, with Xiliu Camp having six battalions and six platoons, it required at least 4,000 silver dollars per month—a sum Huang Zuoyan felt he couldn’t afford.

Worse still, this was a critical moment to suppress Lu Zhiping, a strongman who had fled from Guangxi to Bắc Kỳ and ruled the northern region for over a decade. It seemed necessary to enlist the help of Qing troops along with the Black Flag Army to eliminate him.

Unexpectedly, while Liu Yu maintained military control in Shanxi, Liu Yongfu also suddenly claimed illness and refused to appear. Was this a coordinated move by the Black Flag Army? Huang Zuoyan was unsure.

Liu Yu in the provincial capital of Shanxi also received a letter from Liu Yongfu inviting him to Baosheng to discuss matters.