Chapter 58
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 058
Chapter Title: The Sprouts of Capitalism (3)
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1854.
The Qing Dynasty admitted defeat.
Britain and France had barely broken a sweat.
These were nations that, just decades earlier during the Napoleonic Wars, had commanded genuine armies of a million men—not some ragtag militia like the Huai Army, but real forces that crushed everything in their path.
No matter that the Far East was on the opposite side of the globe. A single jab from them had sent that colossal Qing empire flying, leaving it on the brink of death.
And so, the Treaty of Peking was signed—a nightmare of terms.
Massive war reparations.
The opening of even more ports.
The cession of additional territories, including the Kowloon Peninsula.
The establishment of diplomatic legations in Beijing and the stationing of envoys.
Full permission for foreigners to travel the Yangtze River basin and roam the interior.
The complete legalization of opium.
Freedom of religion and missionary activity, with obligations to protect missionaries.
Permission to recruit Chinese laborers and allow their emigration abroad.
A ban on using the term "barbarians" to refer to the West in all official documents.
Over fifty clauses, every one a humiliating blow to the Qing.
But the most devastating of all:
[Joseon, Ryukyu, and Vietnam are confirmed as independent sovereign states.]
They had all broken away.
The pretext for intervening in their traditional tributary states had been slashed away.
The prestige of the Middle Kingdom had been dragged through the dirt.
Of course, they tacked on some weaselly proviso like "acknowledging special relations between the Qing and these nations." Even that brought sighs of relief from the Qing diplomats.
By the end of 1853, the Qing had realized the power dynamics around them were shifting at breakneck speed.
"His Majesty the Tsar was deeply concerned to see the Qing suffering at their hands. The Russian Empire will aid you. Britain and France are godless nations that delight in invading others—"
"W-Wait. No. That's fine."
"Fear not. Our mighty army will help you retake Beijing!"
"I said it's fine!!"
Astonishingly, a dramatic compromise was reached.
Britain and France had no desire to share the spoils with America, and they especially didn't want Russia dipping its spoon in for a taste.
The Qing feared Russia.
Britain and France lusted only after trade profits, but those Russian bastards wanted land.
Shockingly, Russia had started with bold promises of protection, then huddled with the Qing and demanded the Primorsky region as the "price for mediating peace." At that point, they were just highway robbers.
In exchange:
"If you sign this treaty, we will actively support the Qing government, not the rebels."
"Is that true?"
"The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom can't be trusted. As long as you faithfully uphold the treaty, we see you as better partners than those heretical insurgents."
The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom was sidelined.
For the Qing, who had tasted bitter defeat against these Western-trained armies, the mere thought of that force smashing the rebels like a hammer made their stomachs full. They quickly erased any notion that these foes might be secretly backing the Taiping.
Before the ink on the Treaty of Peking had dried, they became staunch allies.
What came next?
"We must adopt Western machinery."
"We too must install machines, run factories, and build mighty armies, just like them!"
"Chinese essence, Western application! Eastern morality, Western technology! Fuse Western techniques with China's civilization, and the world will know peace once more!"
Thus dawned the Self-Strengthening Movement.
And they had immediate tasks at hand.
"We must crush the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom and subjugate Joseon."
"Insolent fools. They strut around trusting the English, but it never occurs to them that the English might abandon them?"
The British reaction exceeded their expectations.
The Brits had no territorial ambitions per se, and as long as the Qing kept stuffing massive profits into their mouths, there was no reason to ditch them.
Even if they punished Joseon, as long as British interests there were preserved, the English wouldn't throw a fit.
With the Taiping crushed, the Qing army's next target would be Joseon—the one that had always bowed its head.
Money begets money.
Buying up Joseon Coin in bulk was undoubtedly the best decision of my life.
Suppose Arthur Leigh had been born Joseon instead of British.
My unique advantage as a Brit let me cozy up to folks like King Heonjong, Kim Ja-geun, and Yi Ha-eung. If I'd been Joseon, I'd never have dreamed of it.
Even born into royalty or nobility, it'd be the same. What could you do in Joseon this era? Even Hong Gyeong-rae's rebellion failed; mine wouldn't fare better.
Conversely, suppose I'd been born British but hadn't bet on Joseon Coin.
I'm barely past twenty, yet I'm kneading a whole kingdom like dough in some backwater hovel of a country, sucking up every concession I can.
Business? Invention? Why bother? Secure the concessions, skim the commissions, and money generates itself. What's bigger than that?
I offer sage advice to these poor, pitiful Joseon people, and they modernize, stepping onto the world stage. Perfect division of labor.
But there's an immutable law of human society.
When someone's sucking the honey, others see it and get pissed.
'Who the hell does that guy think he is, hogging all the sweet nectar?'
'Huh? Pisses me off.'
'If that loser can do it, I could do it better.'
How much envy and jealousy did Park In-ho, the ultimate 21st-century player, face? No girlfriend? Dragged to the slammer? All their conspiracies, no doubt.
- That's just because you...
Shut up. It's all conspiracies. Shadowy cabals are web novel canon!
From Britain's perspective.
If Joseon booms, British profits there explode. Plus, it checks Russia.
With the Treaty of Peking kicking off Russia's push into Primorsky, my old rants about that in London must have gained real traction by now.
But.
Flip it around?
Just prop up the Qing as a minion; couldn't they fill the same role? Is Joseon really necessary?
- Aren't you overthinking?
No.
Businessmen always get backstabbed by politicians—it's a constant.
Those who hate my guts.
Or those with big stakes in China.
With Gladstone as my patron, his rivals or the opposition pushing to ditch Joseon for more Qing investment? Natural as breathing.
- Well... you make it sound plausible. Humans are filthy complicated. So? Countermeasures?
Countermeasures.
First: Prove Joseon's might as a sovereign state and claim a seat at the great powers' table.
- Possible?
No, that's the problem.
Even Meiji Japan, after crushing Qing and Russia in wars, only got respect after jumping into World War I.
Joseon's in perpetual crisis from the jump.
No domestic issues is a huge edge, but against Britain, France, or Russia? One poke, and this lightweight bobs like a sailboat in a typhoon. Fatal flaw. And Typhoon Qing only grows stronger.
Growth brings problems too.
Everyone's chummy now, but minds flip faster than heading to the john.
I need to up my own weight class.
After dipping into Joseon straws for cash, time to bulk myself into a monster conglomerate.
Big enough that the British government hesitates to flip policies without eyeing me.
Other nations think twice before screwing around.
I've already nailed a unique political niche; launch one chaebol group, and it's not pie-in-the-sky.
So, grab bigger opportunities: China, Japan first.
Crimean War erupts? Europe offers something.
No exact date, but American Civil War too—new ventures there.
Headache is figuring how to leverage these futures for my wealth and power...
That was when.
"Master."
"What is it?"
"Your awaited guest has arrived. Shall I...?"
"I'll go right out."
Having butlers and maids is the mark of a true British gentleman.
Slaves aren't my taste, and devout Leigh would pop a vein, so everyone in our house is paid staff.
Alright.
Time to work.
My loyal China fixer, Wang Pal.
(Note: In Chinese, wang ba—means 'turtle,' a slur. Pronounced 'wang ba.' Reading the hanja Korean-style made it match the swear by coincidence. Not an insult in local dialect—don't misunderstand!)
- Way too much intro...
"The Taiping bastards are already showing signs of serious infighting."
"Trouble for business?"
"No. Quite the opposite—makes trading even smoother."
"Good. I'm thinking of ramping up Taiping trade."
Thanks to King Heonjong's fierce drive to exterminate the Jurchens and carve out survival space for Joseon folk, they're now cranking Western-style arms factories in earnest.
Obviously, quantity and quality are trash.
Even with Western techs, Joseon's industrial base is so weak... well, you can't fill up on the first sip, right?
"Smuggling Joseon-made modern guns to the Taiping? Decent profits, yeah?"
"No kidding. Arms are what they crave most."
"Perfect. Lose the fang, the gum aches. If Taiping falls, Joseon's next—trade with them is crucial for us."
Selling this crap at premium to rebels? Who cares about loyalties.
But don't stop there.
"And I hear... some Westerners are even joining the Taiping. True?"
"Yes. Surprisingly so."
Proto-communism, I guess.
Like most religions and ideologies, flashy slogans and utopian promises hook the occasional moth-to-flame type.
The great powers just snorted, but most Westerners washing up in the Far East are life-ruined drifters anyway.
- Like you?
Yeah.
My life was peak trash too.
Bound to be some suckered by Taiping hype among them.
"Scout Westerners connected to Taiping leadership."
"Leadership specifically?"
"Anyone. Oh, and... who's the best guy in Taiping brass?"
"Not sure, but Shi Dakai's got the best rep—noble character, ace fighter."
"Hook me up with him somehow."
Taiping can't crumble easy.
Big bro Britain would smash them, but do Brits always toe the government line? For my gains, screwing the homeland's fine.
"Got it. Anything else?"
"If any refugees have useful skills, nudge them toward Joseon."
Import foreign talent.
Joseon's industry was pathetically beyond my worst fears, so any Chinese craftsmen to work would boost domestic output. Wages already approved.
And more.
"Understood."
"Can't send you back empty-handed after that trek. Eat, rest, then head out slow."
"Thank you!"
"Oh, right. Got a new game I devised. Care to play?"
"A game...?"
"Guaranteed fun for all."
You bet.
I'm delivering happiness to the Chinese a bit early.
Opium's legal now—time they learned 21st-century mahjong too.
I love these Chinese folks so much.