Chapter 74
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 074
Chapter Title: China Enthusiast Arthur Leigh (5)
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In the old days, a mere barbarian merchant like me daring to lay eyes on the (de facto) master of China would have been a capital crime.
But after two Opium Wars, instead of looming high on a dais above my kneeling form, he sat across a private tea table from me.
I focused every nerve, trying to pierce through Prince Gong's face, the twitching of the facial muscles beneath, and the desires churning even deeper within.
And.
Prince Gong seemed utterly sincere.
"I am but a merchant, unworthy of any office in China. Your Highness speaks of spending a fortune on the bones of a swift steed to obtain one— even a lowly wretch like me can grasp that intent. But if you employ me, the true thoroughbreds hidden in the wilds might take offense and refuse to serve."
I recalled a story I'd heard before.
The son of a Communist Party official, whose home overflowed with cash, started an IT company. Short on talent, he tasked the HR head with headhunting.
But the HR guy dragged in some no-name scrub on a massive salary.
"Out of all the people in the world, why this guy?"
"This is exactly why. Word will spread, and applicants will line up. Don't worry."
Sure enough, rumors flew: "That loser gets paid that much?" Talent from across the land flooded in, and the company hit its hiring goals in no time.
Impressive story. But weren't you in sales? When did you hang with IT HR directors?
I'll tell you later. Focus now.
"You've just proven your own value."
As I reminisced, greed began flickering in Prince Gong's eyes.
"How many Westerners even know the tale of buying the dead horse's bones?"
"Plenty, if you look. Missionaries, for one—"
"Missionaries are off-limits. I hear you studied across the Western powers as a youth, your fame piercing the heavens as a giant scholar. Naturally, we must weed out those who scorn you as a mere merchant."
No way. Me, a giant scholar? Not Leigh—me? Bounce, bounce—
"Word has it you deeply fear the East falling to Western incursions. If that's true, you know China must stand strong first to defend the East."
"Well said, Your Highness."
"Then why hesitate? Take office. I'll grant you the power to turn your convictions into state policy. Succeed in China's modernization, make the Great Qing a match for the Western powers, and Eastern peace will follow naturally."
Prince Gong shot to his feet, strode to the bookshelf, yanked out a few volumes, and slammed them on the table.
The Analects, the Mencius, and even some Confucian classics I'd annotated myself.
"I've read your writings carefully."
"If my poor scribbles disturbed Your Highness—"
"No. They're excellent."
He jabbed a finger at the Mencius and said,
"So well-written it chilled me to the bone. A future all too plausible, and that's what terrifies me. That's why I must make you mine. Wouldn't it be far better for you to aid the Great Qing's revival than return to Joseon and forge guns aimed at us?"
You trashed the Qing in your book, but now you're singing a different tune? [Mencius] wasn't sincere, right? You're taking the Qing job for Eastern peace, yeah?
I could see Prince Gong's scheme laid bare.
If I called out his true intent here, I'd end up a corpse, imprisoned, or vanished via some Chinese black art.
Pretending to value me highly while keeping me leashed.
Hmm. Good eye. Recognizing an SSS-rank talent like me. The Joseon fools don't appreciate my worth and just tease me.
But destroy what you can't have? I'm a pure-love type, not obsessive. No thanks to trembling through a Final Destination life awaiting the inevitable backstab.
"I've heard even I, confined to my estate and the Forbidden City, that Joseon flourishes daily after you left. You've proven your kingmaker talent in a weak nation like Joseon. To realize your grand vision, shouldn't you come to the Great Qing?"
Stay like this, and I'll really end up working in the Forbidden City.
Time to flinch once.
"I merely pursued profit as a merchant, uninvolved in Joseon's governance. Its seeming prosperity stems first from its prior poverty, and second from the wise ministers around its enthusiastic king."
"Nonsense. The world knows your trading company achieved great feats in Joseon's modernization. Are all eyes mere knotholes?"
Failure. I hadn't expected it to work anyway.
"Even if I entered service, public eyes see me as Qing's foe. How could I earn trust? Doubts already sprout in many hearts; I dare not serve Your Highness."
Public eyes, my foot—it's you who doubts me.
Prince Gong caught on, of course.
"You called yourself a mere merchant moments ago. You take no salary from Joseon's king. True?"
"Y... yes."
"Westerners work for their paymasters by custom. Better still—you worked for profit. The Great Qing can grant you all the profit you desire."
You admitted not serving the Joseon king as lord? Perfect! Come on over—we'll pay whatever you want. Just a job contract, no life risks. No power lust? If trouble hits, grab the cash and head back to England! Still no signature?
Even a tiger's a tiger. Methodically weaving his net, reeling me in slow—impressive form.
—Sounds like... just working here ain't bad?
What?! Even you, Brutus?!
—If your goal's making money, snagging a Qing post beats anything. Remember our aim? Grinding cash here was all for seizing Britain's reins anyway.
Not wrong.
Snag a Qing foreign minister gig, and history might shift again. Mencius was a massive revolution, after all.
But it feels off.
—Working under these Chinese scum like enemies?
I'm no sleaze like that.
Remember that HR guy? Where'd I meet him?
—Yeah?
We shared a holding cell.
—Oof.
Sadly, the HR head who irked the boss got industry-standard pay, then used it as an excuse to join me in the slammer.
Lesson: Don't flash in autocratic states where law bends to whim. Too vivid—gives me chills, right?
Trouble? Just go home? Really?
Joseon's so weak it eyes Britain warily. No invasion needed—even debt leverage turns it banana republic overnight.
But China's too big to just chop and dump me.
—Eh... feels like an excuse.
Ignore the yapping jar-beast. Prince Gong's the priority.
"Your Highness values me so highly—I'm at a loss."
"Serving the wise is the root of governance. Ready to take office?"
Victory's smile spread across his face.
"Forgive me, but no."
Sorry. Answer's no.
One of Arthur Leigh's favorite things: telling off guys who think they're hot stuff!
"Still more excuses? Aha! You schemed refusal from the start! Just here to bleed the Qing dry!"
Rejected despite my courtesy, the young royal dropped the wounded act for raw fury.
This is why I hate absolute monarchies. An autocrat's rage ignores all pros and cons. Polar opposite to a tightrope walker like me.
"I harbor no thought to topple the Great Qing."
"Prove it! Work for Qing!"
"Though I've taken no nation's salary, I still owe Joseon debts unpaid—I cannot leave them."
"...Debts?"
His anger vanished instantly. A politician's seed from the start.
"Yes. Having read this book, Your Highness will understand."
I pulled the Annals of the Joseon Dynasty from beneath the stack. The young politician realized my point and groaned.
"Joseon folk welcomed a boy bereft of kin—the king and ministers embraced me warmly. They poured excessive kindness: food, clothes, shelter, education."
"......Urgh."
He didn't spew trash like "But Chinese saved you too?" Pointless—counter of "Ah, China. Lived as pirate slaves" would fly.
Ruling by Confucianism, spreading it West—they tried recruitment. But appealing to unbreakable human bonds and gratitude stumps even Prince Gong's grandpa.
Done.
This loaded counter, gathered and fired, escapes the sticky courtship dance.
Seizing momentum, I bowed deeper, squeezing tears from my eyes. A thin stream traced my precious cheek.
"Strengthening the Qing to repel Western slaves and secure Eastern peace... wouldn't that repay Joseon's grace...?"
Ugly, ugly, Hyuk-hwan!
Textbook play: "Arthur Leigh, true gentleman!" Praise me wildly, end it. Poke, no give? Act like forks are foreign.
Young and green. Wasted effort hurts.
But we call it sunk cost. Gen Z: cut losses.
"That won't do either."
"Why not."
"Someone sought me first, declaring need. Duty binds me to serve them."
"Prince Chun's royal too— no difference."
Spouting unbelieved nonsense. Sunk costs mounting.
Seeing him soften like mochi sparked a urge to grind more. Grrr, can't hold back, Hyuk-hwan!
"I dare not accept Your Highness's offer. Might I presume to offer bitter counsel?"
"If I can't have the sage, at least heed his words. Speak."
"Your Highness will never succeed."
Sucker punch to the solar plexus—his poker face crumbled, shock flooding in.
"The path Your Highness treads ends only in ruin."
And I'm the guy who hits where it hurts again.