Rubber Trees
Rubber trees.
Hwiyeom had been wrong about one thing: the belief that rubber trees only arrived in China in the nineteenth century.
To be precise, the rubber tree he knew was the Pará rubber tree (Hevea brasiliensis), native to South America, and yes, that species had not reached China until the 1800s.
But the banyan rubber tree (Ficus benghalensis), native to Bengal in India, had long since spread from India across the whole of East Asia.
For the record, the banyan rubber tree could also produce rubber. Its sap simply flowed in smaller quantities than the Pará tree’s, so it had been used for rubber production only until the superior species arrived.
Even Hwiyeom, for all his knowledge, had failed to consider that possibility.
He stared blankly and asked again.
“R-really? Something like that grows here?”
Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang nodded.
“Indeed. There is a tree called the Gakhaesu. Cut the trunk and white sap flows out; once it hardens, it becomes elastic. Exactly what you have in mind.”
“Uh… are there many of these Gakhaesu trees?”
“Fairly common. They do not grow especially tall, but the wood is smooth, fine-grained, and light, so we use it for furniture. The leaves are broad and glossy—perfect for thatching roofs.”
Hwiyeom’s eyes lit up.
“I see.”
In an instant he swallowed every trace of excitement. Instinct, pure and simple—never show a weakness during a negotiation. Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang, however, had already caught the flicker.
Hmm. Curious. He didn’t even know Gakhaesu grew here, yet he asked whether we had any. And from that momentary reaction, it seems he needs the stuff rather badly.
Hwiyeom, for his part, could barely contain the thrill surging inside him.
Rubber. Actual rubber? Holy hell—how many things could we use this for?
In industry the applications of rubber were virtually endless.
Electricity had not yet arrived, so wiring insulation was still premature, but…
Rubber gloves for handling poisons and reagents in the Innovation Party laboratories. Rubber rims that would dramatically extend the life of cartwheels. Waterproofing agents, moldings—and above all, gaskets and seals!
Wherever liquid—water, oil—or gas needed to be contained, rubber was indispensable.
It was essential for building proper pumps. And to raise a firearm’s power, range, stability, and durability, one absolutely needed gaskets and sealing that kept the chamber gas from leaking sideways and forced it to drive the bullet straight out the muzzle.
Rubber didn’t enter firearms until the synthetic-rubber industry of the twentieth century, but for the quantities the Dang Family alone would need, natural rubber is more than enough! Just by using rubber gaskets and seals, range and accuracy should jump at least thirty percent!
They said masterpieces lived in the details, and it was true.
Add latex grips to absorb part of the recoil, use the material as cushioning here and there…
And what about the carriages that nearly wrecked my back on the way to Yunnan? Rubber tires, leaf springs instead of crude suspension bars, thick latex dampers—the ride would be incomparably better! We could even start selling carriages…
While Hwiyeom’s mind raced through every possibility, Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang watched him in silence.
Crackling flames.
Below the palace terrace a great bonfire burned in the square. Men and women danced and sang together.
Yet Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang saw the crisis hidden behind the festivities.
In the end, the Beast Palace needed Sichuan’s grain.
“So you need the Gakhaesu.”
“Hm? Ah—well, it would be nice to have some, yes.”
Hwiyeom hastily rearranged his features into a casual grin. Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang chuckled.
“There’s a saying in the Central Plains, isn’t there? ‘Old ginger is the spiciest.’ You’re already found out—stop trying.”
“…Was it that obvious?”
“Very.”
Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang continued.
“Of course the Beast Palace would gladly supply Gakhaesu sap at the request of an old ally—especially since we, too, need food.
But there is a small problem.”
Hwiyeom’s expression cooled at once.
“A problem?”
He had been ready to start haggling the moment the old man asked how high he was willing to bid. Instead Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang said something unexpected.
“The Dang Family will want large quantities of Gakhaesu sap, correct?”
“Let’s say we do.”
“A little I could obtain for you, but large amounts would be difficult.”
“Why? You just said the trees were common. Is it religious? Political?”
“Neither. The problem is the mosquitoes.”
“Mosquitoes…?”
Hwiyeom’s eyes went round.
After a brief pause Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang spoke again.
“In truth, a fever has been circulating through the Southern Savages of late.”
Hwiyeom started.
“What?! A fever?”
Mosquitoes. Fever.
The combination was enough to send a chill down his spine.
Malaria? Yellow fever? Either one is a disaster!
Yellow fever was carried by African and Egyptian forest mosquitoes and did not exist in East Asia at this time—it was confined to Central and South America and Africa—but Hwiyeom did not know that.
Malaria, however, was already present in the Central Plains under the name of ague.
How many times had he already been bitten on the journey here? His back was suddenly clammy with sweat.
Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang went on.
“Gakhaesu trees usually grow in stands, and those groves swarm with mosquitoes. The broad leaves give the insects perfect cover.”
“…Right.”
Banana, rubber, bamboo—the three mosquito favorites.
“We do not know the exact cause, but long experience has taught us that the fever comes from the mosquitoes.”
“Oh… you’re well ahead of the Central Plains folk.”
When smallpox or cholera broke out, people of the Central Plains still burned spirit money and offered sacrifices to “plague gods.” The Southern Savages they mocked as barbarians already understood that mosquitoes caused malaria and yellow fever.
So who’s the savage now?
The wry joke rose unbidden.
At the same time another thought flared.
Opportunity!
Hwiyeom’s eyes glittered.
“In other words, sending Beast Palace warriors into the Gakhaesu groves to harvest sap would expose them to the fever, so you can’t do it.”
“Exactly. I hope you understand. In exchange, would you trade grain for something else? I recently found an elephant graveyard—there is a great store of ivory.”
“How about this instead?”
Hwiyeom spoke with confident ease.
“Simply guide our Dang people to the Gakhaesu groves. We will wipe the mosquitoes out for you.”
“What?”
Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang looked as though he had heard pure nonsense.
“Wipe the mosquitoes out? Is that even possible?”
“Of course completely eradicating them is impossible.”
Even the twenty-first century had never managed that.
“But reducing their numbers enough that the fever stops circulating—that, I believe we can do.”
“…Explain your method first.”
“Do you know how the Dang Family survived the locust plague that struck Sichuan this time?”
“…Surely not.”
“Exactly that. Poison.”
“Impossible.”
Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang’s tone was absolute.
“If you pour out enough poison to scour every mosquito from the forest and annihilate swarms of locusts, the beasts of the forest will not survive either.”
“And if that poison kills only insects and leaves the beasts unharmed?”
“…Is such a thing possible?”
“Hahaha, Palace Lord—can’t you see this?”
Hwiyeom slapped the deep-green robe he had refused to remove even in the steamy heat, and laughed.
“I am of the Dang Family. The Dang.”
“If the Dang Family truly rids the Gakhaesu groves of mosquitoes and supplies the Beast Palace with grain, we will gladly provide the Gakhaesu sap.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. In these Southern Savage jungles thick with beasts and venomous insects, where even finding a path is hard, only the Beast Palace can harvest Gakhaesu sap. And of all the Central Plains, only the Sichuan Dang Family will be able to buy it.”
“Excellent.”
Hwiyeom did not press for better terms. He could easily have squeezed the Beast Palace harder through negotiation.
But as long as the only route to rubber trees ran through the Southern Savage Beast Palace, overplaying his hand was unwise.
And honestly, wringing my grandfather’s old war comrade dry feels a little wrong.
Unlike Songhak Jin-in, who had stabbed the Dang Family in the back first—yes, quite different.
Thinking of a deal that could benefit both sides, Hwiyeom asked,
“Will there be a large quantity of Gakhaesu?”
“Plenty. More than enough to make it a staple of trade.”
“Oh…”
Hwiyeom put on a look of humble gratitude.
“Very well. Shall we draw up a contract first?”
“I cannot read. Can you write the Southern Savage tongue?”
“Yes!”
“…How do you know it?”
“Coming to the Beast Palace, isn’t it basic? Haha!”
Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang regarded him as one might an odd specimen, then gave a short laugh.
“In many ways you are not like a man of the Central Plains.”
“A man of the Central Plains? Haha, spare me. We even have a black joke that we’re not Central Plains folk at all—just honorary ones.”
“Do the Central Plains people look down on Sichuan and Yunnan as well?”
“Ugh, don’t get me started. It’s not only Sichuan and Yunnan. Hainan and Liaoning on the frontiers get called Japanese pirates and barbarians and treated like dirt.
Anyone who doesn’t live right in the heartland they imagine as ‘the Central Plains’ is fair game for contempt. It’s second nature.
Sichuan especially, because it has always been rich—they try even harder to put us down. Bruises their pride, you see.”
Even in the twenty-first century city folk still looked down on the countryside, but it was nothing compared with this era.
Sichuan people lived in a permanent state of quiet fury at the contempt of the “true” Central Plains.
Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang clicked his tongue.
“Where does that cursed chosen-people nonsense even come from?”
“We fellow outcasts should stick together and do well for ourselves!”
“Very well, grandson of my ally. I need no contract, but you surely do. Shall I call for paper?”
“I have it right here!”
Hwiyeom pulled brush, ink, and paper from inside his robe and drafted the contract in moments.
Folded in half, one side in Vietnamese, the other in the Central Plains script, the document boiled down to this:
1. The Sichuan Dang Family shall eradicate the mosquitoes of the Gakhaesu groves and sell grain to the Southern Savage Beast Palace.
2. The Southern Savage Beast Palace shall sell Gakhaesu sap, timber, and phosphate rock to the Sichuan Dang Family.
3. The Dang Family and the Beast Palace, comrades since the great war, shall never turn their backs upon each other.
The final clause was essentially meaningless, yet Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang seemed rather fond of it.
“So long as the Dang Family does not turn its back first, the forests of the Beast Palace will always stand open.”
“Likewise!”
If we ever voluntarily shut the only rubber import channel of this age, the Dang Family would deserve to go under.
Hwiyeom and Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang pressed their seals to the contract and each took a copy.
Once the deal was sealed, Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang asked,
“Now then—tell me. Is that tree truly so important? Does it have some special use?”
Hwiyeom paused. Explaining the future of rubber to people who had never seen it would only breed misunderstanding.
“We’re the Dang Family. We have plenty of uses.”
“True enough. Hyo-seon used to say the Dang excel not only at hidden weapons but at poisons and medicines. But Gakhaesu has no toxicity.”
“Heh. That depends entirely on what one does with it, doesn’t it?”
Hắc Hổ Hiến Lang looked puzzled but asked no further. Instead he smiled.
“Whatever the case, I am glad to aid the descendant of an old comrade. I hope you succeed in clearing the mosquitoes.”
“We leave at first light tomorrow.”
The first Cesco deployment in the Central Plains—no, the world!
Thinking of the remaining stocks of Myeonghwangha and every other poison, Hwiyeom smiled a wicked little smile.