Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 569 Spring Day (Part 1)

In March, the warm spring sun generously shines on the azure waters of Acapulco Bay, completely dispelling the last trace of morning chill.

The coconut trees in the harbor swayed in the breeze, and the salty sea breeze swept through this small town that had changed hands.

Sildor de Alvara sat in his own awning-covered open-air tavern, slowly sipping a dark, bitter beverage made from ground and brewed Peruvian cocoa beans.

His gaze swept past the sparse figures in the square and landed on the bustling port in the distance with a complex expression.

His grocery store and tavern was ideally located on the main street overlooking the port square.

More than four months ago, when those Xinhua warships flying red flags appeared on the sea, he, like all the residents of the small town, was filled with a sense of apocalyptic fear and despair.

They had heard about the ruthless methods these "new Chinese" from the north had used in Guadalajara, and they were prepared for the worst—to be robbed of everything or even lose their lives.

The decision to surrender the city was made jointly by municipal officials and the local garrison commander. It was almost without resistance—well, not entirely; at least the two forts in the port had fought a fierce battle—before the city gates were opened, leaving the fate of the city's soldiers and civilians to the invaders to decide.

The terms of surrender sounded good; the new Chinese promised to protect the lives and property of the town's residents and maintain basic order.

But who can truly believe the invaders' promises?
In Silro's view, armies—whether of the Kingdom of Spain or of any other country—are essentially synonymous with violence and chaos.

He vividly remembered the terrible news brought by a businessman from Catalonia early last year: it was the local garrison's lawlessness and heinous acts that provoked the people of that land to fight back, which eventually turned into a bloody rebellion that swept across the entire region.

At that time, he was almost convinced that Acapulco's fate would be even more tragic.

Because these new Chinese are still a group of ungodly pagans!
However, the hellish scene envisioned did not occur.

“Father, here are today’s accounts.” His son, Milso, a young man who had just turned seventeen, placed a hardcover ledger on the wooden table covered with a linen tablecloth with undisguised excitement. “The turnover has increased by 30% compared to last week. Especially sugar, tobacco, and fruits and vegetables delivered from the farms in the suburbs this morning, they were almost bought up as soon as they arrived… mainly by their people.”

As he spoke, he gestured toward the newly designated military area near the port.

Sildor gave a low "hmm" and did not immediately look at the ledger.

His gaze followed the occasional three or five Xinhua soldiers in dark blue uniforms walking by on the street.

Their military bearing was impeccable, their weapons gleaming, and they walked with their eyes straight ahead, a stark contrast to the image of Spanish soldiers in my memory who were drunk, causing trouble, and stealing in the streets.

What surprised him even more was that when these soldiers bought fruit, tobacco, or other trinkets at the market, they would actually pay with high-quality Xinhua silver or copper coins, according to the prices offered by the stall owners.

There was no forced buying or selling, and no intimidation or extortion.

“Oh, Holy Mary, it’s…unbelievable!” Sildo muttered to himself as he finished the remaining cocoa in his cup.

Over the years, he had become accustomed to how former colonial tax collectors would strut into his shop with their heads held high, casually take away the best cocoa beans and the strongest rum, and leave behind only a few insignificant copper coins, or simply write them down in the "official accounts" that could never be redeemed.

And then there were those slovenly yet vicious soldiers who, after brandishing their weapons, would shamelessly rob whatever they wanted.

“Because they have these overseers…” Mirso pointed to a patrol of soldiers in the distance, each wearing a striking red armband, their expressions serious and their eyes sharp. “I heard from Mr. Perez that they are their ‘military police,’ responsible for disciplining their own people and maintaining order in the city. Anyone who dares to break the law and gets caught by them will face dire consequences.”

Order—that's what Silva has felt most deeply these past few months.

After the new Chinese occupied Acapulco, they quickly took control of all key locations—the port, fortifications, city hall, treasury, and military camps.

Their original small garrison and all the colonial officials were politely but firmly "invited" onto the ship, and then sent there for an unknown purpose.

Initially, people were worried that taxation and administration would fall into chaos, but they soon found that chaos did not occur; instead, an unprecedented set of regulations was established.

The colonial tax collectors who once perched like vultures in ports and markets have disappeared, along with the numerous and arbitrary taxes and levies.

Merchants no longer needed to pay the heavy taxes that had been levied at every level to buy and sell their goods, and market transactions became more active than many people had imagined.

Silro's shop not only sold goods to local residents and a few daring Spanish merchants, but more importantly, it attracted Chinese soldiers who seemed to have plenty of money, as well as Chinese merchants who came by ship.

"They really... won't rob us?" Juan, an old fisherman, leaned over at the next table, lowering his voice, a hint of doubt still on his face.

Several years ago, his fishing boat was requisitioned by the local garrison. When it returned, not only were the fish he had caught gone, but the sail was also torn in a large hole, and he had no way to appeal.

When the Xinhua Army arrived, he, like many fishermen, towed his boat to a secluded beach to hide, while he himself hid, anxiously waiting for the "invaders" to finish looting and leave on their own.

Unexpectedly, the Xinhua Army seemed to have no intention of withdrawing. After sweeping up the surrounding farms and villages, it left more than a thousand soldiers to garrison the area, while more than six thousand main troops rushed into the inland heartland.

Under the rule of the new Chinese army, the port of Acapulco quickly returned to calm, and all aspects of production and daily life resumed as before.

However, both the port and the city hall flagpoles now bear a striking red flag.

Driven by the need to make a living, Juan and other fishermen tentatively came to the port to sell their catch.

Although they had not been robbed or extorted, they were still filled with apprehension.

Sildo shook his head and wiped the glass in his hand with a soft cloth: "At least not on the surface. Juan, look at the streets. Aren't they much cleaner and tidier than when 'they' were here? People even dare to go out for a walk at night."

He paused, a hint of relief in his voice that he himself didn't realize, "And they really do pay. The grain stored in my warehouses and the fruit delivered from the manor are all settled with real silver coins at market price when their quartermaster comes."

Just then, Mr. Diego, a regular customer of the tavern who ran a medium-sized plantation, walked in with light steps, his face beaming with undisguised joy.

"Hey, Mr. Sildor! Give me a glass of the best mezcal!" he called out loudly, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Another big deal struck today! The supply department of the new Chinese has ordered all the corn and half of the wheat harvested from my estate last year. Hmm, the price is fair."

"And it was cash on delivery, shiny silver coins. Oh, praise God, these new Chinese are simply... uh... a very well-behaved bunch of robbers?"

After he finished speaking, he realized that his description was a bit strange and couldn't help but chuckle.

Sildo poured him a glass of amber-colored mezcal from the oak barrel behind the counter, a complex expression on his face.

Diego's words, to some extent, represent the subtle mentality of many landowners and plantation owners outside the city.

Instead of carrying out the devastating looting they had done in Guadalajara, the Xinhua army became their stable and generous customers.

Grains, livestock, poultry, vegetables, fruits... were continuously purchased and sent to the military camps, and then to the front lines.

In fact, many estate owners' wagons and other supplies would be requisitioned for a fee.

This has supported the local agricultural economy to some extent and provided plantation owners like Diego with an unprecedented stable income.

The scene was indeed somewhat eerie—a group of Spanish colonial landowners and merchants were providing “selfless” logistical support to the Xinhua army, which was attacking other Spanish towns.

Xinhua has clearly succeeded in using war to sustain war.

Perhaps, when faced with real-world interests, the boundaries of loyalty begin to blur.

Moreover, everyone knew perfectly well that this Xinhua army was not short of money! When they captured Acapulco, they emptied the official treasury, confiscated all the property of the colonial authorities, and obtained a lot of gold and silver.

Just two months ago, they marched inland and surprisingly captured the famous Taxco silver mine!

When the news came, everyone was stunned.

It is said that over 400,000 pesos worth of silver ingots fell into their hands, which was an enormous fortune.

Subsequently, news of the fall of towns such as Iguala, Temisco, Cuenawaca, Cuotra, and Atelisco spread like wildfire. The captured gold, silver, and other valuables were being transported back to Acapulco by mule caravans, then loaded onto cargo ships waiting to return, and carried back to their "homeland of Xinhua."

Oh, and of course, a small portion was also paid to merchants and landowners in Acapulco as payment for goods.

When the New China Army advanced to Cuotra, only eighty kilometers from Mexico City, the entire Viceroyalty of New Spain was shaken.

Pedro even heard an unconfirmed rumor that the alarm bells in the new Spanish capital were ringing incessantly, the whole city was in a panic, many nobles and wealthy merchants were fleeing in haste, and the governor and many colonial officials were in chaos.

Everyone thought that Mexico City was about to face a bloody and brutal siege.

"And the result?" Old Juan asked curiously.

"The result?" Sildo shrugged, a helpless bitter smile appearing on his lips. "The Xinhua army circled around outside Vaztepec, as if to intimidate the gentry in Mexico City, and then turned southeast. I guess they probably thought Mexico City was too tough to handle, so they went to find an easier target."

Just then, a burst of enthusiastic cheers came from the direction of the port, attracting everyone's attention.

Two large transport ships flying the Xinhua flag were slowly entering the dock. Their towering masts and huge sails were particularly eye-catching in the sunlight. The ships had a deep draft, indicating that they were carrying a large amount of cargo.

"Look! Another new ship is coming!" Mirzo excitedly ran towards the port, his eagerness as if he were welcoming the royal fleet from the Spanish mainland.

Syldor squinted and looked over.

Guided by the pilot, the ship smoothly docked at the pier.

After the plank was set up, the first thing to come down was not the cargo, but rows of neatly lined-up soldiers.

They wore the same dark blue uniforms as the soldiers in the city, carrying packs and weapons. Although their faces showed the fatigue of a long journey, their eyes were filled with an indescribable sharpness.

"Another batch of new Chinese reinforcements?" Mr. Diego put down his wine glass, his mouth agape in astonishment.

No one answered his question; they were all standing on tiptoe, gazing toward the dock.

Are the new Chinese preparing to commit more troops to Mexico and launch a larger-scale offensive?
The newly arrived soldiers quickly lined up on the open ground of the dock at the command of their officers, and conducted a headcount and a simple handover.

Then, some officers who had been waiting at the dock went up to greet them, seemingly to exchange documents, and gave a short speech to the ranks, which drew cheers from the soldiers who were disembarking.

“Oh God, they must be doing pre-battle mobilization to make these soldiers fight even more fiercely,” old Juan muttered, making the sign of the cross.

"How many troops does the new Chinese actually have?" Mr. Diego's lips twitched. "The gentlemen in Mexico City spent half a year and still couldn't assemble a decent army, while the new Chinese are bringing in more and more soldiers, ship after ship."

“They…could they be planning to take over the whole of New Spain?” Sildo suddenly said.

"..." The surroundings fell silent instantly. Everyone looked at each other, their eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

The idea was terrifying, yet it didn't seem entirely impossible.

Back in the day, didn't Cortés conquer the vast Aztec Empire with just a few hundred men?

Should Xinhua people follow suit?

"Those new soldiers are reinforcements!" Milso, who had just finished watching the commotion, ran back, still looking excited. "I counted them, a full four hundred. Oh, I must say, they look very spirited, much more imposing and disciplined than our Spanish army!"

"Replenishment troops?" Mr. Diego pondered the term with surprise. "Are they to fill the gaps caused by their combat casualties?"

“Oh yes, Mr. Diego. But not entirely…” Mirso took a breath and added, “I heard that there are some veterans in their unit who have completed their service and are also returning home on the ship. These new recruits are to fill the places of those veterans.”

"what?"

"Completion of service?"

"Sending soldiers home during a war?"

The news was like a pebble thrown into calm water, causing even greater astonishment and uproar among the onlookers in Spain.

Everyone found it unbelievable.

In their minds, once you enlist in the armies of European countries, it's like selling yourself into servitude, with service periods often lasting seven or eight years, or even more than ten or twenty years.

During wartime, the period was extended indefinitely.

The soldiers could forget about going home.

The army was filled with conscripted farmers, vagrants, and even criminals, and many soldiers were unable to leave even when they were old and sick.

The continuous wars have already drained the manpower of all countries, and every veteran who has been tested by the flames of war is a valuable asset, and commanders will never let them go easily.

This Xinhua army not only managed to replenish its ranks so smoothly while fighting overseas far from home, but it also managed to ensure that soldiers who had completed their service could retire and return home on time!
This requires a very rigorous and robust reserve mobilization mechanism, highly efficient organizational capabilities, and substantial financial resources to support such a troop rotation system.
More importantly, this reflects a strong commitment to national duty and a certain degree of respect for the lives of soldiers, which stands in stark contrast to the impression that European armies treat soldiers like dirt or expendable resources.

“Oh God, what kind of adversaries are we fighting?” Mr. Diego muttered to himself.

Sildo didn't answer; he simply gazed intently at the scene unfolding on the street: newly arrived soldiers marched into the city in high spirits, their faces beaming with fighting spirit; port workers began unloading crates of supplies and bundled goods from transport ships; a group of Xinhua merchants, accompanied by officers, pointed towards the warehouse area, seemingly discussing something; in the distance, the market remained bustling with activity, and several military police wearing red armbands marched past a street corner with measured steps, maintaining this unusual "peace"...

Order, commercial vitality, strict military discipline, and this incredible military mobilization capability.

All of this was far beyond the comprehension of Sildo and all the residents of Acapulco.

The fear had long since dissipated without my noticing, replaced by a complex mix of curiosity, awe, and pragmatic interests.

Ordinary people, merchants, and landowners all seem to have found space to survive and even thrive under this new order.

Perhaps Juan's muttered words, spoken just as he left, represented the sentiments of many: "...In the end, what does it matter who rules? The Spanish lords only know how to collect taxes and put on airs. These new Chinese...at least they've revitalized the markets, and people are paying for their purchases...As long as they don't become devils who kill and burn, I'd actually hope they stay a little longer..."

The warmth of spring seems to have not only taken root in the air and sea breeze, but has also quietly permeated this small town occupied by foreign tribes, and the hearts of the people in the town that were once filled with vigilance and worry.

The future remains uncertain, but at least for now, life, and the search for a better life under the new "rules," has become possible.

Sildor poured himself a glass of wine, tilted his head back, and drank it all in one gulp.

After that familiar, slightly sour taste, a faint, elusive sweetness seemed to emerge.
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(End of this chapter)