Chapter 55: Persuasion
The two sides sat in tense silence. Ran Yao studied the man carefully, his gaze traveling methodically over every detail—until something caught his eye. An inconspicuous reddish trace marked the edge of the man's cuff. He seized the arm without warning. Guo Yi flinched and started to pull away, but the men beside him pinned him down before he could move.
Ran Yao scraped the mark with his fingernail, raised it to his nose, and inhaled. A strange smile spread across his face. "There's a woman." Lipstick residue.
He turned to his men. "Report to the Committee—we have stowaways aboard. One in custody, at least one female still somewhere on the ship." He paused. "They may be armed."
"Yes, sir!"
"Notify He Ming and Zhao De. I want a full sweep of the camp and all vessels. Check everyone's ID cards. Anyone without one gets detained on the Fengcheng for identification."
The comprehensive search resolved matters quickly. The Military Group went through the Fengcheng cabin by cabin, and the carpet sweep turned up two ATF agents hiding in a storage compartment near the bottom hold. Having gone a full day without food, the agents took one look at the gleaming SKS bayonets and chose cooperation over heroics, surrendering without a fight.
The two proved quite willing to talk, quickly explaining how they'd tracked the North American Branch's gun purchases and shipments all the way to China. Xue Ziliang tried bargaining with Ran Yao, offering a substantial reward if he could help them contact the American consulate or find some other way out.
Ran Yao smiled and shook his head. "Tempting offer, but nobody can collect."
"Afraid?" Xue Ziliang shrugged. "The US government can protect you."
"I don't doubt their capabilities. Problem is, they don't exist right now."
Xue Ziliang let out a low whistle. "Alright, alright, I get it—this is Chinese government territory." A sly smile crept across his face. "Or maybe it isn't."
"Do you know today's date?"
"20XX, X month, X day."
"Wrong. Today is 1628 AD—the first day of the ninth month by the Chinese calendar." Ran Yao shook his head slowly. "You've arrived in another timespace."
The two Americans stared at him as if he'd lost his mind, then broke into knowing smiles.
"I knew it," Ran Yao muttered to himself. This reaction was entirely expected.
In the Fengcheng's Committee conference room, items confiscated from the three stowaways covered the table—passports, credentials, documents, pistols, all scattered in disarray. The two ATF agents had brought even more, two full backpacks' worth, though curiously no food. They apparently hadn't expected to stay long.
"So this is the legendary X Department," Wen Desi said, picking up Guo Yi's credentials and flipping through them.
"This Guo Yi won't say a word—very disciplined." Ran Yao couldn't help but sound admiring.
"And the Americans?"
"They talked freely. They came tracking the North American Branch, and that's how they ended up crossing paths with our friend Xiao Guo."
"Their original purpose is irrelevant now—they can't go back anyway." Xiao Zishan interjected. "Let's discuss what to do with them."
"When you say 'deal with' like that, it sounds rather like 'eliminate.' Chilling."
Dr. Zhong remained relaxed. "What comes, stays. These are useful talents. We should absorb them into our team."
"Xiao Guo might be manageable—an educable comrade. What about the Americans?"
"Isn't one of them Chinese-American?"
"An ABC. Doesn't identify with you people at all."
"Here? Who else can he identify with—seventeenth-century English or Dutch?" Wang Luobin sounded fairly optimistic. "We're the only representatives of advanced civilization. He'll have to accept that whether he likes it or not."
"True enough. Isn't New York still a village right about now?"
"The Dutch only acquired Manhattan Island two years ago," Yu Eshui noted. "It's called New Amsterdam at the moment."
Ma Qianzhu spoke up. "Personal opinion: we should absolutely absorb them. All three are trained law enforcement with knowledge and weapons experience—invaluable for strengthening our security team. Having the Military Group handle policing duties stretches them too thin."
Ran Yao nodded emphatically in support, then made an additional suggestion: among the accidentally transported family, the daughter-in-law was also police—a detective. He requested she be assigned to the Security Group as well.
"You're all talking as if this is a done deal," Xiao Zishan interrupted. "They still think I'm a mental patient. Who wants to work for lunatics?"
"We need proof this is real," Wang Luobin said. "Their phones have no signal?"
"There are always places without signal."
"GPS has no signal."
"You could be jamming it."
"The beacon tower."
"An ancient monument. Or a fake antique."
"The Ming-era furniture."
"Modern reproductions exist."
Wang Luobin blinked, unable to think of anything new.
"I've tried all of this," Xiao Zishan said, spreading his hands helplessly. "Useless—completely useless."
Then Yu Eshui spoke. "Just release them."
"Release?!" Every head turned toward him.
"Yes, release them. Let them see for themselves." Yu Eshui leaned forward. "They don't believe this is 1628 Hainan? Seeing is believing. When Director Wen first showed us the wormhole, we only believed it after witnessing it ourselves. This is too far beyond anything normal—I wouldn't believe it either. Let them walk around. Let them look. Let facts speak for themselves."
"What if they run off and something happens on the road? Old and young, none of them vaccinated."
"Can't be helped. Revolution requires sacrifices." Yu Eshui's small eyes gleamed with something cold. "If they won't become fellow transmigrators, their fate is their own business."
Everyone felt a slight clench in their chests.
"We could release all seven together," Zhao De suggested with a chuckle. "They'll definitely stick together at first. After traveling a while and finding things don't add up, they'll start fighting among themselves."
Zhong Lishi objected. "According to the interrogation records, all seven have excellent backgrounds and abilities—any one of them could be a protagonist in a transmigration novel. Together, they might form a second transmigration faction right here in Hainan! Even without our technological base, they could ally themselves with the Ming!"
Zhao De smiled patiently. "Impossible. Setting aside whether the Ming would even accept them—look at how complex this group of seven actually is: ordinary civilians, People's Police, American agents—with four women among them. We came together with a common goal after more than a year of team-building. What shared goal do they have? At the first real setback, they'll turn on each other."
He continued slowly. "After they've had it out, they'll understand the reality of their situation and come back. Taking them in then would be far better than Zishan's current thankless pleading, which only earns him curses."
"What if the Ming capture them? Or just kill them outright? It's not impossible."
"Why would they kill such strangely dressed individuals? Ming people aren't savages—they'll certainly keep them alive out of curiosity alone. Honestly, letting them suffer a bit before we rescue them might work even better in our favor." Zhao De paused. "And if they're truly unlucky and die—well, that can't be helped."
Xiao Zishan nodded reluctantly. "Fine. I suggest we inspect their belongings, keep what we need, and give them basic rations and tools."
"No," Zhao De cut in. "Since we're releasing them, be generous about it. Return everything. Demonstrate our come-and-go-as-you-please policy in full. Even if we lose it all, so what? It's all extra anyway—don't begrudge them."
"If Ming local officials capture them, won't they reveal information about us?"
"So what?" Zhao De countered. "They think we're insane. Ming officials will consider them equally crazy. Whether they'll even understand each other's language is questionable."
Guo Yi didn't face the torture he'd imagined. He even received some mantou and pickled vegetables. After eating, guards escorted him to a cabin where a stainless-steel pot and half-empty dishes sat on the table. Xue Ziliang was wolfing down mantou and slurping congee noisily. The hundred-kilogram hulk ate without any pretense of table manners. Salina looked haggard—a day without food had hollowed her eyes, leaving them listless beneath her blonde hair. She held a half-eaten mantou but seemed unable to force down another bite.
Even as an ABC, apparently she still had a Chinese stomach. The pure Western woman clearly suffered the greater culture shock.
"Guo, what did they ask you?" Xue Ziliang swallowed his last mantou and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"They asked. I didn't talk."
"Sorry, Guo—we told them everything." Xue Ziliang wore an innocent expression. "You know how it is. Our capture policies. Very humane."
"I know, I know." Guo Yi had lost interest in this topic. What concerned him was how these bandits intended to handle them.
No further interrogation came—perhaps they were satisfied with Xue Ziliang's confession, or perhaps they'd decided the prisoners had nothing useful left to offer. The second possibility made Guo Yi's hair stand on end. He glanced at the well-fed Xue Ziliang, who seemed entirely carefree despite their circumstances.
"Guo, are you scared?" Xue Ziliang leaned closer.
Guo Yi wanted to project Chinese courage, but his voice betrayed him. "A little. What do you make of this group?"
Xue Ziliang fished a cigarette from his undershirt pocket. His lighter had been confiscated, so he could only sniff at it wistfully. "I think they mean us no harm."
"What makes you say that?"
"There's something very strange going on." The joking expression vanished from Xue Ziliang's face. "The person who interrogated us—he kept trying to convince us of something." He lowered his voice to barely a whisper. "That it's currently 1628."
"What?!" Guo Yi couldn't believe his ears. How could anyone say something so absurd?
"Bizarre, right? At first I thought he was crazy. But Salina says he's not—absolutely mentally normal." For emphasis, he added, "Salina has a master's in psychology. She can tell if someone's genuinely insane."
"That's not definitive. Take pyramid schemes—" Guo Yi caught himself, realizing this example wouldn't translate. Americans couldn't truly understand China's unique MLM industry. "Take cults. Psychiatrically speaking, cult members aren't mad either."
Xue Ziliang nodded thoughtfully. "Exactly. I think this organization has a cultish quality to it."
Cults weren't Xiao Guo's department, but working in the same agency gave him a baseline understanding.
"But they lack the typical cult characteristics," he said. "No obvious leader figure, no totemic symbols."
"Ever heard of an underground organization called the Survival Church?"
"The Survival Church?"
"An organization of obscure origin. They stockpile massive supplies, build fortifications—all to survive nuclear war or other civilization-ending catastrophes. Their leader supposedly goes by the name Wenster. Preaches doomsday theories, urges survivalists to prepare."
"Preaching the apocalypse is also a cult characteristic," Xiao Guo recalled.
"Remember the cargo manifest we saw? Those goods—they were too many and too varied to be ordinary trade merchandise. But for rebuilding civilization after some catastrophe?"
"You mean—?"
"Yes." Xue Ziliang spoke each word deliberately. "I suspect this is an enormous con. Someone has fabricated a new world."
(End of Chapter)