Chapter 498 - The Sycophant

Two or three armed guards were transferred from the Qiwei Escort Bureau to provide security. Like the grain shop’s clerks, they were strictly professionals who would not be privy to intelligence operations. Qiwei was merely a joint venture; while the transmigrators controlled its finances and management, its personnel were products of the old society, untouched by the collective’s ideological "purification." Their reliability was, by necessity, a tier lower.

Nevertheless, the escort bureau men were professionals. For security work, they were more than adequate. Lin Baiguang had always maintained that an intelligence operative who had to rely on his fists rather than his wits had already failed.

Gao Di, quick-witted and silver-tongued, was appointed "External Affairs Manager"—the equivalent of a modern sales director. The earnest and dependable Chen Tong was assigned the role of "Household Manager."

Lin Baiguang assumed the role of the "Proprietor," a Guangzhou merchant expanding his grain business. All the necessary documentation would be forged by the Guangzhou Station.

To befit a man of his station—and with the Executive Committee's approval—he was assigned two "maidservants." These young women were also graduates of the intelligence training program; their primary duties, however, were those of radio operators and cipher clerks.

"These are your staff, not your 'domestic secretaries,' just so we're clear," Hu Qingbai joked while processing the transfer papers.

"Do you really think I'm that cliché?" Lin Baiguang scoffed. Unlike some, he did not let his libido dictate his priorities.

Hu Qingbai, missing the point entirely, shook his head. "Logically speaking, you’re a wealthy merchant. It looks suspicious for you to have no wife at home..."

"That’s where you’re wrong," Lin replied. "The Historical Materials Section confirms that in this era, it was customary for traveling merchants to leave their families behind. Even the wealthiest tycoons often left their wives in their hometowns, returning only every few years."

"Well, if I had that kind of money, I wouldn't want to live like a monk. What's the point of wealth if not to enjoy it?"

Lin Baiguang didn't bother to respond. In his view, Hu Qingbai failed to understand that a man’s career was the ultimate source of stimulation; the fleeting pleasures of the flesh paled in comparison to the thrill of ambition.

After finalizing the paperwork, Lin visited the Political Security General Administration to formally hand over his duties. As a station chief, his chain of command had shifted to the Intelligence Commission, requiring him to temporarily relinquish his post as Director of the Enemy Work Department to avoid a conflict of interest. Before he left, there was a small ceremony to attend.

In the administration's conference room, the staff stood at attention, crisp in their uniforms and armed belts. The Political Security personnel wore the Year One naval uniform, distinguished only by their blue collar tabs.

"...To all departments: In recognition of Comrade Lin Baiguang's outstanding contributions to enemy-work operations, this order is hereby issued to commend his exemplary service... Chairman of the Executive Committee, Wen Desi. November 1629."

After Ran Yao finished reading the commendation, Lin Baiguang offered a formal salute and received the document with both hands. Applause filled the room. A personal commendation from the Chairman was unprecedented in the department, and given Lin’s achievements, entirely deserved.

"It's a pity we don't have medals yet. 'First-Class Merit' or 'Second-Class Merit' feels too sterile," Ran Yao said apologetically. "I’d be embarrassed to give those to indigenous staff, let alone you. So I applied for a Chairman's Commendation instead."

After the ceremony, the two men retreated to Ran Yao's office to discuss the transition. Lin Baiguang requested that specific enemy-work files be transferred to his new station, including the intelligence circuits in Guangdong and the hunt for the families of Lin Dan and Xu Cheng—vital leads for rounding up the remnants of Zhu Cailao’s pirate fleet.

"That portfolio can go with you," Ran Yao agreed. "I’ll coordinate with the Intelligence Commission to assign you a separate call sign. You can continue reporting directly to us and requesting support as needed."

"Thank you." Lin proceeded to brief Ran Yao on the ideological state of the recruited pirates. Although no longer his direct responsibility, he had cultivated close personal ties with many of them and possessed unique insights into their mindset. Since he would be leaving Lingao, a thorough handover was essential.

He also had one personnel request. The individual in question was technically a "political prisoner," currently laboring in the reform caps. Dugu Qiuhun, who managed the labor camps, had no jurisdiction over political detainees; only the Political Security General Administration could authorize a release.

"Oh? Who do you want?"

"He Xin."

"That weakling?" Ran Yao was surprised. He knew of He Xin—a pirate by association, but in reality a quintessential dandy who had climbed the ranks on the coattails of a powerful female cousin. He possessed no useful skills whatsoever.

"He Xin is useless in Lingao. He can barely cut it as a laborer. But in my hands, he has value," Lin Baiguang said.

"All right, he's yours."

Lin Baiguang’s interest in He Xin had been piqued during idle conversations with former pirates like Shi Shisi.

"As for He Xin—eating, drinking, whoring, gambling—he’s a master of the vices. An excellent sycophant," Shi Shisi had once joked. "He spent his days keeping the big bosses entertained. But the moment fighting started, he’d soil himself. He was terrified of cannon fire—wouldn't even stay at headquarters if he could help it. He spent the war skulking around the supply dépôts."

He Xin was the son of a Fujian fish merchant. After his parents died, he had squandered his inheritance on hedonism within a few years. destitute, he had sought refuge with his cousin, the pirate queen.

Thanks to his glib tongue and flair for revelry, he had carved out a niche in Zhu Cailao’s organization as a professional entertainer—a glorified hanger-on.

A born sycophant and social lubricant could be useful. Lin Baiguang’s ambition was to penetrate the upper echelons of Ming society—merchants, officials, and gentry. He was confident in his diplomatic skills, but he lacked familiarity with the era's decadent diversions. He Xin, a master of such amusements, would make a perfect guide.

Lin had probed further. Shi Shisi and others didn't despise the "pretty boy"; though he was a parasite, he wasn't malicious or cunning.

Not treacherous, Lin thought. That makes him manageable. As long as he isn't rotten to the core, I can use him.

He immediately issued the release papers and instructed Gao Di to prepare a private cell at the Bopu detention center, complete with clean clothes and amenities.

Lin himself boarded the public ox-cart to Nanbao to retrieve his prize.

With the opening of the Nanbao coal mines, the labor-reform camp originally at the Bairen Quarry had been relocated. Blasting stone in the densely developed Bairen area was no longer safe, nor was a prison camp appropriate near the collective's industrial heart.

Lin Baiguang crossed the drawbridge over the deep moat. Sharpened, fire-hardened bamboo stakes bristled from the trench bottom. Beyond lay a barbed-wire perimeter enclosing rows of low brick-and-timber barracks. Wooden guard towers loomed at intervals.

In the center of the compound stood a wooden platform that chilled the blood. Strange frames fitted with iron shackles hung from it—unmistakable instruments of punishment. It was little wonder the indigenous population spoke of this place with trembling voices; "human rights" was a foreign concept here.

Fu Youdi trotted out to greet the visiting official.

"I want He Xin. Bring him to me immediately—I’m taking him out."

Fu Youdi looked apologetic. "Sir! That man is classified as an 'indefinite-term' political offender. The serious cases are all at the quarry, except for the sick. Could you wait until they return this evening?"

"I want him now," Lin said.

"Then I’m afraid you’ll have to come to the quarry, sir."

The quarry was located at the foot of a small hill nearby, a separate facility guarded by armed soldiers and watchtowers. Three or four hundred prisoners were hauling rubble from the blasted rock face. To maintain hygiene and prevent escape, every head and beard was shaved bare. They labored almost naked; the rags they wore served only to protect skin from sharp rocks, not for modesty.

Each work gang was overseen by a supervisor wielding a rattan switch, marked by colored flags.

The scene reminded Lin Baiguang of Spartacus. This was naked slave labor in its rawest form.

"Are there any female prisoners here?"

"No. Women are a scarce resource in Lingao—we wouldn't waste them here," Fu Youdi explained. Female convicts were housed elsewhere, engaged in textile work and hide tanning at the Light Industry Ministry's processing plant, handling the flow of raw materials from Li territory.

"Bring me inmate 16280505130080."

At Fu Youdi's command, a guard descended into the pit. Before long, a filthy, stark-naked prisoner was escorted up.

"You are He Xin?" Lin Baiguang examined him. Apart from his darkened, rough skin, he appeared reasonably healthy—not the broken wreck Lin had expected. Only his face was caked in grime.

(End of Chapter)