Chapter 554 - The School for Female Servants

Once the purification quarantine was complete, the Health Department initiated comprehensive physical examinations. Shi Niaoren took personal command, directing Zhang Ziyi and her nursing staff to screen for everything from acute infections to hereditary defects.

The examination was as invasive as it was thorough. Shi Niaoren demanded detailed family medical histories, cross-referencing them against a database of common generic disorders he had compiled from previous immigrant waves. The purpose of these "Life Secretaries" was an open secret: they were the prospective mothers of the first generation of "Transmigrator-born." The genetic purity of the future ruling class was not a matter to be taken lightly.

Candidates found with hidden ailments, chronic conditions, or undesirable family histories were summarily cut from the program. Those with treatable issues were isolated for therapy. The rejects who were otherwise healthy and non-contagious were reassigned: the literate were flagged for administrative training, while the uneducated were sent to the General Affairs Office to serve as menial staff in transmigrator-exclusive facilities.

About forty women were eliminated in this culling. The survivors were moved to a newly constructed, specialized compound for the next phase of indoctrination. To distinguish them from common servants and grant them a veneer of prestige, the "Female Servant Countermeasures Committee" bestowed upon them the official title of "Life Secretary."

The training program was Chairman Wen Desi's pet project. He treated it as a Tier-1 priority, bulldozing through bureaucratic hurdles and requisitioning resources at will. Ma Qianzhu grumbled privately about the waste of human and material capital, but since Wen framed it as "securing the vital interests of the masses," he found it politically difficult to object.

Unlike the rough-and-ready camps managed by the Civil Affairs Committee, the "Female Servant School" was a fortress of privilege managed directly by the General Affairs Office. Enclosed by high brick walls rather than flimsy bamboo fences, it had a single, guarded entrance. Security was tight; without a special clearance pass, no one got in.

Inside, the facilities were spartan but complete. The school boasted its own bathhouse, kitchen, cafeteria, and even an indoor gymnasium for all-weather exercise. A dedicated clinic, staffed by two native nurses assigned by the Health Department, ensured the assets remained in peak condition.

The dormitories were luxurious by local standards: four to a room, each equipped with a full-length mirror—an object of endless fascination and vanity for the girls.

But luxury came at the price of total subjugation. Upon entry, the women signed "absolute contracts." These were not standard indentures; they stripped away the right to manumission after seven years. Even the option of redemption by family was removed. If a girl's parents struck it rich and wanted to buy her freedom, they could only do so at the master's whim. Wen Desi didn't necessarily intend to enslave them for life, but he wanted the power of "grace" to reside solely in the hands of the transmigrators.

Discipline within the walls was draconian. Contact with the outside world was severed. Every aspect of their lives—walking, speaking, eating, sleeping—was regimented. Supervision was entrusted to a cadre of older women recruited from the settler population, former housekeepers and maids from wealthy households who knew how to keep order.

These matrons were over thirty-five, healthy, hardworking, and merciless. They were selected for their taciturn nature and their ability to keep secrets.

They embraced their role as disciplinarians with relish. The cries and screams of punished students frequently drifted over the high compound walls.

This curriculum was officially termed "Awe Training"—or, in colloquial terms, "breaking the horse." Unlike military training, which aimed to build self-reliance and esprit de corps, this program had two core objectives: Gratitude and Fear.

Many committee members found this approach excessive, with some whispering that Chairman Wen was indulging in sadistic fantasies. But Wen stood his ground, framing it as a matter of "long-term stability for the collective."

"Men come in all varieties," Wen lectured at a committee meeting. "Some of us are alphas, but let's be honest—some of you comrades are soft! If we don't properly break these women in, if we don't instill a bone-deep fear of authority, we're going to end up with a bunch of Wu Zetians running our households!"

The committee members burst into laughter, finding the notion absurd.

"Laugh all you want," Wen scolded. "We come from a timeline that was feminized to the core. You think you're 'manly'? Please. I look around this room and I see a lot of henpecked husbands waiting to happen!"

The laughter redoubled.

"Don't deny it. Who here hasn't scrambled to buy overpriced flowers on Valentine's Day? Who hasn't simp-ed for a dinner date?"

"Chairman Wen, that's hardly the same thing..."

"A real man doesn't need that performative nonsense!" Wen said with genuine pain. "Modern men have been brainwashed. Korean dramas and feminist discourse lowered our collective IQ. We put women on pedestals, made them into angels, goddesses, mistresses to be worshipped."

An Xi chimed in: "Chairman Wen has a point. History is littered with great men brought low by pillow talk. 'Even a hero cannot pass the trial of a beauty.'"

"Comrade Xiao An gets it," Wen praised. "The risk of manipulation is real. We must nip it in the bud!"

"But won't the female transmigrators object?" someone asked. "This 'breaking' curriculum looks suspiciously like abuse."

"Anyone with objections can raise them. We'll vote," Wen said dismissively. "Freedom of speech and all that."

"I doubt there'll be pushback," Ma Jia remarked. "Having someone thrash the 'little vixens' for them? They probably think it's great."

With the curriculum set, the school needed a principal. The single male "otanku" on the BBS who volunteered were immediately disqualified—putting them in charge was like asking a fox to guard the hen house. It had to be a woman.

But the available pool was small. Of the twenty-odd adult female transmigrators, most were wives or girlfriends who had zero interest in grooming their future sexual competitors. The two single women were non-starters: Li Xiaolü was too detached to care, and Du Wen was a radical feminist who would likely burn the school down on principle.

After much deliberation, the choice fell on Dong Weiwei. Not because she was supportive of the cause, but because she was already the fitness instructor.

The job had originally belonged to Chen Sigen. As a professional trainer, he was an expert in body-sculpting. But Chen was wary. Training the future concubines of his peers was a minefield. As a handsome, muscular man, he was a walking scandal waiting to happen. Even if he remained professional, the rumors alone could be damaging.

So he had recruited Dong Weiwei, using a "train the trainer" model: he taught her the routines, and she taught the girls.

Dong Weiwei's background was in bodybuilding and aerobics, but she had also picked up various trendy disciplines like belly dancing and pole dancing. With Chen's guidance, she became the school's indispensable fitness lead.

Wen Desi reasoned that since she was already willing to teach there, her moral objections couldn't be that strong.

Dong Weiwei hesitated when offered the principalship—not out of feminism, but because she was swamped with her duties at the Social Work Department. Building rural grassroots organizations gave her a profound sense of accomplishment.

"You can hold both posts," Wen assured her. "You're there to teach anyway. Just add some administrative oversight."

"Who handles the day-to-day? If I do this, I want it done right."

"We'll arrange a vice-principal for the grunt work."

"Alright, I'll take it," Dong Weiwei said frankly. "I know the Executive Committee is in a bind—can't trust the men, can't find a willing woman. Rest assured, I won't half-ass it. But I want veto power on the vice-principal."

"Excellent!" Chairman Wen nodded, pleased. "That is very big-picture of you."

"Chairman Wen flatters me. I am but a humble woman with shallow knowledge," she replied, slipping into a mock-historical tone that revealed her own fascination with the era.

Truth be told, Dong Weiwei was intrigued. Her university thesis had been on The Culture of Pleasure in the Jiangnan Region during the Tianqi and Chongzhen Reigns. This was a chance to recreate the legendary courtesan culture of the late Ming, focused purely on aesthetics and temperament.

When her husband, Gao Xiaosong, returned from his naval deployment and heard the news, he laughed.

"You're running a finishing school for concubines? Aren't you afraid you'll train the very 'little vixen' who replaces you?"

"Hmph. I am the Primary Wife, the one who wears the Red Dress!" Dong Weiwei scoffed. "Besides, they aren't even concubines—they're maids. If one of them wants to climb into your bed, she needs my stamp of approval. And if she tries any vixen tricks, I'll skin her alive."

She paused, blinking mischievously. "Hey, should we use our subsidy to buy one for ourselves?"

"Absolutely not. Having you is more than enough trouble," Gao Xiaosong declaimed instantly, striking a pose of righteous monogamy.

"Liar," Dong Weiwei purred, wrapping her arms around his neck. "But... I'll think about it."