Chapter 736 - Victorious Return
The news of Wang Zunde's death did not surprise the Senate. Historically, he had died at his post around 1631 from overwork.
According to historical progression, the next Governor-General of Liangguang would be Xiong Wencan. He had risen to prominence by pacifying Zheng Zhilong, and throughout his career, he primarily employed "pacification" to handle various "rebel factions."
Coming to govern Liangguang, he was highly likely to reach a mutual understanding with the Transmigrators—just as he had compromised with Zheng Zhilong in Fujian. For this reason, many Senators had looked forward to "Blue Sky" Xiong's assumption of office.
However, Blue Sky Xiong couldn't arrive just yet. Given medieval administrative efficiency, it would take at least three to six months for Xiong Wencan to journey to Guangdong and assume his post.
The Transmigrators' time was precious. The Senate discussed the matter and concluded that rather than waiting eagerly for Blue Sky Xiong, they should quickly settle all follow-up affairs with Li Fengjie, creating a fait accompli.
The Hong Kong issue alone had caused Li Fengjie to make every possible excuse, ultimately yielding only a promise of "turning a blind eye." Whether Qiongzhou Prefecture could be completely "Zhongzuosuo-ized"—transformed into an Australian-controlled zone like Zheng Zhilong's former base—remained uncertain.
Although the situation was still developing, the Naval Task Force's victorious return from the Pearl River was undeniably cause for celebration.
A grand welcoming ceremony was organized at Bopu Pier.
On this day, colorful flags flew from streetlights along the road from Lingao County City to Bopu. On closer inspection, most turned out to be Ming military banners captured at the Battle of Chengmai.
Captured flags from the Chengmai battlefield had piled up like mountains. The Great Library had collected two specimens of each type according to archival principles, then used several hundred more as decorations in the Grand Stadium. Some had been distributed for display at the Military Affairs General Court Building and the Ministry of the Navy.
Finally, even the Lingao Cathedral had ended up with quite a few.
The remainder—those made of cotton or linen—were washed and recycled. Even the ragged ones could be turned into paper. Various silk flags proved harder to repurpose, as Australians didn't use silk for clothing. Aside from a small amount allocated for industrial use, the rest went to the Propaganda Department upon Fang Fei's application.
Fang Fei had organized people to sort these flags, selecting those of uniform size and outsourcing their processing to remove unwanted content. The result was several hundred colorful banners suitable for public events.
Now these flags fluttered all the way from Lingao County City along the Lingao-Bopu Highway.
Several large banners stretched across the road:
"Warmly Welcome Our Pearl River Task Force Officers and Men Returning Victoriously!"
"Glory Belongs to the Invincible Fubo Army, Illuminated by the Senate's Radiance!"
"Invincible in Battle, Victorious in Attack!"
"The Senate's Radiance Shines Everywhere!"
Teams of welcoming crowds made their way to Bopu—welcoming squads organized by the Mass Activity Division of the Propaganda Department.
With the precedent of the Chengmai Victory celebration, this Navy-led campaign couldn't receive a lower-specification welcome, lest the Navy feel slighted. Besides, the Chairman of the Executive Committee was aboard the returning fleet. This had to be handled at the level of a head of state returning from a working visit.
Per Fang Fei's orders, all professional and amateur propaganda groups under the Propaganda Department had turned out.
"Scale must be grand, atmosphere must be enthusiastic!" he instructed his indigenous Section Chief Ji Denggao. "At least eight classes must be drawn from Fangcaodi. Why have only these few arrived? There's no vigor at all! And the Seminary Choir—why arrange them so far forward? We aren't a Catholic country!"
The former fortune-teller, now wearing the new small-collared cotton "work uniform," wiped sweat from his brow while hastily recording instructions in his notebook with a Lingao-manufactured pencil.
When Fang Fei's instructions momentarily paused, Ji Denggao hurriedly seized the opportunity to report:
"Minister Hu said teaching tasks at Fangcaodi are very tight—sending students for celebrations is a wa—" He quickly swallowed his words.
"Pure waste of time, right?" Fang Fei finished for him.
Ji Denggao dared not reply. The crime of slandering a Senator could be deemed trivial or catastrophic. If it became "sowing discord," he would most likely be shipped off to Fu Youdi to conduct mass propaganda in the hinterlands. He quickly reorganized his phrasing:
"Minister Hu merely meant that teaching tasks are running behind schedule. Sending too many students would affect their studies. He didn't say anything else..."
Fang Fei waved his hand dismissively. "Enough. Go to Fangcaodi immediately. Tell them I said so: the Nursing Class and Life Secretary Class must each send one additional section. Go! Ride a public bike!"
He tore a "Public Vehicle Use Ticket" from his satchel, wrote in the time and destination, and handed it to Ji Denggao.
To improve efficiency, every department, enterprise, and commune-level unit was now equipped with public vehicles—agricultural-model twenty-eight-inch bicycles, commonly known as "28 Big Bars."
This novel form of transportation had aroused tremendous interest among indigenous people. After stumbling through the learning process, riding a bicycle had become both a joy and a source of pride for indigenous cadres. However, since rubber tires were first-level controlled materials, bicycle use was strictly regulated. The General Office's "Public Vehicle Ticket" system meant indigenous cadres rarely enjoyed the pleasure of official vehicle use.
"Understood. I'll go right now." Ji Denggao took the ticket and departed.
Fang Fei gazed out the window of the temporary Customs Office. The welcoming crowd still looked thin—and the colors were too plain. All gray-blue ants.
Without the maid uniforms of the Life Secretary Class and the blue nurse uniforms of the Nursing Class, the atmosphere simply couldn't rise to the proper level.
He muttered to himself: "Old Hu, oh Old Hu... don't think no one knows the truth about your 'Education Reform Pilot' and 'Quality Education' initiatives at Fangcaodi. If the other Senators knew, hmph hmph..."
Outside the window, gongs and drums shook the sky as the lion dance team warmed up.
Choir teams from various systems had also arrived. Unfortunately, there was no orchestra—Transmigrators had full sets of instruments and textbooks, even various scores, but no full complement of trained players. They had to rely on CD playback to fill the gap.
The Lingao Broadcasting Station's on-site broadcast team had occupied an office in the Bopu Customs Building as a temporary broadcast room, preparing for a live transmission.
The broadcast was wired, not wireless—and of the most primitive variety: "Talking Trumpets," as locals called the high-pitched loudspeaker system erected throughout most of Lingao.
At this moment, the loudspeakers rotated through magnificent Soviet-era marches. The disc had been selected by Li Chiqi's cousin Zhang Yu from a pile of CDs.
This short-haired, baby-faced girl had been extracted from her boring telegrapher position at Lingao Telecom. Per Organization Department orders, such jobs would gradually be transferred to specially trained indigenous personnel.
Zhang Yu had nowhere to go after the handover. Besides the telegraphy skills she'd learned after arrival, she possessed no particular specialization. As a self-proclaimed ultra-leftist, she had no interest in administrative desk work.
For a time she had been a recruitment target for Du Wen, eventually becoming her subordinate. But the relationship soured quickly. Du Wen considered Zhang Yu's "leftist" credentials too superficial, repeatedly suggesting she read more of Stalin's works, even lending her personal reading notes for Zhang Yu's "study reference."
Unexpectedly, Zhang Yu had zero interest in these "notes" or in Stalin. Compared to the works of the Soviet dictator, she was considerably more interested in BL novels.
Within days, Du Wen had grown contemptuous of Zhang Yu's supposed "leftist" identity. Finally, the two women clashed openly. With Dong Weiwei pregnant and disinclined to mediate Social Investigation Office interpersonal relations, the conflict intensified.
In a fit of anger, Zhang Yu had marched to the Organization Department demanding a transfer. Ming Lang felt the young woman had a lively personality, was eloquent, and possessed genuine talent for singing and dancing. Propaganda work should suit her well.
So she'd landed under Ding Ding's supervision, becoming a broadcaster at the station.
Now Zhang Yu lay draped across the windowsill.
This office, modified into a broadcast room, featured necessary soundproofing and a window expanded into a large bay facing Bopu Harbor—facilitating the announcer's observation during live broadcasts.
Zhang Yu held a dried sweet potato in one hand—tribute from Li Chiqi, the cousin who constantly attempted to "eat" her. In the other hand she held dried fish—purchased by Zhang Yuchen.
Since returning from Guangzhou Station, this man had single-mindedly pursued "meeting chat friends"—after all, this particular chat friend possessed excellent figure and looks. He came asking Zhang Yu out every few days.
Zhang Yuchen stood 183 centimeters tall and weighed 77 kilograms—a standard physique compared to many of the zhai nan (otaku) among the Transmigrators. Plus, during his two years in Guangzhou, he hadn't spent a coin of his salary or bonuses, so he was flush with cash. He'd also brought back many interesting and beautiful small crafts from Guangzhou.
Qualifying as "wealthy and handsome" by local standards, he treated her to casual meals one day, coffee the next, gradually spinning the naive girl in circles.
All this made Li Chiqi intensely jealous. He had coaxed his cousin into joining the crossing for "personal use"—not to become someone's brother-in-law. He repeatedly reminded his cousin that Zhang Yuchen's male-female affairs in Guangzhou had been extremely complicated. Though he hadn't openly taken concubines, his sexual relations with various maids were habitual. And the maids he'd brought back—now called "Life Secretaries"—were living openly in his apartment.
"I didn't plan to marry him," Zhang Yu would say, pouting indifferently. "We're just hanging out as friends."
Li Chiqi thought: How many girls ended up as wives after starting out "just hanging out as friends"?
Increasingly anxious, he ignored work fatigue to strengthen his pursuit daily, determined to make Zhang Yuchen retreat.
Zhang Yu naturally didn't care about this rivalry. Someone constantly supplying snacks and accompanying her for entertainment—what was bad about that?
Finishing her lollipop, she picked up binoculars to gaze outside, watching for the fleet's entry signals.
The convoy returning from Hong Kong was entering port today. The welcoming crowd on the pier had waited since morning. The moment ships appeared, she would need to begin live commentary.
"Lots of big bosses here," Zhang Yu murmured, using the binoculars to survey the shaded rest area on the pier trestle.
Nearly all Executive Committee members were present—standing or sitting, smiling and conversing. She consulted the list Ding Ding had given her: Executives, Standing Committee members, and Department Heads scheduled to attend. Twenty-five or twenty-six in total.
When handing her the list, Ding Ding had specifically warned her not to read the names in the wrong order or miss anyone.
As a self-proclaimed ultra-leftist, Zhang Yu possessed some understanding of politics. She recognized this list was essentially a power ranking. Though a minor detail, the implications were significant.
She had read through the list thoroughly several times, now checking it against the faces below to see how many listed Senators had arrived.
Just then, drums and bugles swelled as a team of lower-grade students from Fangcaodi National School marched in grandly.
They all wore standard student uniforms—miniature versions of the small-collared work suit. The only distinction was that girls wore skirts that fell slightly past the knee, a requirement Hu Qingbai had specifically requested. If girls didn't grow accustomed to modern skirts in childhood, they wouldn't adapt to sailor uniforms in middle school.
Each uniform bore the embroidered emblem of "Fangcaodi National School" on the chest, along with the school motto: "Knowledge is Power."
Cuffs displayed black stripes with class names and student numbers; Roman numerals on the lapels indicated grade level.
Ten-year-old Zhao Chuanyi clutched a small paper flag, walking obediently in the ranks.
A second-grader, he was among the first indigenous children to receive formal schooling in Lingao—studying step-by-step according to the curriculum Hu Qingbai had personally compiled. Content-wise, Zhao Chuanyi was already at a fourth-grade level by old-timeline standards.
Zhao Chuanyi was the grandson of Steward Zhao from Liu Dalin's household. His father had worked for the Australians early on and was now a "cadre" in the General Office. All three of his children studied in the National School, with Chuanyi as the eldest.
Life in the National School was both novel and arduous. The educational model the Transmigrators had established was intensive cramming. Besides mandatory two-hour physical exercise daily, classes ran from 7 AM to 5 PM. Night self-study followed—a sea-of-questions strategy.
For children, being released from classes for half a day to "Welcome Chiefs" was a delightful entertainment.
"Come, stand here." Indigenous cadres from the Propaganda Department led the team to waiting spots marked with lime, explaining points of attention.
Students listened with half-comprehension: basically, cheer and wave flags when the warships enter.
Zhao Chuanyi gazed curiously at the pier. They rarely had opportunities to visit—it was officially a "dangerous place," close to the sea, crowded with heavy machinery and vehicles. Accidents happened easily, so children under sixteen were forbidden entry.
He studied the cranes. He observed the "Saint Ship" out on the water—teachers had taken them to view it from afar during field trips.
Now the great iron ship sat on the other side of the bay, looking even more massive than before. Like a mountain! A huge iron chain hanging from the bow was thicker than his thigh.
How was such a thing even built?
Zhao Chuanyi often pondered this question. He was no longer amazed that an iron ship could float—physics class had taught him the relationship between buoyancy and mass, demonstrated with tin foil. But he still marveled that human beings could construct and operate vessels of such enormous scale.
His worship of "Senators" grew daily. Teachers promised that if they studied diligently, someday they too could build and captain such great iron ships. This thrilled many students, planting the longing for science in their hearts for the first time.
Lu Yi nudged Zhao Chuanyi's arm and whispered: "Look at that enormous crane! So tall—I wonder how they assembled it! If it was built like a pagoda, wouldn't they need an impossibly high scaffold?"
"However tall it is, it can be built," Zhao Chuanyi replied. "Didn't you hear the teacher say the Porcelain Tower of Nanjing is seventy-eight meters high? And that was constructed hundreds of years ago."
"That took many years. This crane went up in only a few months."
Zhao Chuanyi looked again at the row of steam cranes—large and small—at the mountains of goods stacked nearby, at the clouds of ships filling the harbor.
It felt simultaneously familiar and strange...
Though his family had immigrated here, he had grown up in Lingao. He clearly remembered visiting this spot by chance with Master Liu a few years ago. Back then, there had been nothing but desolate smoke and wild grass. Mangroves crowded the beach. Only small fishing boats dotted the bay.
In merely three years, it had become this.
"Ah, so-called 'Science,'" Yuan Fei interjected. "There are always principles we don't yet understand. Ask the teacher about the crane later. How does it lift such heavy things? And that rope—how strong must it be not to break?"
Lu Yi continued probing the mystery: "I heard the rope is made of steel. I simply can't imagine how steel becomes rope."
The class monitor turned and hissed: "Stop talking! A Senator is coming!"
Ding Ding hurried toward the student ranks, accompanied by four or five indigenous clerks.
He suddenly remembered that such occasions usually required flower presentations. Flowers were available—a flowerbed near the Bopu Health Center had many. Lingao's climate was warm; flowers bloomed year-round. Gathering four or five bouquets posed no problem.
"Pick six children immediately—three boys, three girls—and prepare them to present flowers to General Wen and the others!" Ding Ding instructed the lead indigenous cadre, then turned to his wife. "Remember to take photographs during the presentation!"
"Got it." Pan Pan appeared indifferent, fiddling with her DSLR camera.
(End of Chapter)