Chapter 754 – Aftermath

While the men were shooting and swimming, the women lingered in the hot tub, chatting. Following Zheng Shangjie's earlier instructions, Mendoza teased Panpan about how she and Ding Ding controlled public-opinion guidance. Panpan had always considered herself a "journalist," not a "mouthpiece," and Mendoza's ribbing made her squirm.

"Before, he spent all day railing against media control, saying press freedom was the most fundamental right. His thesis topic was even 'journalistic oversight.'" Panpan had met Ding Ding at a university—she was an exchange student; he was a master's candidate in mass communication. "He used to say he'd fight for press freedom! I feel cheated," she added bitterly. "I never expected him to change the moment he arrived in the new world!" The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. It wasn't that Panpan didn't want Ding Ding to climb to power within this new aristocracy, but he had changed so swiftly, so nakedly, that she was having trouble accepting it emotionally. She couldn't help venting about how shamelessly he aspired to become Goebbels.

"Let him be Goebbels, then. At least Goebbels was good at what he did in media," Salina said, finding the topic uncomfortable. Her observations ran deeper than Panpan's or Mendoza's. The Lingao regime was essentially an oligarchic aristocratic republic; in such a system, the rulers would inevitably treat media as a manipulable propaganda tool. She saw Ding Ding's Goebbels-ness as no big deal. Just as her current consulting and training work for the Political Security General Administration and the Office of the Police Superintendent had distinct People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs undertones—but she would certainly not refuse a promotion within that system. People are practical.

"He is ambitious—newspapers, radio, now he wants magazines..." Panpan sighed, her interest in media bubbling up again. "A pity there's no color printing; large-scale illustrated printing still has to use lithography. Magazines will have to be text-heavy. That's fine—the problem is the content dispute."

On magazine content, the Propaganda Division and the Grand Library disagreed. Propaganda wanted a current-affairs publication to extend the transmigrator collective's political and cultural influence; the Grand Library wanted a popular-science magazine. The two sides were at loggerheads.

"The Grand Library reports directly to the Executive Committee; they don't kowtow to Propaganda," Panpan said, having forgotten her Goebbels grievance. "There's still no resolution."

"The first thing you need to figure out is who the magazine is for—"

"Naturalized citizens and native commoners, obviously," Panpan said. "Honestly, I think even the internal edition of the Lingao Times is superfluous. A plain government gazette would suffice."

"I'm not so sure," Pei Lixiu pouted. "Transmigrator life in Lingao is incredibly dull. A leisure magazine would be popular. How about a women's fashion magazine?" She couldn't help interjecting. "There are quite a few female transmigrators. Just look at what we're all wearing!"

Female transmigrators who had not brought sufficient wardrobe from the old time-space had to rely on the Lingao Garment Factory. What the factory could provide was little different from what it made for most naturalized citizens: various cotton or linen uniforms. Never mind aesthetics—even getting a few extra styles was impossible. After Xun Suji joined the Light Industry Division, he tried to curry favor with the transmigrators by ordering a special-supply department at the garment factory to make clothing for elders, using slightly finer materials—more silk, for instance—but style choices remained limited. Zheng Shangjie and Ai Beibei could sew, so they bought silks and satins from the East Gate Market Cooperative and cut and sewed their own garments. Most female transmigrators lacked that skill and had to make do with special-supply clothes.

"We could teach everyone to sew and include different paper patterns in each issue for easy cutting!" Ai Beibei had a new idea. "I have quite a few patterns."

Panpan's enthusiasm was piqued too, and her thoughts ranged further. She proposed a full fashion magazine—beauty, cooking, clothing, all rolled into one.

"All the men have bought domestic secretaries. This could be a form of re-education, right? Men would buy it too."

"Maybe it could even sell in Guangzhou. Isn't that the so-called 'Australian lifestyle'?" Zheng Shangjie saw a new revenue stream for the Guangzhou Station. "We could even sell clothes there!"

"Exactly. Look at wine sales back home—French dry reds wouldn't have taken off without fashion magazines peddling 'French flair.' Otherwise, who'd drink something so sour?"

Though the conversation was far from exhausted, Li Quan had to be taken home, and several guests had work that evening, so the party broke up before four o'clock; no dinner would be served. The three North American wives breathed a small sigh of relief—preparing another lavish meal without repeats would have been a chore, and there was no way they were grilling more seafood.

Still, no guest left empty-handed. Xue Ziliang received Qian Shuiting's SIG P229. Beiwei requisitioned a crate of bolt-action rifles for the Special Reconnaissance Squad—Mosin-Nagants and K31s, all scoped—plus over two thousand rounds each of 7.62×54R steel-cased and Swiss GP11.

"I'll need to file the paperwork," Beiwei said. He badly wanted to test these two rifles' real-world performance, but he couldn't simply carry unregistered weapons back to headquarters. "Leave them here for now."

"No problem. I work at the Planning Commission. Drop by tomorrow with a requisition form, and I'll get Wu De to sign off on it. Done."

Beiwei himself asked for nothing, though Qian Shuiting pressed two opened cartons of imported cigarettes on him. They agreed that in a few days the North American crowd would bring some firearms to the Special Recon training base for a visit and a shooting lesson—shooting on a training range was entirely aboveboard.

Ai Beibei gave Salina and Panpan several garments she had made herself. Li Quan also received some of Qian Duoduo's outgrown clothes—her eyes went wide and she asked again and again, "These are for me?"

"Of course they are. I'll explain to your mother." Ai Beibei worried that Li Mo might refuse to accept them; she sensed that beneath the façade of the most obedient servant, Li Mo had a strong sense of self-respect.

Panpan also got a jar of instant Colombian coffee—she said she often stayed up late writing and found the fresh-brewed South Sea coffee available only to transmigrators a bother, whereas instant was convenient.

Everyone else received small gifts as well, and the party dispersed happily. Panpan shamelessly packed up all the leftover pastries—she had been craving them for ages.

Lin Chuanqing had no interest in gifts, but today he had drunk his fill of fine liquor. A fisherman by trade, he had worked on fishing boats after immigrating to America and had come to love hard liquor. Lingao offered good-quality rum, but not his beloved whiskey. This time the Qian brothers had produced several bottles: ordinary American corn whiskey and some higher-end bourbon. He had indulged to his heart's content; Xue Ziliang had knocked back whiskey on the rocks as well. Half-drunk, Xue Ziliang mused that he hoped to open his own distillery someday—beer and various Western spirits. As they parted, Qian Shuiting sent Lin Chuanqing off with two bottles of blended whiskey.

Whiskey in hand, Lin Chuanqing pedaled his bicycle back to the naval base, humming "Love Will Win." He lived in the single-officer quarters at Bopu Naval Base—small but comfortably furnished. He counted the maidservant he had purchased as an orderly, though she was an off-the-books staffer who drew no pay. This allowed her to live openly in the orderly's room outside his quarters.

Lin Chuanqing's interest in women as "sexual" partners was minimal; he mainly wanted someone to look after him. He had just reached his door and his orderly had barely helped him out of his coat when the phone rang. It was Wei Aiwen from the General Staff Political Office.

"One of your men was arrested by the Garrison Battalion," Wei Aiwen said curtly. "A few others joined the scuffle—also Navy. They're being sorted out now. They'll just do a few days in the stockade, but your sailor, because he's tied to a public-order incident, will have to stay at the Political Office a bit longer. You're his commanding officer; we need your recommended disposition."

The sailor who had beaten his wife was a member of the Fisheries Corps under Lin Chuanqing's command. Just recently, the man had taken part in the Pearl River Estuary operation—though only in the rear echelon, fishing, patrolling, and hauling cargo near Lantau.

"What? His wife cuckolded him? Beat someone in the East Gate Market?" Lin Chuanqing's voice rose. "Good for him—pity he didn't beat the slut to death!"

"Lucky for us he didn't," Wei Aiwen replied. "He also struck a garrison soldier who was restraining him."

"Let me give you my position," Lin Chuanqing said. "Whatever punishment he deserves for assaulting military police, he gets—per regulations. No argument from me. But the adulterous couple must be severely punished. I demand the whore be publicly hanged at the naval pier."

"Let's set the question of execution aside. The immediate problem is there's no legal basis. The Tribunal is rushing to draft a statute on destruction of a military marriage—and there's the issue of jurisdiction."

"Anyway, that's my stance. Notify the Tribunal. My position is that absolutely no leniency should be shown—we need to kill one to warn a hundred." Lin Chuanqing kept emphasizing. "Soldiers fighting out there while their wives are cheating at home—the damage to morale is devastating. There must be severe punishment, especially for the adulterer. If we don't execute him, we won't appease the—not the people's anger—the military's anger. Otherwise, how will we ever get sailors to go on long cruises again?"

(End of Chapter)