Chapter 1437 - Provocation

"You usually dress so plainly," Panpan said, sucking thoughtfully on her small wooden coffee spoon. "Ponytail, thick glasses—when you actually put effort into your appearance the other day, I almost didn't recognize you."

This was precisely the opening Cheng Yongxin had been waiting for. She had dressed up today for exactly this moment.

She arranged her features into a mask of careful consideration before answering with a faint smile: "Ever since Salina was nearly raped and no one was punished for it, I decided it was safer to make myself look less attractive."

Panpan nearly choked on her coffee.

The attempted rape of female agent Salina was an open secret among the Elders who held real power—especially the Dingding couple, who had already been running the propaganda department at the time. Because Salina's group had not yet been officially recognized as Elders, and because of the usual instinct to shield "one of our own," the perpetrators had been quietly transferred to distant posts under the guise of maintaining stability. Salina herself was placed under the protection of the powerful departments.

For women, however, the shadow cast by that incident loomed far larger. Panpan had tacitly accepted the outcome at the time, yet a kernel of resentment had never quite dissolved. A single sentence from Cheng Yongxin was enough to dredge it back to the surface.

"Exactly!" Panpan's voice rose with sudden heat. "If we abandon every moral principle from the old world the moment we arrive in the new one, how are we any different from animals? And once you make an exception for something that should be an absolute line, what becomes of future cases? The Council of Elders might as well just legalize rape outright!"

A barely perceptible smile flickered at the corner of Cheng Yongxin's mouth. Foreign girls were so simple-minded—a few pointed words and their emotions were already churning. The Salina incident was simply too perfect for her purposes: Salina was not only a young woman but also a white American, sharing natural commonalities with Panpan along both gender and racial lines.

"Feeling as if it happened to oneself"—that phrase was no empty platitude.

Cheng Yongxin had already made her assessment: in this group that openly listed the purchase of white female slaves as a government project and nakedly promoted Lebensraum, the implicit dual discrimination of gender and race exerted constant pressure on modern white women. Panpan could not have failed to experience it. With proper guidance, those buried resentments could be channeled into a reflexive self-defense instinct—one Cheng Yongxin could exploit.

"The thing is..." she said, deliberately adopting a helpless expression, "Salina was an agent investigating the Council of Elders at the time. Being hostile to the Elders, she had to accept her misfortune. But I keep thinking: back then, it was the interests of a 'non-companion' that could be sacrificed for the great cause of 'maintaining stability.' What about next time?"

Panpan nodded silently. In that instant, she understood the unspoken second half of the sentence.

When the interests of the few conflict again with the interests of the many—or the interests of those in power—who will be sacrificed then?

The ease with which Salina's case had been smoothed over was itself a warning sign. It meant this group's moral floor was sinking.

In a race to the bottom, whoever retained a shred of humanity could claim the mantle of "righteousness."

Since D-Day, Dingding had learned through countless rejected manuscripts precisely what degree the Executive Committee expected: the Lingao Times was meant to expose the scars of the Ming Dynasty without mercy—black was black, gray was painted black, and white was also painted black. But anything concerning the Council of Elders, even self-critical reflections, had to read like an emperor's edict of self-reproach. Everything must proceed from the premise that "the rule of the Council of Elders is salvation."

Put simply, it was the Chinese version of divine right. The Council aimed to wrap their rule in a veneer of sacred redemption. Dingding understood this perfectly, and Panpan was not confused either. The evidence was in how she spoke less and less these days, and how she had gradually stopped asking to run field stories.

Every interview with naturalized citizens—those halting, strangely-accented Mandarin sentences—painted a hell Panpan dared not imagine.

Yes, a true hell on earth. Atrocities that would have been considered heinous crimes in the modern time-space occurred here openly and without consequence. Superiors oppressing subordinates, the strong bullying the weak—all of it naked and taken for granted.

Indescribable suffering. Horrors that made one's hair stand on end merely to hear them. Terrible crimes ordinary people committed without hesitation for the sake of survival...

For Panpan, "poverty" meant nothing more than a late paycheck forcing her to fill up at that corner pizza shop with its explosively bad taste. The greatest hardship she had ever endured was the food scarcity and military drills of the combat-readiness period just after D-Day.

Ironically, the Council of Elders had weaponized her professionalism to erode her principles—all in the name of pulling countless souls out of hell and back into the human world.

Yes, the human world. That was Panpan's final compromise with herself: Lingao under the Council's rule was certainly not heaven, but at least it was a place fit for humans. So she had chosen to serve them in silence.

Yet that compromise left her conscience perpetually uneasy. The execution news a few days ago, followed by Cheng Yongxin's words today, only deepened the shadow growing within her.

"You know," Panpan finally said, "I've always felt some of the Council's practices were improper. But no matter their motives, objectively speaking, they are leading this world toward something better..."

"'For survival.' 'For the majority.'" Cheng Yongxin tossed in another provocation. "Excuses like these create a sense of absolution, a belief that the sins one commits are all a kind of 'necessity.' The final destination of that road is the Iron Cross and gas chambers that even Germans are ashamed to mention."

She knew precisely how much weight Nazis occupied in European and American political correctness. Hinting that the Council was sliding toward that abyss exerted powerful psychological pressure on someone like Panpan—a journalist by trade. The implied message: You must act immediately.

"You're quite right." Panpan's deepest fears had been struck dead center. In truth, she didn't need Cheng Yongxin to awaken her. Over the past few years, how could she not have recognized what kind of regime the Council of Elders was—and what roles she and her boyfriend played within it?

Seeing Panpan's expression, Cheng Yongxin knew her words had taken root. Time to retreat and let them germinate.

She pivoted to lighter topics, but Panpan remained distracted throughout. Cheng Yongxin felt a quiet thrill of satisfaction. Today's operation was already more than half successful.

Then Panpan spoke abruptly, as though some internal dam had finally broken: "Do you know why Dingding and I fought?"

"No. That's between the two of you."

"No—it's public business." Panpan's expression twisted. "I'm chilled to the bone. I didn't expect him to be like this." She hesitated. "You'll keep this secret, won't you?"

Cheng Yongxin could barely contain her excitement. Sharing secrets—the unmistakable sign of upgraded friendship between women.

"Of course," she said solemnly.

"Here's what happened—"

Three days ago, there had been a "falling accident" in Bairen City. The deceased was a "pending assignment" maid from the Maid School named Lin Xiaoya. At five in the morning, a cleaner found her dead at the base of a building in the Elders' dormitory area. The police conducted an initial investigation and ruled it a death by falling. The body was then transported to the forensic center for examination.

Accidents were not rare in any society; a fall could be suicide or a tragic slip. But this case had a suspicious wrinkle: as a "pending assignment" maid, Lin Xiaoya had no pass to enter the Elders' dormitory area. The Lingao Garrison Battalion's security protocols were meticulous; they would never allow an undocumented naturalized citizen inside.

"Something's not right about this." Cheng Yongxin said.

"Exactly what I thought. I went to the scene for an interview, came back, wrote a story—and Dingding killed it."

"Why?" Cheng Yongxin feigned surprise.

"He said it couldn't be published—too likely to cause 'bad consequences in public opinion.'" Panpan's voice rose again. "I reported the facts. No speculation whatsoever. Why must it be suppressed? I argued with him for hours, but he wouldn't budge. Is the Council really that afraid of a guilty conscience?!"

"How is the case being handled now?"

"It's been transferred to the Criminal Investigation Division at Police Headquarters. I told Dingding: I've already submitted an interview application demanding full access. The official investigation results will be published. Otherwise, I'm done. I quit!"

Cheng Yongxin shook her head slowly. "I can already foresee the outcome. The final report will have absolutely nothing to do with any Elder."

Panpan fell silent.

"Don't you know the Council's basic tenet for matters involving Elders is to muddy the waters?" Cheng Yongxin's voice sharpened. "Even if the investigation proves an Elder was involved, the case will be left to rot—just like Salina's. Who cares about the life of one female slave? And there's always the almighty 'Common Program' to ensure no Elder ever faces real punishment."

"It can't go on like this," Panpan said, almost involuntarily.

"No," Cheng Yongxin agreed, her tone laden with meaning. "It cannot."

She paused, then recited softly: "'First they came for the Communists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I did not speak out—because I was a Protestant. Finally they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.'"