Chapter 1582 - Relying on Oneself
Accompanied by the William Tell Overture, they fell upon the meal.
"This tableware is exquisite—and these knives and forks." Nan Gonghao, a literary man with refined tastes, could readily appreciate the value of what lay before him.
"All from the war spoils auction. The knife and fork set is Italian. The tableware is high-grade Kraak porcelain." Dongfang Ke smiled faintly. "A pity there's no proper red wine. With lamb chops like these, even a one- or two-euro table wine would make for an excellent experience..."
Grapes simply could not be cultivated in a place like Hainan Island. Both Xue Ziliang and the Agricultural Committee had made futile efforts on that front—even the attempt to produce cider as a consolation had failed. The Senators had to content themselves with fruit wines brewed from various local fruits. Though they possessed a complete array of brewing technology and processes superior to any winery of this era, wine simply carried more prestige than jackfruit wine.
"Wouldn't imported wine work?" Okamoto's mouth was stuffed with lamb.
"From Europe to here takes a year or more. What sets off as fine wine arrives as excellent vinegar." Dongfang Ke spoke with unmistakable regret. "I had Minister Hong order a barrel of good Port wine from Macau—now I'll have to use it for salad dressing. Shame olive oil can't survive the long transport either. And olive trees won't grow on Hainan Island..."
"This Minister Hong you mention—is that Hong Huangnan from the Joint Logistics Headquarters?" Okamoto asked.
"The very same."
"No wonder you've got the good stuff. Using public office for private gain."
"You wrong him." Dongfang Ke raised his carved glass cup, contemplating the amber brandy within. "This is a new project he's been developing, affiliated with the General Office—currently undergoing renovations for trial operation. He happened to need my help with something, so I asked him to procure some rare goods."
The four servings of roasted lamb chops had nearly vanished. Okamoto was already flushed, still trading toasts with Nan Gonghao. He drank entirely in the Chinese style—no ice, all in one gulp.
Dongfang Ke rose and fetched new dishes from the kitchen.
"Braised Lamb Liver." He lifted the thermal cover.
A captivating aroma filled the air. The portions of lamb liver on each plate were modest, garnished with herbs and drizzled with a rich sauce.
"Excellent flavor—you could open a Western restaurant with skills like these!" Okamoto praised.
Nan Gonghao said nothing but nodded in agreement.
A mysterious smile played across Dongfang's face. "I'll wager you have no idea where this lamb liver came from..."
In an instant, both Okamoto and Nan Gonghao went pale.
Loves music, excellent cooking skills, lives in solitude, refined tastes... These characteristics suddenly magnified a thousandfold. Looking at the dark red sauce remaining on the plate, violent discomfort surged from their stomachs. Okamoto watched Nan Gonghao's face drain to a terrifying pallor.
Sensing the reaction had exceeded expectations, Dongfang Ke quickly raised his hand: "Joking, joking. This is from Nanhai Farm. The finest Changhua goat..."
"Damn—don't play games like that during dinner." Okamoto's complexion recovered slightly. "Completely ruins the atmosphere."
"Sorry, sorry—I got carried away." Dongfang Ke apologized repeatedly.
Plates cleared, Dongfang Ke served dessert: cookies and hot coffee.
Then his expression turned grave. "It's just the three of us here—safer than any restaurant or reception venue. So what I'm about to say, stop eating and listen carefully."
"Wait—are you about to trick us again?" Okamoto nearly spat out his cookie.
Clink. Dongfang tapped the soup bowl with a silver spoon.
"If you'd rather not become the featured memorial subjects at Cuigang Cemetery next Tomb Sweeping Day, I suggest you pay attention."
Okamoto froze, staring at Dongfang. Nan Gong also stopped eating.
"The pistols issued to you years ago—have you been maintaining them regularly?"
Both shook their heads blankly. After the Battle of Chengmai, most civilian Senators in the Senate had grown lax about military training. Apart from the pistol target practice the General Office organized twice annually, many Senators had consigned the matter of firearms to oblivion. Some had simply locked their pistols and ammunition away together.
Dongfang's expression betrayed no surprise. He continued: "Do you have anti-stab vests?"
"Yes—one was issued to each of us initially." Nan Gonghao thought for a moment. "Probably stored with my steel helmet somewhere."
"Mine should still be around too. Can't remember where. Some cabinet, presumably."
"Have your maid find it tonight and clean it up." Dongfang Ke's tone left no room for argument. "As for the pistol—take it out, disassemble it properly, wipe it down with oil. Best if you can test-fire it soon."
"Wait—what do you mean by all this?" Okamoto asked, thoroughly confused.
"I can't explain exactly how I know, but during the Cultural Festival performance, Lingao may not be peaceful. You'd all be wise to wear anti-stab vests and carry weapons on stage."
"What? You're saying something might happen at the art performance? And you want me to wear an anti-stab vest while conducting? That's absurd!" Nan Gonghao's face darkened; the drunken flush vanished instantly.
"Mn... wearing it under your formal shirt will just make you look more robust. Not absurd at all—just a bit warm. You'll manage." Dongfang began rambling uncharacteristically. "Originally, I'd planned to invite Liu Shuixin as well and have her submit a request to strengthen the Art Troupe's security. I assumed the Executive Committee wouldn't refuse her..."
"You really don't understand the Executive Committee." Okamoto shook his head. "Those creatures are terrified of being accused of favoritism toward female Senators. They all pretend to be ascetics—haven't you noticed how cold and formal they are with women? Besides, this doesn't follow procedure."
"Is that so..." Dongfang Ke hesitated. Evidently, the Senate's political dynamics were far more complicated than he had imagined. No wonder his earlier attempts...
"What exactly do you know? Don't scare us—this joke isn't funny!" Okamoto seemed unable to recognize the man before him. Why had he become so cautious?
"I don't know anything for certain—just guessing. But preparedness beats the alternative. We've all seen the performance venue. A space that large, with only a handful of Garrison Battalion grunts without long guns—it can't be properly secured..."
"What exactly are you implying? Something major is going to happen at the Cultural Festival?" Their curiosity was thoroughly hooked now; they insisted he explain.
Helpless, Dongfang Ke laid out his observations and suspicions: "I believe spies have already infiltrated Lingao and are preparing to strike at the Cultural Festival. They probably already have insiders in the police department."
"Damn it—with intelligence this significant, why didn't you report it to the Political Security Bureau?!" Okamoto burst out.
Nan Gonghao nodded. "I agree—you really should have."
"I did report it." Dongfang Ke's frustration surfaced. "I went to Wu Mu. I also went to the Garrison Battalion Commander." He became indignant. "They both gave me the standard 'official answer.'"
"What's an 'official answer'?"
Nan Gonghao supplied the translation: "Roughly: 'We've noted the situation you've reported and will handle it appropriately. Thank you for assisting our work' and so on." He then recounted Dongfang's visits to Wu Mu and Li Yayang.
"What the hell—isn't this ignoring a Senator's authority?!" Okamoto grew agitated. "Those animals on the Executive Committee! They don't treat Senators as anything at all! Are they angling to become emperors themselves?!"
Nan Gonghao shook his head. "Going to Li Yayang was problematic from the start. What authority does he have to arm Wang Qisuo? As for moving troops—I'm not entirely clear on our personnel deployment protocols, but I assume they're similar to the Party's. Without orders from the Executive Committee, does Li Yayang dare mobilize troops on his own discretion?"
"Fair enough—but Wu Mu, that spy chief, gave the same dismissive response? Doesn't he realize what position he holds? Does he really think he's Himmler?!" Okamoto was fuming.
"Mn. I find the Political Security Bureau rather unreliable." Dongfang Ke sipped his coffee. "They certainly put on airs—yet I've never seen them accomplish anything of substance."
"So we can't count on them?" Okamoto said.
"At least, not completely. We need our own means of self-protection." Dongfang Ke stood and walked into the inner room. Okamoto and Nan Gong heard cabinets opening and closing. When he returned, he carried a bundle.
"Since you both have anti-stab vests, I won't bring out the padded jackets I had made. But this—" He produced a leather holster as if by sleight of hand. "Quick-draw holster, genuine American. Fits a snub-nosed Smith & Wesson. Revolvers are relatively reliable—Liu Shuixin should have one; that's standard issue for female Senators. Okamoto, borrow hers. You won't be on stage, so just wear this under your arm. I don't need to teach you how to use it."
Okamoto pursed his lips and took the holster.
"Right—that's about it. If you haven't drunk enough, continue. More soup?"
The two art workers, looking rather shaken, indicated they had eaten and drunk their fill and should be getting back.
"Mn. Then—take care. I won't see you out. Be careful on the road." Dongfang switched off the stereo and began clearing cups and plates.
"Right. See you at the performance. Thanks for the hospitality..." When Okamoto stood, he already swayed slightly. Nan Gong hurried to steady him.
Dongfang Ke stood at the window, watching his two colleagues' figures make their way toward the Bairen Dormitory Area gate. Suddenly his right hand emerged from behind his waist, a Karambit knife glinting in his palm. He slashed the air a few times, then turned and sat before the piano, sinking into contemplation.