Chapter 2354: Old Friend Li Huamei (Part 6)

The detached house Li Huamei had built in the "Commercial District" was handled entirely by Qi Feng, from architectural structure to interior decoration. The design was exquisite, the construction meticulous, taking nearly two years to complete. Many of the brick and tile materials were specially custom-made. The attached courtyard was designed by Li Xiaolu. Upon completion, it drew the envy of many Senators. Had the Liangguang Campaign not distracted everyone's attention and the subsequent large-scale northward migration of Senators not followed, "building villas" would probably have become the next storm sweeping through the Senate.

Qi Feng didn't yet know his villa had become a "model house," but in this new spacetime, he had finally built something according to his own vision. That was some consolation.

Over the past two years of dating and cohabiting with Li Huamei, he had borrowed his girlfriend's connections to travel on the Hangzhou to many places. The Ruins of St. Paul's in Macao were still under construction, but Qi Feng didn't disdain this half-finished work. He sketched the construction site on location, exchanged architectural insights with the presiding priests and Portuguese craftsmen, studied their blueprints, and watched with his own eyes as Japanese and Chinese craftsmen built the cathedral brick by brick.

Though he had traveled through time for nearly ten years, the sensation of witnessing how a building that stood in ruins in another spacetime was originally constructed—brick by brick—still felt marvelous.

Besides Macao, he visited Japan and India most frequently. Japan left little impression on him. As a fervent believer in the "Western Fine Arts Religion," Qi Feng had scant interest in Japanese architecture. But the Portuguese buildings in Goa made a deep impression—especially the recently completed Se Cathedral. This building, begun in 1562 and requiring half a century to finish, was the largest church in all of Asia at the time. Its Gothic sensibility combined a Tuscan Renaissance exterior with a Corinthian interior. Qi Feng was mesmerized, lingering for months. So obsessed was he with this church, visiting almost daily, that the local bishop took him for a devout believer.

Though Li Huamei's family had served the Portuguese for generations, her parents had never converted to Christianity. They were baffled by Qi Feng's behavior—having absolutely no religious belief yet being obsessed with church and monastery architecture. But then, this was merely one of countless inexplicable things about the Australians.

Beyond this, the relationship between them was quite harmonious—probably because they spent more time apart than together. Absence made the heart grow fonder, and they always found freshness in each other. Both Li Huamei and Qi Feng were passionate about their own work and valued personal space.

During the days when Li Huamei was away, Qi Feng's main leisure activity was study and teaching. He and Trini had become close "buddies"—either he went to the Italian's house, or the Italian came to his. They would debate loudly, critique each other's work, sometimes spending entire days together.

Qi Feng had also taken on a few students—all promising talents selected from Trini's training class. In painting and sculpture, he couldn't match the Italian's skill, but when it came to architecture, he still left the man several streets behind.

What he taught his students wasn't the "Bauhaus School Lingao Style" that dominated the General Construction Company, but "Architecture of Pure Beauty." He included knowledge of architectural space, mechanics, and functionality, but the main theme remained "how to design beautiful buildings."

When Trini was busy, Qi Feng would lead the students in his own studio, hammering, building models, sculpting, painting—busy and happy, covered in dust. But Qi Feng never tired of it. Though he couldn't yet build the magnificent structures he had drawn countless times, at least his life felt full.

"Someone from the PSB is looking for me?" Qi Feng set down his ruling pen and affected solemnity. "Strange, I have nothing to do with them."

"Shall I turn him away?" his secretary asked.

"No need, let him in." Qi Feng thought, Could this be about Li Huamei?

Ever since learning that his "wife" had "historical issues," the matter had been a constant worry. Though Zhou Botao had sworn to him that as long as Li Huamei committed no "hostile acts," the PSB would never move against her, his affection for Li Huamei had deepened over the years. He worried increasingly that this tough woman of the sea, the gentle woman in his arms, might become momentarily confused and do something "hostile."

Li Huamei enjoyed considerable fame in the Senate. But since she had started dating him, quite a few admirers had turned from love to hate. They hadn't hesitated to hang an innocent female instructor years ago; they might well be capable of similar action now. When the time came, he would probably have no choice but to flee with her to the ends of the earth. But his dreams of transmigration would be annihilated...

This hidden worry had been buried deep in his heart. He had once considered whether to send Li Huamei to Europe ahead of time to purchase some property as a final escape route. After all, it would be difficult for the Senate to extend its jurisdictional reach to Europe within his lifetime.

But after much deliberation, he abandoned the idea. A voyage to Europe took eight or nine months one way. Neither the Southeast Asia Company, the Navy, nor the PSB would allow her to simply vanish for two years. Since the PSB had already notified him that Li Huamei's "background was suspicious," spies had likely long been planted among her sailors and entourage. Such petty tricks couldn't escape their notice—and might instead become "evidence of guilt."

Qi Feng opened the envelope with slight nervousness, scanned it hastily, and his brows tightened. Then they relaxed again.

"A new official applies three fires," he complained under his breath, then looked up and said: "I've read the letter. Go back and report to your leadership—my answer is: 'Why not.'" As he spoke, he took a metal lighter from the drawer, lit the note, and dropped it into the large brush washer on the table that served as a wastebasket.

"So Qi Feng expressed willingness to cooperate?"

"'Cooperate' might be too strong a word, but at least he won't interfere with our actions," Guo Yi said. "I believe he won't pass up this opportunity to 'cleanse' Li Huamei."

"You're right. This matter is delicate, but now is a good opportunity to resolve it. Since everyone's in agreement, I approve your plan." Zhao Manxiong nodded. "Whom specifically do you plan to send to execute it?"

"I've selected two young men. Though they lack experience, they've received systematic training from us. I've attached their files to the action plan. One will infiltrate the Southeast Asia Company—the Nanyang Company will then arrange for him to be assigned to Li Huamei's side. His public identity is a newly naturalized citizen transferred to the Nanyang Company. The other I plan to deploy on the periphery, posing as an attendant of an indigenous merchant."

"Good." Zhao Manxiong expressed satisfaction. "Li Huamei won't cause major problems. The main concern is Li Siya..."

Guo Yi recognized these words as setting the tone for the entire operation. "I understand."

"Also, regarding cooperation with the Nanyang Company—whom do you plan to send as deputy director?"

"I have a suitable candidate in mind, but he's somewhat elderly. I'm concerned he can't handle the rigors of sea travel."

"Are you referring to that old man?" Zhao Manxiong laughed. "I don't think that's a serious issue. The Nanyang Company is all ships and colonies, but the deputy director of the Security Department won't have many opportunities to go to sea—the Nanyang Company headquarters is currently planned for Sanya, and will probably eventually move somewhere like Malacca. Just let him handle paperwork at headquarters. You decide the other candidates—give young people more opportunities."

The chief chooses an old man, while I'm told to "give young people more opportunities," Guo Yi thought. Director Zhao's instructions remain as characteristically layered as ever. However, he had long since grown accustomed to the leader's style—seemingly plain words that actually carried dense information. He nodded in agreement immediately.

Liu Fuqing opened the window and drew a deep breath of the outside air.

Lingao's winter wasn't as cold and damp as his hometown of Nanjing. The sun was warm, the sky clear for miles. Flowers in the courtyard below bloomed vigorously, faint fragrance drifting past his nose, small birds chirping.

This place was truly a paradise on earth, Liu Fuqing thought. Who could have imagined a government office could look like this!

He turned around. The air in the closed office seemed somewhat stale. He had sat in this small office for nearly three years—ever since returning from Jeju Island, he had worked here.

He surveyed his office with mixed emotions. The mountainous pile of documents on the desk had been cleared away, and the filing cabinet was sealed with handover strips. The desk lamp with its green glass shade had been wiped clean. The document baskets marked "Incoming" and "Outgoing" stood empty—no more varied documents flowing through.

On the coat rack by the door hung his uniform, the winter wear just issued this year, adorned with his rank: Region Commander. This was the endpoint of his service to the Great Song.

Taking a boat from Xuwen across the sea to Lingao to defect to the Chiefs seemed like something that had happened just yesterday. In the blink of an eye, he had served the Senate for six years. He was now an old man of sixty-two.

A few days earlier, he had received notification from the Personnel Division asking him to handle the handover and prepare for retirement.

He understood retirement well enough—the Ming Dynasty had similar rules. When you grew old and could no longer work, you had to go home. For officials, it was called "resigning from office"; for clerks, the process wasn't so formal. Once your superior spoke, those who knew what was good for them would resign. Fortunately, after years as a clerk, he had accumulated some family property. Spending his remaining years in peace, playing with grandchildren—that wouldn't have been difficult.

Had he not met with that calamity back then, he probably would have been "retiring" in the Nanjing countryside like this seven or eight years ago.

But a disaster had nearly killed him, leaving his family shattered! All that remained was a chest full of hatred. It was precisely this burning hatred that had sustained him through exile to Lingnan in his aging body, then across the sea to "defect to the Kun."

(End of Chapter)