Chapter 19: Tempering

At the infirmary, Guo Yi received a tetanus shot and a few stitches. He Ma considered putting him on an IV drip with antibiotics but then remembered that the bacteria of the Ming Dynasty had no resistance to modern medicine. He stingily handed him a few pills instead. Guo Yi stepped outside for some fresh air and saw Xue Ziliang sitting on a rock, smoking, his head bowed. He had just been sent back from the pier. Sarlina’s condition was more serious, and she had been transferred to the infirmary on the ship. Xue Ziliang had tried to go with her but was refused. No matter how much he had shouted and protested, Ye Mengyan, the guard on duty, would not let him pass.

“I’m her colleague! I have a right to know what’s happening! I protest!”

“I also strongly protest, and I express my deep regret,” Ye Mengyan said, his pimples flushing red. “No boarding. That’s the rule.”

Xue Ziliang, sputtering with rage, finally blurted out, “I want to see your leader!”

“The leader is busy. He’s in a meeting, studying important problems,” Ye Mengyan muttered. “You should go back to the infirmary. I advise you not to continue down this wrong path.”

Xue Ziliang glared at the “little soldier,” whose posture was sloppy and who held his rifle like a toy. I could take you down in three seconds, he thought. But for all his arrogance, he wasn’t a fool. He knew that making a scene would only make things worse. The transport boat was already a distant speck on the water. With nowhere else to go, he returned to the infirmary to wait for Guo Yi—his only remaining acquaintance.

“Guo, what are we going to do?” the ABC asked, his face a mask of despair. “I never thought I’d end up in a real-life Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court!”

[Note: A novel by Mark Twain in which an American travels back to medieval England and defeats the knights with modern technology. It is considered a progenitor of the time-travel genre.]

“Accept your fate,” Guo Yi said. Though he was still reeling from the shock of their situation, he couldn’t help but feel a sliver of malicious pleasure at Xue Ziliang’s dejection. He quickly suppressed it, realizing it was a bad omen for Sarlina, who was, after all, closer to Xue.

As the suture needle pierced his flesh, Guo Yi’s mind raced. As a qualified civil servant, he knew the importance of getting close to the organization. He had to find a way to secure his future.

He had already prepared a mental dossier on the leaders of this “Transmigration Company.” The big boss was Wen Desi, an engineer. Then there was Wang Luobin, and Xiao Zishan, an unemployed sales manager.

In his old life, a single phone call from Guo Yi would have had these men scrambling to “have a cup of tea” with him. Now, he knew he couldn’t even get a meeting. They were the Politburo Standing Committee of this new world, a bunch of monkeys in crowns.

He decided his best bet was Ran Yao. He was an acquaintance, and as the “security team leader,” he was clearly a man of some authority. And as a former national security officer, Guo Yi was a professional match. He wandered through the camp, asking for directions. The highly vigilant masses, seeing he had no armband, promptly escorted him to the security team’s tent, where he was delivered directly to Ran Yao.

The security team’s office was a newly erected tent in what was becoming the administrative area, clustered around the power distribution station. A guard with a “security” armband, a Type 54-style holster, and a baton sat at the entrance, a helmet and riot shield at his feet.

Ran Yao was at a desk, writing. He didn’t seem surprised to see Guo Yi.

“Have a seat.”

The tent was small, filled with computers, charging walkie-talkies, and wooden boxes of ammunition.

“I was about to send someone to deliver your ID card,” Ran Yao said, handing him a card. “It’s difficult to get around the camp without one. You can’t even get food.”

“Thank you,” Guo Yi said, examining the card. It was a standard employee ID badge, with his photo, personal information, and a barcode. His number was Lin 0001.

Number 0001… Guo Yi thought with a wry smile. The “Lin” probably stood for “temporary.” He had not yet been fully accepted by the group he had called “bandits” just hours before. Though he had expected it, the disappointment was still sharp. He didn’t know what to say.

“Since we’re in another time and space, and we can’t go back… I hope to work for the organization, to do what I can,” he said, his voice hesitant.

“You want to join the security team?” Ran Yao asked, nodding.

“Yes. I think my skills would be a good fit.” Guo Yi’s confidence grew as he spoke, detailing his education and work experience. He was a dedicated national security officer, a rare talent in any century.

“Indeed,” Ran Yao said, his tone appreciative. “Someone with your background would be a great asset to the security team. However, I can’t make that decision.”

“I understand,” Guo Yi said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. “A department like this requires a thorough vetting process.” He suddenly stood, saluted, and said loudly, “I am willing to accept any investigation from the organization!”

Ran Yao, startled, held up a hand. “Sit down, Comrade Little Guo. Don’t get excited.”

Guo Yi’s face burned. He quickly sat. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“It’s alright,” Ran Yao said, taking a piece of paper from his desk. “According to the order of the Internal Affairs and Civil Affairs Committee, you’ve been assigned to the human resources team. Check the work order every morning for your daily tasks. Now, take this paper to the Planning Committee office to get your supplies.”

He stood and patted Guo Yi on the shoulder, a sincere smile on his face. “Comrade Little Guo, I hope you can join us here soon. But the system is the system. Before your status is regularized, you must temper yourself in other positions. It’s all for the revolution.”

On the dirt road to survey point No. 4 of Bairen Tan, a Beijing 212 jeep bounced along. Inside were Wang Luobin, the executive committee member in charge of technology, and Mei Wan and Li Xiaolü from the engineering and construction team.

The road was a rough track, marked out by the engineering team for the Bopu-Bairen Tan highway survey. Wang Luobin had been back and forth along this route all day, sometimes by car, sometimes on foot. Bairen Tan was slated to be the main production and living base for the transmigrators. It was an ideal location: next to the Wenlan River, the largest in Lingao, providing ample water for industrial and domestic use; and the site of a hydropower station in modern times. If a station could be built in the 20th century, it could be built in the 17th. A base next to a power source would be a huge advantage. Bairen Tan was also strategically located, eight kilometers from Bopu Port and four from Lingao County, forming a defensive line along the river and controlling the agricultural areas on both sides.

But to develop the base, they needed a road. The Bopu-Bairen Tan highway was the highest priority project.

The jeep was bumpy, but Wang Luobin was lost in thought, jotting down notes in a small notebook. He knew little about surveying or road construction, but he understood the difficulty of the task. The construction team was a collection of specialists, comfortable in a world of high-level division of labor, but ill-suited for a place that demanded all-rounders. The day’s discussion had already revealed numerous problems. But they needed this highway. As the head of the Industry, Communications, Energy, and Transportation Committee, it was his job to see it through, and to forge this group of individuals into a cohesive team.

He glanced at Li Xiaolü. She was dozing, her collar turned up against the wind. She was a quiet woman, but her work was impeccable.

A sudden bump woke her.

Mei Wan, who was driving, slowed the jeep. “Li Xiaolü,” Wang Luobin asked, “what are your thoughts on the highway after the preliminary survey?”

“The terrain isn’t difficult,” she said. “The slopes are gentle, the ground is relatively flat. The main problem is that our maps are modern. The field survey shows significant differences, so we can’t do the route selection on the map.”

“We have to redraw the map before we can draw the route,” Mei Wan interjected.

“Exactly,” Li Xiaolü said. “If the map were accurate, I could select the route in a few hours. Then we could mark it on the ground and start construction.”

As it was, the survey team had only covered three kilometers. A professional team would have at least seven people. The Executive Committee had assigned her twelve, but most were inexperienced. She had to teach them everything from scratch. The survey team had become a training class. They had barely managed 500 meters in the morning, but as they grew more familiar with the work, their pace had quickened in the afternoon.