Chapter 177: The Law Club

The list also contained some handling opinions written by Ma Qianzhu. It wasn’t Ma Jia’s business to decide who got the spoils; his job was to confirm which spoils could belong to the transmigrator group and which could not, and to provide a legal basis for it.

“Ji An, what do you think of Chief Ma’s handling opinions?” Ma Jia handed the document to Ji An. It listed suggestions such as returning goods to the surviving owners and giving travel expenses to owners whose goods were lost, based on the extent of their losses.

“Not bad, it considers protecting the victims’ rights and interests.”

“Indeed, not bad. But his approach is a form of grace, not law,” Ma Jia said eloquently.

“What?” Ji An was very confused. Chief Ma’s handling opinions seemed to have taken everything into account and were quite different from the past “smash everything” rhetoric. How did it get such a comment?

“Yes, grace. Grace granted through administrative power.”

Ji An said, “I understand. If a difficult matter is resolved through a court judgment, it’s acting according to the law. If it’s resolved only after a leader writes a note, makes a call, or gives an instruction, then it’s the grace of administrative power. Is that what you mean?”

“Exactly. Why do people like to go to the media when they have problems? Once it’s on the media, it easily attracts public attention, and when the public pays attention, the leaders follow suit. To put it bluntly, the law lacks authority.”

The situation where administrative power is greater than legal authority has continued since ancient times. Although the modern era has a judicial system in form, the people do not see it as independent but rather as part of the government’s administrative system. That’s why the product of “petitioning higher authorities” came into being. It can be said that the petitioning system itself is a negation of the legal system.

After criticizing this situation of inseparable administration and judiciary for five minutes, Ma Jia concluded with a sentence: “From today onwards, the state of lawlessness and disorder in the Qiongzhou Strait will be completely changed!”

Ji An nodded repeatedly in agreement, but in his heart, he was muttering. Although his appointment as the head of Customs was imminent, when would Customs ever have any business? It was so desolate.

Ma Jia had no idea what Ji An was feeling and immediately threw himself into handling the pirate incident. He first contacted the people from the Judicial Office, the so-called “Law Club.”

In the institutional reform, all transmigrators with a law background but no specific skills were thrown into the establishment of a Judicial Office. This Judicial Office actually had nothing to do with judicial affairs. To be specific, it was more like a kind of “research institute” for keeping people on the payroll. However, in reality, there were no idlers here—the good life of reading newspapers, drinking tea, and writing a few papers at work did not exist in the transmigrator group. The so-called Judicial Office was actually just a “unit” established for this group of people for ease of management. The people in it were often requisitioned by various departments. For example, Dong Shiye would often be “seconded” to the remote exploration team. This was considered good; those without skills were often sent to construction sites—although they didn’t have to dig, they did things like construction supervision, which everyone still felt was quite a loss of face. After all, we are the legal elites of this time.

Among this group of legal elites, the one who did the best was Mo Xiaoyu. No one knew how he managed to get in with Wen Desi, but during the institutional reorganization, he became the Minister of Light Industry. Now he was thriving, often seen carrying Ma Qianzhu’s favorite style of briefcase—a green canvas satchel—to meetings. While the group sneered at him, they couldn’t help but feel extremely jealous.

The result of dissatisfaction with the status quo was the formation of a small clique. This group of people had already met in private several times. They had even established a “Law Club,” with the natural goal of “promoting the process of legalization”—a rather noble goal. Of course, once the process of legalization began, their neglected legal knowledge would also become useful—a more realistic goal.

Before he went to Customs, Ma Jia was also assigned to this unit. On the day he was appointed Director of Customs, the people in the Judicial Office even threw him a farewell party.

After work, Ma Jia called the people from the Judicial Office and arranged to meet them at the farm’s cafe—this place had now become the main gathering spot for the transmigrators.

Following Xiao Zishan’s instructions, the cafeteria set up a place similar to a teahouse, selling tea, cold drinks, cigarettes, and various other snacks for the transmigrators’ leisure time, accepting only ration coupons. This place was soon nicknamed the “cafe,” although it didn’t actually sell any coffee.

Ma Jia arrived at the cafe and sat down on a round huanghuali wood stool in front of the mahogany bar. The faint light of the biogas lamp fell on the still water-stained countertop. Round barrels were neatly arranged on a wooden rack behind the counter, their brass taps polished to a shine—the barrels were authentic European goods, from England, Italy, and Spain. A trade delegation to Macau had once seen goods from a distressed ship being sold cheap and bought them back to store alcoholic beverages.

Soft, slightly out-of-tune music was playing in the cafe, from a record player someone had brought, playing a shellac record. If it weren’t for the homespun clothes and classical hairstyle of the waitress behind the counter, it would have been quite atmospheric.

When Xiao Zishan first ordered the establishment of a teahouse, because it was rumored there would be waitresses, all the men were excited for a while. Later, they discovered it was just a female salesperson, and sharp-eyed people noticed: weren’t these just the same middle-aged native women who cooked the large-pot meals in the cafeteria? It got everyone’s hopes up for nothing.

Ma Jia had no interest in such frills, but the cafe was a place where people could gather and talk. Not many people came here, and it was relatively quiet, making it convenient for discussions. Of course, there were more secluded and secret places, but Ma Jia felt that what his group was doing was aboveboard. There was no need to be secretive like some of the small cliques in the Army—who thought no one knew, but in fact, everyone knew. Meeting in such a public place made himself and his cause seem more “open and aboveboard.”

“A glass of Kvass!”

“How about a glass of kombucha?” the middle-aged waitress asked enthusiastically.

“No, thanks.” Actually, he wasn’t particularly fond of the kvass that Chief Ma and the Queen loved, but right now, only kvass had a taste somewhat like beer. The other thing served at the cafe was kombucha, which tasted okay, but its appearance was terrifying.

“How about a pack of ‘Lianxin’ dried sweet potatoes?”

“No, that stuff gives me heartburn.”

“How about some Bopu dried fish? It’s made from the best filefish—” the middle-aged waitress continued to enthusiastically promote her goods.

Ma Jia continued to refuse. The last thing Bopu lacked was fish and shrimp.

Finally, the waitress played her trump card: “We have fried peanuts, freshly harvested from the farm. Want some?”

“I’ll have a plate.” The peanuts grown on the sandy soil along the riverbank had been harvested. Since they were mainly used as an oil crop, they were never served in the cafeteria. He didn’t expect to find them in the cafe. Could this be considered a form of selling “high-priced goods”?

Ma Jia fumbled in his pocket for a long time but couldn’t find a single coupon—he had already spent all the cash coupons he received each month. However, you could buy on credit here: the on-duty saleswoman took the identity card hanging around his neck and carefully copied down the number and code. She then recorded the amount consumed and had him sign. At the end of the month, it would naturally be deducted from his account. As for how much was currently in his account, he couldn’t be bothered to check.

The sweet potato kvass was a bit sour but had a rich foam. The kvass sold here was chilled in well water, giving it a cool and refreshing taste. It was a good drink to relieve the summer heat. The taste of the fried peanuts was familiar, bringing back old memories. While he was reminiscing, several otaku-looking transmigrators came in one by one and greeted him. They were the members of the “Law Club.”

The first to arrive was an otaku fatty named An Xi—he was one of the few who had eaten poorly and done hard labor for the past year but still maintained his magnificent figure. But An Xi was not doing well—in the modern world, he had specialized in legal theory, which many in the Executive Committee considered a “useless major among useless majors,” second only to constitutional and administrative law. The latter, because it included administrative law, was held in slightly higher regard by the Executive Committee.

For the past year, he had basically been working at the docks. Although An Xi held a grudge against the Executive Committee for this treatment, he worked hard. He would occasionally say things in public like “I am a screw in the revolution” and “gold will shine wherever it is,” and would sometimes defend some of the Executive Committee’s controversial policies. An Xi thought that the Executive Committee, seeing his impeccably correct attitude, would give him a decent leadership position. But after almost a year, this piece of gold was still a freight supervisor at the docks. Now, his mental state was severely imbalanced, and he immediately joined the Law Club, a small group he had been reluctant to approach in the past.

As soon as An Xi joined, he was very enthusiastic. He not only went around networking with transmigrators with a law background but also created something like a club platform. The Law Club, which had been bogged down in empty talk, became much more vibrant with his addition. At a club meeting, he proposed the concept of “all law under heaven is one family,” absorbing everyone with a law background into the Law Club, regardless of their current job.

“People like Minister Mo should be invited to speak at our club often. It would also be good to ask him to be an honorary advisor.”

There was also Zhou Dongtian, who was in printing and publishing and also did interrogation work; Cheng Dong, who worked for the Planning Committee… In fact, if you counted carefully, there were quite a few transmigrators with various law degrees, and several of them held important positions.

“Our Law Club can’t become a ‘low-key club’,” An Xi said, spittle flying, at a gathering. “We need to absorb people with status and social influence to form a powerful ‘lobbying group.’ Otherwise, what’s the point of a group of people drinking and complaining all day? We can’t all hope for Ma Jia’s good luck to strike again, can we?”

Ma Jia’s sudden promotion to Director of Customs was indeed a fluke.

Although the others felt a certain contempt for An Xi’s methods, they had to admit: he was right.

Ma Jia had always been the secretary-general of the Law Club. Even after becoming the Director of Customs, he continued to participate in the club’s activities. In Ma Jia’s view, An Xi’s activities had their use; at least someone in the group was doing something practical. It was much more useful than constantly spouting nonsense at club meetings about things like a “Native Rights Act,” “inheritance law,” “the great cylinder of land law,” and having foggy discussions on the legal principles of how the transmigrator nation should guarantee private property, or whether its future should be a federal republic, an aristocratic republic, or a confederation.

Thanks to An Xi’s active efforts, Mo Xiaoyu had formally accepted the club’s letter of appointment and become an advisor. Zhou Dongtian also said he would consider it—speaking of which, many people felt quite honored to receive the invitation. Being invited by a civic group to be an advisor was a first in the transmigrator group.

However, there were no advisors at this meeting; it was purely a meeting for club members.

Ma Jia greeted everyone and moved to a larger table that could seat more people.

“It’s my treat today,” Ma Jia said with great enthusiasm. “Everyone, drink up…”

“Drink up the sour kvass,” someone sneered.

“I hear there’s rum over in Leizhou!”

“There is, but the Executive Committee shipped all the rum to Macau to be sold.”

“Damn, they’re still prioritizing foreigners!”

“Free kvass is still good. Did Ma Jia strike it rich? Why so generous?”

“You guys don’t know yet?” An Xi was always well-informed—he often roamed between the various department offices of the Executive Committee after work.

“Ma Jia is now the president of the maritime court!”

A powerful aura of happiness, envy, jealousy, and even resentment washed over him. Ma Jia couldn’t help but force a smile:

“This is all thanks to the good suggestions everyone gave at the last meeting.”

The proposal submitted to the Executive Committee to establish a maritime court was made at the last club meeting. The specific content of the proposal was also drafted by Ma Jia and then revised and finalized by everyone together. It was only natural that they were able to persuade the Executive Committee.

The middle-aged waitress brought a full tray of kvass mugs, the bubbles fizzing in the large ceramic mugs. Ma Jia ordered some more snacks to go with the drinks.

The group chatted while they drank.

Ma Jia said, “The establishment of the maritime court this time can be considered a major breakthrough for our club.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“One could even say it’s a milestone,” An Xi added.

It was true. From a broader perspective, it “advanced the process of legalization.” From a narrower perspective, it expanded the Law Club’s sphere of influence. The Executive Committee’s ability to pass this resolution was also partly due to the Law Club’s lobbying of several advisors and prospective advisors. Although they were mostly second-tier cadres with little power, because their social circles were at the leadership level, they could exert some influence through their words.

Ma Jia began to report on the meeting.

“I’m temporarily holding the position of Director of Customs, but the Executive Committee will probably promote Ji An to the position soon. He’s much more familiar with the actual customs business than I am. But we’ll still be working together.”

An Xi immediately suggested, “Let’s hire Ji An as an advisor. Customs will have a lot of power and resources in the future.”

“That seems too utilitarian,” someone objected. “Ji An didn’t major in law.”

“Let’s not limit ourselves to academic qualifications—”

“I also don’t agree with the club’s ‘table manners’ looking so ugly at this stage.” Ma Jia thought: of course it would be easy to absorb Ji An into the club—he wouldn’t refuse. But if they did that, the club’s reputation for being “purely academic” would take a big hit.

Right now, this “purely academic” brand was their most valuable asset. They couldn’t devalue it so easily.

Seeing that everyone was against it, An Xi didn’t insist.

“Judging from this Executive Committee meeting, the Chief’s attitude was very ambiguous—I originally thought he would oppose the matter of the maritime court’s jurisdiction, but surprisingly, he didn’t.”

“That’s really unexpected. The maritime court’s power of adjudication should have had the biggest impact on his Planning Committee.”

“Yes. But I’ve figured it out. It’s actually not a big deal for him. The final power to distribute materials is still with the Planning Committee. It’s just a matter of going through a legal procedure at the maritime court.”

Ma Jia continued, “Among the main Executive Committee members, Wu De is very much in favor of promoting legalization—although Dugu Qiuhun is only a second-tier cadre, he’s part of Chief Ma’s team, and he also clearly expressed his support for legalization. So the situation is quite favorable for us.”

“Chief Wen didn’t state his position?”

“Chief Wen didn’t state his position, but he definitely won’t oppose it.”

He then conveyed the spirit of the meeting: “use the maritime court as a pilot to gradually advance the process of legalization.” This delicious-smelling pie made the eyes of everyone present light up. They began to calculate which area their professional specialization was in and whether they would soon have a chance to fill a decent position. Those specializing in civil law and economic law were more excited than those in other fields.

“…So, for this case of the five-masted ship and the pirates, we’ll need everyone to pitch in,” Ma Jia said, striking while the iron was hot, quickly rallying the crowd.

It wasn’t that he was lazy; it was truly difficult for him to handle this matter alone. He preached about ruling by law all day, but the problem was that the law didn’t even exist yet. Even if he copied from a book, some articles would have to be revised to fit the reality of this time and space. After all, the difference between the 20th and 17th centuries was too great.

This was also the first case the maritime court had ever handled, and it had to be done quickly and accurately. Speaking of which, the facts of the case were quite complex. According to the cargo inventory list handed over by Ma Qianzhu, the interrogation records from the Navy and the General Political Security Department, and various other documents from the ship, Ma Jia knew that the cargo situation on this ship alone involved: the ship owner’s own goods, the goods of the merchants traveling on the ship, and consigned goods.