Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-One: Discipline and Training

Wu Mu stood with a blank face, pacing near the girls’ squad. He Chun, that little girl, had indeed been trained by Zhou Dongtian. She was ruthless! Wu Mu felt that he himself couldn’t have been so harsh. And Zhou Dongtian still thought this girl was too thin-skinned. If that was the case, one could imagine how ruthless Zhou Dongtian himself was. Wu Mu couldn’t help but shrink his neck. He looked at the swaying Lu Cheng in the ranks and once again savored the memory of her naked body—her figure was not bad, but her feet were a real eyesore. Wu Mu sighed with regret and shook his head.

His action was misunderstood by He Chun. She thought the chief was not satisfied with her performance, so she worked even harder to discipline the girls’ squad.

When it was time to dismiss, everyone was so tired that they didn’t even want to take a shower. They collapsed on their beds and groaned. But He Chun, this newly minted devil instructor, did not let them go. She brandished her rattan cane and drove everyone out of bed.

“You are not allowed to sleep before bedtime! Everyone, get up and take a shower!” she shrieked, forcing everyone to go to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, the girls looked at the bruises on each other’s bodies and rubbed them with medicinal wine. A few who had not suffered much before began to cry. Yao Yulan cried especially miserably, saying that she regretted it to death. If she had known, she would have listened to her parents and gone to the food factory to work in the bean products workshop—her family had a tradition of making tofu, and she would have been rated at least a third-class worker. She had insisted on becoming a cadre and had ended up in this situation. But for most of them, this little bit of hardship was nothing. Lu Cheng had become much stronger after her journey as a refugee.

The dinner was of very good quality. Everyone had vegetables, fish, shrimp, and eggs, and there was enough rice. For most people, the food was surprisingly good. Lu Cheng, who had been tired all day, wolfed down her food.

The training lasted for three months. They got up at 6 a.m. every day, started physical and drill training at 7 a.m. until 12 p.m. There was an hour for lunch and rest at noon. In the afternoon, they started professional studies at 1 p.m. At 6 p.m., there was an hour for dinner and rest. At 7 p.m., they continued their studies, reviewing the day’s learning content, and rested at 10 p.m. There was a test every week. Those who failed the test had to make up for it in the next make-up test. The time for make-up lessons was from 10 p.m. to midnight. There was no private space or rest time here. The non-commissioned officers would burst in at any time. Sometimes, the student captain would suddenly announce an emergency assembly in the middle of the night, either for a run or a centralized test. Those who could not pass had to review until dawn.

Zhao Manxiongski slowly tightened the screws, putting more and more pressure on each trainee, both mentally and physically. This was a greater pressure than they had ever experienced before, just trying to survive. It was enough to cause a mental breakdown in those with weak wills. By the end of the third week, some people could no longer bear it and were eliminated.

Zhao Manxiong believed that those who could not withstand the pressure were not qualified for political security work. The weak must be eliminated before the formal study began. The tense learning atmosphere and overloaded physical training in the training class were designed to achieve this goal. Political security cadres must not only be ruthless but also have an iron will. The merciless torture of their will and body was a kind of tempering. Those who could withstand the test would become the strongest security workers.

The content of the training class was varied, but in the first month, the focus was on cultural courses. Although each trainee had a C-grade diploma, it was far from enough. Their education level was only at the level of literacy, and they were still far from being able to do their jobs. In Zhao Manxiong’s view, they should at least be able to write reports, read materials, and draft plans with ease—C-grade diploma holders were not capable of doing all of this. Zhao Manxiong particularly required them to be fluent in Mandarin—to avoid mistakes in their tasks due to language misunderstandings. It should be known that the Mandarin proficiency of these trainees was really terrible. After one inspection, Zhao Manxiong found that he could hardly communicate with the trainees directly.

“Your task is to completely eliminate dialects in the study class,” he gave a directive to Wu Mu, who was in charge of this matter.

“This is very difficult…” The trainees had been accustomed to speaking dialects since they were young, and they were almost all southerners. The dialect system was too different from Mandarin, which was based on northern dialects.

“In our work, there is no such word as ‘difficult,’ comrade,” Zhao Manxiongski said.

“Yes, I will definitely do it.” Wu Mu only felt a chill run down his spine. He quickly tapped his heels and went to Hu Qingbai to ask for teachers. Then he issued a strict order that from now on, anyone who could not correctly express themselves in Mandarin would not be allowed to eat.

As for the professional studies, Zhao Manxiong was not too concerned. He was already compiling a work manual. In the beginning, they only needed to memorize the work manual by rote according to their business.

Those who showed special talents in the training class would be specially noted down for other special training in the future. The training class also attached great importance to cultivating the iron discipline of the trainees. Zhao Manxiong personally formulated the disciplinary code for security cadres.

The disciplinary code emphasized the loyalty and discipline of security cadres, especially discipline. Zhao Manxiong was not worried about loyalty. If someone was not loyal enough, there were many ways to remind him how to be loyal or to directly not need his loyalty anymore. But for a cadre who was loyal enough but lacked a sense of discipline, the situation would become unpleasant.

The cadres of the General Political Security Bureau occupied the most favorable position among the violent institutions of the Transmigrator Group. Due to the needs of their work, they would inevitably have a lot of power and access to core secrets. When the situation was still small, he could closely monitor the behavior of everyone and promptly stop and punish all undisciplined behavior. When the situation became large, it would be difficult for him to do so.

After the end of the first month, the first thing the trainees did after getting up every morning was to recite the five disciplinary rules for security personnel.

“Obey orders and follow commands, everything must be subject to the organization’s decision, and be ready to sacrifice everything personal at any time.”

“Strictly abide by the discipline and regulations of security work, and keep all organizational and work secrets.”

“Work actively, conscientiously, and responsibly, and ensure that tasks are completed on time.”

“Firmly draw a clear line with non-national personnel, and are not allowed to have contact without permission. There can be no contact with relatives and friends in enemy-occupied areas.”

“Cannot violate laws and disciplines, have a serious lifestyle, have proper behavior, and be clear in financial matters.”

This was formulated by Zhao Manxiong after consulting with several elders. The official regulations for political security personnel had dozens of articles on discipline. Zhao Manxiong believed that a few basic rules were enough for discipline, which would be easy to remember and leave a deep impression on the trainees.

Lu Cheng and the others recited these five disciplinary rules every day as if they were singing a song, and soon they knew them by heart. But they did not understand the specific meaning of things like “non-national” and “enemy-occupied areas.” However, as their studies deepened and they began to come into contact with the teaching materials, they finally understood the true meaning behind these words.

After the end of the first month, the study began to shift to professional training, and the rules and regulations became stricter. Lu Cheng felt that the study class was a hundred times stricter than the quarantine camp she had been in. The rules were as numerous as the hairs on an ox, and the strictest was secrecy. There was a post office in the Fangcaodi Education Park that specially handled the mail of the trainees. The trainees of the military and political school system could send mail for free, but the trainees of the political security short-term training class were not allowed to write letters home. They could only send a postcard home every month with the words “Everything is fine, don’t worry.” Trainees in the same dormitory were not allowed to inquire about each other’s learning content. They could only review and read books in the classroom, and not a single piece of paper was allowed to be taken out of the classroom.

The political security textbooks blatantly treated the Transmigrator Group as a country and clearly regarded the Ming Dynasty as an “enemy.” This was a great rebellion in Lingao, which was still under the rule of the Ming Dynasty.

What the Australians were doing in Lingao had spread throughout the Guangdong region, but after all, this was just a “rumor.” The government preferred to do less than more and would rather pretend to be ignorant. But once written materials were leaked, the nature would be completely different. This would become the “ironclad evidence” of the Transmigrator Group’s secession and rebellion in Lingao. The Executive Committee did not want to provoke this trouble for the time being.

However, the impact of these materials on the trainees was enormous. Many people made a living under the Australians and were grateful to them, but few had thought about what the Australians really wanted to do—only a few intelligent or restless people had thought: the ambition of this group of Australians who came on large iron ships was to rebel.

“Isn’t this rebellion?” One night after going to bed, Yao Yulan quietly climbed onto Lu Cheng’s upper bunk, got into her quilt, and whispered almost in her ear.

Over the past month, the two had developed a subtle friendship. This friendship was based on their common background as petty citizens. Although their economic levels were different now, their similar backgrounds gave the two girls more common language. Lu Cheng felt that although Yao Yulan was a bit frivolous and liked to show off, she was still a good person and could be befriended.

Lu Cheng nodded and said nothing. She had been worried these days. In the past, she had not thought much about the meaning of the Australians’ “commune,” “cadre,” and “resident police,” but these days she understood it all at once—wasn’t this the Australians’ government?

The political security training class she attended, wouldn’t she become a member of the Australian government after she came out? And her father and brother, who worked for the commune, weren’t they playing the roles of the Australian government’s baozheng and lijia?

The word “rebellion” was extremely terrifying for ordinary people. It meant “beheading,” “execution of the nine clans,” and other even more frightening words. The thought that she and her whole family were involved in the “rebellious traitors” of rebellion had woken Lu Cheng up from her sleep in fear several times.