Chapter 236 - The County Instructor

Wu Mingjin frowned. “If you can come, can’t I?”

“No, no,” Wang Ci deeply regretted his careless words and quickly bowed. “Master… you are the head of the county, the Great Ming’s… guardian of the land…” The more anxious he became, the less clearly he spoke, which greatly displeased Wu Mingjin. He thought Wang Ci was lecturing him on righteousness, and his face immediately darkened.

Wu Mingjin already had a bad impression of Instructor Wang, and now he disliked him even more. He simply snorted and walked away, leaving Wang Ci standing there.

Wang Ci had originally been unwilling to attend the reception, but he was in a difficult position—the Lin’gao county school was now being maintained by the Australians’ subsidies. In the end, he decided to “endure humiliation for the sake of the county’s literary atmosphere” and attend the reception.

In fact, the Lin’gao county school had not suffered any “humiliation” in the past two years. On the contrary, under the work of the Jasmine Pavilion, the living conditions of the very few old scholars in Lin’gao had greatly improved. Take the most basic tools for scholars, such as brushes, ink, paper, inkstones, and the Four Books and Five Classics. In the past, these could not be produced locally in Lin’gao and had to be transported from Qiongzhou or even the mainland, which was not only expensive but also difficult to buy. Now, the stationery store in East Gate Market had a full range of goods, and the prices were much lower than before. The bookstore sold a wide variety of classics, histories, and other books, many of which Wang Ci had never seen before on the mainland. The prices were also exceptionally low.

The “Jasmine Pavilion Foundation,” managed by the Australians, provided subsidies for the scholars of Lin’gao and covered the operating costs of the county school and the Jasmine Pavilion Academy. In a sense, Lin’gao had entered a “golden age” of education that Wang Ci had never dared to imagine before.

However, all of this made Wang Ci feel deeply humiliated. If the Australians had suppressed traditional scholarship or scholars, he would have felt at ease—after all, they were overseas barbarians! He could still maintain a little cultural superiority. But now, he was enveloped in an indescribable sense of humiliation. The overseas barbarians had created one miracle after another in Lin’gao, but it had nothing to do with the “scholarship” that the scholars were proud of. Wang Ci was deeply influenced by the Confucian idea of “cultivating oneself, regulating one’s family, and governing the state.” He believed that governing the people was a skill that only scholars possessed. No matter how invincible an army was, it could conquer the world on horseback but could not govern it on horseback. This group of Australians, who claimed to be descendants of the Song people, did not understand any Confucian classics and could not even recite a single volume of the Analects, yet they had governed a remote and barren county in an orderly manner, sweeping away many of the chronic diseases of the county’s administration.

Wang Ci felt deeply ashamed. He knew that if he were the county magistrate, he could not achieve one-tenth of what the Australians had achieved in governing Lin’gao—he probably couldn’t even achieve one-hundredth. The so-called talent for governing the country was just empty talk.

Obviously, the Australians had their own scholarship. They didn’t take Confucianism seriously at all. Their various “gestures of goodwill” towards the local scholars in Lin’gao were, in Wang Ci’s view, more of a posture.

The local scholars, however, were still unaware and thought that the Australians respected Confucianism. Many were even interested in the Australians’ “study of things.” The library of the Jasmine Pavilion Academy had added many books on the study of things, and many scholars had borrowed them. From time to time, the Australians would also organize scholars to visit farms and factories to teach the study of things on site, which attracted many scholars. This subtle means of “changing China with barbarian ways” made Wang Ci very worried.

Thinking of this, he couldn’t help but sigh and walked inside with his invitation.

There were many people crowded in the square, waiting to enter. Many were wearing the cloth short jackets that the barbarians often wore. Since the first day Wang Ci saw the Australians, it seemed that they had never worn any other type of clothing. Some barbarians wore short jackets without buttons, and a very small number wore short jackets with a large opening in the front, revealing the inner garment, with a cloth strip of various materials, colors, and patterns hanging around their necks. On closer inspection, this cloth strip was tightly wrapped around the neck.

This was the first time Wang Ci had seen the barbarians dressed like this, and he couldn’t help but wonder: if someone were to grab it, wouldn’t that be a big problem?

Although the real barbarians and the fake barbarians wore similar-looking clothes, Wang Ci could easily distinguish them. The real barbarians were calm and composed, talking and laughing as usual; the fake barbarians had a look of both excitement and unease on their faces. Both real and fake barbarians had metal badges of various sizes hanging on their chests, some even had several, shining brightly in the light of the gas lamps.

Of course, the most eye-catching was the attire of the female barbarians. Wang Ci had long heard that the female barbarians dressed boldly and “offensively.” At this time, the four or five female Elders waiting in line to enter were all wearing skirts that exposed their calves, and some even had their thighs occasionally visible. One of the tall female barbarians was wearing a black dress, revealing two long, fair legs, which were wrapped in red fishnet. The upper part of her dress was held up by two satin ribbons on her shoulders, her bosom half-exposed. This made Wang Ci feel a little excited, and a certain organ that had been like dead ashes for many years in Lin’gao suddenly became engorged with blood. This made the pedantic scholar blush, and he quickly straightened his gaze, looking at his nose and his heart, not daring to look at the female barbarians anymore.

Wang Ci followed the crowd slowly towards the entrance. There were police maintaining order, and most of those who came were Elders. The General Office had specially added a reminder to “pay attention to order and line up in an orderly manner” when issuing the New Year’s reception notice. The Elders in Lin’gao were always trying to improve the “organization” and “discipline” of the naturalized citizens and natives, so they had to set an example.

Under the vigorous promotion and example of the Elders, the naturalized citizens and natives all consciously complied with lining up for verification, regardless of whether they were common people or officials. The premonition that a “new order” was about to be established had made the people lose their respect and fear for the original Ming officials. Wang Ci saw that Wu Mingjin was also in the queue, standing behind a person who looked like a small country landlord, talking and laughing calmly with Wu Ya. He couldn’t help but feel a wave of shame and anger. Just as he was considering whether to go up and scold the country bumpkin for being “rude,” he was pushed from behind.

“Move faster! Don’t block the road!”

From the accent of the person behind him, he knew it was definitely a “fake barbarian.” The thought that he, although a minor official in an idle post, was still an official of the court, being scolded in public by a country bumpkin, made him blush with shame and anger, but his body involuntarily moved forward with the queue.

In contrast, County Magistrate Wu was under no pressure at all. He had now adopted the idea of “when in Rome, do as the Romans do.” With a thick skin, he was invincible. He chatted and laughed with Wu Ya, Wang Zhaomin, and others in the queue.

At the entrance of the park, in addition to the police, Elders from the Political Security Bureau checked the name on the invitation’s barcode against the photo stored in the computer. Only after that were they stamped and allowed to pass one by one. Elders could enter directly by swiping their “dog tags.”

The entire Lin’gao Cape Park was brightly lit. The gas streetlights emitted a dazzling light. A stone-paved road led the guests to the beach. This was the leisure and dining area. A large raised wooden deck had been built on the beach. On the deck were long Western-style dining tables, on which were arranged buffet stoves from the Holy Ship restaurant—special pots for buffets. The buffet stoves had insulated lids and a stove underneath heated by solid alcohol—now it was filled with charcoal. In addition to the stoves, there were also many large porcelain plates, insulated pots, wooden trays, glassware… filled with all kinds of dishes, pastries, and drinks—even the Elders would find it unprecedentedly sumptuous.

On a row of charcoal grills, a mouth-watering “sizzling” sound and a strange, strong aroma were emanating. Large pieces of steak, pork chops, chicken chops, and fish fillets were being flipped on the iron plates. The smell of spices was so strong it seemed to melt the nasal mucous membranes. Whole lobsters, oysters, sea fish… were steaming on the iron racks. Four or five Lin’gao suckling pigs and a dozen roast ducks were hanging on iron skewers, rotating in the blazing open oven. The chefs from the cooperative restaurant, the cafeteria, and the commercial building were all busy cooking the dishes. Even they were seeing so many ingredients for the first time. Especially suckling pig and beef, which were rarely seen on weekdays.

Only a few Elders knew that this beef was not freshly slaughtered. It was taken from the cold storage. As for the source, it was the spoils of war from the Battle of Chengmai: dead cattle, dead horses, and dead mules were used to make sausages for the army. Cattle and horses that were injured and had no treatment value were sent to the meat processing plant for slaughter, and then sorted and frozen, waiting for the end of the year to celebrate the New Year—after all, there had to be a time to improve the food.

Zhang Zhixiang, a teacher from Fangcaodi, was wearing a chef’s uniform, an apron, and a chef’s hat that was taller than all the other chefs. He commanded the chefs like a general, and from time to time he would personally go to flip the steaks on the iron plate. The steaks were cut into easy-to-eat sizes before being plated, in the style of Japanese teppanyaki, so that everyone didn’t have to use knives and forks. He was a first-class chef, and he was naturally more skilled at making modern dishes than the naturalized chefs.

Zheng Shangjie and Mendoza were also busy. They were in charge of the Western-style cooking. They had originally wanted to ask Sarina and Pan Pan to help them cook, but they didn’t expect that these two genuine white British women were “microwave children”: at home, cooking meant putting a meal box bought from the supermarket into the microwave and then serving it, and then making a vegetable salad to finish. Sarina said embarrassedly that she could make sandwiches—but there were no sauces here in Lin’gao.

“I’ll make the sauces. We have plenty of spices here, if nothing else.” The spice trade was an important commodity in the East Asian maritime trade at that time, and China itself also imported a large amount of spices. The Planning and Development Commission’s warehouse stored many spices from various channels. The farm also grew herbs like basil for catering use.

“I’ll bake some cakes,” Pan Pan said after wracking her brains for a long time, thinking of the only thing she could make.