Chapter 459: A Marriage Across the Pacific

“This is the territory ruled by the Australian Senate,” Mendoza said, avoiding the topic. “Now, let’s talk about you. Who are you, and why did you travel across the great ocean to Manila?”

Doña Marina de Arellano had nothing to hide. She was the illegitimate daughter of the Spanish nobleman Gonzalo de Arellano, born in Spain.

Her mother was of humble birth but was much loved—she was her father’s “girlfriend.” Her father had acknowledged her. Therefore, in her childhood, she was able to accompany her father, who was going to New Spain for a new post, to Mexico City, where she entered a convent to complete her pre-marital education.

As an illegitimate daughter, although she did not have the legal status of a legitimate child, the illegitimate children of nobles—especially those they acknowledged—were much better off than commoners. The ancestors of many famous and powerful families were the illegitimate sons of kings or great nobles.

Doña Marina de Arellano had received the education of a noble lady since she was a child. She had grown up in Mexico City until she was eighteen. It was only at the beginning of this year that her father took her out to prepare for her marriage. That was why she was on the Manila galleon, heading to Manila.

“Marriage?” Miss Mendoza was taken aback. “To whom?”

“I only know that he is a remarkable gentleman,” Marina said. “I have forgotten his name—it’s too much of a mouthful.”

“You don’t even know his name,” Mendoza could hardly believe her ears, “and you’re going to marry him?”

Marina didn’t seem to find it strange. “The proposal was made by His Excellency the Governor of the Philippines, de Tavora,” she said proudly.

“So you boarded the Manila galleon and crossed the Pacific to the Philippines to marry this man you have never met?” Diana Mendoza’s voice couldn’t help but rise.

“He is a gentleman,” Miss Marina corrected. “Although he has not yet been formally ennobled, His Excellency the Governor has already submitted a report to His Majesty the King’s Privy Council—he will have a boundless future.”

Mendoza simply couldn’t accept such a view of marriage, but it was not her mission to convey 21st-century views on love and marriage.

“So, the many magnificent clothes and jewels in the sterncastle were your dowry?”

“Yes,” Marina nodded. “Not counting the cash, the dowry my father prepared for me is worth five thousand pesos. He also gave me ten thousand pesos in cash.”

“Your father is very wealthy.”

“If it were his legitimate daughter getting married, I think the cash dowry alone would not be less than twenty thousand,” Marina said nonchalantly, seeming to feel very proud. She looked at Mendoza and said proudly, “Besides my father, my fiancé is an important person in the eyes of His Excellency the Governor of the Philippines. I believe that if you send a letter, they will pay a huge sum to ransom me.”

She then said many more things, all boasting about how favored her father and her unseen fiancé were by “His Majesty,” “His Highness,” and “His Excellency,” how wealthy they were, and how high their status was. She also hinted that if Mendoza could help her be ransomed, she would consider helping Miss Mendoza escape this “terrible place”—she could even give her a “suitable arrangement.”

On the contrary, she showed little interest in where she was or in whose hands she was. The strong curiosity that many natives showed when they first arrived in Lingao was completely absent in her.

Mendoza listened patiently, smiling noncommittally. But she was growing more and more weary. She had originally felt that there were enough “cultural differences” between herself and Zhou Weisen and the other elders, and she always felt out of place in Lingao. But listening to Marina, she felt that the distance between them was far more than a simple “cultural difference.” It was as if they were people living on two different planets.

The newly completed Ministry of Education auditorium was the most magnificent building in the Fangcaodi educational park, capable of accommodating five hundred people for activities. Besides meetings, its stage facilities were also sufficient for artistic performances, much better than the completely open-air Bairen Cinema.

Hu Qingbai was very proud of this. He had spent a lot of effort to win this—thanks to the banner of “education first.” However, in Jiang Shan’s view, entrusting the auditorium project to Mei Wan’s General Construction Company was a mistake. Those house builders had no idea what art and aesthetics were. As a result, the auditorium’s exterior was almost a kind of Chinese pastoral European style building commonly seen in some county-level development zones: a curved portico was added in front of the main entrance, with a row of Dorian columns underneath, which was out of place.

But who else could they have entrusted it to? Hu Qingbai shrugged. This was like their current state of life: no choice.

At this moment, there was no one in the hardwood seats of the auditorium. The ceiling and wall lights were not lit. Jiang Shan walked towards the brightly lit stage and sat down in the front row. A choir rehearsal was underway here. In the weeks leading up to the 1632 Annual Hymn Festival, this was the busiest place, with at least seven or eight amateur choirs from various systems and departments rehearsing here every day.

The stingy Planning Commission and various departments would not allow the naturalized citizens to rehearse during working hours, so they all came to rehearse in their spare time. However, in this time-space with little entertainment, participating in choir rehearsals was quite an interesting thing. Young people could get to know many people—especially of the opposite sex.

The person Jiang Shan was looking for was standing at the conductor’s podium, waving his arms and spouting a long string of half-baked, grammatically incorrect Mandarin. The strange accent, combined with the occasional English and Cantonese phrases, not only confused the choir members from the National School and the Military and Political School, but even Fang Fei, who was standing by the main curtain, couldn’t understand what he was saying. Finally, the piano accompanist, a female elder in her thirties with long black hair tied in a ponytail with a handkerchief and a tall figure, saved the day. Her voice was not loud but exceptionally clear. With just a few sentences, she explained the rehearsal director’s long speech clearly.

Weiss Landu seemed very satisfied with this explanation and shouted, “Let’s do it again, from the beginning!” He raised his hand, and the sound of the piano, accompanied by the slightly childish singing of the boys, echoed in the auditorium, like an army marching.

“Heroes, march forward bravely,

Don’t linger, don’t look back.

Willing to abandon comfort and property,

To fight for the motherland,

Victory is at hand!

…”

“You shouldn’t be doing this here,” Jiang Shan lit a cigar. After the rehearsal ended, the choir members gradually dispersed. Through the window, he saw the students of the Fangcaodi National School walking towards their dormitories in groups of three and five, talking and laughing. The cadets of the Military and Political School, on the other hand, quickly assembled on the parade ground, formed ranks, and marched to their dormitories singing. “The principle of a spy is to never show his face.”

“James Bond can attend embassy receptions and go around saying, ‘My name is Bond.’” Weiss drank half a bottle of kvass in one go, smacked his lips with satisfaction, and raised the bottle in his hand, pointing forward. “And he always meets beautiful ladies. Do you expect those guys from the Jesuit order to train a choir for you? The Europeans of this time don’t even have the concept of a conductor. They’ll turn all the choirs into church choirs.”

“James Bond is a fictional character—” Jiang Shan’s words were cut short by the clatter of high heels descending the wooden steps of the stage. He found it strange. Except for Miss Pei, no female elder would waste precious self-provided high heels on such an informal occasion.

“Director Jiang,” the woman had already walked up to him before he could turn around, bringing with her a scent of carnations. Her voice was soft and mellow, with a hint of charm. “Thank you for gracing us with your presence to watch our rehearsal.”

Jiang Shan casually replied with a few polite words. This woman seemed familiar, but he couldn’t remember her name. Logically, such a beautiful woman among the transmigrators would be quite eye-catching. Her short blouse was clearly made of the Lingao-produced cotton-linen blend, but the dark, sleeveless long dress underneath was obviously a high-end product from the pre-transmigration world, outlining a perfect female curve. Jiang Shan only glanced at her before immediately looking away. Although she had a smile on her face, her deep eyes were like two deep pools, tempting him to jump in and never come up again.

The woman graciously extended her hand. “My name is Liu Shuixin. At the last annual meeting, my husband got drunk, and I had to trouble you to help me carry him back.”

Jiang Shan finally remembered. This charming married woman was the wife of Liu Zheng, the head of the Remote Exploration Department. No wonder this guy was so eager to get an apartment; he was in a hurry to hide his beauty. Jiang Shan had once managed to secretly access some of the elders’ personal files from the Political Security General Bureau during an intelligence sharing session. At that time, he had found it strange that a leading figure from a provincial song and dance troupe would abandon everything to follow a rough guy to the barbaric land of the 17th century. He gently squeezed her fingers. “It’s getting late. I’ll see Teacher Liu home. Old Liu must be getting anxious.”

Liu Shuixin smiled again. Jiang Shan quickly avoided her gaze. He was not a loser, let alone a wizard. He was an old hand who had been through the flowers without a single petal sticking to him. For more than a decade, he had never been so flustered over a woman.

Perhaps it’s because I haven’t been in contact with such a modern and charming woman for too long, Jiang Shan thought. I’m a little thirsty. Like the other elders, he had also bought a maid. Because he hadn’t drawn a suitable number, he had just followed the crowd and bought a C-class one.

“It’s alright,” her voice became even sweeter and more charming. “I’ll take the small train home. It’s only a ten-minute ride. My husband is not home today.” The small train was what the naturalized citizens called the Lingao municipal railway, and the elders had also gotten used to this name.