Chapter 375: The Special Mission

Huang Xiong nodded. “I know. She’s with child now. After the babe is born, I’ll give her a few good spankings on her bare bottom. That’ll teach her.”

Huang Ande said no more. He felt his cousin was a man of reason. He had a nagging suspicion that the chieftains had spies in the army, but he never dared voice this to anyone.

Just then, Wang Qisuo began to make a scene. “What are you two whispering about? Come, drink!”

The party continued with drinking and finger-guessing games until nine in the evening. If not for the next day’s work and the fear of returning home too late, the revelry would have likely stretched to midnight.

Everyone was half-drunk. Huang Ande, seeing Huang Xiong’s state and with a pregnant woman beside him, feared an accident. He hailed two rickshaws from the street to send them home separately. He offered another to Zhu Si and his wife, but they declined, saying they could manage on their own.

Some of the others departed on their own; those too intoxicated simply collapsed on the floor of Huang Ande’s home.

Seeing Wang Qisuo, also drunk, leaning against the wall as he staggered out, Huang Ande asked, “Are you alright, Brother Wang? If you’re drunk, you can stay the night.”

“It’s nothing.” Wang Qisuo’s speech was slurred, but he seemed coherent. “I have rehearsal tomorrow… I won’t make it to the city in time if I stay. Besides, the chieftains are fastidious about cleanliness. I must go back, wash, and change.”

“Can you manage on your own?”

“It’s fine. The last carriage hasn’t left.”

Still uneasy, Huang Ande escorted him to the public carriage station, only returning home after seeing the carriage depart.

Wang Qisuo alighted outside the garrison barracks and stumbled into his dormitory. His participation in the rehearsal granted him a pass, allowing him to bypass the barracks’ strict curfew.

The lights-out signal had already sounded. The barracks were dark, save for the duty room and the streetlights. Wang Qisuo fumbled his way to the dormitory door and pushed it open.

He was quartered in the NCO dormitory, with its four bunk beds. All were empty. The upcoming cultural festival had stretched the garrison thin; soldiers were dispatched to various posts, leaving the barracks nearly deserted. Apart from the mobile riot police, manpower was critically low. He was the sole occupant of the entire dormitory.

He did not light the gas lamp; to do so after lights-out would be too conspicuous. He undressed slowly and climbed into his bunk, but sleep did not come. Though he had been a boisterous drunkard, urging others to drink, he had consumed little himself and was now wide awake.

“So this is the special mission,” he mused. He pieced together what he had overheard at dinner with what the company commander had said a few days prior. A special mission was afoot. The guard company, short-handed, needed elite soldiers from other companies for temporary reinforcement. He had been asked to recommend candidates.

Wang Qisuo deduced this was no simple security patrol for the festival. The guard company didn’t handle such mundane tasks. Their duty was the direct protection of the Senators and key naturalized cadres.

If it were merely a matter of the Senators attending the festival, the guard company’s existing force would suffice. Escorting Senators was their routine business; there would be no need for reinforcements. Therefore, this special mission could only be for one purpose: to protect the Senators’ children.

“The young chieftains… interesting.” Wang Qisuo stared at the whitewashed ceiling. He recalled seeing personal secretaries with their children outside the Senators’ living quarters. But those were toddlers, the oldest no more than four.

The “young chieftains” Huang Yang had mentioned were not these infants. They must be the “little Senators,” the children who had arrived with the Senators on the great iron ship. He’d heard from his comrades that seven or eight such children were studying at Fangcaodi.

The next morning, his orders were to report for duty in the county’s new administrative district. But the company commander summoned him first.

“Qisuo, who from your platoon are you recommending for the guard company? I’m about to submit the list.”

Without hesitation, Wang Qisuo said, “I’ll go.”

“You?” The commander was taken aback. “But you’re in the performance…”

“The performance is only on the first day. I can stand duty on the others,” Wang Qisuo said crisply. “The platoon is already stretched thin… It’s only for two days. I’ll fill the spot.”

“Very well. I’ll report it.”

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After his first encounter with Lian Nishang, Zhuo Yifan conferred with Wan Lifeng, Abbess Miejing, and the others. They saw the short-hairs’ cultural festival as an opportunity to strike at the “true short-hairs.” Whether to kill or capture would depend on the circumstances. Wan Lifeng suggested using Lian Nishang to infiltrate the gymnasium.

“I fear she will not be easily persuaded,” Zhuo Yifan said with a note of regret. “The woman is deeply bewitched. It will take time to turn her from the darkness to the light.”

“We may not need to persuade her,” Wan Lifeng countered. “We need only a pretext to deceive her.”

Sha Guangtian added, “And if deception fails, we can subdue her by force. As a ‘public servant’ of the short-hairs, she will have freedom of movement.”

Zhuo Yifan frowned but, seeing the others in agreement, he nodded. “I’ve observed that the true short-hairs are difficult to approach. They are surrounded by their followers. We will need some of our own to disguise themselves as true short-hairs to act when the time is right.”

“That is no obstacle,” Wan Lifeng declared. “A shaved head, a change of clothes—a true man can adapt. To fight the short-hairs, we will do what is necessary.”

“This matter still requires Abbess Miejing’s consent,” Zhuo Yifan said.

His observations at the gymnasium had shown that the true short-hairs’ guards were more vigilant towards men but lax with the local women. If the Hengshan disciples disguised themselves as female students, their chances of success would be far greater.

Abbess Miejing readily agreed, even recommending her favorite disciple, Zhou Zhongjun, for the task.

“It is just that the attire of the female students is… somewhat indecent,” Zhuo Yifan said cautiously. “But this is for the sake of the Great Ming, for the peace of the world.”

Abbess Miejing’s expression was a storm of conflicting emotions. Finally, she said, “So be it. It is for the good of the common people.”

“Thank you, Abbess, for your profound understanding.”

“This is a matter of great importance, and Zhongjun is young. I believe it would be better for Wan’er to take the lead—she is older and more composed.”

“As you wish.” Zhuo Yifan suppressed a smile. I wonder what you would think if you saw Zhou Zhongjun’s usual appearance, he thought. As long as the Abbess agreed, it was settled. He would have her assist from a distance, out of sight. In the chaos of battle, few would escape, and fewer still would care about indecency.

Zhuo Yifan also selected the four youngest disciples from the Hengshan Sect and had them change into the local women’s Australian-style clothing. It was not uncommon for native women to adopt such dress without being “purified.” Besides, Zhuo Yifan and his group had already acquired a large sum of circulation coupons and could buy whatever they needed.

They were ignorant of Australian fashion. Zhuo Yifan dispatched a messenger to Nanbao, instructing Zhou Zhongjun to take her senior and junior sisters to the East Gate Market to purchase new clothes.

Wan Lifeng and the others also prepared to shave their heads and change their attire at the opportune moment, to blend into the crowd and await their chance.

As for Zhuo Yifan, with the festival fast approaching, he was anxious to finalize the plan with Seventh Master. He sent a coded letter to Sima Qiudao’s mailbox, urging him to contact Seventh Master without delay.

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The weather was foul, and Lin Ziqi’s mood was equally bleak. On her desk lay a pristine test paper, the ink still fresh. A pop quiz in mathematics. As tedious as ever.

The desk was the size of a small office desk, ergonomically designed with a tilted surface and adjustable height. It came equipped with a bookshelf, a small cabinet, and a drawer for stationery.

This “Holy Ship” brand desk and chair, a special product of the wood processing factory for the learning institute, was fashioned from exquisite materials—rosewood or pearwood—and crafted with a master’s touch. It was said the pig’s blood lacquer and fine linen had been applied seven or eight times, creating a surface so bright it reflected one’s image, so hard a pencil knife would not leave a mark. Not that Lin Ziqi had tried; this was according to her best friend, Zhang Yunmi. She was unsurprised. She had grown accustomed to such things.

The classroom of the learning institute exuded an ineffable luxury. It was a luxury difficult to articulate. The ridiculously large hardwood desks, the teak floors, the desk lamp on every desk, the ceiling fan, the screen above the blackboard, the projector hanging from the ceiling… Even the offices of the Executive Committee and the Senate were not so lavishly appointed.

The grim weather cast a pale light through the skylight, illuminating the central well of the classroom and the dozen or so desks around it. The room was ingeniously designed to provide ample, non-glaring light, though it made the blackboard difficult to read.

Lin Ziqi’s pencil glided across the test paper. The pencils from their original time and space had long since been used up, even with extenders. The current ones were special products from the Taibai Stationery Factory. Their quality was lamentable, but they were serviceable.

The test was brutally difficult, almost absurdly so. Though only seventeen, she was studying advanced mathematics from university science and engineering textbooks. But for Lin Ziqi, who had received nearly five years of daily one-on-one tutoring, it was not insurmountable. The Senate was filled with science and engineering geeks for whom advanced mathematics was child’s play.