Chapter 418: Speaker Qian's Melancholy

The Political Security Bureau’s poor performance this time would inevitably lead to a decline in the Elders’ trust. To attack them now, to bring up the matter of the black material, would very likely find a receptive audience and lead to a dedicated investigation…

This is indeed a good opportunity, Shan Liang thought.

As for the black material, he was certain it existed. Could the Political Security Bureau even be called such if it didn’t compile damaging files? His own file was probably the thickest. They probably even had recordings of his calls with Shan Huixiang.

Zhao Manxiong and his minions, just you wait. You’ll be shoveling manure for the Agriculture Committee soon enough. With malicious glee, Shan Liang imagined himself, surrounded by revolutionary Elders, storming the “black den” of the Political Security Bureau. He kicks open the door to Zhao Manxiong’s office, demands the keys to the safe. The pot-bellied revisionist trembles as he hands them over, his head bowed amidst the righteous fury of the revolutionary Elders… He lost himself in the fantasy for a moment.

But Shan Liang was no longer the hot-blooded youth from the coffee shop. He suppressed his excitement, took a deep drag of his cigar, and asked, “And then?”

“If you like your old line of work, I can pull some strings to get you to the next level. If you don’t, and you want to switch to another department, I can arrange it…”

Shan Liang laughed. “Speaker Qian, you must be joking. An administrative position means nothing to me. As long as I’m willing to be the vanguard, the general manager position at Guangdong Telecom is mine for the taking. I’ll be on the board of the Telecom Corporation in the future. Let’s put it this way, doesn’t your committee need a chairman or two?”

His appetite is not small, Qian Shuiting thought. He pondered for a moment. “As long as the new system can be established, the Otaku Party will fully support your campaign.”

“Then we have a deal,” Shan Liang said. “I’ll take my leave now.”

Shan Liang got on his bicycle and pedaled away, whistling, towards his dormitory. To avoid the trouble of being accompanied by a guard, he was staying at the General Office’s Second Guesthouse tonight, just a few minutes’ ride from the club.

Just then, he saw a carriage approaching. Who would be coming to visit Speaker Qian at this late hour? Curious, Shan Liang steered his bicycle to the side of the road, hiding in the shadow of a streetlight.

The guard on the carriage was armed. The carriage windows were curtained. Shan Liang watched silently as the carriage stopped at the steps of the Flying Cloud Club’s veranda. In the moonlight, he saw the figure of a young woman step down. The light was dim, and he couldn’t make out who it was. Just as he was about to leave in disappointment, the sea breeze carried a familiar fragrance to his nose. The scent immediately triggered a memory:

“So it’s you, Miss Cheng!”

---

Cheng Yongxin gracefully descended from the carriage. Qian Shuiting was already on the veranda to greet her, a broad smile on his face. Seeing her lift her skirt to ascend the steps, he hurried down to take her hand and lead her up.

“Thank you, Speaker Qian. Thank you for your invitation. I’m truly flattered,” she said with a slight curtsy.

“Not at all. Your presence graces this humble abode,” Qian Shuiting replied with a smile, kissing her hand.

“Come, please sit,” he gestured.

The table on the terrace had been cleared and re-set with fresh flowers. Since Cheng Yongxin didn’t smoke, the cigars were gone, replaced by an ice bucket containing a bottle of German sparkling wine.

Qian Xuanhuang expertly wrapped the bottle in a napkin and filled two glasses.

Cheng Yongxin picked up her glass with a charming smile. “Champagne! What are we celebrating?”

Qian Shuiting smiled but didn’t answer. He simply took a sip from his glass, watching the bubbles rise in the slender flute. “Librarian Cheng, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“You’re too kind,” she laughed. “It is I who have heard so much about you.” She took a sip as well.

Qian Shuiting shook his head. “It’s just an empty reputation.” He put down his glass. “Though Librarian Cheng spends her days in the library, she has a clear view of the Senate. I imagine you were expecting my invitation.”

Cheng Yongxin nodded. “Speaker Qian sits patiently by the fishing spot. Are you waiting for a fish like me to take the bait?”

“Not at all, not at all. Just a joke,” Qian Shuiting waved his hand. “Librarian Cheng is as brilliant as ice and snow, so I won’t beat around the bush. The recent terrorist incident in Lingao, while seemingly accidental, was in fact the inevitable outcome of the long-term operation of the old system…”

He then elaborated on his analysis and concerns about the current political system, triggered by the case, and most importantly, his worries about the powerful security agencies. He subtly mentioned the matter of the black material.

Cheng Yongxin listened attentively. Though she maintained a demure smile, her heart was in turmoil. She already knew about the “Sun Umbrella” case, but the information Qian Shuiting was revealing was a delightful surprise.

It meant that Qian Shuiting, the leader of the most powerful faction in the Senate, was extending an olive branch to her. In terms of political alignment, Cheng Yongxin also advocated for “separation of powers” and “supervision.” In the maid case, she had spared no effort to pull strings, aiming to influence and control public opinion.

However, the final outcome of the maid case had been unexpected. What she had confidently believed to be a “perverted Elder’s murder” turned out to be a homicide among maids. Most critically, the women in the powerful departments she had tried so hard to win over all insisted that this was the truth, and her desired version of the truth was suppressed.

Nevertheless, through the maid case and by cultivating Panpan, her influence over the Lingao Times had increased significantly.

Only with power will people be willing to sit down and have a drink with you. Cheng Yongxin felt the cool, fruity, slightly acidic liquid slide down her throat. If she were just an ordinary librarian, would Qian Shuiting have invited her for champagne?

“I completely agree with your views,” Cheng Yongxin said with a radiant smile. “So, what do you need me to do?”

“Use your influence with Panpan. That is my request.”

“You’re too polite. I’m just a librarian. I do have some influence with Panpan, but she is, after all, only the editor-in-chief of the Lingao Times. The head of the Propaganda Department is Dingding…”

“As an Elder, isn’t it natural to express one’s own views? You’re being too modest,” Qian Shuiting said.

“Very well, I’ll do my best. How can I refuse a request from the esteemed Speaker Qian?”

“You are a truly intelligent and charming woman,” Qian Shuiting complimented her. “You are wasted in the Great Library.”

“Hehe, I’ll accept the ‘intelligent’ part. As for ‘charming,’ I’ll have to return that compliment to you, Speaker Qian,” Cheng Yongxin said with a smile. “I think the library is quite nice. It’s quiet, suitable for quiet study and contemplation. It’s just that there’s too much administrative work. I’m tied down by mundane affairs.”

---

Cheng Yongxin was slightly tipsy when she left the Flying Cloud Club. Qian Shuiting saw her off to her carriage and watched it depart before turning back into the house.

The night was already deep. Qian Shuiting returned once more to the terrace, lit a new cigar, and smoked in silence. He knew very well that after the “Sun Umbrella” case, the mainland campaign would soon be on the agenda.

This was not only an inevitable reaction to the case, but also, from the Senate’s perspective, the best way to resolve the current internal and external conflicts: launch a war of expansion, make the pie bigger, and divert internal contradictions.

From a broader perspective, the current Senate regime would have no difficulty conquering Guangdong. The problem was how to “govern” it. Qian Shuiting knew that many Elders’ governing philosophy was vertical: power must extend down to the grassroots to achieve maximum control and mobilization. The Executive Committee’s approach was much the same; their current methods in Hainan followed this line of thinking.

However, in his view, this obsession with controlling the grassroots was beyond the Senate’s current capabilities. Compared to Qiongzhou Prefecture with its population of a few hundred thousand, Guangdong was much larger, with a population of nearly ten million. For such a large territory, neither the Fangcaodi schools nor the Fubo Army could provide enough grassroots cadres to carry out this work. Doing so would needlessly consume a large amount of hard-won manpower and resources.

He wasn’t opposed to the idea of controlling the grassroots, but he felt it shouldn’t be rushed. The Senate’s most pressing needs were resources and population. Maintaining the old system could still provide these, and although it might be less efficient, it required less investment. It could be absorbed slowly.

If they rushed to “bring state power to the countryside” and ended up with a “half-cooked meal”—all input and no output—the consequences for the already sprawling Senate would be unimaginable.

But the Executive Committee’s insistence on this path made him very uneasy. He knew that the ordinary Elders were deeply influenced by the Executive Committee’s political power and governing philosophy. His own opposition would probably have little effect.

The problem of Guangdong was still manageable; it was only one province. But what about the whole country, the whole world? The ever-expanding power and influence of the Executive Committee would eventually drown out all other voices, posing a grave threat to the Senate and the entire transmigration enterprise.

If they could not further curtail the power and influence of the Executive Committee, once they entered Guangdong, a large number of grassroots Elders would see significant opportunities for advancement. Their support for the Executive Committee’s line would then be further solidified. The Otaku Party’s platform of “establishing a system of separation of powers, checks and balances, fluidity, and transparency within the collective” would gradually lose its market. In essence, people resent the powerful and always want to strip and limit their power, but once they become powerful themselves, they lose interest in things like supervision, transparency, and checks and balances.

“We must stop them!” Qian Shuiting worried for the future of the Senate. There was too little time. Discrediting the Political Security Bureau and the Executive Committee’s monstrous creation—the Judiciary—was only the first step. Only by destroying the Executive Committee’s standing in the hearts of the Elders could they rebuild the Elders’ trust in the Senate. Gradually returning all major powers to the Senate, and ultimately abolishing the Executive Committee to establish a modern state with a cabinet system and separation of powers—that was the true path for the Senate.