Chapter 421: Undercurrents in the Library

“Those sons of bitches!” Lu Xuan cursed when he saw the latest Elder proposal on the BBS, a post about establishing a Senate Security Committee and a Finance Committee. His voice wasn’t loud, but Cheng Yongxin, sitting in the office across the hall, heard him and immediately shot him a glare. “No class!” The three words flew like daggers, striking Lu Xuan squarely in the chest.

When Elder Lu first moved to the High Mountain Ridge, he had some ideas about the young literary woman in the office opposite his. He would occasionally flirt with her, but after a few months, he was soundly defeated. So the daggers no longer had any effect.

“Pretentious fool!” he cursed silently. He could see a faint, unusual flush on Cheng Yongxin’s face. This was a rare sight. During the recent maid case, she had been running around, making connections, often skipping work. She had neglected her daily duties at the Great Library to the point that Director Yu was furious. Although they were all Elders and it wasn’t proper to say much, he hadn’t given her a pleasant look since.

Then, for some reason, his colleague had suddenly started coming to work normally again, though her spirits were much lower. It wasn’t until the recent terrorist attack that her face had regained its luster. Right now, she was drinking her own brewed coffee, filling the entire hallway with its sour aroma.

The coffee was a special supply from the General Office, supposedly imported from the Middle East. Some Elders were crazy about it. Others, like Lu Xuan, detested it.

Seeing Cheng Yongxin’s spirited coffee-drinking, Lu Xuan couldn’t help but be curious. What was she reading?

He stood up, sauntered into the office across the hall, stretched luxuriously, and walked up behind Cheng Yongxin. He sniffed loudly around her and said with a fawning smile, “Hey, sis. Changed your perfume again? Can you give me a bottle? There’s a girl in the current naturalized citizen administrative training class who’s at least sixty percent as beautiful as you. If she had your scent, she’d be even more like you.”

“Mr. Lu, please watch your words. We are not that close. This is sexual harassment,” Cheng Yongxin said coldly. “Also, I’m not interested in straight male chauvinists.” She was long accustomed to Lu Xuan’s antics and gave him no quarter. She turned her attention back to the screen.

Lu Xuan didn’t care. He had already seen the screen’s content: she was reading the same thing he was.

“What’s all this fuss about investigating the Political Security Bureau, establishing a Security Committee, a Finance Committee? Why don’t they focus their energy outward? The girls on the mainland are still waiting to be saved. What’s the point of fighting among ourselves when we’re all well-fed? No wonder Cheng Yongxin is getting all excited again, hoping for chaos,” Lu Xuan grumbled to himself.

“Look at you, am I that kind of person? I’m gay, really gay! If you don’t believe me, go ask Yun Hong!” Lu Xuan said, returning to his office with a grin.

Cheng Yongxin kept her head down, silent. Lu Xuan looked at her, pumped up like she was on steroids, and a cold smile flickered across his face.

He glanced at the wooden quartz clock on the wall—one of the perks of working at the Great Library. It was almost ten o’clock, time for his meeting with the director. Since he had become the office director of the Great Library, he had gradually, subtly established this routine.

Lu Xuan went upstairs to Yu E’shui’s office, composed himself, and knocked on the half-open door. Hearing a “come in,” he pushed the door open. Yu E’shui didn’t look up, his hands still busy. He casually said, “Sit.” Lu Xuan didn’t sit down immediately. He surveyed the office. Seeing that Yu E’shui’s teacup was empty, he took the thermos from the tea cabinet and refilled it.

“Director, it’s almost eleven. I saw you haven’t gotten up since this morning. You should move around a bit. Sitting for too long is bad for your health. And the medical care here is a bit subpar…” Lu Xuan said as he poured the water. Yu E’shui finally looked up.

Actually, Yu E’shui didn’t need to look to know it was Lu Xuan. The sense of hierarchy between superiors and subordinates among the Elders was much more ambiguous than in their original time, especially in a policy research institution like the Great Library. The interactions between Elders were even more casual. The only Elder who consistently addressed Yu E’shui with a respectful “you” was Lu Xuan, who had been working under him for four full years. In these past few years, the Senate had been in a state of constant, tumultuous growth in Hainan. The Elders at the Great Library had come and gone, one after another moving into administrative positions. Several had even become county directors, earning the library the nickname “the Senate’s County Party Secretary Training Class.” Even the less successful ones had become department heads or directors in the ever-expanding administrative apparatus. The only male Elder under forty who was still at the Great Library was Lu Xuan.

Lu Xuan’s personnel file showed that before the transmigration, he was a civil servant in a municipal agency, a part-time law graduate student with a degree from a Party school, the kind without a formal degree certificate. As a result, he was looked down upon by both undergraduates and law school graduates. Thus, Lu Xuan had not been able to join the Law Society.

His skills section only listed “computer operation.” In a Senate full of PhDs and masters, Lu Xuan was now classified as an “administrative reserve Elder,” a euphemism for “basic labor Elder” after the first Senate Congress. When the administrative agencies were first established, he had volunteered to come to the Great Library. Due to his limited skills and his own laziness, he had been doing odd jobs at the library for the past few years.

In the first few years of the “One-Five” plan, everything was being built from scratch. Elders often held several positions simultaneously. The people at the Planning Committee certainly wouldn’t let Lu Xuan be idle. He was sent to do all sorts of tasks that required an Elder figurehead: supporting agriculture, education, the military, the frontier, construction… Lu Xuan was almost always involved. In short, the kind of work that any Elder could do but no one wanted to do was usually done by Lu Xuan. To this day, Lu Xuan had a long string of titles: teacher at Fangcaodi (liberal arts), cultural instructor for the apprentice corps, cultural instructor at the General Staff’s political department, general commander of the High Mountain Ridge core militia, deputy director of the data center’s technical department, propagandist for the Judiciary’s law popularization office, inspector for the Social Work Department, business instructor for the Tiandi Hui, and so on. These were all official concurrent positions documented by the various units. The temporary assignments arranged by the Executive Committee were too numerous for even Lu Xuan himself to remember. But his main job was the office director of the Great Library, his only full-time position.

Of course, he was mainly unwilling to leave the Great Library. Otherwise, with his resume, he could have easily become a county magistrate somewhere in Hainan or a department head in an administrative agency. The Organization Department had spoken with him several times, but he was too lazy to do it. He had had enough of being a civil servant in another time. As for being a local official, those counties had only a few thousand or tens of thousands of people. Living in a small, dilapidated house, having to use a hand-cranked generator for electricity—whoever wanted that life could have it. He certainly didn’t. The work at the Great Library was pleasant. Doing odd jobs outside was a nice change of pace. No one bothered him with things like “performance,” “ledgers,” or “evaluations.”

Yu E’shui’s initial impression of Lu Xuan was that of a typical, useless old hand from the officialdom. Later, he discovered that Lu Xuan was not only patient but also tough. Whether it was going to the mountains or the countryside, digging earth or carrying a gun, Lu Xuan never refused. He was the kind of person who quietly got the job done without making a fuss or fighting for credit. Over time, Lu Xuan had earned a good reputation in all the places he had worked.

Yu E’shui, on the other hand, was a history graduate student with zero social work experience before the transmigration. He had joined early and had seniority, and he had always served as the chief historical consultant on the Executive Committee, giving him a subtle sense of superiority. The people working at the Great Library after the transmigration were either old or female. In Yu E’shui’s eyes, 99% of them were useless. He didn’t deign to invest too much energy in them. He even took on most of the work for the library’s main business, the monthly compilation of historical reference materials, himself. But the Great Library was responsible for many other things: the massive data center, the seemingly endless collection of e-books and physical books in the caves… Just the daily operation of these departments and the needs of several hundred people was a headache.

The administrative duties naturally fell to Lu Xuan. Fortunately, Lu Xuan was very capable. He was never vague in his requests for instructions and reports on official matters, fully satisfying Yu E’shui’s desire for leadership. He handled all other miscellaneous matters properly, and he had the old and young in the library wrapped around his finger. Over the years, Yu E’shui had not only changed his impression of Lu Xuan but had also come to rely on him more and more.

Yu E’shui came back to his senses and realized Lu Xuan was still standing. He quickly motioned for him to sit.

Lu Xuan sat down, took out a notebook and a few documents, and said, “Director, there are two things I need to ask for your instructions on.”

“Go ahead.” Yu E’shui was long accustomed to Lu Xuan’s respectful attitude and didn’t bother with pleasantries. He leaned back, assuming a leader’s posture.

“First, Huang Pan from the book repository’s service team broke his leg during the anti-terrorism drill a few days ago. He went to the hospital. It can be healed, but he won’t be able to do heavy lifting anymore. The Human Resources Department’s opinion is to transfer him from the Great Library to a more suitable position. The transfer order has already been issued. According to regulations, he can receive a work injury subsidy. This is the subsidy application form, with the subsidy distribution document attached. It’s the latest version. Please approve it.”

Yu E’shui saw that the amount on the receipt was not large, and the distribution document was attached. The document was several pages long, but Lu Xuan had carefully underlined the applicable clauses, making it clear at a glance. This attention to detail pleased Yu E’shui. In fact, for an expenditure of this amount, Lu Xuan, as the Elder in charge of administrative affairs, could have made the decision himself. But Yu E’shui knew that every public fund Lu Xuan spent from the Great Library’s budget was requested in advance.