Chapter 425: Strict Household Rules
Lu Xuan’s gloom was now more of a suppressed anxiety. Originally, he was just disgusted by the Qian Shuiting faction’s power grab. But now, the matter of the Youth League filled him with a deep sense of unease. The political factions in the Senate were already well-established. The Otaku Party could stir up trouble at will, seize any opportunity to make a big deal out of something, and whip up a storm of public opinion. The ruling faction handled things with ease, adept at playing political games. Even if he shouted “you’re courting death” a thousand times in the Great Library, it would be useless. He was insignificant now. No one took what he said seriously.
“You’re all just a bunch of hypocrites!” Lu Xuan’s chest was filled with frustration. He realized that in the five years he had been playing the fool, the ruling faction had built up its own clique. And he had become a marginal figure, his words carrying no weight.
He was not one of the paranoid “soy sauce” Elders, obsessed with ensuring he “wouldn’t be purged.” He had ambitions, great ambitions.
His decision to lie low in the Great Library, to appear as a harmless little rabbit, was born out of both the awkwardness of his professional background and considerations for his future plans.
In the early days after the landing, Lu Xuan quickly saw the awkwardness of his position: no seniority, no connections. And in his opinion, for a long time after the Senate’s establishment, it would be the world of engineers and other professional technicians.
Although Lu Xuan had only written a few lines in his personal profile, in his original time, he considered himself part of the “meat-eater” class. If it weren’t for an accident he couldn’t handle, he would never have entered this unpredictable time with those losers.
It was precisely this self-awareness as a “meat-eater” that led him to a judgment at the beginning of the landing: this group of losers would instinctively hate him. Therefore, the knowledge and experience he had accumulated were not only useless, but if revealed, would make him a target of premature vigilance, and even risk him being “kept” like a pet.
To avoid this risk, he decided to find his place again, to observe, learn, and accumulate from scratch, to slowly integrate into this unfamiliar group with a humble attitude, and then choose his own political path. In his ten years of working in government agencies, he had accumulated a lot of experience. “Don’t be quick to take a stand,” and “don’t easily choose a side” were among them.
But he also knew that not taking a side meant being a fence-sitter, a weathercock, and he could very well end up pleasing no one and being ignored. But he felt that in this time, it wasn’t a big problem. First, there were only five hundred Elders, but the world was so big. Even if he just lived on welfare, the piece of the cake he would get in the end would not be small.
But Lu Xuan’s ambition was to be the one who cut the cake, not just eat it. With his more than ten years of experience in provincial government agencies—those so-called bigwigs on the Executive Committee: Wen Desi was a white-collar worker, Ma Qianzhu was an engineer, Zhan Wuya was a small business owner, Cheng Dong was an accountant—okay, let’s say he was a financial director, but still an accountant; Ran Yao was a junior policeman; Si Kaide was a foreign trade salesman; and He Ming? A demobilized company commander, promoted to deputy battalion commander only for the sake of demobilization—none of these people were a threat. As for that Zhao Manxiong and his men, in his eyes, they were just a group of cosplay enthusiasts. The only one who could be called a rival was Qian Shuiting of the North American Gang. But they were outsiders, with inherent disadvantages.
It was with these considerations that he had remained dormant. First, to avoid possible suspicion, and second, to avoid making mistakes. In the early stages of establishment, the administrative departments were extremely busy. The more you did, the more likely you were to leave a handle for others to grab. It was better to not participate in anything to maintain a clean political record.
During these years of dormancy, he had been secretly accumulating the strength to enter the top echelon in the future. He lacked the seniority, knowledge, and resources of Qian Shuiting’s North American group, and he also lacked the gambler’s courage and determination of Lin Baiguang. He looked down on the self-proclaimed clever antics of people like Cheng Yongxin and Shan Liang among the Elders. He focused all his attention and energy on the refugees constantly pouring into Lingao.
Controlling the Zhang Family Manor gave him a more comfortable economic foundation than other Elders. His idea was to take some natives as his confidants, keeping them outside the naturalized citizen system for direct control. At the same time, he used the policy of “private sponsorship” by Elders to sponsor some promising young children to go to school.
The students of Fangcaodi would be the elite among the naturalized citizens in the future, the pillars of the Senate’s regime. Unlike others who liked to sponsor young children, Lu Xuan mainly sponsored those who had studied for two years and then transferred to various vocational classes. Although their future might be limited, they graduated early and could quickly become the backbone of various departments.
As for the Political Security Bureau, which many Elders wanted to get rid of, in Lu Xuan’s eyes, it was just a toy for a group of cosplay enthusiasts. Not to mention whether they had any work experience in this area, just the “Elders are sacred and inviolable” spell was enough to make their so-called internal control full of holes. So he was not worried about his actions being discovered. Even if they were, it didn’t matter—the Senate had never forbidden Elders from privately sponsoring students.
The sound of the carriage’s hooves faded into the distance. The courtyard was silent, with only the rustling of leaves in the wind. The butler who had seen the carriage off trotted in from outside and shouted, “Bar the main gate!”
The first of Lu Xuan’s established house rules was “strict gates.” So, day or night, the gates were never left open. They were only unbarred for entry and exit, and all entries and exits had to be registered. The wives, concubines, and servants of the house were not allowed to go out without reason. People who came from outside to do business or deliver goods had to leave as soon as they were done. Relatives of his wives, concubines, and servants had to apply for a visit in advance.
Hearing the sound of the gate being barred, he looked at the courtyard. It was spotless. Not only were there no blades of grass or pebbles, but even the bluestone steps had been washed clean with water, without a speck of dust.
Lu Xuan didn’t find any fault. He went straight into the main house. The main house was furnished with all hardwood furniture. The three-piece set of vase and incense burners, the central hall calligraphy and painting were all exquisite, all bought from the Planning Committee’s warehouse of confiscated goods. Above the central hall was a banner he had written himself: “A Harmonious Family Prospers.”
A maid had already brought a towel to wipe his face. As he was wiping his sweat, Liu Ziming’s voice came from outside the door: “Sir, Miss Liu is here.”
The Miss Liu that Liu Ziming spoke of was Liu Hui, Lu Xuan’s maid and Liu Ziming’s sister. She was quite good-looking. She was not a graduate of the maid training class, but someone Lu Xuan had picked from among the refugees. A typical case of big breasts and no brain. Lu Xuan had initially bought her to satisfy his physiological needs and also for image-building purposes. To avoid being called a maverick, he had registered her with the General Office and sent her to the maid training class.
Miss Liu was thus put on a separate list—having undergone centralized training and being under the unified management of the General Office, Lu Xuan was somewhat wary of her. In his eyes, the General Office was a more terrifying existence than the Political Security Bureau—the Political Security Bureau couldn’t reach into the Elders’ homes, but the General Office directly placed its personnel in the Elders’ beds.
So, the unlucky Liu Hui, not knowing that she had been put on a separate list by Elder Lu just because she was registered with the General Office, was directly assigned the role of a nanny and a sex toy. Not only that, but this life, which was like being in prison, made her very uncomfortable.
“Let her in.” The rules in the manor were very strict, similar to those of an official’s household in this time. In the eyes of some universal otaku, Lu Xuan’s style was a feudal remnant that should be completely abandoned. But Lu Xuan believed that without strict hierarchy and severe rules, authority could not be established. This was still the Ming Dynasty, four hundred years ago. Taking too big a step would only cause problems.
“Greetings to the master.” Liu Hui curtsied carefully after entering. Although she had some complaints about her situation, after being disciplined by Lu Xuan’s family law a few times, she no longer dared to have any ideas.
“What is it?”
“The General Office sent a notice, requesting that the Elders try to return to their dormitories to live these few nights. They said…”
“I know.”
Lu Xuan hadn’t slept in his dormitory for a long time. Although there were no guards at Zhang Family Manor, the gates were strict, the walls were high, and the house was large. There were also three adult male servants in the house, all equipped with Nanyang-style rifles. He also had a pistol with him. His safety was guaranteed.
After Liu Hui finished her report and received no clear reply, she didn’t know whether she should withdraw or continue to stand and wait for orders. She was at a loss, standing there foolishly.
Just then, a girl of seventeen or eighteen, wearing a light-colored vest, walked in gracefully with a tea tray. This girl was Lu Xuan’s wife—Zhang Lan. Her original name was Zhang Sanniang. The name Zhang Lan was given by Lu Xuan.
Since he married this girl, Lu Xuan had been teaching her culture by hand for several years. If it weren’t for Lu Xuan deliberately having her retain her Ming dynasty clothes and stay outside the naturalized citizen group, Zhang Lan could have easily passed the Class A literacy exam.
Over the years of hearing and seeing, Zhang Lan understood that what this Elder Lu valued most was proper behavior. Saying less and doing more, being obedient, was the foundation of a peaceful life. Since her father and brother and sister-in-law had passed away one after another, Zhang Lan had been even more careful, even secretly asking someone to buy a copy of “Admonitions for Women” from the mainland. Zhang Lan’s obedience satisfied Lu Xuan. Not only did he let her manage the comings and goings of the whole family, but he also often had her teach the “servants” in the house—the manor kept four or five children, all of whom were native talents that Elder Lu planned to cultivate outside the system.
“Master.” Everyone in Zhang Family Manor, except for Liu Ziming who was considered part of the system, called Lu Xuan this. Zhang Lan curtsied to Lu Xuan as a greeting, then turned to place the tea on the table. Liu Hui hurried over and curtsied. “Sister…”
In fact, Liu Hui was several years older than Zhang Lan, but Zhang Lan was the legal wife. Liu Hui had to be submissive. The Lu family’s rules were strict. Even Zhang Lan, the legal wife, was whipped by the master every ten days or half a month, let alone her, a “maid.”