Chapter 449: Going to Guangzhou
“No, Uncle Xiao, how the Senate or the Executive Committee decides to sentence her has nothing to do with me. My opinion is already in this writ of pardon: I forgive her for the crime she committed against me. As for whether you pardon her or hang her for the sake of your grand ambitions, I’m not interested,” Zhang Yunmi said. “I have no intention of interfering with the trial. What I mean is, can I be excused from attending?”
“As the party involved, it wouldn’t be appropriate for you not to attend,” Xiao Zishan said.
“I can appoint a representative to attend in my place. I think Uncle Xiao can understand…”
Xiao Zishan nodded. Putting himself in her shoes, it was indeed an awkward situation.
“Just let Ziqi represent me in court. I’ll sign a power of attorney, authorizing her to represent me fully—her opinion will be my opinion. Except she cannot negate my writ of pardon.”
“Alright. I’ll mention it to the Arbitration Tribunal and have them make the arrangements.”
“Thank you, Uncle Xiao,” Zhang Yunmi said. “I know this isn’t easy for you adults.”
“Not at all, not at all.” Xiao Zishan shook his head with a wry smile. “Guangzhou is not yet in our hands. Since you feel the academy dormitory is unsuitable, why not move to the Second Guesthouse for now?”
“I don’t want to stay in Lingao any longer. If it’s not too much trouble, Uncle Xiao, you can send me anywhere to let me have some peace and quiet. Preferably off Hainan Island.”
“I can arrange for you to go to Hong Kong,” Xiao Zishan said. “But it’s very boring there…”
“It doesn’t matter, I’ll go to Hong Kong.”
“First, submit an internship application through the academy. I will notify Hu Qingbai to approve it and forward it to the Organization Department as soon as possible.”
Watching Zhang Yunmi turn and leave, Xiao Zishan sighed inwardly. The matter itself wasn’t complicated, but alas, “no matter concerning a Senator is a small matter.” The slightest carelessness could affect unity and set a bad precedent for the future.
In fact, anyone with a discerning eye could see that at this point, the case had little to do with the wishes of Old Zhang or Young Zhang. Zhang Yunmi’s withdrawal, though somewhat passive, did save a lot of trouble from people clamoring to feast on the “human blood buns.”
The phone on the desk rang. It was Ding Ding, asking again about the scope of reporting on this matter.
“I’ll say it again: this matter is not to be reported in the papers. Yes, except for The Morning Star, no media accessible to naturalized citizens is allowed to publish it. This is the decision of the Executive Committee—yes, the Standing Committee also agrees!” Xiao Zishan reiterated. “This is a matter of principle. You must handle it properly, don’t be soft-eared.”
He hung up the phone, annoyed by Ding Ding’s “inability to correctly grasp the spirit of the guidance”—the man was a journalism major, after all, his head still full of his journalistic principles, plus his girlfriend’s leanings…
It seemed the propaganda department would be better off run by someone from the propaganda apparatus. In the future, it would be best for Comrade Ding Ding to focus on being the editor-in-chief of the newspaper, a job that was both professionally suitable and had a future.
A few days later, under the arrangement of the General Office, Zhang Yunmi boarded a regular liner of the Great Wave Shipping Company bound for Hong Kong. As a Senator, she was escorted by guards dispatched by the General Office and stayed in the most luxurious stern cabin of the H800. And among the passengers in the steerage below deck was a certain Second Young Master, Huang Binkun.
Huang Binkun’s destination was not Hong Kong; he didn’t even know a place called Hong Kong existed in the world. He was going to Guangzhou.
The idea of fleeing to the mainland had long been on his mind, but Huang Binkun had never acted on it—there were too many affairs at home. Ever since Old Master Huang became a county councilor, he was never home, busy with tours, studies, and meetings. Not only that, but every now and then he had to respond to the various “campaigns” of the Cropped-Hair Bandits—as a county councilor, he had to set an example. So, one moment it was the “Exterminate Rats and Pests Campaign,” the next it was the “Clean Countryside Campaign,” and recently it was the “Every Household Plants a Fen of Castor Beans Campaign.” The Huang family had to respond every time, mobilizing the entire village for the campaigns. His elder brother had to manage the family business, so he had to shoulder more of these miscellaneous tasks.
The village and the house were also in disarray. His elder brother’s several children came in and out every day with paper flags on bamboo sticks and buckets of lime wash, painting slogans all over the Huang family village. It annoyed him to no end.
Fortunately, at this time, a distant relative of the Huang family from the mainland wanted to move to Lingao. Huang Binkun took the opportunity to get himself an errand and went to Guangzhou.
After drifting at sea for a few days, Huang Binkun felt the exhilarating sense of escaping a cage. No matter how powerful the Cropped-Hair Bandits were in Hainan, they were few in number and had little land. The great Ming had held the Mandate of Heaven for over two hundred years, possessed the wealth of the world, and was benevolent and virtuous. There would surely be righteous men to restore the fallen land.
Huang Binkun had hoped that after arriving in Guangzhou, he could maneuver his way into the staff of some high-ranking local official. With his knowledge of the Cropped-Hair Bandits’ internal affairs, he could influence his patron and colleagues to petition the court to strictly enforce the maritime ban, thereby shaking the foundation of the bandits.
However, he soon learned the meaning of “ideals are plump, but reality is bony.” Just as the ship passed Hong Kong Island, he saw ships flying the blue and white double-star flag, chugging back and forth in the bay, spewing black smoke. In the distance were the bandits’ giant warships, their black hulls seeming to cover a large patch of the sea. But there was not a shadow of the Ming navy to be seen. The fishermen all flew the bandits’ fishing flags to catch fish, and many small boats constantly approached the bandits’ ships to sell fresh vegetables and wine. This scene made Huang Binkun feel anxious. The majestic Pearl River Estuary of the great Ming had become the bandits’ domain, and the Ming officials could only stand by and watch. It seemed that even if everything went smoothly for him in Guangzhou, it would take ten years of accumulation to restore Lingao. Not to mention, just building up a fleet of these giant ships would take several years.
When the ship docked, Huang Binkun’s anxiety sank to the bottom. The traces of fire on the Five Rams Courier Station had not yet been repaired. Outside the southeast city wall stood a giant fortress by the river, built in the style of the bandits’ forts. Below the fortress walls was a wharf, where countless large ships of the bandits were moored. Cranes spewing black smoke lifted all kinds of goods from the ships.
Inside and outside the giant fortress, scaffolding was everywhere. A wide road had already been paved from the city gate, using the same black coal cinder as in Lingao. Not only was it paved flat, but trees had also been planted along the roadside—although the saplings were small, they were neatly arranged in rows. A few scattered houses and shops had appeared along the road. There was an endless stream of pedestrians: small merchants in simple short shirts, groups of laborers in coarse cloth clothes, and even some ornate sedan chairs, carried by bearers, swaying their way towards the giant fortress. Who knew who was inside. This scene reminded Huang Binkun of when the bandits first arrived in Lingao: building their stockade at Bairen and establishing the market at Dongmen. Huang Binkun sighed to himself: Is what happened in Lingao going to be repeated in Guangzhou?
Huang Binkun, carrying his luggage, slowly disembarked. The thrill of escaping a cage was gone, replaced by a sense of bewilderment. In Guangzhou, the bandits had obviously not yet taken over the county administration as openly as in Lingao, but it seemed that the process of “barbarians transforming China” was being re-enacted in Guangzhou.
As usual, the wharf was crowded with innkeepers soliciting customers.
“Sir, looking for a place to stay? Our inn is clean and tidy, with convenient water facilities!”
“Sir, our inn is part of the Qiwei Inn chain! No other inn in Guangzhou can compare…”
“Sir, the latest Guangzhou travel guide—get one! Comes with a free pleasure-seeker’s map!”
…
The touts at the wharf shouted. Huang Binkun disgustedly pushed away the touts and peddlers who swarmed him. The city gate was much as he remembered it. He had been to Guangzhou as a youth, and his impression was of a prosperous and wealthy city, the first city of the south. The neatness of the streets and the prosperity of the market had greatly impressed the young man from a remote and desolate small county.
But now, as he walked into the city, he suddenly felt a little disappointed. There were still blackened marks from a fire on the city gate, said to have been set by the bandits when they laid siege to the city. Although the city had roads paved with bluestone slabs, compared to the roads in Lingao’s county town now, these bluestone slabs were neither flat nor neatly laid, making for a rather poor sight. And many of the side roads and alleys had not even stone slabs, let alone gravel, just dirt paths that left one’s feet muddy.
The shops along the streets also looked gray and dusty, and the goods inside seemed crude. The walls were stained with urine and piled with garbage. Sewage flowed freely. He looked at these shops with some disdain, feeling that they were not only less magnificent than he remembered but also rather shabby.
What he found even more unacceptable was that by the roadside, at the foot of the walls, and in every nook and cranny, there were remnants and traces of human waste. Some frail beggars lay right next to the filth, stretching out their withered arms to beg from passersby. There hadn’t been any beggars in Lingao County for a long time. Anyone who was a person could find work—even the disabled were given jobs. Those who were unwilling to work were forced to do so in the labor camps. Although Huang Binkun had his complaints about the bandits, he wholeheartedly approved of their policy of not tolerating “idlers.”
The local officials are truly incompetent! Huang Binkun cursed silently. But the filthy streets and the beggars in the corners also clearly told him that the bandits had not yet fully extended their reach into Guangzhou city. Within ten households, there must be loyalty and faith. There must be righteous men who will not bow to the bandits’ tyranny. At this thought, Huang Binkun’s spirits lifted slightly, and he strode through the streets of Guangzhou. I will find the loyalists who oppose the bandits, I will unite the gentry who have been extorted by the bandits, I will persuade the merchants and craftsmen, build ships and train soldiers—
The more Huang Binkun thought, the more excited he became, and his steps grew lighter. Suddenly, his foot stepped on something that felt cool yet warm, hard yet soft. He looked down and saw a fresh, steaming pile of runny dung. Huang Binkun stamped his foot and cried out, “Aiya!! How unlucky! What am I to do?!”
The people on the street looked strangely at this grumbling fellow: Is he sick?