Chapter 63: A Little Training
Guo Yi emerged from the infirmary with a tetanus shot in his arm and several fresh stitches in his scalp. Hippo had initially wanted to set up an IV drip with antibiotics to ward off infection, but then remembered they had no way to resupply—and besides, Ming Dynasty bacteria had never encountered modern drugs and therefore had no resistance. In the end, he grudgingly dispensed a few pills and sent Guo Yi on his way.
Stepping outside for fresh air, Guo Yi spotted Xue Ziliang perched on a rock near the medical tent, sullenly smoking. The man had already been treated and sent back from the dock. Salina, whose condition was more serious, had been transferred to the ship's infirmary. Xue Ziliang had tried to follow her aboard, but no amount of shouting or gesticulating at the dock had moved the guard, Ye Mengyan, to let him onto the launch.
"I'm her colleague! I have a right to know what's happening! I protest!"
"I also most strongly protest and deeply regret this situation," Ye Mengyan replied, his acne flushing bright red. "But no boarding the ship. That's the rule."
Xue Ziliang fumed in silence for a moment before blurting out, "I demand to see your superiors!"
"Leadership is busy—they're in a meeting discussing problems." Ye Mengyan's voice was flat, almost bored. "You should return to the infirmary. I advise you not to continue down this erroneous path."
Xue Ziliang studied the guard's stance, noting how amateurish it was—the man could barely hold his rifle properly. One move and I'd have you on the ground in three seconds, he thought furiously. But arrogant as he was, he wasn't stupid. Making a scene here wouldn't earn any "American friends" special treatment. He watched the launch pull farther from shore, then, having nowhere else to go, trudged back to the infirmary and squatted against the wall to wait for Guo Yi—currently his only acquaintance in this madness.
"Guo, what are we supposed to do?" The ABC looked utterly lost. "I never expected to end up like some American in King Arthur's court!" (Note: A reference to Mark Twain's satirical novel in which an American travels back to medieval England and defeats knights with barbed wire, machine guns, and poison gas—possibly the ancestor of modern transmigration fiction.)
"Just accept it and move on." Though Guo Yi himself was far from recovered from this upheaval, seeing Xue Vinnie's dejected face stirred a small, mean satisfaction in him. He immediately felt guilty—that sounded like wishing death on Salina, who was clearly closer to Xue than to himself.
As for his own situation—even as the suturing needle had pierced his skin, his mind had already been calculating his future. A proper civil servant knew that actively aligning oneself with the organization was essential for advancement, no matter the era.
Regarding the Crossing Company's leadership, Guo Yi had compiled files on all of them back in the other world. The head honcho was Wen Desi. There was Wang Luobin, an industrial engineer, and Xiao Zishan, an unemployed sales manager, among others.
These people—before all this, Guo Yi could have summoned any one of them with a single phone call. Tell them to appear at eight o'clock, and they wouldn't have dared arrive at 8:01. Now, obviously, he couldn't even reach them, let alone schedule an appointment. They had become Politburo Standing Committee-level figures in this strange new order. A true monkey coronation, he thought bitterly.
After much deliberation, Guo Yi decided his best move was to seek out Ran Yao—at least they were acquainted, and as Security Group Leader, Ran obviously held a leadership position. Coming from the police system himself, Guo Yi figured that made them professionally compatible. Not knowing how to find the man, he wandered aimlessly through the camp. It turned out to be easy enough—after asking a few people, his lack of an armband drew the attention of vigilant camp residents, who promptly seized him and delivered him straight to the Security Group. Directly to Ran Yao.
The Security Group office occupied a newly erected tent near the power station, clustered with other administrative tents around the distribution room outside the patrol office—an inadvertent bureaucratic zone. The Security tent stood at the perimeter. A guard sat by the entrance wearing a "Security" armband, a Type 54 pistol holstered at one hip in what appeared to be faux leather and cardboard, a baton at the other. An '80 helmet and riot shield rested at his feet.
Ran Yao was writing something behind a desk when Guo Yi entered. He showed no surprise at the visitor's arrival.
"Sit."
Guo Yi surveyed the small tent. Besides some computers, there were radios plugged in and charging, and several wooden ammunition crates stacked along one wall, their English labels still visible.
"Why'd you come yourself?" Ran Yao slid a card across the desk. "I was going to send someone to deliver your ID. Without documents, camp life is difficult—you can't even get food."
"Thanks." Guo Yi examined the card. Standard employee-badge style, with his photo attached. Besides personal information, it bore a printed barcode. His number was "Lin-0001."
Zero-zero-zero-one, huh. Guo Yi smiled bitterly. "Lin" probably meant "temporary." Clearly, he hadn't been fully accepted by this group he'd been calling "bandits" just hours ago. He'd expected as much, but it still stung. He struggled to find the right words—his face hadn't been toughened enough yet for this kind of groveling.
"Since this is another timespace, and we can't go back... I'd still like to work for the organization. Contribute what I can." The words came out halting, awkward.
"Want to join the Security Group?" Ran Yao gave a knowing nod.
"Yes. I think my expertise would be relevant here." Guo Yi found his footing now, launching into his education and work history with growing confidence. Ran Yao was probably from criminal investigation; specialized state-security personnel were rare—men like Guo Yi were unique. If the twenty-first century needed talent, the seventeenth century surely needed it even more.
"Here's the situation," Ran Yao said, his tone approving. "Someone with your background—our Security Group would welcome warmly. However, your case isn't mine to decide."
"I understand." A trace of bitterness crept into Guo Yi's voice. "A department like Security must require vetting first." He rose abruptly to his feet, saluted, and declared, "I'm willing to accept any organizational examination!"
Ran Yao started at the sudden display. Is this guy traumatized? "Sit, sit. Comrade Xiao Guo, don't get excited."
Guo Yi's face flushed crimson. He sat down quickly. "Sorry, I just—"
"No problem, no problem." Ran Yao produced a sheet of paper. "Per the Internal Affairs Committee's orders, you're currently assigned to the Human Resources Group. Every morning you'll receive a work order with your assignment. Take this to the Planning Committee office to collect your things."
He stood, wearing what seemed a sincere smile, and patted Guo Yi's shoulder. "Comrade Xiao Guo, honestly, I'd love to have you here immediately. But rules are rules. Before your status is regularized, get some training at other posts first. It's all serving the revolution."
On the dirt track leading to Survey Point 4 near Bairren Rapids, a Beijing 212 jeep bounced along at speed. Inside rode Wang Luobin—the Committee member in overall charge of technical matters—along with Mei Wan and Li Xiaolu from the Construction Engineering Group.
The vehicle lurched over the rough ground. This wasn't really a road yet, just some passable stretches the Engineering Group had temporarily marked for the Bopu–Bairren Rapids highway survey.
Since the survey had begun that morning, Wang Luobin had traveled between these points several times, sometimes by car, sometimes on foot. In the grand plan, Bairren Rapids would become the transmigrators' main production and living base. The location offered tremendous advantages: it sat beside the Wenlan River—Lingao's largest—providing convenient access for industrial and domestic water supply and drainage. In modern times, this very spot housed the Bairren Rapids hydroelectric station. If a power station could be built in the twentieth century, one could certainly be built in the seventeenth. Establishing their base near a future power station would allow local power use, eliminating the enormous costs of running power lines and maintaining them. Bairren Rapids lay eight kilometers from Bopu Port and four from the Lingao County seat—all three positions could support one another. Aligned along the Wenlan River, the three bases would facilitate control of the farmland on both banks.
But to develop Bairren Rapids, massive quantities of equipment and supplies had to reach the site. The Bopu–Bairren Rapids simple highway had thus become a top-priority project.
The car jolted badly. Wang Luobin gazed out the window at the passing scenery, listening to the wind howl past, and felt a deep stirring of purpose. He'd traveled this route all day. He didn't actually understand surveying or road construction, but he grasped the project's difficulty. The Construction Engineering Group concentrated all the transmigrators' surveying, planning, and construction personnel—each with specific expertise, capable of thriving in a specialized modern society. Here, where generalists were desperately needed, they struggled. Today's discussions on surveying and road design had already exposed numerous problems. But the transmigrators needed this road. As the Commissioner of Industry, Communications, Energy, and Transportation, he had to coordinate this first project under his command while simultaneously training his team—the Committee needed construction talent. The more he thought about it, the more motivated he became. He pulled out his pocket notebook and began jotting down ideas.
Wang Luobin glanced over at Li Xiaolu. She had turned up her collar, her head tucked in, apparently dozing. He smiled slightly. This woman seemed somewhat listless—she rarely spoke during work—but her output was consistently excellent.
The car gave another violent lurch, and Li Xiaolu woke with a start.
Mei Wan, at the wheel, eased off the accelerator and the ride smoothed out. Wang Luobin took the opportunity to ask, "Engineer Li, based on your preliminary survey, how should we approach building this road?"
Li Xiaolu straightened in her seat. "The route isn't particularly difficult. There's gradient, but it's gentle—relatively flat terrain overall. The main problem is that our maps are all modern, and actual surveying shows significant discrepancies with conditions on the ground. We can't do desktop route selection."
Mei Wan chimed in from the driver's seat. "So right now we're basically correcting the map before we can mark the route."
"Exactly," Li Xiaolu said. "If the map were accurate, I could spend a few hours tonight on desktop route selection. Tomorrow we'd do on-site selection, mark everything out, and start construction."
As things stood, her survey team had mapped only three kilometers. A professional survey team required at least seven people; the Committee had given her twelve, but most of them knew nothing about surveying. She'd had to teach from scratch—how to set lines, hold ranging poles, read levels. The survey team had become a teaching team. All morning they'd covered less than five hundred meters. In the afternoon, once everyone had grown more familiar with their tasks, progress had finally accelerated.
(End of Chapter)