Chapter 1266 - Aftermath

Nanhai Experimental Farm contained a small residential area built for naturalized Agricultural Committee employees. These were standard dormitories constructed by the General Construction Company—tube-shaped apartment blocks reminiscent of older designs. Wu Nanhai and several fellow Senators working in the Committee had carved out a patch of land on one side of this area and erected the Agricultural Committee Senator Dormitories.

The apartment buildings resembled residential structures from the 1980s, though only two stories tall. Their layout approximated townhouses: eight units per row, two floors per unit, with a small courtyard attached. Usable area ranged from eighty to one hundred twenty square meters.

Wu Nanhai had applied for a large unit and drawn Unit 404 in Building 4. The entire "villa" featured four bedrooms, one living room, two bathrooms, and one kitchen—a hundred twenty square meters of usable space. The interior had simple whitewashed walls; living room and bedrooms were floored with bamboo, while bathroom and kitchen featured tile. Wu Nanhai had chosen the sanitary ware himself: a blue-and-white porcelain set. The kitchen had a multi-burner stove. All were unified renovations by the General Office. Furniture and décor were configured by the Senators according to personal taste. For safety, these apartments—like those in Bairen New City—were supplied with electricity and equipped with electric lights and power outlets.

Wu Nanhai's home was decorated in an entirely traditional style. A large south-facing room on the second floor served as the master bedroom. A rosewood canopy bed with hanging flower pillars occupied the room's deepest recess. Beside it stood three layers of five stacked large official chests. A huanghuali shelf held hanging clothes. A Chinese-style dressing table rested against one wall, inlaid with a large glass mirror produced in Lingao. A flat-top desk occupied the room's center, upon which sat a mechanical alarm clock purchased from Taobao. Adding two round stools, this was the sum of the master bedroom's furnishings. Wu Nanhai had bought most of these pieces from the Planning Agency's loot warehouse—trophies from past campaigns. The canopy bed, for example, was said to have been confiscated from a wealthy household in Sanliang City, Guangdong, during the Pearl River Estuary Campaign. The official chests and shelves had been seized during the Hainan Pacification Campaign. When distributing apartment units this time, the Planning Agency had specially sorted through a batch of furniture from the warehouse to auction to the Senators.

Because rumors circulated that the former owners of this furniture had been killed, few people wanted to buy. Moreover, many Senators preferred modern furnishings simply out of habit. But ordering modern furniture required booking at least six months in advance, and actual delivery dates remained indefinite due to priority production for the Engine Plan. Wu Nanhai's religious beliefs left him unbothered by the rumors, and he genuinely liked this "retro" aesthetic. He bought the lot cheaply and used it to outfit his apartment.

After washing up in the bathroom, Wu Nanhai settled into a folding chair in the living room and picked up the clear tea on the Eight Immortals table for a sip. The publications to which every Senator was automatically subscribed by the Propaganda Department lay arranged on the table. Usually this meant only the Lingao Times, but today being Monday, the weekly internal publications accompanied it: Weekly Trends and Morning Star. These were the most important "Two Journals and One Newspaper" of the Lingao propaganda apparatus. Among them, Morning Star—a theoretical journal—was restricted to Senators and classified as confidential material, not to be circulated externally. Weekly Trends was open to high-ranking naturalized citizens.

Wu Nanhai opened Weekly Trends. In addition to the Senate's current proposals and topics, the Executive Committee's work plans, projects, and execution progress, the journal contained a compilation of important recent events from the Senate-ruled territories, the Ming Dynasty, and greater East Asia.

He skipped the ongoing series of reports on Operation Overlord—the final episode was published today. Military affairs held little interest for him. His gaze fell instead on the appendix: the latest tally of captured booty compiled by the Planning Agency:

"...In Operation Overlord, a total of 340,000 shi of grain was seized, along with 1.1 million taels of silver and silver products of various purities, and 20,000 taels of gold and gold products. Jewelry and soft goods filled forty standard fifty-liter transport boxes. Ten thousand bolts of silk, five thousand piculs of raw silk, and three thousand piculs of old raw silk were recovered. Ten thousand piculs of various spices, fifty-five thousand pieces of porcelain, thirty thousand bolts of cotton cloth, and two thousand bolts of woolens were seized. Miscellaneous goods are countless; specific categories and quantities remain under tally.

Two hundred eighty thousand catties of firearms, cannonballs, incendiaries, swords, and spears were recovered, along with one hundred fifty thousand catties of various metal materials including copper, iron, and lead..."

The Planning Agency has made a windfall this time, Wu Nanhai reflected. Had the newspaper not reported that the Zhongzuo Garrison docks burned down, the haul would likely be even larger. The chronic shortages of money and material that had plagued operations since the Engine Plan's launch should now be considerably relieved. The requisition for large agricultural machinery he had submitted long ago might finally be approved.

More importantly, at least a large population had been taken. These people, looted from Fujian, could be used to bolster Kaohsiung. The climate and environment of Taiwan remained challenging for northern refugees to adapt to; supplementing them with a Minnan-origin population already accustomed to such conditions would benefit the Development Group enormously. Wu Nanhai knew the Executive Committee had high expectations for the agricultural development of the Tainan area; they were determined to transform the Tainan Plain into the Senate's granary. He had to produce results.

But the population loss in Tainan had been severe. Northern immigrants struggled with the local conditions. Though strict disease control measures were enforced, death and illness rates among immigrants in the Kaohsiung development remained stubbornly high. Now, with these tens of thousands of Minnan people, Tainan's agricultural development should receive a major boost.

Though the "Two Journals" contained only a few pages, their information density was formidable. Wu Nanhai merely browsed them over breakfast to grasp the general trends; detailed study would wait for the quiet of night. He then picked up the day's Lingao Times.

The layout of the current Lingao Times had grown increasingly professional. Each issue comprised two broadsheet sheets, totaling sixteen pages. Internal and external editions had been merged. The content leaned toward editorials, policy publicity, and popular science. Today's front-page headline was a long report on Operation Overlord: "Calming the Seas and Pacifying the Waves," printed in the largest available font. Beside it ran a special commentator's article in bold type: "Establish a New Maritime Order, Promote Great Economic Development."

Wu Nanhai had little heart to read through it—he had already digested the content in Weekly Trends, which was more detailed and closer to the truth. He turned to Section B. The lead article was a commentary approving the Jeju Island Model, signed by the byline "Heroine Yaolong"—that is, Du Wen. The entire piece was remarkable in its unqualified affirmation and praise. Compared to Du Wen's typically lengthy polemics, this editorial was truly unusual.

Beneath it, however, ran a feature story: "The High-Spirited Lieutenant Colonel Shi Zhiqi."

Reported by Lingao Times Intern Reporter Ge Sanpang

Today marks the day of the assault on Zhongzuo Garrison City. At sea, the sun blazes bright and the waves run high. Lieutenant Colonel Shi Zhiqi, the eternal helmsman of the Marine First Expeditionary Detachment, insisted on landing with the Marines to personally command the battle. Upon hearing this, the company commanders of the Expeditionary Detachment were thrown into disarray, uncertain how to proceed. They counseled restraint, warning that the seas were exceptionally rough and charging ashore by boat was perilous. Lieutenant Colonel Shi Zhiqi responded heroically: "I love riding our Marine landing craft above all else. You say the waves are rough and the charge will be difficult, but charging without fear of danger demonstrates the blood courage of our Marines. As commander of the First Expeditionary Detachment, I should fight shoulder to shoulder with my men all the more." He declared his intention to plunge into the vast ranks of the Marines and become one with them. There was no need for concern, he said. Set sail. Upon hearing this, the commanders gazed at Chief Shi with tears in their eyes and reverence in their hearts, silently resolving to take Zhongzuo Garrison City.

And so, Lieutenant Colonel Shi Zhiqi boarded a landing craft, riding the wind and breaking the waves toward the surging sea...

"Look! How swiftly our Marines are advancing, taking on a completely new aspect..."

"Our Navy's combat readiness is flawless."

Lieutenant Colonel Shi Zhiqi stood on the swaying, spray-lashed deck, surveying the departure of the First Expeditionary Detachment with evident satisfaction. He remained on station, speaking to our reporters, outlining programmatic guidelines for the further development of Marine military power to the commanders accompanying him. At that moment, a colossal wave struck—surging toward them with such force it seemed ready to swallow the little boat whole. The commanders earnestly implored Lieutenant Colonel Shi Zhiqi to steady himself immediately. Yet he stood as though nailed to the deck, a javelin leaning on his command saber. He said: "Do not worry about me. Continue sailing." The men aboard gazed admiringly at the Lieutenant Colonel's pine-straight back, their eyes moistening once again.

Lieutenant Colonel Shi Zhiqi declared that to understand the life of the Expeditionary Detachment, one must come to the sea and observe how they struggle against the surging waves.

The wave crests climbed higher. The wind grew more violent. Spray rushed at the vessel, shaking the hull violently. Even those well-trained Marines found it difficult to keep their footing. Lieutenant Colonel Shi Zhiqi's clothes were soaked by the spray, yet he remained unmoved. At that moment, he was the sea-calming needle of the First Expeditionary Detachment.

Drawing near. As the landing craft approached the beach, Lieutenant Colonel Shi Zhiqi ordered the First Expeditionary Detachment to disembark. At that instant, the Voight-Kampff Army military correspondents leapt from the vessel first. They carried cameras, prepared to capture the moving scene of Lieutenant Colonel Shi Zhiqi wading ashore. Lieutenant Colonel Shi Zhiqi—pipe clenched between his teeth, command saber at his waist—held his head high and chest out as the seawater rose to his knees... What a stirring sight! The photographers immortalized the moment in good time. The distance from landing craft to shore was merely a matter of dozens of steps, yet Lieutenant Colonel Shi Zhiqi's heart overflowed with a thousand emotions: "Though I walked only dozens of steps to reach land, these are the most far-reaching steps of my life. When I finished those steps and stood upon the beach, I knew the Marine First Expeditionary Detachment is invincible. We came to strike down the enemies of the Senate—for upon the corpses of our foes shines the glorious badge of the First Expeditionary Detachment!"

Wu Nanhai set down the newspaper, his expression flat. "These Propaganda people must have graduated from North Korean Propaganda Academy."

(End of Chapter)