Chapter 1511 - The New Job
Learning she had been assigned to the National Police initially left Li Yongxun dispirited. She had seen the "police" on the streets of East Gate Market—conical hats, black uniforms with leggings, white truncheons hanging at their waists. They handled not only theft and robbery but even petty quarrels, littering, and spitting. They "meddled in more affairs than dogs." In terms of their responsibilities, they were essentially yamen constables—base servants through and through.
"You don't understand," Ke Yun said, seeing her gloom and guessing her thoughts. "The National Police is not a county yamen's constable squad—it's a genuine enforcement organ directly under the Yuan Elder Court. Police are not 'base people.' Our Great Song Australian Provisional Capital has no such thing as base people. This position is not one just anyone can hold; countless naturalized citizens are scrambling for it."
"Then... do police count as officials?" Li Yongxun asked pitifully.
"Of course! After you join, you'll be commissioned as a probationary sergeant. After three months, you'll be promoted to second-class sergeant—that means you're formally enrolled, a proper 'cadre' under the Yuan Elder Court. You'll receive a monthly salary and various allowances, and uniforms issued every year... Tell me, do Ming yamen runners have any of that?"
Yamen runners, apart from the "squad leaders," were either registered "on-the-books" runners or unofficial hangers-on "doing public work." Far from being officials, they did not even count as established clerks. As for wages and benefits, the yamen never considered such things.
Li Yongxun was swayed. "Official status" was immensely attractive; even a sesame-seed official was still an official. She had long envied Ke Yun's uniform and the grave, composed, authoritative manner she displayed when on duty—an entirely different "dignity" from Ming officials.
Her own flying fish robe, spring-embroidered saber, and waist badge were, in the end, mere play—not to be taken seriously. A police position in Lingao was solid, real—genuinely "official," genuinely "public service."
Besides, even if she were unwilling, what choice did she have in this Australian lair? Ke Yun's remark about Ziming Tower "needing staff" still echoed in her ears.
"But I wanted to be at the Courier Bureau, like you, Elder Sister..." Li Yongxun sighed, gazing at Ke Yun's black uniform.
Ke Yun smiled. "There's plenty of time. Take it slow."
And so Li Yongxun formally became a policewoman. First she completed a "Civil Service Entry Registration Form," then she was sent to the "Police Administration Study Class" at Fangtso Di. Because the National Police was then undergoing expansion and the policing system was being overhauled, large numbers of personnel were urgently needed. Li Yongxun was already literate and numerate and had "family training"; hence, rather than the three-month police short course, she was enrolled in the year-long police administration program.
During her studies, the thought of writing home or to her elder sister in Foshan crossed her mind several times. But remembering Ke Yun's warning, she shrank back. Besides, how would she even send such letters? The postal service was in Australian hands, and she knew no one here to entrust with messages. The matter was set aside.
A year of study at Fangtso Di changed her greatly. She graduated with excellent marks and was promptly assigned to the Household Registration Division. Her rank was promoted to probationary assistant.
Work in the division was tedious and monotonous. Though she wore the black uniform she had once envied, her days were spent on paperwork. Because the Central Administrative Council had begun building an island-wide household registration system, torrents of census data flooded into the division. Merely compiling the household files kept the entire division drowning.
Originally, Ran Yao and others had hoped the "Yellow Registers," the household census books seized from county and prefectural yamen archives, might provide some reference. The result was just as the Great Library staff had predicted: "After consulting them, we're even more confused." Compiled up through the tenth-something year of Tianqi, the Yellow Registers offered no detailed census data whatsoever—they were, in fact, a "Book of the Dead," filled with citizens listed as one hundred and fifty years old.
After sampling the Yellow Registers, Li Yongxun's already dwindling affection for the Ming shrank further. Besides the newly trained officers, the division also employed a few retained county household-registration clerks. Even these old foxes had to admit that the Australians were far more meticulous and methodical than themselves—in a word, the system the Australians had brought and implemented was leagues beyond the ancestral secrets passed down by oral tradition that they had treasured as arcane lore.
Though Li Yongxun had complaints about her work, from childhood she had absorbed the principle that in officialdom, one rank higher meant life or death. A year of rigorous police training had instilled in her a habit of obedience. Moreover, though Ke Yun no longer appeared as often as before, she still visited every week or two to chat—clearly, her "supervision" had not ended. If Li Yongxun did not take care to blend into the Australian system, Ziming Tower still "awaited" her.
Amid the monotony, there were small diversions. At the Police Administration School, Li Yongxun had been required to take the course "Interrogation Studies," taught by Zhou Dongtian himself. After graduation, she began "part-time service" at the Interrogation Division.
This "part-time" work was not daily. When a messenger silently delivered a "Temporary Overtime Notice," Li Yongxun knew she would be busy that night.
Li Yongxun's part-time work was "interrogation"—or, to put it plainly, torture.
The Interrogation Division was located in the basement beneath the atrium. The thick leather-padded door was always closed. To enter, one rang a bell; a small hatch in the door would open, revealing the guard's scrutinizing eyes.
Unauthorized personnel could not enter. Even Li Yongxun, who regularly came for part-time work, could not enter without an overtime slip.
Beyond that door lay another staircase, spiraling down to the basement. At the bottom was an iron-barred gate guarded by a sentry. While waiting for it to open, one sometimes heard piercing screams; otherwise, only the hum of ventilation ducts.
Past the iron gate was a long, vaulted corridor, lit day and night by gas lamps. The floor was terrazzo, with drainage gutters along both sides; the walls were tiled. On either side were doors padded with thick leather and fitted with peepholes.
Following the instructions on her notice, Li Yongxun entered one of the rooms to begin her "assisted interrogation" work.
The subjects included both men and women. Women were one thing—Li Yongxun's family tradition included the Brocade Guard's secret techniques of "women's torture," specifically designed to torment and extract confessions from female prisoners. But torturing men had taken some getting used to—especially when they were stark naked.
Though uncomfortable, she did not hesitate when working. Her father had always said: "Work is work; no need to think. Do as your superiors command." Director Zhou, who had lectured her, put it differently: "Prisoners have no gender."
Li Yongxun worked diligently. With family training and "modern refinement," once she got the hang of things, her techniques improved rapidly. Not only were her fundamentals solid, but she had a psychological edge: in a deeply patriarchal society, being stripped naked and tortured by a young woman was a profound humiliation for many. Their breakdown came all the faster. She soon earned a modest reputation in the basement—even the retained constables from Qiongzhou's prefectural and county yamen, old hands at the work, regarded this girl with new respect. She really did have a knack.
Some had already guessed she must be from a "public servant" family—those special skills she occasionally displayed were not something ordinary folk possessed. Following Ke Yun's orders, Li Yongxun never breathed a word about her origins or family.
The sense of accomplishment from night overtime provided small relief from her tedious daily duties. Overtime was exhausting, but it came with a perk: bonus pay fifty percent higher than regular overtime. For Li Yongxun, who had once had no concept of money, this had become quite important.
After officially joining the National Police, Li Yongxun moved into the dormitory zone for single officers. There was no rent—only water and gas bills. Police Headquarters also issued meal vouchers based on shift schedules, so food costs were minimal. As a single woman with no family to support, she should have been well off.
Yet every month she scraped by. Li Yongxun, like all young people who had left family supervision and begun independent life in a big city, had quickly lost herself in Lingao's prosperity.
Her hometown Nanjing was, of course, also a rare and magnificent metropolis of the age. But in material abundance it could not compare with Lingao. Here, delicious and amusing and useful things glittered in every shop window, and the social atmosphere that allowed women to roam and spend freely lured her ever deeper into the consumerist trap.
Having never wanted for food or clothing, she lacked any anxiety about money. With no family in Lingao to support, she was careless with her purse.
First came perfumes, cosmetics, and trinkets; then all manner of foods she had never tasted; then she developed a fondness for buying various "magazines." Lately, it was clothes—though she wore her uniform nearly every day, being a woman she had an inborn passion for fashion. In the past, East Gate Market's ready-made clothing selection had been sparse, mostly work uniforms in various styles. Later, to liquidate war spoils and recirculate currency, the Lingao Garment Factory began intentionally producing and releasing modern-style "fashions": some adapted from contemporary patterns, others "improved Hanfu" designed by Hanfu enthusiasts.
And so Li Yongxun became one of Lingao's "moonlight clan"—spending every cent of her paycheck each month. Basement overtime had become an eagerly anticipated supplement to her income.