Chapter 1607 - A Temporary Setback
"Director Zhao, the Elder Council has authorized the formation of a special committee to conduct a comprehensive review of all powerful agencies, with particular emphasis on your Political Security Bureau. What are your thoughts on this?" Panpan asked, notepad in hand, looking at the portly Zhao Manxiong behind his desk.
"I'm the Executive Vice Director," Zhao Manxiong corrected gently with a nod. "We naturally welcome this with open arms and will cooperate fully."
"So you're saying your department will be completely open to the Investigation Committee, with nothing held back?"
"The Political Security Bureau has nothing to hide from the Elders at large."
"Are you certain of that?"
"Yes, quite certain." He appeared entirely at ease.
"In that case, how will you ensure this investigation is thoroughly open and transparent?"
"To ensure complete openness and transparency, the Political Security Bureau's archives room and all offices will be open to members of the Investigation Committee. They will be able to review any materials and interview any staff member—so long as proper procedures are followed." Zhao Manxiong leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced over his ample belly. "We will fully cooperate with the investigation. Without reservation."
Panpan found this hard to believe—his composure was almost too perfect. Could the fat man have some card up his sleeve? Cheng Yongxin had told her many times about the Political Security Bureau's blackmail files, and she had been eager to break this "major scandal" worthy of Watergate, but had never found an opening.
The formation of a committee specifically targeting the Political Security Bureau had immediately excited her. Though she hadn't been selected by lot as an investigator, as an important figure in the Propaganda sector, she had been granted full interview access.
The blackmail files must have already been hidden or destroyed—that's why the fat man is so calm. Panpan felt a twinge of disappointment. She decided to go on the offensive:
"According to certain sources: the Political Security General Administration has been illegally collecting personal blackmail files on Elders. Do you have any comment?"
"That is naturally absurd. The Political Security Bureau has always been committed to serving the Elder Council and the people, serving the entire enterprise of the Elder Council. Any slander of our work is base and shameless. We reserve the right to pursue legal action against such rumors."
A standard official response—flawless. Panpan closed her notebook. "Thank you for the interview."
"Not at all, not at all," Zhao Manxiong rose to see her out. "Take care."
Watching her close the office door, Zhao Manxiong picked up the phone: "Please have all division heads come to my office."
"All right, comrades, the Investigation Committee will be arriving soon," Zhao Manxiong addressed the division heads seated before his desk. "I won't say more than necessary. Above all, do not show any resistance. Smile—yes, smile..."
"This job is impossible," Zhou Botao muttered. "Our Political Security Bureau has no real power—any operation of any size requires involving the police, and we don't even have our own operational force. But when something goes wrong, we're the ones taking the blame..."
"Our Political Security Bureau works ourselves half to death, and our achievements go unseen while our failures are on full display. No wonder Old Zhou preferred being a printer-cum-cop to working here."
Wu Mu also vented: "They say we have power? Bullshit! What do we have here besides idealism? Some people complain day and night that we have too much power—there are directors everywhere in Bairren City; what does ours amount to?" He had borne the brunt of this investigation and been targeted by a barrage of attacks. Everyone knew he was finished, and those with ambitions were lining up to kick him while he was down. The title "Second Coming of Dugu Qiuhun" was already being pinned on him.
Zhao Manxiong maintained his gentle smile and listened to his subordinates' complaints for five minutes: "Comrades, complaining solves nothing. You've known all along: this is work that requires ideals. Only ideals can keep you going. What is this little setback compared to our ideals? Comrades, we are growing stronger day by day, maturing day by day. It's normal that some people feel threatened—try to understand."
Wu Mu asked: "And regarding the investigation into our work?"
"Whatever they want to know, tell them. Whatever they want to see, show them. We have nothing to hide," Zhao Manxiong said. "However, all file reviews, copying of materials, and conversations must leave a paper trail. Conversations in particular must have audio recordings or transcripts signed by all parties. Non-committee members and those outside the relevant scope may not conduct cross-boundary investigations."
"Understood."
"Get back to work, all of you. Continue your ongoing assignments." Zhao Manxiong said. "Wu Mu, stay a moment."
"Xiao Wu, I've read your self-criticism," Zhao Manxiong took a document from his desk. "I've made some revisions for you. But my suggestion is that you hold off on submitting it."
"Is that all right?" Wu Mu took it with some hesitation.
"If things develop to that point, you can use this to deliver an oral self-criticism at the meeting—don't submit a written version." Zhao Manxiong said. "Written self-criticisms go into your file..."
"Yes, I understand. Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Zhao Manxiong shifted his bulky frame in the rattan chair. "An oral self-criticism—don't take it too seriously..."
"I've already mentally prepared myself..."
"Don't burden yourself. You're not Dugu Qiuhun. And even if you were, the organization wouldn't abandon you." Zhao Manxiong said. "We've encountered a temporary setback, but setbacks lead to progress. Wherever you end up working, remember that."
"7648, get up!" A jailer's shout accompanied the sound of an iron door opening as Liu Fuqing walked down the corridor of the single-cell block.
The cell door was already open. The interior was clean—nothing like the filth and stench of Ming dynasty prisons. A relatively young man staggered up from the wooden plank bed and looked weakly at Liu Fuqing, murmuring: "Come to congratulate me, have you?"
"Lin Ming, your case has been cleared," Liu Fuqing said. "You're lucky. You weren't involved."
Lin Ming had been worn down by the relentless interrogation—fortunately, the Shorn Bandits' prison was different from the Ming's: not only clean but free of the wardens' abuse. After the interrogation ended, he had finally been allowed to rest for a few days. He was just beginning to recover. Though his spirit was still low, the words "you're lucky" registered. He started, raised his head, and asked hesitantly: "You mean..."
"That's right—you're fine. You won't die." Liu Fuqing smiled slightly. "Come with me."
Lin Ming looked at the sunlight outside the window and could barely keep his eyes open. How many days had it been since he'd seen the sun? Since his arrest, he had completely lost track of time—day and night he saw only the never-dimmed gaslight.
The Shorn Bandits' interrogation had been an eye-opener for him—though "eye-opener" might be a bitter term to use about himself. But Lin Ming had learned for the first time that there were interrogations that didn't involve whips or instruments of torture. Although from the occasional screams he had overheard, he knew the Shorn Bandits probably had even more terrible instruments than the Ming—he had shamefully broken down completely during the second round of interrogation. He vaguely remembered collapsing on the floor, tears and snot streaming down his face, begging the interrogator to let him close his eyes just for a moment.
What had he confessed? His muddled brain couldn't recall. He had probably told them everything—how many wives and concubines he had, what positions they used in bed... just for the chance to nap, he would have answered anything the Shorn Bandits asked.
But what did the Shorn Bandits want with him now? He understood that their law was extremely harsh. If he had been part of that mysterious colleague's group, he would either have been hanged by now or slowly "worked to death" in the dreaded labor camp.
Since he wasn't connected to the case, he could probably escape that terrible fate. Still, as an Embroidered Guard member who had changed his name and infiltrated Lingao, he couldn't expect to get off easily.
And what about his sister-in-law...
While he was lost in thought, the door opened and a young man walked in. Lin Ming reflexively jumped to his feet.
"Sit down." The visitor was young and unremarkable-looking. "I'm Li Yan, Director of the Great Ming Division of the External Intelligence Bureau."
Lin Ming nodded mechanically. He had no idea what that string of titles meant.
"As a member of the Great Ming Embroidered Guard, you disguised yourself and infiltrated Lingao. You should know what that's called."
"Yes," Lin Ming said meekly. "Chief, I came to Lingao with no ill intent toward the Elder Council whatsoever—purely to find Li Yongxun."
"If you had been sent on a mission, do you think you'd still be sitting here chatting with me in one piece?" The Director of the Great Ming Division gave a cold laugh. "Inspector Lin, it seems you still feel quite aggrieved about your current predicament."
"No, no, I'm not aggrieved," Lin Ming said hastily, bowing his head. "I brought this on myself..."
Li Yan took out a pack of cigarettes: "Want one?"
Lin Ming was not in the habit of smoking tobacco, but for the sake of currying favor, he reached out with trembling hands to accept. Li Yan struck a match to light it. Lin Ming was startled and quickly brought the cigarette to meet the flame.
The smoke was harsh and bitter; Lin Ming coughed uncontrollably. Li Yan smiled: "How is it? Not quite used to it?"
"No, no—in the Ming dynasty I rarely smoked. The court has banned it..."
"This isn't the court's territory. You can smoke as much as you like here," Li Yan said, studying the haggard, gray-faced man before him, who looked like he might blow over in a stiff breeze. This is the man with five wives? Who was also pursuing his sister-in-law? If Liu San's intelligence hadn't confirmed it, Li Yan would have thought Lin Ming was bluffing.