Chapter 1942 - Li Jianai's Secret

To compound her anxieties, Li Jianai's formal employment situation proved equally dispiriting. Graduates from the College of Arts and Sciences typically performed confidential, accounting, and secretarial work—roles that Li Jianai had been duly assigned. Upon her posting to the Tiandihui, she entered the "Key Account Department," which handled not specific agricultural technical services, but rather liaised with clients who had "wholly contracted" their land to the organization. The department provided these contractors with reporting, accounting, and sales support.

For several months now, Li Jianai had been dispatched to Zhangjia Village near the East Gate Market, servicing both the village and nearby key accounts. These temporary postings followed a team structure, with work groups stationed directly at client farms for months at a stretch—remaining through the busy season until both parties' accounts were fully reconciled.

She knew Zhangjia Village operated under Senatorial patronage. A senator named Lu maintained permanent residence there, departing and returning by carriage daily.

Though she had served the "organization" for years, Li Jianai recognized that such service could never match the prestige of attending directly upon a Chief as a personal servant. For graduates of the Maid School, this represented the most natural and desirable career path. While Li Jianai understood her circumstances made selection unlikely—indeed, few of her classmates had been chosen over the past two years—she could not entirely suppress a young woman's romantic aspirations. Initially, she had even entertained some trepidation about being "favored" by this particular Chief, wondering whether her lost organizational contact might herald such a development.

The source of her apprehension lay in certain legends circulating through the Maid School. Though officially dismissed as "rumors," Li Jianai's years serving the Political Security Bureau had honed her ability to distinguish mere gossip from "rumors with ulterior motives." Within days of arriving at Zhangjia Village, she sensed something distinctly oppressive in the atmosphere.

The first indicator was the rigid insider-outsider segregation. As Tiandihui personnel, Li Jianai resided in a purpose-built detached compound alongside the agricultural technicians and mechanics deployed with her, largely cut off from village residents. Those who approached on business kept interactions terse, departing immediately after concluding their affairs without so much as accepting a cup of water. Conversations adhered strictly to practical matters, venturing into no peripheral topics.

The style bore striking resemblance to Political Security Bureau protocols. Yet Li Jianai sensed something deeper at work. Her years as a "hidden cadre" had cultivated an acute sensitivity to human expression and behavior. She soon detected something unmistakable in the eyes and demeanor of these villagers: profound wariness.

Could they somehow know I'm a "hidden cadre"? Is that why they regard me with such suspicion?

Secondly, she recognized that the Chief harbored deep mistrust toward the Tiandihui contingent. He never invited them into the residence proper, nor addressed them personally. All arrangements flowed through his steward.

Her concerns, however, appeared needless. This particular Chief demonstrated zero interest in her whatsoever. Not only did he refuse to see her, he had never once spoken to her face-to-face. Perhaps this spared her the worst-case scenario, though being so obviously unwelcome could hardly be counted as favorable.

Contrary to Li Jianai's assessment, Lu Xuan maintained an intense interest in her—albeit one rooted entirely in vigilance.

When Li Jianai had reported to Zhangjia Village at year's beginning, Lu Xuan's displeasure had been immediate. He harbored longstanding distaste for naturalized citizens from the Maid School, finding them trained to excessive familiarity with Senators, lacking proper deference and distance. His recent conduct had grown considerably more circumspect; he rarely exposed himself unnecessarily. Beyond the village's longtime residents, he no longer recruited personnel or sponsored naturalization candidates. He had also drastically curtailed contact with former "disciples," anxious to eliminate any potential leverage against him.

Since Zhangjia Village's fields were contracted to the Tiandihui, their deployment of on-site service personnel followed naturally enough. Moreover, with the Maid School's reorganization into the College of Arts and Sciences—its curriculum now emphasizing professional skills like accounting and secretarial work—he possessed no legitimate grounds to oppose this girl's assignment. He could, theoretically, exercise a Senator's right of refusal, but such action would draw excessive attention.

His only recourse lay in seamlessly minimizing her contact with village personnel and affairs, abbreviating her time on-site, and keeping her physically distant from both the village and his people.

Fortunately, he had anticipated the Tiandihui service personnel issue years prior, constructing a detached compound specifically for their accommodation and use. When no Tiandihui staff occupied it, the facility served for work requiring outside contact—a measure that minimized interaction between residence inhabitants and external parties.

Three days after Li Jianai reported for duty, Lu Xuan found an opportunity to visit the Tiandihui's Key Account Department. He sought out the supervising official, Dugu Qiuhun, and requested access to Li Jianai's personnel file.

For a Senator to review the file of a naturalized citizen in close working relationship—particularly one who would be working within the Senator's residence—constituted no unreasonable demand. Dugu Qiuhun assented immediately, retrieving Li Jianai's file and presenting it to Lu Xuan.

The file bore the standard seal. The yellow kraft paper envelope appeared unremarkably thin, suggesting nothing extraordinary.

Li Jianai's file looked thoroughly ordinary, devoid of special markings.

"Li Jianai, Female, from Ji'an, Jiangxi, born in 1620 (48th year of Wanli/1st year of Taichang, Gengshen), date unknown"

"1631.9.6 Taken in as an orphan by Guangzhou Station"

"1631.9-1631.11 Refugee in Guangzhou Refugee Camp"

"Performance during relief period..."

"1631.11-1632.2 Refugee in Lingao Quarantine Camp"

"Performance during purification period..."

"1632.10-1635.2 Student at Lingao Women's College of Arts and Sciences"

"Performance during study..."

"1635.2-Present Employee of Tiandihui Key Account Department"

...

The materials were sparse. Lu Xuan examined them methodically. Superficially, the file contained nothing confidential—its contents appeared mundane: résumé, transfer records, political assessments, academic transcripts... But Lu Xuan was a seasoned bureaucratic operator; he immediately recognized an irregularity. An eight-month gap yawned between the conclusion of Li Jianai's quarantine period and her enrollment in the Maid School. In those days, the Maid School differed from the National School—admission wasn't bound by semesters; students could join classes at any time.

He cross-referenced the file transfer record, noting from the date stamps that the file had only been transferred from the Quarantine Camp in October 1632. This meant Li Jianai's activities during the eight months from February to October 1632 remained completely unaccounted for—and deeply suspicious.

The realization sent a chill down Lu Xuan's spine. His original intent had been merely to assess how this Li Jianai had performed at the Maid School and whether she might bring undesirable influences into his domain. He had also entertained hopes of discovering some flaw that would justify her removal. Instead, today's discovery thoroughly unnerved him. This woman clearly possessed another background entirely! Suppressing his alarm, he returned the file to Dugu Qiuhun with studied composure, forced himself through several pleasantries with apparent calm, then departed the Tiandihui.

During the return journey to the Great Library, Lu Xuan couldn't help but privately congratulate himself on his immediate isolation of Li Jianai. Then the suspicions began multiplying: Was Li Jianai from the Political Security Bureau? If so, had she been intentionally deployed to him specifically, or was she merely targeting other "key accounts" within Lingao? After all, Key Account Department liaisons rotated regularly. But if her assignment was intentional, at least partially directed at him, then...

Lu Xuan dared not pursue the thought further. A sudden fury seized him: Treating one's own comrade this way! Might as well make a public scene of it! Then reconsideration tempered his anger: Inappropriate, inappropriate... Conducting fierce internal debate, he walked into his office in a distracted state.

After composing himself, Lu Xuan determined that further verification was essential. With this in mind, he summoned Liu Ziming and instructed him to locate a former apprentice from among those he had taught at the Great Library. He wanted the man invited to dinner at home that evening. This particular apprentice now worked at the Bairen Second Archives. Following the Third Plenary Session, the Senate had imposed strict prohibitions against Senators cultivating private followings among naturalized citizens and indigenous people, so Lu Xuan had exercised considerably more restraint. Still, delegating such a minor matter shouldn't pose problems.

The following day, Lu Xuan obtained excerpted portions of the guard room duty records from the Women's College of Arts and Sciences covering 1633-1634. The Maid School maintained strict access controls. Under normal circumstances, candidate maids rarely ventured out—particularly orphans like Li Jianai, who had nowhere to go. Yet the duty records revealed that Li Jianai had applied for school leave several days each month. Though the original documents hadn't been excerpted, Lu Xuan's apprentice noted that every departure had been authorized by exit permits issued through the school's General Affairs Office.

Humph, Zhao Manxiong is truly cautious, Lu Xuan thought coldly. The subterfuge couldn't fool him. At this juncture, he felt absolutely convinced that Li Jianai must be affiliated with the Political Security Bureau.

The question now became how to handle the matter. Regardless of whether Li Jianai's purpose here specifically targeted him, having such an individual in proximity left him perpetually uneasy—especially since their reports, no matter how trivial the subject, detailed everything exhaustively. It was impossible to guarantee what might get reported.

After thorough deliberation, he concluded that a direct phone call represented the best approach. Covert action remained possible, naturally, but would only generate additional complications. Should another incident arise, the consequences were unpredictable.

Who knows how much compromising material that Zhao Manxiong has secretly compiled on me!

He had no intention of escalating matters. If this proved an unintentional coincidence, fine. If it represented intentional placement, let them recognize the futility and back off—so they'd stop constantly keeping tabs on him. He detested this sensation of "being on their list."

Wu Mu had departed for Guangzhou, so that afternoon he contacted Zhou Botao, the Director of Reconnaissance. Zhou Botao responded with utmost courtesy. The two exchanged a cryptic, seemingly irrelevant conversation. In essence, Director Zhou firmly denied the existence of any "reconnaissance" operations targeting Senators, finally stating that he didn't understand the specific situation but would have departmental staff verify the matter. Should Senator Lu have concerns regarding this personnel arrangement, Zhou would personally intervene to coordinate appropriate adjustments. As for how Lu Xuan had discerned Li Jianai's "hidden cadre" identity—that he naturally left unmentioned, and Zhou Botao tactfully refrained from asking.