Chapter 8: The Reluctantly Working Old Man Jiang
After the two returned to the middle school, Zhou Jixin and Sun Debo said their goodbyes, and he went back to the temporary dormitory—a small office transformed n the fourth floor of the teaching building.
Because he liked quiet, he preferred a smaller place to himself rather than sharing with others.
Weary, he lay on the bed, pondering the earlier hotel meeting and Sun Debo’s words, tossing and turning in the moonlight.
He was contemplating the path he would take in the future.
It was now certain he could never return to his original time and space, and this world was in an age where barbarism and authoritarianism reigned supreme!
Year 1671, more than 350 years ago, in the seventeenth century!
That afternoon he had gone to the school library and checked resources: in Asia, it had been 27 years since the Eight Banners entered, placing them in the 10th year of Kangxi; the Qing court had eliminated the Southern Ming nine years earlier, with only the Zheng regime on the precious island barely clinging to life.
And in two years, the Revolt of the Three Feudatories would erupt. Though Wu Sangui and others had greatly troubled the Qing court—at one point shaking its rule in the Central Plains—it was eventually suppressed; the Ming-Zheng regime would be completely wiped out by Kangxi within a decade or so.
This situation made him feel the urgency of time.
As he had told Sun Debo earlier, relying solely on the current 4,500-plus people was enough to survive in Australia, but to develop rapidly, they had to bring in a large number of immigrants—especially Chinese immigrants!
Without sufficient immigration, not to mention other issues, the internally skewed male-to-female ratio of just 4,500 people would pose serious obstacles to future development!
As for the Australian aborigines, their low population and huge cultural and aesthetic differences meant they could not easily integrate into the group of time travelers in the short term.
And trying to peacefully obtain a large number of ethnically and linguistically similar Chinese immigrants from the Qing dynasty… the challenges and costs would be horrifying!
According to records, after the warfare at the end of the Ming and beginning of the Qing, the population under Qing rule had been greatly reduced compared to late Ming. Plus the Qing’s enforced coastal evacuation decree turned the once-prosperous southeast coast into no man’s land. Even the neighboring Ming-Zheng regime found it hard to get immigrants—let alone distant Australia…
The more Zhou Jixin thought, the more his head pounded; he decided to set this problem aside for now. After tomorrow’s meeting, he planned to go find Major Qiao Kecheng, recommended by Li Yingchun, to get a position as a security bureau intelligence officer—so he could personally contact those nineteen Dutch sailors and learn the real situation in Asia and Europe before making further plans.
That night, not only Zhou Jixin but many others watched the gentle moonlight outside, sleepless for a long time.
Students at Longgang Middle School crowded in the cafeteria and auditorium-turned-dormitory, secretly shedding tears and missing parents they would never see again.
Workers in the shipyard dormitory area gathered in small groups, drinking beer rationed a few days ago, sharing their pasts and discussing tomorrow’s meeting.
In the dormitory corridors, armed patrols from the shipyard’s security department occasionally walked by, reminding people to rest early so as not to delay tomorrow’s meeting.
In the Happy Home community, under the organization of Zhang Jian and Jiang Dalong, residents gathered in the small square beneath the buildings, trading thoughts in the dark on acting together tomorrow to protect everyone’s rights.
Outside the community and the school, a defensive line that cut across the peninsula was manned by hundreds of navy soldiers and Bohai Ship Group security troops. They yawned over dry rations, guarding against attacks from aborigines emerging from the western forests.
No matter what, time passed regardless of human will. That sleepless night quietly ended with the coming of a new dawn.
A new day began, and most people mustered their spirits to embrace an unknown yet change-filled future.
At nine in the morning, Jiang Dalong and his father, Jiang Weiguo, left after breakfast to visit Summer Chunze and Wu Fanli, who lived next door.
Residents preparing for the meeting downstairs greeted father and son warmly.
“Old Jiang! Teacher Jiang, are you heading to the meeting?”
“Old Jiang! Have you eaten breakfast?”
“Grandpa Jiang! Uncle Jiang!”
Jiang Dalong responded politely inwardly full of words he wanted to say to his father. When they reached Chunze’s building, he finally couldn’t suppress himself and asked his father, Jiang Weiguo:
“Dad! What were you thinking?
Yesterday I asked you to help support everyone—why did you insist on leading the meeting? And you want to return to the shipyard to work… at your age, even if you go back, what can you still do??”
Jiang Weiguo stopped, glancing at his bespectacled, scholarly son. Seeing no one else around, he snorted, disappointed in the unfulfilled expectations, and in a low voice said:
“…You think I want to work at my age? It’s all because of necessity!
If us old folks don’t step up, the whole situation will collapse!
Now it’s only you and me from our old Jiang family left. I don’t want to see one day you get played and ruined!”
“Huh?”
Jiang Dalong froze, instinctively said: “Dad! What do you mean? Has it come to that? We’ve food for a few more months!”
“I’m not talking about food! I’m talking about people’s hearts!”
Jiang Weiguo, seeing his son’s reaction, shook his head disappointedly: “You’ve been in university too long! You’re too honest, always fancying yourself a gentleman… you’re in your forties, still single, didn’t give me more grandchildren—look at your older and second sisters, both with two kids…”
When Jiang Dalong heard his father bring this up again, he felt a chill over his scalp.
Twenty years earlier, after graduating university, he was arranged by Jiang Weiguo to marry a cousin. But due to incompatible personalities, they divorced after three years, leaving behind a son, Jiang Anbo.
In the years since, to care for his son, Jiang Dalong had not remarried—he’d grown used to living alone and felt comfortable in it.
But having only one grandson always weighed on Jiang Weiguo’s mind; he often brought it up to nag his son.
“Dad! What you’re saying—what does it have to do with now?” he interrupted, not wanting to listen to more nagging.
“Of course it matters!” Old Jiang glared at his son and said: “…Half a month has passed, and Li and those kids just remembered to form a new government to replace that useless Emergency Status Committee… it’s laughable!
If this were a war of revolution era, all these people would be charged with dereliction of duty and shot!
If not for those navy fellows organizing patrols and guard units days ago, some aborigines would have come to wipe us out!”