Chapter 2875: Major Schneider

An hour after Director Xiao's departure, Major Schneider of the Navy's Fifth Escort Boat Squadron strode through the door with his chin in the air.

Major Schneider's life had gone rather dull in recent years. Nothing like the stirring days when he had first "joined the Aussies." Ever since the decisive victory over the Zheng family at Zhongzuosuo, the Navy had seen no major action. Year after year, he lived the same unvarying rhythm: eight months of combat patrol, four months of consolidated training.

With no naval force in East Asian waters that could be called an "enemy," the Senate Navy's operations were essentially a game of cat and mouse. Intercepting smuggling vessels and hunting down small pirate bands made up their primary combat activities. The occasional operation in Southeast Asia—a shore bombardment, a port blockade—provided officers and men with a rare thrill. When the Nanyang Company called upon the Navy for some military action, it became a hot commodity everyone scrambled for.

Through the daily grind of patrol and training, the Fifth Squadron's motley collection of old vessels had gradually been replaced by newly built two-masted fast sloops. The unit designation had changed from "Special Service Boat Squadron" to "Escort Boat Squadron." The comrades around him came and went, his old companions long gone, and he himself had become a major—a rank slow in coming. With the Navy seeing no major operations in years, promotion by seniority had become the only path.

By contrast, the "mud-foot" Army had been flourishing in recent years—handing out medals by the fistful, promoting officers in bulk, with all manner of overseas service allowances. Compared to all that, the Navy felt rather left out in the cold. Some of Schneider's old pirate-era companions, seeing no prospects for promotion due to age and education, had begun leaving active service in recent years, many recruited by the Nanyang Company. He had been tempted too, at times. But he couldn't bear to give up the uniform and "the dignity of the Navy." After all, the title of naval officer was not something "ship's captain" could compare with.

Schneider had married in recent years and had children. He also understood the influence of parents' "social status" on their children's future. To get ahead, to make a good match—one had to "compete on family background." A "former pirate" and "old fisherman" like himself, now risen to "naval major"—that made him a military officer of the Great Song. Perhaps someday he could even become a "general." That was far better than being a ship's captain or "colonial trade station manager" at the Nanyang Company.

Clinging to such dreams, Schneider continued his naval service. He had a vague sense that the Senate had poured incalculable money and manpower into the Navy and would not leave a powerful fleet idle. After all, though the Navy had not built more steam warships in recent years, it had comprehensively replaced its old motley vessels and constructed several new sailing warships. The original naval cadets were being promoted as if riding rockets—his own promotion days were surely still ahead...

Though his grand ambitions had not yet been realized, the desire to stand out and show off had led Schneider to fall into No. 82's consumer trap early on. Attracting non-Senator customers had been No. 82's philosophy from the start. A shop catering exclusively to Senators might be exquisitely prestigious but could never grow large. What Hong Huangnan wanted was a luxury goods business—and that required all manner of wealthy patrons.

The Lingao area had no shortage of wealthy households, but this was, after all, where Senators came and went, and Director Hong had no way of determining whether outside grandees were sufficiently reliable. By comparison, someone like Schneider—a former pirate underling who had thrown in with the Senate years ago—was relatively trustworthy, had accumulated considerable wealth and treasures, and as one of the "iron-hearted followers of the dragon," had always actively emulated the Senators in lifestyle and conduct. So No. 82 regarded them as important target customers.

Schneider had received a "trial coupon" shortly after his promotion to lieutenant commander, and a naval Senator officer had introduced him to No. 82 for his first taste of its service. At the time, he viewed the expenditure more as a means of establishing a "special relationship" with the Senators than as "shopping." But as his consumption experiences escalated, Schneider learned the meaning of "easy to get on a pirate ship, hard to get off." Some things, once never tasted, could never be abandoned once savored...

Though he knew that No. 82's patrons were mostly Senator "worthies," and his own visits were somewhat out of place, he still felt the itch from time to time and would "browse." Financially, he was not lacking. Besides his naval pay and allowances, the wealth accumulated over years of pirate life was quite substantial—more than enough to support the "premium" he paid for small enjoyments. To No. 82's staff, he was already a familiar face.

Major Schneider entered the shop with the leisurely stroll of a naval officer on the bridge under fire—a gait he had painstakingly practiced—his face composed with studied composure.

Upon entering, he dared not sit on a sofa that might be reserved for Senators. Holding the Mojito the clerk had brought him, he pretended to look around as he strolled through the shop. The clerk, with evident intent, guided him to the naval field-grade uniform display cabinet on the left, but was in no hurry to speak. Schneider's sharp eye noticed that the displayed naval major's uniform, superficially indistinguishable from standard issue, exuded an unmistakable air of distinction. It was in the materials, the fineness of the collar and cuff stitching, and the particularly neat, exquisite, lustrous medals on its chest.

Taking a sip of the cool Mojito, Schneider turned to the clerk and asked why the Navy First Class Distinguished Service Medal above was more brilliant than his own, which his orderly polished every day.

"This is a platinum edition, meticulously crafted over half a month by a master craftsman commissioned from Guangzhou's Zizhen Studio. Our shop is authorized to exclusively provide personalized custom service for all Fubo Army medal, decoration, and rank metal components. Every decoration can be individually handcrafted to your personal wishes—naturally, limited to medals you yourself have earned." The clerk continued his presentation: "Please observe these buttons—copper-cored, silver-wrapped. The woolen cloth is entirely imported from England. The gold-braided piping unique to the shoulder boards of naval officers above field rank in their second-type uniform—I believe Major Schneider will soon be able to experience its texture and its distinctive sheen in sunlight..."

These words struck right at Schneider's heart. After all, the Senate's uniform insignia were too simple. There were no Ming-style rank badges on chest and back. Promotion to major brought changes only in collar, shoulder, and sleeve insignia—to the common folk, it was virtually no change at all.

"So, uh, how much would it cost to replace all my medals with this kind? I've got gold and silver—tell me how much you need and I'll have it sent over. Give me a quote." Schneider waved generously. "Oh, and can you mount jewels on the medals? Quote me for that too—I've got all sorts of precious stones and gems!"

"Mounting gemstones is of course possible, though none of the Senators have adopted this fashion yet. Perhaps you shouldn't rush..."

"Never mind all that—let's do a full set of custom medals first, and a uniform too. Both kinds!"

"Certainly!" The clerk agreed. "Your medal records will be verified with the Navy Department, then manufactured strictly to specifications. Once the materials and labor costs are calculated, we'll provide you with a detailed itemized list. If your order exceeds a certain amount, we'll also craft a complimentary set of ribbon bars. Please have a seat—I'll show you samples and take your measurements." Schneider gingerly settled into the all-too-welcoming cowhide sofa, gazing at the uniform in the display case, mentally calculating when he might replace his officer's sword as well...

Major Schneider stood before the naval uniform samples, contemplating whether future medals should be set with diamond chips or colored gemstones for greater presence, when he suddenly heard voices at the entrance—laughter and conversation more casual and familiar than ordinary customers would produce. His heart clenched; he instinctively straightened his spine, his gaze darting toward the door.

Two men in Fubo Army service uniforms entered one after the other. The first, somewhat older, moved with composed bearing, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, his eyes sweeping the shop with a careful, appraising gaze. This was Dongmen Chuiyu, secretary of the General Staff. He wore a standard army colonel's service uniform with gold braid, decorated with nothing but his sword.

The man following wore the same army service uniform, but the cut was finer, the material better, the tailoring more precise. A close inspection revealed several small details absent from standard issue. A First Class Distinguished Service Medal hung at his collar—a manner of wear limited to a few army Senators, technically against regulations. On his left chest were a Fubo Army Sports Excellence Badge and a First Anti-Encirclement Victory Medal. His sleeve bore a Bopu Defense patch. He was far more animated. He carried his cap casually in hand, his hair cropped short, his face wearing an expression that mixed fastidiousness with enjoyment. Upon entering, his gaze went straight to the army display uniform, his lips seeming to mutter something. This was Wei Aiwen, director of the General Staff's Political Department.

Schneider's heart quickened. Senators—and senior army officers at that! Though the Navy's young Turk Senators spoke dismissively of the Army in everyday conversation, as a naturalized citizen he revered every Senator as a deity. Moreover, both visitors were General Staff officers.

He immediately set down the medal sample he had been toying with, his heels closing together almost imperceptibly. The carefully maintained composure on his face rapidly transformed into the calibrated deference of a junior officer encountering senior commanders. He shifted to one side, yielding the main passage, maintaining an at-ease posture while slightly bowing, and cast a humble, swift glance of salute toward the two men.

Dongmen Chuiyu noticed him, his gaze resting on the naval major's shoulder boards for half a second before he nodded warmly in return and proceeded directly into the shop, as if merely acknowledging a vaguely familiar colleague. Wei Aiwen didn't notice Schneider in the corner at all—his attention was entirely on the uniform and then on Shen Wanshu, who came forward to greet them, and he was soon deep in discussion with the clerk about medal materials and uniform tailoring.

Schneider breathed a sigh of relief, though the awkwardness did not fully dissipate. He sensibly did not approach, nor did he set down his Mojito. Instead, he retreated quietly to a display cabinet on the other side, pretending to browse the ceremonial edged weapons within, while his ears strained to catch every fragment of conversation between the Senators and Manager Shen.

After barely a few words, Wei Aiwen had climbed onto a stool and was perched astride the wooden saddle horse, his left hand cradling a glass of bourbon, his right hand wielding a wooden sword pointed forward—as if channeling Alexander just after severing the Gordian Knot, his ambitions newly kindled.

"Aiwen, what are you doing getting on the wooden horse as soon as you walk in? When did you pick up this hobby?" Dongmen Chuiyu settled into the sofa with a wicked grin, signaling the clerk to take the whiskey away. "Bring me tea!"

Wei Aiwen was entirely unfazed by his teasing. "Director Dong, and you call yourself the Chief of the General Staff. You're not familiar with the business, are you? I'm having my winter uniform custom-measured." Sipping his bourbon, Wei Aiwen unhurriedly peddled the knowledge he'd absorbed from the clerk on his previous visit: "An army uniform must be measured to the standard posture of a man on horseback. The two right-angle corners of the front skirt hem should align precisely with the trouser seam when in riding position. The back hem should cover the buttocks when mounted, with the two rear vent corners naturally pointing toward the horse's hind legs. And this wooden sword—that's to leave adequate sword-swinging clearance for the sleeves and armpits."

The thin old tailor, standing on a stepladder beside him, carefully took his measurements, calling out figures to an assistant below who recorded them.

"Let me tell you, old Hong's black shop is black to the bone. Last time I ordered a uniform, it cost over a hundred exchange notes—and that didn't include buttons, rank insignia, and medals. You know I've got plenty of commendations. If I don't wear them, I'm afraid I won't project the proper leadership aura. If I wear them every day, those bottle-cap medals you people issue aren't durable at all. Black—black beyond all bounds!!... But, the style, the tailoring—heh, I love it!!"

"Little Wei, stop your heh-heh-ing. Finish being dashing and get down. There's serious business to attend to!" Dongmen Chuiyu, comfortably ensconced in the sofa, was examining the solid gold and silver versions of various medals with a magnifying glass, speaking without looking up.

"What are you nagging about? I haven't even warmed the saddle yet—it'll be your turn soon enough!" Wei Aiwen downed the bourbon in his glass in one gulp.

Hearing Wei Aiwen jump onto the wooden horse, loudly declaiming about "riding-pose measurement" and "over a hundred notes," Schneider clicked his tongue inwardly, while simultaneously feeling a complicated envy for that air of taken-for-granted entitlement—of course a Senator naturally enjoyed top-tier custom service. Back when he had followed Boss Zhu, he had envied Zhu Cailao's commanding authority, the bottomless bowls of wine, and the swagger of dividing gold by the scale; but a Senator's grandeur was something else entirely—a quality that defied easy description. This was the gap. Even as a major, in the presence of these true Senators, the heads of core departments, he remained merely an "outsider" who needed to observe his proper place.

He was lost in these musings when he heard the distinctive, crisp sound of riding boots approaching from afar. Someone else was coming? Who would it be this time?