Chapter 2888: Reunion (4)

Li Guangfa also spoke up: "Old Shen, the children's path is one they'll have to walk themselves. We old-timers can help knock on a door, but they still have to step through it. The Senate values fair selection. Forcing someone in by the back door is no good for the child—or for us."

These words were reasonable and grounded—honoring old ties without crossing the line. Chen Xiazi and the others, though somewhat disappointed, understood that this was the best response they could expect under the present circumstances. They bowed repeatedly in thanks and dared ask for nothing more.

It was Hu Wumei, ever the man of connections, who privately exchanged a few more words with them afterward. Their expressions shifted from mildly disappointed to newly hopeful. Schneider observed with quiet envy: what a tycoon! Open-handed, and generous with favors too.

He and Li, Ren, and the others were doing well enough, their careers bright, but they were men within the system. Words had to be weighed, actions considered three times over before execution. A far cry from the free-and-easy days of old.

Just as he was thinking this, Hu Wumei spoke up: "Of the chiefs who came to Lingao together, there were about a hundred at the start. The years have slipped by, and only forty or fifty remain..."

Among those who had originally surrendered, some had died in battle for the Senate; others had passed away from illness or age; some could not endure the discipline and rebelled again, disappearing without a trace or hunted down and executed by the Senate; still others had violated regulations and been exiled to distant places or were serving sentences.

Hu Wumei naturally did not spell out these details: "If you count the families of all the brothers who surrendered together, there are close to a thousand people. Over the years, quite a few brothers have either passed on or fallen on hard times, and their families are really struggling. Since we're brothers, those of us who can should lend a hand."

His words drew puzzled looks from everyone, all eyes fixed on him.

"Well, I've had this notion. Our Dadan Association, from its founding to now, has done nothing but eat and drink together. Never done anything proper. Now that we all have some means, shouldn't we help out the unlucky brothers and their families..."

Hu Wumei's words caused the just-relaxed atmosphere in the private room to stiffen. Funding the families of old brothers? Establishing a formal... organization? The men exchanged glances. Even Schneider, Li Guangfa, and Ren Fu—the ones within the system—involuntarily sat up straighter, brows slightly furrowed.

Wang You was the first to break the silence, his tone carrying its customary caution: "Fifth Master, your intentions are good. We all came off the same boat, and there's a bond. But this 'Dadan Association'... at the end of the day, it's just a name we use for private drinking and reminiscing. If you turn it into a formal 'association' with bylaws and operations, involving money and resettling people... if word gets out, won't the Senate have thoughts?"

His words struck at the heart of the matter and voiced the misgivings that Schneider and the others shared. Ren Fu coughed softly and said slowly: "Old Wang is right. The Senate encourages mutual aid among citizens but frowns on factionalism, especially for those of us with old-unit backgrounds. Setting up a foundation, relocating people on a large scale, and to the Nanyang on top of that... that touches on population movement, land policy, overseas colonization—all sensitive matters. If it goes wrong, a charge of conspiracy and faction-forming comes down, and everything we've worked so hard to build over the years..."

He didn't finish, but the meaning was clear enough. Several of the less fortunate men, whose eyes had brightened at Hu Wumei's words, now shrank back, their faces betraying anxiety.

Hu Wumei's plump face showed no alarm. He took his time with another sip of tea before drawling: "Brothers, do you think I don't share your concerns? This fortune and future I've earned with my head on the line—who treasures it more than I do?" He paused, his gaze sweeping the room, lingering briefly on Schneider and Li Guangfa, before lowering his voice with a trace of barely perceptible smugness. "Would I dare raise this without backing?"

He leaned slightly forward, his voice dropping further: "I won't hide it from you. I've been mulling this over for more than a day or two. Recently, while reporting on my shipyard business, I made a special visit to Chief Lin Baiguang."

"Chief Lin!" several breathed. Lin Baiguang, the Senator who had originally negotiated the surrender of the Dadan Island brotherhood, was in a sense their "guide"—and within the Senate, he was known for his understanding of old-society customs and his flexible approach.

Hu Wumei nodded: "I told Chief Lin about our old brothers' circumstances and this rough idea of mine. The Chief listened and pondered for a good while."

Everyone held their breath. Even Schneider unconsciously tightened his grip on his glass.

"The Chief said," Hu Wumei imitated Lin Baiguang's measured, slightly detached tone, "'Old subordinates remembering old ties and helping the weak—this is human nature, and also a testament to the Senate's civilizing influence. Gathering to drink and feast merely wastes money and grain, of no benefit to social production. If these idle social interactions could be transformed into organized, chartered, policy-compliant mutual aid and productive capacity, that would be no bad thing.'"

He paused, gauging the room's reaction. Seeing the alarm and doubt in their eyes give way to attentiveness, he continued: "The Chief specifically pointed out that Nanyang development is a national policy of the Senate. Borneo, Sumatra, even the coast of Annam—all need reliable naturalized citizens to go and settle, to reclaim land and put down roots. If our old brothers' families could be organized, given some seed funding and technical guidance, and sent in groups to establish small plantations and farms, that is exactly what the Senate would welcome. It solves their livelihood and adds bricks to the colonization effort."

"The name and the rules," Hu Wumei's voice returned to normal, "the Chief suggested calling it the 'Dadan Mutual Aid Fund.' No need to be ostentatious about it. We raise capital internally among ourselves, draft clear bylaws, and the funds are managed by Delong Bank. Recipients are limited to the old brothers who surrendered together and their immediate families, and participation must be voluntary, with the recipients meeting immigration requirements. Aid is primarily in the form of low-interest loans or production materials on credit. Recipients must engage in Senate-approved planting or production activities at the Nanyang settlement and accept the jurisdiction of the relevant departments. For those truly unable to travel far or who have lost their ability to work, small subsidies may be provided to support their children's education or apprenticeship in a trade."

"The Chief concluded," Hu Wumei summed up, a smile spreading across his face, "'The matter can be done, but it must be done cleanly and clearly. All bylaws and accounts must be transparent and auditable, with regular reports to the Colonial Trade Department. Remember: this is mutual aid, not association; it's helping production, not keeping idle men in a club. Do it well, and you're sharing the Senate's burdens. Do it crooked, and even I won't be able to protect you.'"

When he finished, the private room fell completely silent, save for the faint sounds of the city beyond the window. Chief Lin Baiguang's stance was so clear—affirming the feasibility while drawing sharp red lines. It was a masterful blend of grace and authority.

Seeing that some still wore looks of hesitation, Hu Wumei played his trump card: "This is the congratulatory letter Chief Lin sent us a few days ago. Let me read it to you."

He produced a letter from his briefcase. The men within the system recognized it at once: the envelope was the "Senator's Private Correspondence" specially printed by the Senate General Office.

Hu Wumei unfolded the letter and read aloud:

Shi Shisi, Hu Fatty, and all the old brothers present:

Getting together in Lingao—that's a good thing. I'm tied up in Guangzhou and truly cannot get away, with a pile of matters waiting. So I've written a few lines and sent them by courier, as my small token of regard.

In the blink of an eye, the Nanri Island business is years behind us. Times were hard then. That you could read the situation and choose to follow the Senate—that was wise, and not easy. As it turned out, you chose the right path.

Seeing the roster and updates that were sent over, I'm very pleased. Shi Shisi has become a proper naval lieutenant commander, commanding troops and ships, looking the part. Hu Fatty is farming up a storm in Sanya—I hear he's even supplying part of the army's provisions. That's talent put to proper use. And Wang You, Lin Dan, Ren Fu... too many to name, all making your mark in various fields. Some brothers may not have achieved great things, but at least they have steady meals and a peaceful roof. What does this tell us? It tells us that as long as you keep pace with the Senate, are willing to work and to learn, we old brothers from the sea can find our place and our future in this new world.

You're doing well now—that's the fruit of your own efforts. But don't forget the road you came by. The Senate doesn't care about your origins, only what you do now and what you can do in the future. On the sea in the old days, it was "whoever has the biggest and most ships calls the tune." Now what matters is "rules" and "contribution." Fulfilling the tasks the Senate assigns, meeting your responsibilities in your positions—that is the long-term plan, and the best accounting for the choices you made back then.

Gathering together, having a drink, talking about old times—there's nothing wrong with that. But don't forget to look forward. The Senate's enterprise grows ever larger, and there are many places where people are needed. I hope you'll use this occasion to also talk about the ins and outs of your current fields, to remind each other how to do things better and more steadily under the new rules. Take the long view—the situation you're in now is just the beginning.

Your proposal to set up a mutual aid fund—I am in favor. People are not made of wood and stone—how could they be without feeling? Remembering old ties is a good thing. You're all comrades who surrendered together. Those who've fallen on hard times deserve some help from the rest—nothing wrong with that, and indeed a fine thing. As long as it's done according to the rules and in compliance with the law, I'm confident you'll make the Dadan Association better and better!

I'm in Guangzhou now, work is tangled and many things require the support of old friends from all quarters. There will be plenty of opportunities to deal with each other in the future. I hope all you brothers will take care of your health and tend to your respective duties well.

That's all for now. Give my regards to everyone. Save the wine—next time I come to Lingao, or when you come to Guangzhou, we'll have a proper drink together.

Wishing you a pleasant gathering!

Lin Baiguang

Guangzhou

Ren Fu was the first to exhale, his face showing relief mixed with barely contained excitement: "With Chief Lin's endorsement and such clear guidance, this matter... is very promising indeed! It aligns with the Nanyang colonization policy, addresses practical needs, and channels our old bonds in a productive direction—a triple win."

Li Guangfa also nodded, his military directness prompting him to ask outright: "Fifth Master, have you worked out the bylaws and the capital?"

Seeing the mood shift, Hu Wumei knew the moment was ripe. He produced a neatly folded paper from his breast pocket: "I've drafted a rough proposal. Have a look. The capital—I, Hu Wumei, will pledge five thousand yuan first, to get the ball rolling. The rest of you, contribute what you can—no coercion. Ten or five yuan to show your heart is fine. The bylaws stipulate that the fund will have a board of directors, elected by the contributors, responsible for reviewing aid applications, managing accounts, and reporting regularly to... well, to the relevant department."

Schneider took the proposal and studied it carefully. The provisions were indeed as Hu Wumei described—the framework was clear, tightly anchored to "productive mutual aid" and "policy compliance," with plenty of restrictions. But it genuinely opened a new road for those old brothers who hadn't made their mark and were struggling to get by. This Hu Wumei, rough-hewn as he appeared, was in fact meticulous—and rarer still, he possessed the knack of honoring old loyalties while knowing how to operate within the new rules. Those of them who had been in the system too long sometimes became overly timid.

"I say it's workable." Schneider set down the proposal and declared his position. "But the details need careful refinement, especially the interface with the Nanyang Company and the Colonial Trade Department—the procedures must be spelled out to avoid trouble later. I'm in the Navy, but I know some people at the Nanyang Company. I can help make introductions and ask about specific settlement locations and policies."

With the leading figures having declared their stance, the others—especially Chen Xiazi and Mr. Shen, who hoped to receive aid or to deepen ties with more successful old friends—chimed in with enthusiastic agreement. The atmosphere heated up once more, but this time with less of the earlier probing and distance, and more of the pragmatic energy and quiet excitement of jointly planning something proper.

The discussion quickly turned to specifics: how to assess the degree of an applicant's hardship? What should plantations grow in the early stages—sugarcane, rubber, or spices? Which was more favorable, Annam or Borneo, in terms of policy? What should the standard be for children's tuition assistance? Everyone chipped in, the debate growing heated.

After the discussion, Hu Wumei annotated the proposal based on everyone's input. Seeing no further objections, he tucked the document back into his leather briefcase and smiled: "I'll be your unpaid errand boy and see how to get things moving one by one. We'll keep in touch by letter!"

"Old Hu, you're down in Sanya—staying in touch won't be easy."

"No matter. I have a liaison office in Lingao. I'll give you all my mailbox number—write to that address for anything. I have an express delivery line; letters from Lingao reach me in two days."

The night deepened. Faint music drifted up from the floors below at Ziming Tower. In this private room, the old pirates—some already fast asleep, snoring in chorus; others still talking in low voices; still others, like Schneider, quietly gazing out the window, each adrift in his own thoughts.