Chapter 645: The Road to Office (Part 2)

The mighty force of time is so powerful, it can erase all traces of human activity, and even memory itself.

This is especially true in an era of violent social upheaval.

Xiamen — this place that once saw successive great battles on sea and land. Those great pirate gangs of immense momentum and the infamous pirate leaders of renown, in just a few short years, have vanished from people's memories, as if it were all something that happened long, long ago.

Just as night was falling, beneath a bright kerosene lamp, Nan Wang, Master Nan, stood at the bow with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes narrowed, carefully observing the flow of people moving to and fro on the dock, and the various port machines still roaring ceaselessly through the night amid the smoke and fire.

At this moment, the East Guangfu was moored at North Port in Zhangzhou Inner Bay. The location was roughly the Jiulong River estuary of later generations, the bonded port zone.

North Port, now a forest of cranes, was once nothing but a stretch of fishing villages. After the great war a few years ago, this land belonging to the Zheng Clan was swallowed up by the Cao Clan.

Afterward, the fishing village area became a port area, constructed into the largest cargo port within Zhangzhou Bay.

North Port's geographical position is extremely important; it is the seaport for the cities along the Jiulong River. The Transmigrators invested massive resources here, positioning North Port as a large-scale hub port with river-sea intermodal functions.

Going upstream from here, the cities and counties of Southern Fujian, including Zhangzhou and Longyan, all fall within the radiation range of the Jiulong River's cargo shipping routes.

In fact, after these past few years of transportation construction and commercial network expansion, even a portion of the commodities from the Ganzhou region, a major town in southern Jiangxi, now "export" via the Southern Fujian Jiulong River route.

This is the reason for North Port's prosperity. Zhangzhou's tea, fish, lychees, and honey; Longyan's copper, gold, timber, and iron; even Ganzhou's oranges, pomelos, tin, and tungsten — all are organized and purchased by shipping companies from various regions, then transported by inland cargo ships to North Port, and finally, through North Port's colossal river-sea intermodal system, these goods are loaded onto seagoing vessels and shipped to every coastal area of the Great Ming.

"Station Master, the goods for Xiamen Station have all been unloaded."

Zhou Yi, dressed as a Chang Sui, came up behind Nan Wang and reported in a low voice.

Nan Wang made no sound; his gaze remained fixed on the giant Longmen cranes on the dock.

Amidst the bright lights, the giant Longmen cranes, occasionally belching black smoke and spewing high-temperature steam, were naturally not on the same level as the behemoths of later generations capable of assembling aircraft carriers. But in the 17th century, a steel Longmen crane that could be used on a thousand-ton cargo ship was, without question, considered gigantic.

Shifting his gaze away from the steel machinery brimming with the power of heavy industry, Nan Wang turned back to glance at the cargo boxes piled on the deck, and only then nodded slightly: "No rush. The colleagues from Xiamen Station should be arriving soon."

Speak of Cao Cao, and Cao Cao arrives.

Nan Wang's words had barely faded when the local power, Xiamen Station Chief Han Liangkang, had already stepped onto the jetty with his men.

Among the various field stations under the Intelligence General Bureau, Xiamen Station was, without a doubt, a small station. The entire station, top to bottom, amounted to only about a hundred people, and the daily task of intelligence gathering was not heavy.

If Nan Wang's Class-A Station Chief rank was equivalent to a branch bureau chief, then a station like Xiamen was comparable to a Class-C Police Station.

The reason for this was determined by Xiamen's geographical location — Fuzhou to the north, Guangzhou to the south. The Southern Fujian region, sandwiched between two political centers, had historically been a "low attention" area with little political significance. Even in the eyes of the Transmigrators, it was enough for Southern Fujian to simply develop its commerce well.

Although Xiamen's commercial situation was now quite good, commercial intelligence was, after all, a "sideline," somewhat unrelated to the main business of an intelligence station. The Intelligence General Bureau's focus in Fujian remained on the provincial capital, Fuzhou, where political and gentry figures gathered.

"Hahaha, my dear brother, your old brother here offers you his congratulations!"

From a long distance away, Han Liangkang's voice, surrounded by several kerosene lamps, carried over early.

Judging purely by seniority, Han Liangkang, a businessman from Hangzhou, was roughly on par with Nan Wang. Both were former "Hidden Residence Old Retainers," old hands who had followed the Transmigrators since the early days in Hangzhou.

However, in terms of capability, Han Liangkang fell far short of Nan Wang. His only advantage was his loyalty and honesty, so Old Han, who was much older than Nan Wang, was eventually assigned to Xiamen Station, which carried a hint of a retirement posting.

Yet today, Old Han did not dare to flaunt his age or seniority in front of Nan Wang. Everyone knew this man was a rising star; who knew if he might become a big shot in the clouds one day? He absolutely could not be offended.

Seeing the slightly plump Old Han leap onto the ship in one step, Nan Wang hurried forward and grasped Old Han's hand: "Old brother, you're in good health! How have you been? It's been over two years since we last met, in the blink of an eye!"

"Yes, yes. Last time we met, you were just passing by, and we only had a hurried meeting on the ship's deck."

Han Liangkang's face was full of emotion: "It's late now. My dear brother, you must give your old brother some face; let's catch up on old times."

Nan Wang pondered briefly and then agreed. They were fellow townsmen, after all, and looked out for each other normally. Besides, the ship was scheduled to stop in Xiamen for a night's rest and refit anyway.

So Nan Wang immediately designated Zhou Yi to accompany him, and they disembarked with the visitors.

Station Chief Han's side had likewise brought only a young confidant. He guided Nan Wang onto a carriage, leaving the majority of the manpower to work — the cargo on the ship's deck needed to be counted and handed over.

What followed was the usual official wining and dining. Although Station Chief Han only managed a police station, this was a police station in a development zone.

The party of five chatted as they arrived at a cart inn run by Xiamen Station itself. Entering the inn, they took a familiar route to a secluded courtyard, then ordered a table of dishes from a restaurant across the street. Station Chief Han and Station Chief Nan began to drink and chat merrily.

Station Chief Han was old and wily. As soon as the banquet began, he repeatedly urged drinks, laughing and joking with Nan Wang. His words, both spoken and unspoken, were full of deliberate flattery for his promising fellow townsman. Even Zhou Yi, who was burying his head in his food, was praised by Old Han as "young and promising."

Anyone Nan Wang brought out alone to socialize was bound to be a confidant; Old Han understood this in his heart.

The atmosphere at the table was excellent. Nan Wang and Old Han also spoke somewhat of past events, which the younger men like Zhou Yi listened to with great interest.

After three rounds of wine and five courses of dishes, everyone's faces showed a hint of intoxication, and the topics of conversation grew broader.

Perhaps due to his good mood, Old Han, after pouring and drinking two more cups by himself, was in high spirits. Ignoring Nan Wang's protests, he insisted on telling the young men a few "file" stories: in truth, some of Station Chief Nan's lesser-known great achievements.

At this, Zhou Yi's interest was piqued even further.

The stories about Nan Wang he had occasionally overheard at the General Bureau before were mere fragments, rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. Nan Wang never told him any, so tonight was the first time he heard the official version.

With Old Han's storytelling, these outstanding young men of the intelligence system finally received a true internal "revolutionary history education."

Especially Zhou Yi. When he finished listening to the chapter "Nan the Great Gets a Crowd of Bandits Drunk All Alone," he was utterly astonished, instantly feeling that his boss's image had been elevated a notch out of thin air. While continuously cheering his praise, he hurriedly offered his boss a cup of wine to show respect.

Chatting and drinking like this, the meal was forcibly stretched from nightfall until deep into the night before it was finally wrapped up.

Nan Wang and his companion, having had their fill of wine, were arranged to rest right there in the courtyard. As for the other post-drinking entertainments of the business world — North Port was a large port town, so amusements of all kinds were naturally available. However, the Intelligence Bureau had strict family rules, and both station chiefs were old foxes; they certainly would not give anyone a handle against them.

The next morning, after loading some local goods transported by Xiamen Station, the East Guangfu was ready to set sail.

Nan Wang, who had returned to the ship in the early morning, was reluctantly bidding farewell to Station Chief Han, who had come to see him off. Not long after, Station Chief Han and his party disembarked, cupped their hands, and made their final farewell to the man at the bow.

The next moment, the mooring lines were cast off. The East Guangfu, its sails already raised, slowly began to move, leaving the port and heading north.

It was then that Zhou Yi, who had been standing behind Nan Wang the entire time, noticed that although Nan Wang appeared to be bidding farewell, his gaze was not actually focused on the jetty, but was looking far into the distance past the ship's stern: toward the Jiulong River.

In that moment, Zhou Yi understood Nan Wang's feelings perfectly: upstream on the Jiulong River was Longyan County, a place where Nan Wang had once fought, where his meritorious deeds lay, and his deepest memories.

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The East Guangfu passed its first stop, Xiamen. The second stop was naturally Fuzhou. A sea route of less than 300 kilometers was not considered far in an environment where lighthouses now lined the coast.

So, despite the unfavorable wind direction, on the fourth day after leaving Xiamen, the East Guangfu sailed into a secluded dock outside Fuzhou City.

Someone was likewise waiting on the dock.

A very capable-looking middle-aged man led a group of people onto the ship to make contact — this man was Huang Kuan, Section Chief of the Fuzhou Station Intelligence Division.

Nan Wang knew Huang Kuan. In fact, due to his seniority and his full participation in the early construction of the intelligence system, there were few mid-level cadres dispatched by the Intelligence General Bureau whom Nan Wang did not know.

Both sides quickly established contact, and then went through the same set of procedures for handing over the cargo.

After the formalities were completed, Nan Wang, as usual, designated Zhou Yi to accompany him onto a carriage. They traveled without stopping, entering Fuzhou through Jinglou Gate.

Passing through Jinglou Gate, the bustling Ship Street was nearby.

Ship Street, where the headquarters of the major shipping firms had gathered, was the earliest high-end street to be demolished and renovated. In the current age, its surface was paved entirely with expensive dragon dung material, and lining both sides of the broad street were rows of advanced Chinese-style storefronts. These storefronts were all the head offices that various large commercial firms and shipping companies had established in Fuzhou.

Near the very end of the street stood a seven-bay, connected grand storefront, and upon its signboard was written "Haedong Trading Company."

This was the old nest of Fuzhou Station.

The carriage arriving before the gates of Fuzhou Station drove straight through an ornate wrought-iron gate and came to a stop in a spacious freight yard.

After descending from the carriage, Nan Wang saw at the first moment the middle-aged man who stood waiting before the vehicle, surrounded by attendants.

"Station Chief Nan, welcome to Fuzhou Station. Please, be our guest."

The middle-aged man had a well-proportioned build and wore a fitted casual shirt and Western-style trousers. He kept his hair in a short three-seven part and wore a gentle smile. As he voiced his welcome, he extended his arm and naturally shook hands with Nan Wang.

Although he had never met this middle-aged man before, Nan Wang, who had dealt with Transmigrators far too many times, the moment he heard that standard Mandarin and combined it with that indescribable bearing and manner, had no doubt whatsoever — this man was "one of the old overseas brothers who rose up with Cao Jiangjun back in the day," Fuzhou Station Chief Wen Guangjun.

He was different from Old Han, the chief of the Xiamen police station. As a fellow chief of a Grade-A Main Station, the Transmigrator Wen Guangjun greeted Nan Wang at his own doorstep — a perfectly standard courtesy, not the slightest bit impolite.