Chapter 78: Dismissal from Military Service

At 12:10, the transport boat docked at Pier No. 3.

The pier had been cleared; aside from twenty Dutch military police and an equal number of Lanfang marines, only a few Port Authority officials remained. Outside the security line, more and more on‑lookers of Chinese descent gathered. They dared not approach, yet would not leave, just standing there, watching.

Lin Hai was the first to leap ashore. He scanned the surroundings and said to the marine captain, "Maintain vigilance. No one relaxes until the trial ends."

"Yes!"

Fan De Wei Er followed him ashore, his leg went weak as his foot hit the deck, and he nearly fell. A nearby Dutch official quickly steadied him.

"Director…"

"I'm fine," Fan De Wei Er waved his hand. "Quick, go prepare the trial. It must start at 12:30!"

In the Port Authority conference hall, the makeshift courtroom had been set up.

The judge was Judicial Officer Fan De Sangte—he had spent the morning on the Restoration Ship and his complexion remained pallid. The prosecutor and defense lawyer were colonial officials in formal dress. In the gallery, apart from the four observers led by Xu Wen, only a few Dutch officials were present.

When the nineteen military police were ushered in, the scene turned chaotic.

Some struggled, some wailed, some cursed. Major Fan De Haiden stood in the corner, his face a steel‑blue as he watched—he was the garrison commander, and these men had once been his subordinates.

"Silence!" Fan De Sangte tapped the gavel.

The trial began.

The proceedings were astonishingly swift.

The prosecutor read the indictment: illegal use of lethal force, resulting in forty‑seven deaths and over a hundred injuries. The defense lawyer argued: the situation was chaotic, the military police were threatened, and the shooting was self‑defense. Witnesses—all Dutch military police—testified that Chinese mobs had attacked them.

Xu Wen sat in the gallery, expressionless, taking notes.

At 12:50, all procedures were completed.

Fan De Sangte and two "jurors"—actually two other officials—retreated to confer. Five minutes later they returned.

"The court pronounces," Fan De Sangte's voice echoed in the cavernous hall, "all defendants are guilty of negligent homicide. Yet considering the extraordinary circumstances, the sentence is lenient: dismissal from military service, transferred to the Lanfang side for further handling."

The gavel fell.

The trial ended.

From start to finish, twenty‑five minutes.

Xu Wen closed his notebook and whispered to the nearby observer, "Notify the captain, prepare to receive."

At 1:20 p. m., the nineteen former military police were led out of the Port Authority building.

Their uniforms had been stripped, replaced with plain prison garb. Handcuffs linked to leg shackles clanged with each step. Major Fan De Haiden stood at the building's doorway, watching them pass one by one.

The Lieutenant who had fired first halted abruptly as he passed, looking at Major Fan De Haiden:

"Major… we were following orders…"

Fan De Haiden closed his eyes, saying nothing.

The Lieutenant was pushed onward.

On the pier, Lin Hai was ready. Two transport boats were moored at the berth, marines lined up with rifles. When the nineteen were brought in, Lin Hai produced a list and began checking.

"Han Si De Fu Li Si."

"Arrived…"

Names were called one by one, and each was ushered onto the boat.

After the last man boarded, Lin Hai approached Fan De Wei Er, handing over a document: "Signature for confirmation."

Fan De Wei Er signed. His handwriting remained sloppy.

"Done." Lin Hai folded the papers. "According to the agreement, the formal compensation and rights‑protection documents must be delivered to the Restoration Ship within three days. After that…"

"Understood, understood." Fan De Wei Er nodded and bowed.

Lin Hai turned, boarded a transport boat. The engines chugged, and the two boats drifted slowly away from the pier.

On shore, the Dutch officials watched in silence. Fan De Haiden suddenly turned and smashed a nearby cargo crate; the wooden box split open.

"Shame…" he muttered, "this is the Kingdom of the Netherlands' shame…"

But no one answered.

Because everyone knew that against a 381 mm naval gun, shame is preferable to death.

At 2 p. m., as the nineteen offenders were locked in the Restoration Ship's confinement chamber, another meeting was proceeding quietly.

The transport boat did not return immediately. Lin Hai, with a few others, met several Chinese in a small teahouse near the pier.

Leading them was Chen Jinfu.

The elder wore the neatest long robe, faded from washing, with patched cuffs. Five people followed him, all representatives of the Batavia Chinese Chamber of Commerce.

"Officer Lin," Chen Jinfu began to kneel, but Lin Hai steadied him.

"Mr. Chen, no need," Lin Hai helped him sit, "we have little time; let's be brief."

"Yes, yes." Chen Jinfu wiped his eyes, "Officer Lin, today… we saw what happened at the pier. Those nineteen beasts… were they really captured?"

"They're locked on the ship," Lin Hai nodded. "We'll take them back to Lanfang for legal trial."

"Good, good…" Chen Jinfu's old tears streamed, "my poor fellow countryman Chen Afu, his whole family of three… all perished. The son is sixteen, the daughter six… now at least… at least the enemy has been caught…"

The teahouse was filled with sobbing.

Lin Hai waited a moment until emotions steadied, then continued, "Mr. Chen, I'm here not only to retrieve them but also to tell you a few things."

"Please, go on."

"First, Lanfang still stands. Moreover, we now have our own navy, our own ships," Lin Hai said. "If this happens again, you need not endure it. Find a way to inform us, and we will come."

Chen Jinfu nodded vigorously.

"Second, the Dutch have agreed to compensate. The money will be sent here, and you will pass it to the victims' families. If the Dutch try any tricks, tell me."

"Alright."

"Third," Lin Hai lowered his voice, "the President asked me to tell you: preparations for returning home are underway. Maybe a year, maybe two, but it will come. Until then, you must stay alive, stand tall and live."

Chen Jinfu's tears welled again. He seized Lin Hai's hand, gripping it tightly.

"Officer Lin… please tell the President that we will wait. Wait one year, wait two years, wait ten years. As long as we know Lanfang is still there, as long as we know someone remembers us… we can afford to wait."

Lin Hai nodded and pulled a small cloth pouch from his chest: "This is a little money we pooled together on the ship. It's not much—use it to buy some medicine for the wounded first."

Chen Jinfu took it with trembling hands: "How can we accept this…"

"Keep it." Lin Hai stood up. "We have to go. Remember, no matter what happens, staying alive is what matters most. Only by staying alive can you last until the day you go home."

When he left the teahouse, Chen Jinfu led everyone to kneel. This time, Lin Hai did not help them up.

Because he knew that this kneel was not for him—it was for that Yellow Dragon Flag, for that home still on its way.