Chapter 53
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: #유소작위(有所作爲) (2), Camp Roberts
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Li Ailing gave a quiet nod to Winter.
Her appearance had changed a great deal. Before, it had felt deliberately, excessively dolled up. Now, it was plain. She was dressed in white clothes. Given the Sanhehui's circumstances, they were probably mourning garb.
She asked Winter,
“The words you spoke before—are they still valid?”
She had been waiting. Winter nodded.
“Has the Dragon Head changed his mind?”
“Yes. He requests an audience.”
“When would be good?”
“As Teacher Han desires. Even today would be fine.”
It was an attitude of deference to Winter. In truth, it was roundabout talk to save face. What if he took it at face value and suggested meeting later? Ailing would be in a real bind.
‘If it seems like I did it on purpose, she’ll hold a grudge.’
Chinese people didn’t forget slights easily. It was a culture that prized face. There were individual differences, but for a Sanhehui hall master or Dragon Head, there was no question.
Still, a bit of anxiety was probably fine. And there was a convenient excuse at hand.
“Since we’re meeting anyway, I’d like to hurry, but going empty-handed would be embarrassing.”
Ailing answered immediately.
“Please don’t worry about ordinary courtesy. My father lacks for nothing, and he’s not the sort to nitpick minor gestures in a discussion of great principles.”
Her words were smooth, but they came too quickly. Her urgency was blatant. Ailing was trying to play it cool, but her face flushed slightly when their eyes met. Winter decided not to tease her.
“If you insist that much, then I understand. Just let me change clothes at least.”
A guest’s status reflected on the host’s pride. Giving the Sanhehui’s pride a boost wouldn’t hurt. Negotiations didn’t always succeed through pressure and disdain.
Ailing agreed. She followed Winter and waited in front of the officers’ quarters. It was partly surveillance. They couldn’t rule out contact with other organizations competing with the Sanhehui for Black Society dominance.
In his private room, Winter pulled out his officer’s uniform. He’d never worn it outside of ceremonies. After changing, he pinned on his medals. Above the sleeve insignia, he attached his combat infantryman badge. He couldn’t help it, even if it drew eyes. The Chinese would like it.
Even if it was an act, swallowing his embarrassment was another matter. Winter let out a short sigh. The boy officer tugged his dress cap into place.
When he emerged, Ailing was genuinely impressed.
“You look different up close.”
She led the way without delay. The escort detail was the same as before, but the sense of “threat” they exuded was diminished. Was it just a redeployment, or a sign of talent drain? In Chinese culture, traitors didn’t fare well, but who knew. Times were what they were.
Refugee zone security was shared between military and police. Daytime patrols inside the zone fell to the police. The officers threw curious glances. Even if military and police rubbed each other the wrong way, Winter was an exception.
The checkpoint into the Chinese enclave was manned by Able Company. Two female soldiers stood guard. They snapped crisp salutes at the sight of Winter. Thanks to their Paso Robles connection, Able Company troops were especially deferential to him.
After mutual salutes, one joked,
“Lieutenant, you clean up nice. On a date?”
“Nothing like that, Amy.”
The two women burst into giggles at Winter’s discomfort. But they weren’t just killing time with banter. Ailing caught their meaningful glances too and quietly stepped aside. The soldiers spoke up.
“Our shit pile said to grill you on your visit’s purpose and all that when you pass. And to log any companions for sure.”
The nickname for Captain Markert was “our shit pile.” Winter nodded.
“Do as ordered.”
The two women made bizarre faces. The other one, Private First Class Sara, asked,
“You’re not serious, right?”
“Why not? Even if you don’t, it’ll get back to him anyway. What if he finds fault for disobeying orders?”
Amy grinned fiercely.
“Ha! You’re too nice. But don’t worry, Lieutenant. He’s not in a position to mess with people right now. Not when he’s sweating fragging every mission. That worthless bastard.”
Winter paused, then mustered an awkward smile. Mentioning fragging an officer outright in front of one wasn’t normal. It meant they trusted Winter that much—and that Markert had lost his troops’ hearts.
With the topic open, the two soldiers lined up their gripes.
“There’s a limit to being outdated. What’s with the racism? A soldier’s skin color is camo color. That shit pile’s got years in but still doesn’t get it.”
“Hey, years aren’t everything. Rumor is he got promoted on fake reports in Iraq.”
The first from Amy, the second from Sara. Sara’s gripe wasn’t baseless. Inflating service records for promotion points was an open secret among some unethical officers.
“Word is he’s doing it on purpose. Can’t escape this hell the normal way, so he’s gunning for dishonorable discharge. No need to face the rotting messes outside as a civilian. Plus, he gets to line his pockets on the side.”
Amy’s take rang true. The more Winter chewed on it, the more convincing it felt.
‘That makes him even more dangerous.’
If he had no attachment to his post, going off the rails harder than now wouldn’t be surprising. The two soldiers thought so too. If you’re stirring trouble, make it big. Winter was a prime target. What scandal could top a war hero’s?
“Watch your back. If that mad dog bites you, the whole company’ll flip out.”
Rough words, warm hearts. Winter shook Amy’s hand.
“Thanks for the heads-up on purpose. I’ll be careful.”
Ailing had waited patiently. She looked curious but didn’t pry. It wasn’t some huge secret, so Winter told her first.
“They warned me about Captain Markert.”
“Ah.”
No further explanation needed. Ailing knew the score.
The moment they entered Black Society turf, “Survival Instinct” and “Combat Sense” flashed warnings. Augmented reality trajectories. Someone was aiming a projectile weapon. Winter and Ailing were the targets. The gently arcing lines tracked them the whole way.
‘Bow? Or slingshot bow?... A slingshot?’
Either way, weapons that could be improvised from simple materials.
The warnings were faint. Even targeted, the odds of actual attack were low. Winter read the defense and evasion options from “Insight.” He had powerful skill bonuses. With slow projectile speed, he could even snatch an arrow out of the air.
As expected, nothing happened. The two arrived safely at the Sanhehui base.
The tent interior glowed in lavish reds. Short on everything else, it still screamed Chinese culture. The calligraphy and paintings looked homemade. A dragon-head ornament dominated the front center. Probably the hall master’s symbol.
Somehow, they had a wooden table. Simple chairs ringed it, with an old man seated at the head.
‘Not what I expected.’
The old man wore a suit and dark glasses. Ailing introduced him.
“Pay your respects. This is Li Qinjian, hall master of the Sanhehui and my father.”
Winter bowed deeply.
“First time meeting. I’m Han Gyeowol, representing the Winter Alliance. Sorry it took so long.”
The old man rose.
“I’m Li Qinjian. Thrilled to host a famed young hero. Sit, please.”
His return greeting was a clasped-hands bow. Was it an old man’s way, or according deference to Winter?
‘Both, probably.’
Winter took the offered seat. Oddly, no place for Ailing.
The hall master asked,
“Have you eaten?”
A question with a set answer. Winter shook his head.
“No, not yet.”
The old man nodded.
“A fine gathering needs a fine feast.”
Food appeared as if on cue. No better than D-pack rations, but matching that level was impressive. An effort to hide their decline, but the very effort proved the Sanhehui’s remaining strength.
Their etiquette: no heavy talk while eating. Winter praised each course, leaving just enough, and marveled at the flavors. The old man nodded, sometimes serving Winter himself.
Finally, a fish dish. Not meant to be eaten. Fine if you did, though.
Winter recalled Ailing’s words.
‘Don’t worry about ordinary courtesy, my ass.’
He’d done all the formalities.
Not entirely meaningless pageantry, though. Winter lingering this long would fuel rumors. It also showed off to the rank and file. He felt the many eyes inside the tent.
“I hear Teacher Han doesn’t drink.”
A flex of intelligence. Winter made a faint smile.
“True. But if you offer, I’ll take a glass.”
Li Qinjian looked pleased.
‘That’s enough flattery.’
Winter’s thought as he accepted the glass. Li Qinjian poured it himself.
Li Ailing circulated drinks to everyone in the tent. She was at least an action squad leader level.
Li Qinjian stood.
“A toast. To the joint prosperity of the Sanhehui and the Winter Alliance.”
Winter downed his in one go. Burning sensation etched his throat. Fierce stuff. It didn’t intoxicate, just added a minor status ailment.
His empty glass was refilled at once.
Releasing the glass, Winter waited for the main topic.
‘If I could gauge how much their forces have shrunk...’
Unlikely. Chinese rhetoric circled unfavorable topics endlessly.
Still, the damage was severe, that much was clear.
No matter how well packaged, summoning Winter now looked like a desperate lifeline. Bad for Sanhehui face. The other Chinese outfits would look down on them. Holding Black Society overlord status would get harder.
He could be certain. The Sanhehui’s immediate task was simple survival.
============================ Author's Note ============================
1. Among normal readers, some abnormal upright-walking readers tried to flee.
This is Dreamland, a world of dreams and innocence.
You came in as you pleased, but leaving? Not so much.
2. Up to now, I’ve written Chinese names with spaces between surname and given name, but from here on, I’ll stick them together.
3.
Q. Magikar: Question! Would you consider a print edition for collection later?
A. It depends on which publisher I contract with. Their offers vary. Some want e-book only, others want print too.
Whether to do print affects the revenue split, so the author’s agonizing over it.
Q. hotroad: Aircraft variants incoming, huh? But every airport’s got dozens or hundreds of light planes in parking lots—better to use those first. Plus massive wartime stockpiles. Why make new ones? Pilots are harder to find.
A. Yes, there are. First, the US is at a critical point for resource management too. Second, as you said, pilots are harder to find. The iconic Cessna 172 light plane has a payload of about 0.4 tons, and crucially, can’t airdrop cargo. So a 2-ton transport saves on pilots and aluminum alike. Could slap light plane engines on it.
Assume all mothballed transports are already mobilized. The journal described US daily airdrop capacity at 5,000 tons. Compare to Berlin Airlift’s average of around 5,000 tons. The US has lost some overseas air wings and West Coast bases, so airlift capacity is down from Berlin levels. It’s mainland ops that make it feasible. Camp Roberts gets priority essentials too, as mentioned. Sea refugees are a problem. Transport demand outstrips supply.