The New Year passed in a blaze of noise and festivity.
Good news followed one after another in the days after the holiday, as the Zhao family members married off one by one. By the new calendar, it was now the year '39. Mingcheng had turned twenty, and all the others in between — those sixteen or seventeen, eighteen or nineteen — were squarely in the age for marriage. Even little Mingming, who not so long ago had barely reached a grown man's thigh, was already eleven, shooting up into a half-grown boy. He had taken on posts at both the public security office and the local government, and was beginning his training.
Only Jinyi, at nineteen, and Jinxiu, at seventeen, said they had no interest in marriage — that they felt no pull toward it whatsoever.
Zhao Baihui said nothing. He fell silent and let the matter rest.
He was no fool. But neither was he a beast.
He truly, genuinely thought of them as his own daughters.
A man lives constrained by two things: law and morality. One is a high line, the other a low one. Those whose lives are reasonably comfortable rarely cross the law, and tend to hold morality in at least some degree of awe.
"Master, the fleet has returned!"
"And the ships are full of oil!"
…
In the thirty-eighth year of the new calendar, the three Zhao brothers had led forty thousand people out of Longcheng. After months of long voyaging across the sea, they arrived at their destination.
The land was desert in every direction, vast and empty of people. Only the occasional oasis sheltered a scattering of native inhabitants. Desert, sparse population, nothing of obvious value, no farmable soil — these conditions, stacked together, meant that the great powers had taken notice of the place yet seen no reason to stay and develop it.
Had there been no Zhao Baihui, no Longcheng, perhaps eighty or a hundred years hence some men would have beaten their chests in anguish, cursing their ancestors for having walked past paradise. But that would not be necessary now. In twenty or thirty years at most, once Longcheng put this region's oil to use, those ancestors themselves would be around to beat their own chests. No need to burden their descendants with the task.
The land was empty precisely because of what lay beneath it. And so the oil was not hard to find — in many spots, a few shovelfuls of earth was all it took before the black liquid came welling up.
"Right now, only we know what this place is worth. Now that we've come, there is absolutely no question of handing it to anyone else."
"Let's build a city. This is desert, so let it be named for the fire-bird — we'll call it Zhuque City."
"Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, Black Tortoise. If we ever build a city out on the sea, we'll have all four Sacred Beasts."
"Not bad. When we do, you can be the lord of Xuanwu City. How's that sound?"
"Forget it, forget it. What if someone with no culture calls me the lord of Turtle City? What do I do then?"
"Ha! Lord of Turtle City has a certain ring to it. All right, enough fooling around. Go have the men find a good site to build, and get everyone else extracting oil — I want it shipped back to the Master as fast as possible!"
"There aren't many people here, but if we cast the net wide enough, it adds up."
"Mingjian, go seize some people and bring them back. The more the better."
Mingwen said, "Brother Mingjing, how can you say 'seize'? We're civilized people. As Second Brother put it, we've come to bring the flame of civilization and hope to the local inhabitants!"
"My dear bearer of the flame, these locals don't understand our language. When the work begins, there's only one option at first — the whip. Let's just hope the bearer of the flame swings it gently."
They had brought tens of thousands of people precisely because they knew this was desert country — sparse population, hard to develop. That was why such numbers were needed. But the Master had said that even a hundred years from now, this place would supply Longcheng with unending wealth.
What more was there to say? They had to build, and they had to find workers — even if finding meant catching.
No people in the desert? Then keep searching until you find some! Still no one? Go to the desert's edge and catch them there!
We will give these local people a good life. A good life, whether they want one or not!
Even the desert has trees, water sources, plants, and animals — it is simply relatively barren. In the end, Mingjing and the others chose a large oasis not far from the coast as the site for the city. If the oasis proved insufficient in water, they would draw from the sea. Seawater could not be used directly, so they would process and desalinate it simply.
The local people all liked to dress in long white robes and cover their faces with veils. That was of no consequence. Whatever they preferred to wear, they were brought back all the same.
At first, with no shared language, the only approach was to have them watch others work — others laid bricks, they laid bricks; others spread cement, they spread cement. Doing it poorly was forgiven. Doing it differently meant the whip.
Then came the first meal, and they were stunned. Rice and wheat flour? Not cactus? Several dishes besides? And it was free? Well, free for the first few days — after that, you'd have to spend your own money to buy it.
Within a matter of days, the unease among the locals was dispelled. They started actively integrating into the group. There was nothing else for it — they simply gave too much…
…
Back in Longcheng, when the transport ships returned hauling barrel after barrel of oil, the docks descended into something close to madness.
So this was the liquid gold the Master had spoken of? Not only could it make vehicles run and generate electricity — it could even be used to make clothing? And produce countless other things as well?
The students from the petroleum department, newly established at the university, all came running. A crowd of them stood around a barrel of crude oil, buzzing with chatter, each one dreaming of being the one to research and produce everything the Master had described.
Mm, the Master had said there were no textbooks — that if they could work things out through their own research, those would be the truly capable ones. The Master has faith in you!
Ha, the Master has faith in me! The Master has faith in me!
Zhao Baihui could only hope their excitement would hold for a good while yet. If it flagged, he would just have to come by every so often and give them a shot of encouragement.
What simple, lovable good kids they all were.
That forty-something good chil— fellow student, stop dipping your finger in the oil to taste it!