Iron Fist and Loyal Heart

Chapter 38 The Inside Story of the Special Bureau

The conference room was located on the second basement floor of the Special Affairs Bureau's Iron Thorn Branch. It had no windows, and ventilation relied on a row of humming exhaust fans overhead. The fluorescent lights cast a stark white glow, making the row of white porcelain teacups on the long table appear particularly glaring. Su Xinpei sat in a folding chair at the far end of the table, an open notebook in front of him, and an untouched cup of tea beside him. Ye Xinghe sat to his left, his right hand holding a pen suspended over the meeting minutes, having not written a single word since the meeting began. Five groups of people sat on either side of the long table.

The military representatives were from the Ironthorn City Garrison: a colonel surnamed Meng and an adjutant who remained silent, only taking notes. Colonel Meng's uniform collar was buttoned up to the top button; he had broad shoulders and habitually tapped his fingers on the table as he spoke. Opposite him was a municipal government official—the deputy director of the Ironthorn City Municipal Administration Office, surnamed Zheng. Zheng was slightly balding, and a silver prosthetic wristband peeked out from his suit sleeve. He spoke with impeccable precision, beginning each sentence with "from the perspective of municipal management." Next to Deputy Director Zheng sat a young man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, his secretary, who remained engrossed in typing throughout.

The central seat of the long table was reserved for the Special Elephant Bureau. Yan Tong was personally presiding over the meeting today, sitting in the very center of the table. Behind him, a complete map of Ironthorn City hung on the wall, with the symbol of a single, closed eye pinned to the top of the map, like a condescending eye. Sitting next to Yan Tong were the head of the Special Elephant Bureau's Operations Section and the head of its Technical Section; both were wearing dark blue stand-up collar jackets and no rank insignia.

Su Xinpei noticed three unfamiliar faces. One was a representative from Mingguang Communications, impeccably dressed in a suit, his hair neatly combed, with two beautifully bound documents in front of him, the covers of which read "Urban Communication Infrastructure Upgrade Plan." The representative from Lianyu Manufacturing was a middle-aged woman wearing extremely thin titanium-rimmed glasses, with a black briefcase beside her, its clasp made of alloy. Tianheng Heavy Industry sent two representatives, who sat between Mingguang Communications and Lianyu Manufacturing. One was older, around fifty years old, with a composed demeanor, his white shirt buttoned up perfectly, and the folder in front of him remained unopened; later, others called him "General Manager Cao." The other was younger, wearing a suit but constantly twirling a pen, his gaze sweeping across the others at the table.

Everyone was present. Yan Tong tapped the old-fashioned brass bell on the table, and the meeting room fell silent. "Today we are holding a joint meeting on the subspace threat assessment of Ironthorn City. There are three items on the agenda: a report on the current status of active fissures in the lower city, a discussion on the collaborative response mechanism among various departments, and a review of the public-private partnership proposal for subspace disasters put forward by General Manager Cao." He pronounced the words "public-private partnership" very slowly, as if he were biting into a not-so-fresh hard candy.

The head of the technical department stood up to give a report. Using a laser pointer, he pointed out the most recent crack activity data on the projection screen: crack number 12 in the Beihe Industrial Zone had been sealed, but secondary cracks were still spreading; the crack at the pumping station had entered a dormant period after being suppressed by runes; and the crack at Beihe Primary School had been completely closed. The overall trend was that the frequency of crack activity had doubled in the past two months, but thanks to the early warning system of the Iron Net system, most cracks were sealed before they were torn open, and so far there have been no large-scale casualties. At the end of the report, he said something that sounded very significant to Su Xinpei: "The Iron Net system, with its initial data framework provided by grassroots social workers from the Beihe Subdistrict Office, has now become a core module of the Special Meteorological Bureau's sub-space early warning system. This year, there have been no crack-related injuries or deaths in the Xiacheng District, and the Iron Net has played a crucial role in this achievement."

Su Xinpei's expression remained unchanged. He wrote a line in his notebook: "The iron mesh has been incorporated into the core module; the conglomerates have taken notice." Ye Xinghe glanced at his notebook but remained silent.

Yan Tong handed the microphone to Deputy Director Zheng. Deputy Director Zheng cleared his throat and said, "From the perspective of municipal management, the active cracks have a significant impact on residents' lives, putting a lot of pressure on the street offices. The municipal office has already invested a lot of manpower and resources in the lower district to repair the damaged buildings—thanks to the Special Meteorological Bureau's iron mesh system, the early warnings are timely and effective. But on the other hand, the urban renewal plan must also be put on the agenda, otherwise just repairing the old buildings caused by the cracks will eventually drag down the municipal budget." He used very careful wording, only saying "urban renewal," without mentioning "subspace," let alone "crack resources," but Su Xinpei could hear the meaning buried deep in the sewers—the municipal office was unwilling to spend its own money to repair the old buildings; they wanted to wait for the conglomerates to develop them and transfer the reconstruction costs to the companies.

Mr. Cao, the general manager of Tianheng Heavy Industry, then spoke. His voice was steady, carrying a tone honed through countless board meetings, unhurried and deliberate, each word seeming to pave the way for the conclusion to come. He stated that Tianheng Heavy Industry was willing to shoulder its corporate social responsibility and proposed establishing a public-private partnership mechanism for subspace disaster response. Tianheng Heavy Industry would provide funding and technology to jointly establish a subspace safety joint venture with the military, the Special Meteorological Bureau, and the municipal government. This joint venture would coordinate post-disaster reconstruction, containment management, and future subspace energy development planning in the fissure areas of the lower city. He emphasized that this was not a commercial project, but a project for the people's livelihood. Tianheng Heavy Industry was willing to provide its latest fissure monitoring equipment to the joint venture free of charge, retaining only reasonable operational rights.

Su Xinpei noticed that his expression did not change when he talked about "people's livelihood projects", but the young secretary paused for a moment while typing.

The representative from Mingguang Communications immediately chimed in, stating that communication encryption was a key bottleneck in the crack early warning system and that they were willing to provide extremely low frequency (UHF) encrypted communication technology for the joint venture. The representative from Lianyu Manufacturing also briefly explained that the upgrade of optical communication facilities would create a significant demand for precision components, and that if the joint venture were established, the supply of prosthetic body parts would not be a problem.

Ye Xinghe kicked Su Xinpei's foot under the table. Su Xinpei looked down and saw Ye Xinghe secretly writing four words in his palm: Don't believe a single one.

Yan Tong did not immediately respond. He picked up the white porcelain teacup on the table, took a sip, and gently tapped the bottom of the cup on the table as he put it down. "President Cao's plan is very constructive. However, the military's jurisdiction over the rift area has a legal basis, and this point cannot be ambiguous. I propose that for the next year, the military shall have exclusive administrative control over the rift area, the Special Meteorology Bureau shall be responsible for technical support and containment management, and the local street offices shall cooperate with the civil affairs department for evacuation. If the rift's activity level drops below the safety threshold after one year, priority development rights may be opened to the joint venture company."

Mr. Cao nodded slightly. He didn't mind waiting a year. The property transfer registration form in his hand had already been stamped by the land bureau. The ownership of the original site of the crack had been swept up by a shell company under Tianheng Heavy Industry ten years ago. No matter who starts development a year later, they will have to stand on the land that he has already paved.

Su Xinpei shifted his gaze from President Cao's face to his notebook. He scribbled a note in the margin: "The joint venture's funding plan does not specify the exact investment amount and profit distribution mechanism; this needs to be added." Then he put down his pen without saying a word.

The meeting lasted for over an hour. All parties reached a compromise on the framework of "public-private partnership," with specific details to be discussed at the next meeting. After the meeting, everyone stood up to shake hands and exchange pleasantries. When General Manager Cao and Deputy Director Zheng shook hands, they both smiled briefly before turning and leaving. The representative from Mingguang Communications left two documents on the table, and the female representative from Lianyu Manufacturing picked up the alloy briefcase and left.

Su Xinpei and Ye Xinghe were the last to leave the meeting room. The corridor was dimly lit, the exhaust fan still humming. Ye Xinghe loosened his tie and let out a long sigh. "You didn't say a word today."

Su Xinpei tucked the notebook into the briefcase's inner compartment. "I'm just a lowly advisor, I'm not qualified to speak." He paused, then added, "But the chaebols don't need me to say anything—they only need the military's approval. Once the joint venture is established, the data interface for the Iron Network, the site selection rights for the Rift Monitoring Station, and the priority allocation rights for containment materials will all end up in their hands."

Ye Xinghe didn't reply. The two walked up to the first floor through the underground passage, pushed open the back door, and stepped onto the streets of the lower district in the evening. There was a faint smell of coal smoke in the air, and a few vendors were packing up at the entrance of the vegetable market in the distance. A stray cat darted out from behind a trash can and ran away. Su Xinpei stopped and glanced back at the gray building of the Special Meteorological Bureau. He thought that everyone sitting in the conference room today, except for Yan Tong and Ye Xinghe, was probably waiting for the same thing: waiting for the crack to grow on its own.

It was already evening when Su Xinpei returned to his apartment. He placed his briefcase on the table, took off his coat, and pulled out the handwritten outline from his notepad, sitting on the edge of the bed to read it. This wasn't the first time he'd seen President Cao's face. That afternoon, in the conference room, he'd noticed that the folder next to President Cao hadn't been opened—but there was a very faint crease in the lower right corner of the cover, the company seal, the same one he'd seen on the Tianheng Heavy Industry old factory area property rights change filing form in the old files yesterday. He noted this observation in his notepad, then drew a line next to "President Cao" connecting to "Tianheng Heavy Industry old factory area property rights change filing form," and another dotted line connecting to the sentence—"Game of Thrones."

He closed the notepad, muttered to himself as he looked in the mirror: "Starting tonight, I'll probably be dragged into this game of power too. Great." He turned over, pulled the covers over himself, and lay down heavily. The cracks in the ceiling were still there, but the piece of coal below his navel was still warm.