Parsi quickly caught up and leaned close to Andrew’s ear. “This should be the College’s welcoming party for you, sir. That gentleman appears to be… the vice-principal!”
“Vice-principal?” Andrew’s mind went blank. He’d read through the College’s documents—did this College even have a “vice-principal”? Andrew hadn’t seen the vice-principal’s signature on any official documents.
“That’s the Watchman,” Parsi whispered. “The title is vice-principal, but it’s just an honorary position—he doesn’t handle any specific duties.”
The name “Watchman” startled Andrew for a moment. He took a good look at the figure standing before him, who seemed somewhere between a sloppy uncle and an old, shabby man, and found it impossible to reconcile this image with the person in the photo. Cassell College’s second-in-command, the hidden figure known as the “Watchman,” was an important role, and Andrew had studied him before arriving. He even managed to get hold of a picture, though it was taken back in 1934 in Bolivia. But no matter how much time passed, it shouldn’t have changed a person this drastically, should it? Where was that statuesque face of a beautiful man? That prominent Greek nose? Those long, curly locks that fell somewhere between a roguish youth and a rock star? The seductive, pure gaze that could charm everyone from young women to grandmothers?
Time had really made a tragedy out of this old guy!
Apparently, the vice principal had no idea what Andrew was pondering. He leaned in closer, nodding vigorously and enthusiastically, “Finally, you’ve come! I’ve been waiting for this for a long time—he’s lived like a turtle for far too long! Making me take this vice principal role for all these years!”
Hundreds of male and female students held up their bouquets, surrounding the flower-covered vehicle that slowly moved forward amidst cheering. Balloons and ribbons floated through the air, and somewhere champagne corks popped—everyone seemed genuinely happy about the investigation team’s arrival, as if it were a grand carnival.
The vice principal threw his arm around Andrew’s shoulder with a proud smile. “The students are all in high spirits, aren’t they?” He raised his thumb confidently. “I knew the investigation team would be pleased!”
Without giving Andrew any chance to respond, the vice principal raised his arm, “Hello, students! Great job, everyone!”
The students loudly responded, “Hello, teacher! You’re the one who works the hardest…”
Andrew didn’t know that this “mistaken welcome” was just the beginning of a series of blunders… Starting with the banquet, this mistake would plummet into a completely irreversible abyss!
Principal Hilbert Ron Anjou didn’t even show up, let alone invite him for afternoon tea or anything of that sort; apparently, he had a serious case of pharyngitis. The hospitable vice principal took over all hosting duties on behalf of the College’s management team. “You’re here to investigate him; of course, he’s upset!” The vice principal confided in Andrew privately.
“Forget about him. Since it wasn’t easy for you to make this trip, we should at least eat well. No need for formality—just call me Old Manecke.” The vice principal kept Andrew’s hand tightly in his as they walked.
The banquet was an authentic Chinese-style feast, with the starters being Malantou tofu salad, the main course roast Peking duck, and soup—a hot and sour one with gnocchi. The sommelier poured everyone glasses of a potent liquor called “Erguotou.” Without allowing any chance for refusal, the vice principal escorted Andrew to his seat, saying, “If you won’t drink with me, I won’t help you deal with Anjou! Show me some respect!” The vice principal showed his loyalty to the School Board in the most open manner, his sincerity as bright as the sun. Andrew, accustomed to red wine, was completely unprepared for the harshness of the transparent liquid. When the vice principal raised his glass and said, “Let’s finish this,” tipping back the drink, Andrew thought it was some sort of custom, so he also drank it all.
“Great drinking capacity!” the vice principal praised, and thus began the spectacle of opening bottle after bottle of Erguotou as if it were champagne at a grand wedding.
Andrew had no choice but to accept the hospitality since the vice principal had shown such devotion to the School Board and had even brought in the department heads and lifetime professors to accompany them. These were precisely the people Andrew had intended to “divide and conquer” before arriving, and so, summoning his courage, he mimicked the vice principal—grabbing a small glass bottle and drinking with everyone at the round table.
“Mr. Vice Principal… You’re French, aren’t you?” Andrew, swaying, finally realized that the reception was in the style of a Chinese town’s welcome party for visiting leaders. He had once represented the family conglomerate on a visit to China to investigate investment opportunities.
“Yeah, born and raised in Paris,” the vice principal glared at him, “Do I have a bit of a Chinese touch? During World War II, I fought alongside Chennault with the Flying Tigers, lived in China for over a decade, and I can still sing Chinese folk songs…”
And so the vice principal, now caught up in his excitement, sang several songs. All Andrew could remember of the lyrics were, “Friends come, and we serve them good wine. If jackals come, we greet them with hunting rifles…”
The next day, Andrew, still not over his hangover, was woken up by a call from the enthusiastic vice principal to witness one of the College’s special activities—calisthenics. According to the vice principal, it was a practice he learned while resisting the Japanese in China and an advanced idea that inspired much of the College’s Chinese education over the past decade.
The third day’s program was a visit to the College’s “Model Student” award ceremony, naturally also based on Chinese education traditions. It was a solemn yet lively scene, though by the end of the event Andrew found out that this year’s “Model Student” was none other than Chu Zihang, his investigation target…
The fourth day’s program was to observe the girls’ deep-water certification exams. At the insistence of the vice principal, Andrew had to change into swimming trunks and sit beside the pool on a lounger, drinking iced Erguotou while watching girls in white bikinis dive into the water, their graceful arms parting the crystal-clear pool surface.
“Pretty, right?” The vice principal whispered with a delighted grin, “I think the girls at our College have fantastic figures!”
Andrew’s entire worldview neared collapse after several days of this. He didn’t know what exactly his family’s investment had gone towards over the years in this College. Weren’t they supposed to be milestones of scientific progress? Titans in the field of mysticism? Iron-willed agents of the Execution Bureau? This was supposed to be the holy academic shrine that hybrids revered, but it turned out to be run by an outrageous principal and an even more outrageous, and rather sleazy, vice principal!
With extreme indignation, Andrew called Frost Gattuso in Rome on the fourth night.
Late at night, the light was still on in the Watchman’s small loft atop the clock tower.
“Shameful! Absolutely shameful!” The vice principal slapped the documents in his hand, grieving. “I say, old friend, no wonder you’re under investigation—what you’ve done during your term as principal has been absolutely lawless!”
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