Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 362 Backbone
January 1, 1638, Shixing City.

The wind was biting cold, and the morning mist had not yet dissipated.

On the playground of Xinzhou Management Training Institute, more than 280 young students stood silently in eight neat rows.

Most of them were between 15 and 18 years old, with the oldest being just over 20. They wore uniform dark blue student uniforms with bronze school badges pinned to their chests, which gleamed faintly in the morning light.

Many of them were once orphans, beggars, or even slaves sold into slavery or leftover laborers under the Jurchens' swords.

Eight or nine years ago, the immigrant fleet of the Transcendents gathered these homeless children from the coastal areas of Guangdong, Shandong, and Liaodong, and brought them back to the New Continent, where they were taught to read, write, arithmetic, and physics and chemistry, and they continue to do so to this day.

Ahead of them, several batches of senior students have graduated and taken up grassroots positions across the country, supporting the grassroots backbone of Xinzhou.

In the very center of the playground, a towering flagpole stands, its rope swaying slightly in the cold wind.

Luo Zhenhui, Director of the Xinzhou Decision-Making Committee and Principal of the Management Training Institute, walked slowly onto the wooden lecture platform wearing a dark gray woolen overcoat.

His face bore the wrinkles etched by time, but his eyes were sharp as he surveyed the young people below the stage.

"All officers!" the officer on duty shouted.

"Whoosh..." More than two hundred pairs of leather boots came together at the same time, making a neat sound of footsteps.

"***!"

The band played loudly, the brass horns ringing out especially clearly in the cold wind.

Four soldiers marched with great strides toward the flagpole, led by Zhou Mingde—a nineteen-year-old boy, small in stature but with a determined look in his eyes.

He was one of the best students in his grade, proficient in arithmetic and first aid, and could also speak Spanish and several indigenous dialects.

He held the neatly folded ***** in both hands, walked to the ****, and solemnly tied the **** with a rope.

"******!"

More than two hundred trainees immediately stood solemnly, looking at **** and paying their respects.

The rope was gently pulled, and the **** slowly rose, its ****** shining brightly in the morning light.

A cold wind brushed against my face, and the *** rustled in the wind, making it look like a burning flame.

Zhou Mingde looked up at **********, his eyes slightly warm.

He understood what this ***** represented—it represented New Zealand *****, and even more so, it symbolized ********.

It also represents that these people, who were once abandoned by the Ming Dynasty, now have a place to belong, a mission, and a responsibility.

It also symbolizes a new world of creation and development.

"****!" As the pole reached the top, the duty officer's voice rang out again.

"****!"

"Please give instructions, ***!"

The trainees below the stage immediately straightened their chests, pulled in their stomachs, stood with their legs together, and returned to the standing posture, looking at the stage.

"Trainees, please take a break." Luo Zhenhui took a deep breath, and as he spoke, white mist escaped from his mouth.

"Today is the first day of the 4335th year of the Yellow Emperor's era (1638). Some of you will graduate and leave here in the coming months to take up various positions in New Continent."

His voice was deep and powerful: "Many years ago, you were still living in the turbulent Ming Dynasty, either huddled in dilapidated temples, sleeping in the streets and alleys, or even locked in slave traders' cages."

"Today, you live on the land of Xinzhou, standing on this playground, about to become the pillars of our Xinzhou!..."

Bai Jingrui, an eighteen-year-old boy standing in the first row, had a faint scar on his left cheek, a mark he had left when he fled famine with his parents during his childhood in the Ming Dynasty. He clenched his fist unconsciously.

Fragmented memories flashed through his mind: war, hunger, cold, being driven like livestock, and countless refugees dying on the road... until the people of New Zealand appeared before him, bringing him and hundreds of other children with the same fate to this land of hope.

"...At that time, you will go to various places. Some will go to new colonies, some to factories, and some may even go to remote border wastelands. Wherever you go, you must remember the mission and responsibility you bear."

"You are not alone. Behind you are Xinzhou, your teachers, and millions of people just like you!"

Luo Zhenhui paused, his gaze sweeping over every young face in the audience.

He paused, his gaze sweeping over each young face.

“We, the New Continent *****, pulled you out of the quagmire of the old world not to give you charity, nor to seek repayment, but to let you build a new world that belongs to us.”

“You must remember, Xinzhou… gave you food and education; now, it is your turn to ensure that more people have food and education. This is not repaying a debt of gratitude, but a sacred responsibility you bear.”

"You will be the bright future of our New Continent!"

Below the stage, Zhao Shengyuan—a burly twenty-year-old youth who had once been a servant of a landlord in the Ming Dynasty—suddenly shouted, "I swear to serve the Xinzhou Communist Party to the death!"

Immediately afterwards, more than two hundred voices erupted simultaneously.

"We swear to be loyal to the New Zhou **** to the death!"

"I will die for the rise of the New Continent!"

"...I will die for the rise of the New Continent!"

"..."

The sound dispersed the morning mist and echoed in the air above the campus.

Luo Zhenhui nodded slightly, a relieved smile appearing on his lips.

"Now, disband!"

On the playground, most of the students did not disperse immediately. Many stood still, looking up at the flags fluttering in the sky, as if the excitement surging in their hearts had not been swept away by the cold wind, but was instead rising higher and higher.

“They are the backbone we can rely on the most.” Strolling on the training ground, looking at the young trainees, Luo Zhenhui let out a long breath and said softly, “They are also the hope for the rise of our Xinzhou ****.”

“Yes, Director.” Li Liang, who also serves as the vice principal and is the Minister of Civil Affairs of Xinzhou, nodded and echoed, “In the entire Xinzhou region, only these children who have been educated and nurtured by us for many years will have similar consciousness and concepts to us. They can be considered as true members of our own family and thus inherit our future cause.”

"..." Luo Zhenhui paused, turned to look at him, "Do you all hold this attitude, thinking that the immigrants and natives of the Ming Dynasty are just disposable tools?"

“Director…” Li Liang pondered for a moment, then said softly, “Someone once said that… **************. In this regard, as immigrants from the Ming Dynasty and some natives of Xinzhou, we are also the driving force for creating and promoting Xinzhou’s ***********, and are naturally not so-called ‘consumable tools’.”

"However, due to the limitations of crossing eras and the huge differences in individual consciousness, they may have significant misunderstandings about the things we promote and the ideas we advocate, and in some cases they may even have resistance and opposition. For example, gender equality, prohibition of polygamy, and allowing women to work."

"If it weren't for the strict control our New Continent government exercised over immigrants from the Ming Dynasty, the various restrictions and controls imposed on the ******, and the fact that we met their basic material needs to the greatest extent possible—ensuring they had enough to eat, warm clothes, and a share of land to pass down to their descendants, giving everyone boundless hope—it would have been possible for our various policies and laws to be smoothly implemented and firmly enforced."

"After all, we have a difference in thinking and consciousness of more than three hundred years with people of this era. No, it should be said that there is a gap. The reason why they obey us and are grateful to us is simply because of the contrast with the many sufferings that the Ming Dynasty once suffered. They feel that our Xinzhou **** is a paradise on earth, a beautiful Shangri-La."

"But as time goes by, as they become accustomed to this material abundance, to having various institutional and legal safeguards, and even to the various 'benevolent policies' implemented in our New South Wales, will they continue to maintain this sense of gratitude? Will they continue to obey us unconditionally?"

"Perhaps, in the eyes of those Ming Dynasty immigrants, everything they received was what they deserved, a gift from heaven. Haha, haven't some people said that although countless civilians played an important role in the course of history, in a certain time dimension, civilization did indeed have limitations and shortcomings?"

"However, the new generation that grows up with us in New Zealand is completely different. They have received our systematic and comprehensive education and have acquired the modern knowledge and ideas that we have instilled in them. In the foreseeable future, they will certainly be the closest to us in terms of behavior and ideology."

"Therefore, not only me, but also others, all agree that these younger generations, and even the next generation that is being born and growing up, are all 'our own people.' As the director just said, they are the backbone we can rely on the most!"

After hearing this, Luo Zhenhui remained silent for a long time.

After a moment, he nodded slightly and turned to walk out of the school.

"In a few years, our generation will be leaving the stage, and the future development of Xinzhou will depend on you."

"Yes, and the next generation, full of hope!"
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(End of this chapter)