The Peacemaker and the Paranoiac

Beneath the same night sky, amid the sound of the tide, a robed artisan knocked at the doors of another workshop. "Ah, what lovely moonlight." Jiang Tongguang grinned, looking at the bearded man whose expression was dark as still water. "Director Gustav, sorry to disturb you." Gustav remained stone-faced, begrudging even a smile. "Director Jiang, visiting so late at night—to what do I owe the pleasure?" Jiang Tongguang raised his hand and swished the bottle in his grasp. "A batch of my home-brewed whiskey just came out of the cellar. It's only aged five years, but the flavor is quite nice. Care for a drink together?" "..." The two stared at each other in silence for a long time. In the end, Gustav let out a soundless sigh and stepped aside. "Come in, then." The workshop's parlor was as chaotic as ever, with manuscripts and materials discarded at random, leaving hardly any room to step. As fellow artisans, they were all used to it. Jiang Tongguang couldn't be bothered to figure out which manuscripts were critical and which were trivial; he simply parked himself right on Gustav's desk. Among so much paperwork, that pile of official documents was the least important anyway. With a casual wave of his hand, the material properties of the air shifted, aggregating and condensing into two tumblers that settled into Jiang Tongguang's hands, clinking softly against each other. "Want ice?" Jiang Tongguang swirled the clear liquor as he poured it into the glasses. An alluring sweet fragrance rose from the amber spirits, intoxicating the senses. "I don't hold my liquor well. I'll pass." Gustav lifted his mug—plain water, unchanging as ever. "Then both glasses are mine." Jiang Tongguang smiled. After downing the first glass himself, he quipped, "It's no good keeping your nerves wound so tight. Why not relax a little?" "I believe we discussed the subject of personality last month, with no conclusion," Gustav said bluntly. "If you have business, speak plainly, so as not to waste both our time." "I know, I know. Efficiency above all." Jiang Tongguang set down his glass and sat cross-legged on the desk, his expression turning serious. "Good news. In accordance with the eight directors' rotation rule, this artisan examination will once again see you serving as head administrator, proctor, and evaluator." "And the bad news?" Gustav asked. "The bad news is, everyone was worried you'd have too much on your plate to handle alone, so they pushed me forward to assist from the side." Jiang Tongguang shrugged. "Of course, with a lazy fellow like me, don't expect me to be too enthusiastic. I'm purely here in name only. If you've got some earth-shattering grand plan cooking, just give me a heads-up in advance so I can stay far away and not ruin your fun." According to the association's established custom, the triennial artisan examination was usually presided over by the eight directors in turn. By the same token, it was merely one of the prerogatives of being a director. Even if one took the opportunity to promote their own confidants and old acquaintances, as long as it wasn't overly egregious and could be justified on the surface, everyone generally turned a blind eye and paid no mind. If any other director had suddenly poked their nose into the examination work, the presiding director would likely have flown into a rage. Jiang Tongguang was the exception. Even in an association rife with fierce infighting, Jiang Tongguang was an utter anomaly, even more absurd than a radical like Gustav. Even now, he was the sole occupant of his workshop, with no students and few friends. He did not vie for power, chase profit, cultivate factions, or meddle in rivalries. He treated others with genial warmth and never put on airs. Even when some fool occasionally offended him, he was magnanimous, dispensing only minor reprimands. Within the Board of Directors, he was a professional peacemaker, mediating conflicts and balancing various factions. His most frequent sayings were "Whatever," "Either way works," and "Do as you see fit." Hearing this, Gustav understood in an instant and sneered. "Specially sending you to play the 'good cop'—just how little does Delong trust me?" "Aren't they afraid you'll swing the butcher's cleaver again?" Jiang Tongguang shook his head with a sigh, tilted his head back to finish another glass, and clicked his tongue. "The last time you presided over the exam, the board suffered enough grief... Several projects over in the Federation and the Empire nearly ground to a halt. "The previous president was already bald, and he almost lost what little hair he had left back then. Delong is close to retirement as president, and he doesn't want to tarnish his twilight years." "Rest assured, I won't be quite so 'unreasonable' again." Gustav's tone was derisive. "This time, as long as their juniors and old cronies don't make utter fools of themselves, I naturally won't embarrass everyone." "Nothing to do with me—just don't catch me in the crossfire, old friend." Jiang Tongguang lowered his head and poured himself another glass. "As long as you don't drive a bus full of candidates to a deserted island, hand each of them a gun, and tell them only one survivor gets to become an artisan... I don't care either way." "If only we could do that, maybe we'd actually sift out a few uncut gems." Gustav scoffed. "Don't worry, Jiang. I'm no social Darwinist, nor am I some psychopath who gets off on making people suffer. I simply want the examination to return to what it was meant to be. "An examination ground is an examination ground, not a playground for directors to indulge in power games—just look at these 'outstanding apprentices' who applied! Such gushing talent, my workshop can hardly contain it all!" With that, he waved his hand and tossed a stack of application forms onto the desk. The sheer oddities among them were an eye-opener even for Jiang Tongguang. There was an "old fogey" who clearly exceeded the age limit yet had the gall to write "eighteen years young" on the form; a dark-skinned transgender person from the Empire whose pronouns and titles were so long they couldn't even fit in the gender box; a "child prodigy" from the Federation whose prolific bibliography began at age seven with dozens of published papers every year... Beyond those, the vast majority were apprentices recommended by various workshops, each connected by blood or friendship to some master or artisan. Every single one came with thick recommendation letters lavishing praise as though the applicant were peerless in heaven and earth, destined to become a master, poised to attain grandmaster rank, and guaranteed to revolutionize modern alchemy and inaugurate a new era. It was written as if failing them would prove nothing other than the director's utter blindness. In reality? Among them, how many were genuine talents, and how many were dyed-in-the-wool frauds? Jiang Tongguang clicked his tongue in wonder. In the past, whenever his turn came, he would always invent some excuse to pawn it off on the next director, so he had never experienced such an outrageous spectacle. Though it was hardly unexpected... "What do you plan to do?" "What needs to be done." Gustav waved a hand dismissively, tossing the pile of applications and recommendation letters back into the heaps of waste paper. "Too many rote-memorizing parrot machines. They recite textbooks flawlessly, unmatched when delivering grand lectures and pontificating on the state of the world, but utterly useless when it comes to hands-on work. "There are already too many critics. The association doesn't need more wagging tongues." "I want to reactivate the Tower of Myriad Transformations!" he said. *Hiss—* Jiang Tongguang drew in a sharp breath, then poured himself another glass to steady his nerves. "Nearly a thousand people have applied this year. The consumption from that... "If Delong finds out, he'd probably rather you drove a bus to a deserted island to play your little game!" "Being president was never meant to be easy. Between a headache and a stomachache, he has to pick one. Where in the world does someone get to have it both ways?" Gustav sneered. "True gold still needs the test of fire. If we don't wring out the water, who will ever know how much sponge is hiding beneath that flowery finery?" "Fair enough, you're not wrong." Jiang Tongguang gulped down his drink until the bottle was nearly dry. By rights, as an assistant specially dispatched by the board, he ought to have urged Gustav not to be so radical, to spare the innocent budget, and to work things out amicably. Yet suddenly, he decided not to waste his breath. It wasn't as if persuading him would do any good anyway. Besides, since when was the budget more important than a good show? Drink up, drink up. He set down his glass and took his leave. He stepped out of Gustav's workshop, strolling under the moonlight and humming a tune. Not far off, beneath the cliffs, the ocean surged, tides roaring ceaselessly. Beneath the stars, upon the Endless Sea between the Empire and the Federation, this was the headquarters of the Ring of Taiyi—the most transcendent presence among the Thousand Islands, an earthly miracle founded and built by artisans. Emerald of the sea, pearl of the furnace. —Tianshu Island. Amidst the roar of waves and the night sky, all was quiet; the distant district where the association lay slept peacefully. All remained calm and peaceful. Jiang Tongguang whistled, filled with anticipation. It was foreseeable... Things were going to get lively very soon!