Chapter 445: The World’s Second-best Running Script
After listening, Bradley vaguely felt something was off.
He quickly pulled out the photos.
The first one was an airport, unclear which one, but the dense tropical palm trees gave a rough impression.
A White man wearing a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses bent down to get into a black Mercedes sedan.
The second one: the same vehicle, with an Eastern man dressed in a Zhongshan suit getting into the car.
The back of the photo had handwritten timestamps: “1970-06-15 05:45” and “1970-06-15 08:20”.
Moments later, Bradley’s eyes narrowed; he had made a judgment.
These were big figures from two countries.
Kissinger himself wasn’t a big figure, but as Nixon’s plenipotentiary representative, he was in a sense one.
The same car, the same location.
This wasn’t a coincidence; it was ironclad proof of a secret meeting.
Bradley muttered, “This is typical V’s style.”
The signal couldn’t be clearer: trying to muddy the waters. Every time a glimmer of peace appeared, V would act to muddy the waters.
It was like this in the past, and it still was now.
Damn V had appeared again, Bradley thought.
“My God,” senior reporter Katherine Graham from the editor’s office and assistant editor Sarah said in unison.
“Is this China and America in secret contact? In Lion City?
Nixon struggling in the Vietnam War quagmire, yet shaking hands with China behind the scenes?”
A murmur erupted in the room.
Most people clearly couldn’t accept this.
Jimmy retreated to the corner, his face even paler, as if afraid of being dragged into some international conspiracy.
Last time, he had been taken in for questioning by the FBI plenty of times.
Bradley, being highly respected, was questioned in his own office.
Other editors were also taken away, but because he was an intern and the first to receive the letter, he was taken the most times and stayed at the FBI the longest.
Bradley rubbed his temples, countless thoughts flashing through his mind.
Could this be an internal leak? Either way, this photo was like a bomb that could blow up Washington’s political circle.
“Quiet!” Bradley knocked on the table, gathering everyone around. “First, verify its authenticity.
Sarah, contact our photography expert to compare the airport layout and character features.
Bob, check Kissinger’s public itinerary. He said he was attending a meeting in Southeast Asia, but this photo exposes the lie.
Jimmy, go brew some coffee and lock the door. We can’t let this leak out.”
After a moment of silence, Bradley continued emphatically, “Everyone, I want to say, this isn’t betrayal, nor a conspiracy. This is the president making the greatest effort to stop the war!
The Vietnam War is a disaster. To stop it, we must reach an agreement with China, which stands behind North Vietnam.
This negotiation is ongoing, an effort for peace.
It is President Nixon’s helpless choice after seeing reality clearly.
On the contrary, the party that sent these photos to us is the pusher and enabler of the conspiracy.
They want us to remain mired in the Vietnam War quagmire.
They want us to keep bleeding on the Vietnam War frontline, our soldiers to keep getting killed in action! To keep making sacrifices!
Even if we report this, when writing editorials, everyone must hold to this stance unwaveringly!”
Without a doubt, the Washington Post, which leaned toward the conservatives’ stance, chose at this moment to stand with the White House.
Bradley had made his choice.
The editor’s office instantly switched to wartime status.
The photography expert soon reported back: the photos were not fabricated.
Then reporters far away in Southeast Asia reported that the airport was Lion City’s Changi Airport.
Additionally, the timestamps matched Lion City airport records.
Why not suppress the news.
Given V’s methods, every newspaper company surely had it. Bradley didn’t think this was exclusive to the Washington Post.
The next day, the Washington Post’s front-page title: “Lion City’s Secret Handshake: Photos Expose Kissinger’s Meeting with Chinese Representative”.
Bradley sat in his office, gazing at the rain outside the window, muttering, “What exactly is V trying to do? Anyway, we’ve done what we should.”
Jimmy knocked and entered, holding coffee: “Sir, do you think this will change the war?”
Bradley said helplessly, “Kid, it already has. President Nixon is getting President Johnson’s last-year treatment ahead of time.”
Last year?
Not that optimistic.
This could be seen as a prelude to the Watergate Scandal.
Nixon was at his wits’ end.
Donkey Party Senator William Fulbright roared at the Foreign Relations Committee hearing: “This is appeasement! Our soldiers are bleeding on the Annam frontline, yet Nixon is trading with China in Lion City!”
Cracks were also appearing within the Elephant Party.
Conservatives like Barry Goldwater publicly criticized: “We cannot betray South Vietnam.”
Some Elephant Party conservative congressmen from the southern states said: “The professor has been a senior official in the White House too long. He will inevitably become a Chinese descent figure with enormous influence like Edgar Hoover. Such a senior official so close to China is not a good thing.”
White House spokesperson Ron Ziegler denied the photos’ authenticity—not completely denying, but ambiguously stating: “The White House cannot confirm the photos’ authenticity; this may be Soviet Union propaganda.”
Kissinger himself defended at a press conference: “This is fake news. I was in Lion City due to physical discomfort, resting for health reasons.”
This time, they were launching unmanned lunar rovers to the Lunar South Pole and Lunar North Pole. If power allowed, they would finally head to the far side of the Moon for exploration.
It was also the final preparation for the Cyber God on the far side of the Moon to come online.
Lin Ran walked into the Oval Office; Nixon had been waiting there for a while.
“Professor, I need your help,” Nixon said. This didn’t surprise Lin Ran.
He had anticipated it anyway; Nixon needed his help.
“Mr. President, what do you want to do?” Lin Ran asked.
Lin Ran was a bit dazed. On the special plane to Washington, seeing all sorts of V exposés in the newspapers, he thought, I didn’t leak anything. Soviet Union, you’re using my name again, huh?
Nixon poured Lin Ran a glass of whiskey.
“Professor, you’re not an ordinary Chinese descent person.
You have extremely high prestige in America, even surpassing the president’s.
Even conservative supporters in the southern states respect you, trust you, and recognize you.
This isn’t flattery; it’s fact.
Americans respect stronger individuals, especially ones like you who can lead them to victory.
When I ran in the 1968 presidential election, touring America giving speeches and talking with supporters, in conservative swing states like Virginia, North Carolina, Florida, and so on, the White voters generally respected you. They all asked me if, upon becoming president, I would replace the NASA director.
They hoped I would keep you in the White House to lead America truly into the universe.
You represent the American dream of immigrants.
If you step forward and support us, the public will listen.
Your voice can dispel their doubts.”
After Nixon finished, Lin Ran asked, “Do you want me to step forward and give a speech?”
Nixon shook his head: “No, I hope to hold a dialogue for the entire American public, just the two of us, you and me.
I will carefully explain my concepts on this program, and the thinking behind my push to normalize relations with China.
At the end of the program, I will announce that you will attend this year’s International Congress of Mathematicians and serve as America’s ambassador plenipotentiary to China in Nice, France, for further dialogue.”
Lin Ran thought: “Of course, I am certainly willing to make such an attempt.
But I have one question: will it really work?
Can I really change all this?
Can I really help you turn the current situation around?”
Lin Ran continued: “Mr. President, during President Johnson’s time, we faced many dilemmas. President Johnson’s polls often hit rock bottom, even encountering desperate situations. President Johnson once faced losing the party election victory, and even the presidential candidacy seemed unwinnable.
I helped him out of the desperate situation; this isn’t self-praise, it’s fact.”
Nixon nodded: “Of course, of course it’s fact. I was a candidate too; I know well how Johnson’s polls warmed up.”
Lin Ran continued: “Right, but in the past, I helped presidents through technological development, giving the public hope from technological progress.
Now you’re asking me to rely on language, on dialogue. I’m not sure if that will really work.”
Nixon said wistfully: “It’s worth a try, professor. If even you can’t, no one can.
I can’t be sure if it will work either, but we have to try. We need to do the right thing, ensure the right thing doesn’t offend voters or lose ballots.”
The live broadcast was scheduled for three days later, in CBS’s national network prime time, titled “America’s Future”.
Before the live broadcast began, the media was already hyping it up.
Time Magazine came to the White House to take profile photos of Nixon and Lin Ran as pre-broadcast hype.
The New York Times even called it the dialogue of the century, possibly the most important dialogue of this century.
For a time, voices from the frontline were suppressed, and even the surging protests quieted down. Everyone wanted to hear the president’s and professor’s dialogue before deciding whether to continue protesting.
Far away in Texas, Lyndon Johnson was dumbfounded: This thing works so well? If I’d known, I should’ve done a dialogue with the professor too.
Big T called Lin Ran to plead: “Godfather, I’m a veteran TV host with rich experience hosting The Apprentice. Can I host your dialogue program this time?”
Lin Ran smiled and declined: “We have no host this time, just me and President Nixon.”
With China and America negotiating privately, ROC was the most panicked.
Zhou Shukai, mentioned earlier, was at this time still ROC’s ambassador.
Before the TV live broadcast started, he appeared at Lin Ran’s residence in Washington.
Upon entering the room, he placed the suitcase in his hand on the coffee table, then clasped his fists: “Professor, we’re all Chinese people. You have to speak for us!”
Historically, after taking over diplomacy, Zhou Shukai’s first challenge was the battle over China’s representation at the United Nations.
Lin Ran understood. “Of course, of course, we’re all Chinese people.”
Zhou Shukai nodded: “We have only one request: please speak for us, ensure America and China do not establish diplomatic relations. For this, we’re willing to pay a price.”
After speaking, Zhou Shukai went to the suitcase, opened it, revealing a framed calligraphy piece.
Lin Ran gasped; he recognized it at a glance: “Yan Zhenqing’s Elegy for My Nephew?”
Zhou Shukai looked proud—we still have good stuff. “Correct, the authentic Yan Zhenqing Elegy for My Nephew, to express our sincerity!”
The treasure of Taipei’s Forbidden City Museum. In the 2020 spacetime, the Elegy for My Nephew had only been exhibited publicly three times in Taipei.
But in 2019, it was lent to Tokyo’s National Museum for exhibition, causing a stir on the Chinese Internet, who thought it too rare.
Why the Elegy for My Nephew and not Wang Xizhi’s Quick Snow When Sunny Post? Because the latter is considered a Tang dynasty copy.
Why not Su Shi’s Cold Food Observance Post? Because the Cold Food Observance Post is the world’s third finest running script, while the Elegy for My Nephew is the second.
Who sends the third without sending the second?
Lin Ran looked at Zhou Shukai, thinking, spendthrift—this can be given away?
But this sincerity was a bit too much.
He didn’t answer immediately but pondered.
Moments later, he nodded: “Alright, Ran will do his utmost.”
