Chapter 438: Black Humor
“A Letter to Yanjing”
Lin Ran cited classics extensively in it, mainly expounding on the concept of China from a cultural perspective, finally getting to the point, roughly meaning that the relationship between China and America is full of challenges, but ultimately they can seek common ground while reserving differences and reach agreement.
Both sides need to take the first step.
At the end, Lin Ran attached a song in the letter: “Descendants of the Dragon”.
Of course, the English parts here were removed from “Descendants of the Dragon”.
The English parts were a bit discordant.
Everything else fit Lin Ran’s state of mind and the meaning he wanted to express.
“Many years ago on a quiet night, our whole family arrived in New York.”
This sentence just needs to change “our whole family” to “me alone”.
Lin Ran finished writing the letter that night and called Kissinger early the next morning to come pick it up.
On the third day, January 3, in a windowless, dry-aired interrogation room in Washington, Larry King’s New Year holiday was abruptly interrupted.
By now he was the director related to Far East affairs, a minor official.
It’s not easy for someone of Chinese descent to become a minor official in the federal system, and even harder in the FBI’s system.
This shows his ability and interpersonal skills are both top-notch.
Not only was his holiday cut short ahead of time, but he had to rush from California all the way to Washington D.C.
Kissinger had already been waiting here for a while.
“Mr. Consultant, sorry to keep you waiting,” Larry King said. He didn’t know how long Kissinger had been waiting, but he could tell something from the half-empty coffee cup.
“Larry, I hear you’re steady, efficient at work, and expert in Far East affairs. This report.”
Kissinger skipped the pleasantries and pointed directly at a stack of documents on the table, then continued: “This letter is from the professor. Its importance goes without saying.
I’m about to go to Lion City for secret negotiations with the Chinese side, and this letter will be one way to break the ice.
But you know, there are too many differences between us and China.
Even with past ice-breaking methods, from the Mathematician Conference to the ping-pong team, to limited trade relations, none may have as big an effect as this letter from the professor.
Some content—I need you to provide a more professional analysis from the perspective of someone who received a complete Chinese-style education.”
Kissinger explained it thoroughly.
His trip to Lion City was secret, depending on who the recipient was.
The recipient was Larry King, so it wasn’t secret.
After all, Larry King’s work was constantly accompanied by secrets.
Even so, Larry King’s heart still hung in suspense.
He knew of White Horse’s existence and had helped pass along the “MIT Radiation Laboratory Series,” but he didn’t know White Horse’s true identity.
The equation between White Horse and Lin Ran was known to only a handful of people.
But Larry had worked at the FBI for so many years and also provided work for Yanjing.
He vaguely sensed that Washington’s highest-level mole was Lin Ran.
This was an ace’s intuition, and also the unspoken tacit understanding between Larry King and Yanjing.
How certain was Larry King? For example, Yanjing’s instructions to him were that in case of an accident, he must ensure White Horse’s safety at all costs and get White Horse to Yanjing Palace.
If that moment really came and Lin Ran appeared before him saying, “I am White Horse, I need your help.”
Larry King wouldn’t hesitate for a second, even if it cost his own life—he would unhesitatingly ensure Lin Ran’s safety.
So when Lin Ran’s letter appeared before him, Larry King remained outwardly calm, but his heart was already suspended.
The subtext he read from it was: this was a sign of distrust.
This made Larry King feel a surge of sadness—even the professor had to face such scrutiny.
Then Kissinger picked up the handwritten letter with two fingers and placed it in the center of the table.
Then he pushed over the printed lyrics of “Descendants of the Dragon”.
“First, this letter. It’s written throughout in a cultural language we don’t quite understand.
Alright, Chinese language is full of metaphors.
I want you to judge the risks for me—whether the wording here could be passing some information to China that shouldn’t be passed.
Then this song—does it have any hidden implications beyond the surface meaning?”
After Kissinger finished, the room fell quiet.
Larry King took out his glasses from his pocket, put them on slowly, first skimmed the letter, then picked up the printed lyrics.
His inner feelings became complicated.
No wonder, what “Descendants of the Dragon.”
The Jewish people already see you as their spiritual leader—can you imagine a Jewish spiritual leader singing that they are forever Descendants of the Dragon?
If I were Kissinger, I’d find fault too.
Larry King thought to himself.
Larry King looked puzzled. “Sorry, Mr. Consultant, I’m a bit confused—why would the professor say he is a Descendant of the Dragon.
This is a bit strange.
In Chinese culture, the dragon is not a symbol of aggression; it is an ancient and sacred totem representing auspiciousness, power, and identification with national identity.
For us overseas Chinese descent, it is an emotional reliance, a remembrance of our ancestors.
Isn’t the professor half Jewish descent and half Chinese descent?
In the past, the professor did show identification with Chinese culture, but that identification was limited to the cultural level.
In reality, his identification with the Chinese descent identity is minimal.
In New York, he doesn’t participate in Chinese descent community activities, doesn’t communicate with Chinese descent people, doesn’t marry a Chinese descent wife, doesn’t recruit Chinese descent students.
In my view, his emotional link to Göttingen is deeper than to China.
Bystander makes this even clearer—his attitude toward this country is that of a Bystander.”
These words hit Kissinger right in the heart.
He was of German descent.
“So?” Kissinger asked.
Larry King then pushed the lyrics in front of Kissinger, pointing to the last few lines: “Look here again: ‘In the ancient East there is a group of people, they are all Descendants of the Dragon.’
This song isn’t for politics or war; it’s just a Chinese descent person in a foreign land, issuing a deep emotional call to their cultural roots.
I believe the professor did this to make your negotiation trip smoother—a kind of statement.
Creating the concept of Descendants of the Dragon to close the distance with Yanjing.
This is more flattery, a compliment—that even a world-famous figure like the professor believes you and I are all Descendants of the Dragon.
I believe this will have an unexpected effect on your Lion City trip.
It might really help you pry open Yanjing’s doors.”
Larry King seemed to be interpreting, but was actually explaining for Lin Ran, speaking up for Lin Ran.
This was the quality of an ace.
If he doesn’t act, fine—but when he does, it’s lethal.
The professor specially wrote this song for you—doesn’t it move you?
He actually isn’t Chinese descent, not a Descendant of the Dragon; he’s actually Jewish descent.
Kissinger’s expression relaxed immediately.
“What about this letter?”
“This letter is also calling for peace,” Larry King said firmly. “He’s seeking common ground for both American and Chinese sides, seeking opportunities for negotiation, seeking emotional resonance.
The professor is not only a Mathematics Master but also an undisputed master in Chinese culture.”
Many times, prohibition itself is a temptation.
The harsher the suppression, the more undercurrents surge in private.
This is human nature, unrelated to camps.
“V for Vendetta” could at least air in London, be discussed in English tabloids, be seen by the public in open cinemas.
In the Soviet Union, in Eastern Europe, that was absolutely impossible.
Prague Spring was not long ago.
The Kremlin feared that memories everyone had just barely faded would be awakened again.
Feared that the public would gain new inspiration from V.
Thus “V for Vendetta” was an absolute taboo topic in Socialism countries.
But could this block the public’s surging expectations?
The answer is no.
East German public flooded into West German cinemas to watch.
This was also an important reason West Germany decided to screen it—they wanted to show they were different from East Germany.
East German public watched and it spread outward from East Berlin.
The ripples could even reach Moscow.
In January 1970, snow fell especially heavily in Moscow, wrapping the whole city in silver.
At the city’s edge, in a five-story apartment building from Nikita’s time, Andrei was sitting at his rickety wooden table, laboriously peeling a potato with a dull knife.
From the radio came the official station’s high-pitched and solemn voice.
The radio was broadcasting the countdown to the 100th anniversary of Vladimir’s birth—this was their most important event that year.
But the “they” here was for the Kremlin people; for Andrei, maybe not.
He was numb to it; this voice was like the black bread he ate every day—rough and tasteless.
He cared more about when his mother, who suffered from lung disease, could get more milk.
Just then, a light knock sounded at the door.
Andrei knew it wasn’t the neighbor kid downstairs, but his friend, Yuri.
The name Yuri was as common in the Soviet Union as Founding.
Yuri was a technician at a film studio; he always brought something interesting.
He held something wrapped in old newspaper; as soon as he entered, he hurriedly shut the door, as if KGB was chasing behind.
“Andrei, look at this.” Yuri said in a low voice as he unwrapped the newspaper, revealing a plastic box inside.
Andrei recognized it—a Western video tape that cost dozens of rubles on the black market.
“What’s this?” Andrei asked, his heart starting to race.
“A movie,” Yuri whispered, his eyes gleaming with fanaticism. “From the West—they say it can change your worldview.”
Andrei’s heart clenched; he knew the power of this stuff.
In the past, they used electronic products from China, which weren’t blocked and hadn’t been specially processed by the Soviet Union’s electronics industry institutions.
So they could often receive signals from Western Europe.
This was true for both radios and televisions.
But after “V for Vendetta” was released, to prevent them from seeing even fragments, the Soviet side went door-to-door to modify your Chinese products.
Though the staff called it routine maintenance.
At first everyone thought it was maintenance, but after it was done, they realized something was wrong—why couldn’t they receive the programs they used to love.
After that, equipment bought from China, aside from quality, was no different from Soviet-made ones.
From this, Andrei could see how powerful “V for Vendetta” was—powerful enough to force the huge, heavy bureaucratic machine, which normally doesn’t move easily, to operate at full speed.
He instinctively said: “Are you crazy?”
Yuri put a finger to his lips to shush him: “Of course not—want to watch?”
Yuri’s voice was so soft it was as if a louder sound would summon the black dog KGB to tear them apart.
Andrei and Yuri took the video tape to the basement deep in the apartment building.
This was one of their few safe havens.
The room was cramped, the air filled with the smell of vodka, tobacco, and sweat.
In the center of the room, a television that Yuri had privately modified emitted a faint glow.
When the movie started, both held their breath.
The image was full of snow and jitter, the sound full of noise, but this didn’t dampen their expectant mood at all.
When the future world in the movie appeared—that city full of oppression and fear—Andrei’s heart sank sharply.
He saw the gray buildings, the ubiquitous propaganda slogans, the tight police surveillance.
He remembered the slogans he saw every day after work on the streets.
He felt the world in the movie was an amplified version of his own life.
When V appeared wearing the mask in the movie.
Andrei felt that mask was a symbol, a symbol of rebellion, of freedom.
When V delivered that deafening speech to the nation in the movie, Andrei felt an unprecedented resonance.
When the movie ended and the screen turned to snow, the entire basement fell silent.
No one spoke.
The air held only breathing; everyone was still immersed in the movie’s world.
After a long time, Andrei murmured: “No wonder they fear us seeing this—this thing is too powerful!”
Yuri said with a bitter smile: “Andrei, I’m a bit regretful now.”
Andrei asked: “Regret what?”
