439: Chapter 439 Five Documents Breach the Security Council

Greenfield turned around. Behind her, on the electronic screen used to prompt speaking points, the original draft of the US statement had been cleared, replaced by an English translation of the words just spoken. The grammar of the translation was perfect, and the last sentence ended with a period.

"The US representative just spoke of aggression. Please allow me to submit a few documents to the UN Security Council." Zhang Cheng raised his right hand—his holographic finger pointed into the air, and a PDF document simultaneously popped up on the screens of the Shuguang Cloud terminals in front of the fifteen representatives. Document No. NO.20250317-01, Title: 《1943 Nanyang Island Japanese Military Police Translator Employment Contract — Signatory: Wong Ah Fook. The second page was an enlarged photocopy of the contract, clearly showing the signatory's Chinese signature and thumbprint.

"The second one." Document No. NO.20250317-02, 《1965 Singapore Declaration of Independence — Appendix: US-UK Military Base Lease Agreement》. The first article of the agreement clearly stated: Changi Naval Base and its surrounding waters are permanently leased to the British and US navies for use, with a lease term of ninety-nine years and an annual rent of one pound.

"The third one." Document No. NO.20250317-03, 《1987 Operation Spectrum Detention Order — Approver: Lee Kuan Yew, Executor: Wong Chin-sung, Detention List: 16 people, no trial, no charges, no time limit》.

"The fourth one." NO.20250317-04, 《1980 Nanyang University Closure Order — Signatory: Wong Chin-sung, Permanent Secretary of the Ministry of Education》.

"The fifth one." NO.20250317-05, is a video. The video was filmed at a 2024 US Navy reception in Singapore, where Lawrence Wong clinked champagne glasses with Colby Reynolds, the station chief of the CIA in Singapore. Reynolds whispered: "The Malacca Defense Initiative is just the first step." Lawrence Wong nodded. The video had sound and subtitles; the subtitles were pulled by the system from lip-reading and audio.

Zhang Cheng lowered his holographic hand, and the situational map behind him switched to a giant Baobab tree flag. The flag covered the entire hemispherical surface of the dome behind him.

"You accuse us of aggression, yet you ignore sixty years of the Singaporean government's betrayal and persecution of the Chinese people. You view Singapore as a sovereign state—but where is its sovereignty? Is its sovereignty the translation contract signed by the Japanese military police in 1943? Is it the dock repair fees paid by the British military to the Wong family's engineering firm in 1945? Is it the naval base lease that Lee Kuan Yew handed over to the United States in 1965? Is it the names of the left-wing teachers and students imprisoned without trial in 1987 being torn out of textbooks? Or is it the tiny elite of the regime you support, living in Orchard Road villas, permanently leasing the Changi Naval Base piers to your Seventh Fleet?"

"What I am taking back today is not a sovereign state. I am taking back what was sold out by traitors from a group of Chinese people."

His voice dropped sharply. It had just been ringing through the dome, but now it was so low it felt like it was just sliding past the earlobes.

"Among these forty-seven arrested individuals, Lee Hsien Loong's family has served as consultants, translators, contractors, and agents for British, Japanese, and American military and intelligence agencies for three generations. Lawrence Wong's grandfather applied to retreat with the Japanese army three days before the Japanese surrender. Shanmugam purchased political donations provided by the CIA." He paused. "At this table of the United Nations—there has never been a place for them. Their place is at the execution site behind Changi Port, built by British prisoners of war. Their corpses are not fit to be buried beneath that ground, and their names will remain on the prison roster."

The Russian representative was the first to stand up and applaud. The Gabonese representative also stood up, followed by the Mozambican representative, then Brazil. The entire Iranian delegation stood up, and the lead representative whispered something in Persian. Zhang Jun did not stand up. He simply tightened his pen cap, tucked it into his inner suit pocket, stared straight ahead, his mouth unmoving but his eyes tense. The British representative removed his simultaneous interpretation headset, and in the French and Arabic interpretation channels, he heard a whisper from a technician accidentally emitted while manually switching channels: "Damn it, those documents are all real."

The French representative's pen tip pierced through the meeting record paper, and ink seeped out from the needle-sized hole in all directions. Greenfield's assistant reached into her briefcase to search for a backup speech, a movement repeated for dozens of seconds, her fingers constantly hitting the edge of an empty folder. The Japanese representative's coffee cup was accidentally knocked over, and the brown liquid flowed along the slope of the table toward the US representative; no one went to wipe it, and no one dodged it.

Zhang Cheng did not wait for them to wipe the table.

His holographic gaze shifted and landed on the British representative's face.

"Your grandfather signed the expulsion order for the families of the Chinese anti-Japanese guerrilla members in Singapore at the Hong Kong Governor's House in 1946. You mentioned international law in your speech today, but when your grandfather signed that document, your family's car was still parked in the colonial government's private garage."

He turned to the French representative.

"Your predecessor's predecessor, three months after the closure of Nanyang University in 1980, sold six 'Super Puma' helicopters to Singapore on behalf of the French government and used the commission from this transaction to buy an apartment in the 16th arrondissement of Paris. My compatriots in Singapore at the time were kneeling on the lawn to save a Chinese university, while your government planted the first batch of comprador weapons on that very lawn."

Finally, he turned to the Japanese representative.

"Your post-war Article 9 of the Constitution prohibits war. But you cast a vote in favor of sanctions today. When you cast that vote, the trajectory records of those four DF-17 warheads were still in our military's database. In the next second, if I list their impact coordinates and attack times, matched against the calendar format of the Showa Emperor's surrender rescript, and put them on the screen in the UN Security Council hall—do you think history will remember this vote you cast?"

The Japanese representative's hand froze on the table, his knuckles pressing against the "In Favor" button that was still glowing green on the voting device.

Zhang Cheng raised his right arm.

"Singapore Bay, Dragon City."

The holographic projection switched to a real-time view: three nuclear-powered aircraft carriers turned at the pier, and carrier-based aircraft groups took off in formation from the decks. Not just taking off—they were catapulted from the electromagnetic catapults of the three carriers simultaneously, twenty-five aircraft formed into a giant " people" (human) shape, and the carrier group swept northward from the sea outside the port, passing directly over the Dragon City base. The roar of the aircraft engines was restored to the UN Security Council dome by the holographic projection's high-fidelity sound field array, and no one heard what the simultaneous interpretation was saying.

Then, the three aircraft carriers sounded their whistles simultaneously. The Shuguang's siren pushed a 60-Hertz low frequency across the Strait of Malacca at 110 decibels. The captains of the merchant ships on the sea thought it was the first wave of a tsunami warning. The Hope and Freedom sounded their whistles immediately after, and the three ship blasts overlapped from beginning to end, lasting for a full fifteen seconds in the projection.

Greenfield stood up and turned to leave. The British representative followed. The French representative, the Japanese representative, and the Albanian representative left the session one after another. There were no bows, no handshakes, and the documents were left on the table. On the first page of the five documents, a single drop of cold coffee that had flowed over from an overturned cup was splattered.