442: Chapter 442 A Billion Dollars Awaken the Overseas Chinese Community in Southeast Asia

A massive map of Southeast Asia spread out across the holographic screen.

The map had no national borders—only the distribution of Chinese schools: Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, and the Philippines.

Every location of a Chinese school was a blue light point.

From a satellite perspective, the blue light points covered the entire Indochina Peninsula and the Malay Archipelago, like a starry sky inverted onto the sea.

However, half of the points on this map were red.

Red represented "closed."

The red annotations ranged in date from the 1950s all the way to the 2010s.

Zhang Cheng pointed his finger at the center of the map—Phnom Penh.

"In Cambodia, there were 147 Chinese schools in the 1960s, but by the 1990s, only 12 remained."

"Between 1975 and 1979, during the Khmer Rouge period, the Chinese language was banned, Chinese books were burned, and Chinese teachers were executed."

"In the 1980s, the United Nations set up refugee camps on the Thai-Cambodia border; the Chinese children in the camps had no textbooks and squatted on the ground, writing with sticks."

"The sand they used for writing was sand from land that had been stepped on by landmines."

He moved his finger to the right, stopping at Mindanao.

"In the Philippines, there were 162 Chinese schools in the 1950s."

"In 1975, the Philippine government implemented 'Filipinization,' forcing Chinese schools to reduce Chinese instruction time; Chinese classes could not exceed two hours per day."

"The head teacher had to be of Filipino descent, and the principal had to be of Filipino descent."

"Textbooks had to be approved by the Ministry of Education, and the approving officer could delete any content that did not 'conform to Philippine national interests.'"

"The first text deleted was 'Quiet Night Thought'."

He moved his finger up, stopping at Vietnam.

"In Vietnam, Cholon was the largest Chinatown in Southeast Asia in the 1930s."

"Chinese schools, Chinese newspapers, Chinese theaters—the entire street was full of them."

"After the border conflict between China and Vietnam in 1979, all Chinese schools in Cholon were closed, and all Chinese newspapers ceased publication."

"Chinese people were not allowed to speak the Chinese language in public places."

"Most people in Cholon under the age of forty cannot speak Teochew."

He pressed his entire palm onto the map of Southeast Asia, his five fingers covering five countries.

"Today, the red on this map will all turn blue."

"The Federation of Myanmar Ministry of Defense will establish the 'Southeast Asia Chinese Education Revival Fund' starting today, with an initial injection of 10 billion SGD."

"This money is not a loan and does not come with any conditions."

"Any Southeast Asian country that recognizes Chinese as an elective subject in national education will receive our money, textbooks, teachers, and learning terminals."

The entire venue erupted in applause.

He waited for the applause to subside slightly, then turned off the map, switching the holographic screen to a pure white background.

On it was only one line of text: "Nanyang University — Inheriting the Torch."

"The first overseas branch after Nanyang University's restoration will be located in Siem Reap, Cambodia."

He switched to a rendering of a building in the Khmer classical style.

"The Siem Reap branch covers an area of 300 mu and will open next September; the only reason for the site selection is Angkor Wat."

Details of the bas-reliefs of Angkor Wat appeared on the holographic screen.

On the mottled sandstone walls were carved scenes of war, flying dancers, and farming landscapes from a thousand years ago.

In the top corner of the relief, there was an extremely hidden Chinese inscription, almost invisible due to weathering and moss.

The screen displayed a restored rubbing of the inscription, which read three characters: "Great Tang Guest."

Zhang Cheng said:

"These three characters were carved onto the outer wall of Angkor Wat by a Great Tang merchant in the ninth century who hired a sculptor."

"He was not an emperor, not a general, and not a high monk; he was a merchant who set out from Chang'an, passed through Nanzhao, walked the Tea Horse Road, traveled through Chenla, and finally stood beneath Angkor Wat, looking up at this architectural complex that was even more magnificent than the Tang Imperial Palace."

"He did nothing—he just wanted future generations to know: I was here; I am a Great Tang Guest."

"The depth of the carving for these three characters is three millimeters."

"Three millimeters, carved 1,200 years ago, and it has not disappeared."

"Today, we are building the Nanyang University Siem Reap branch next to Angkor Wat, not to replicate the traces of that Great Tang merchant."

"It is to ensure that his descendants—you—do not need to use three-millimeter-deep carvings to prove you were here."

"When you walk through the school gate, sit at your desk, open the first page of your textbook, and write your own name in Chinese on your notebook—that is the Great Tang Guest."

In the square, among the three thousand Nanyang University alumni, some began to sob softly.

Zhang Cheng unplugged the microphone, walked to the edge of the podium, and stood in front of the elderly people in the first row.

He did not speak, but simply bent down and extended his hand to Chen Wenqing.

The old man took his hand, and the two looked at each other for three seconds.

Then Zhang Cheng turned around, faced the entire square, and asked the last question.

He did not use the microphone; he shouted it directly with his voice, hoarse and rough, like roaring at the wind in the wilderness:

"Students—is Chinese culture extinguished?!"

The answer from twelve thousand people shook the flagpoles in the square:

"No!!!"

On the Yangon River, a timber transport ship sounded its whistle.

The sound of the whistle and the shouting of twelve thousand people collided, twisting into one in the tropical air.

Zhang Cheng walked back to the podium and said the last sentence into the microphone:

"Remember these three words—Inheriting the Torch; class dismissed."

Twelve hours after the ceremony ended, the Nanyang University official website released the enrollment data.

There were 970 million visits globally, from 174 countries.

The final number of applicants was locked at 721,340.

The number of admitted students was 3,000, with an admission rate of 0.41 percent.

Among the 721,000 people, four thousand wrote the same sentence in the "Why are you applying" section: "Because I want to write my own name in Chinese."

"Prime Minister, a secret telegram from the Malaysia Ministry of Defense."

Li Lanzhi looked up from the Shuguang Cloud terminal; it was already 2:11 AM.

She had just come out of the President's office, still holding the briefing on the sharp drop in shipping traffic in the Strait of Malacca, when the encrypted email jumped into her inbox.

She glanced at the sender—Malaysia Minister of Defense Ismail Sabri—and did not open it immediately, but turned the terminal to Zhang Cheng, who was sitting behind the desk, and said:

"The Malaysians are restless."

Zhang Cheng was reviewing the Longcheng base docking report sent by Wu Zhiming from Singapore.

After the three nuclear-powered aircraft carriers had been docked for forty-eight hours, the berth utilization rate of the Changi base had reached 83 percent.

Supplies, carrier-based aircraft rotation, and the deployment of shore-based air defense arrays—every progress bar was green.

He closed the report and looked up:

"Read it."

Li Lanzhi opened the secret telegram.

She frowned as she read: "The person who wrote this email must have spent all night editing it; look at this sentence—'humbly request'."

She turned the screen to Zhang Cheng.