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Jiang 2022 Citizen's Day Festival and Summit(IC, OPEN)


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July 31st, 2022, Zhoujing Central Square

Numerous effigies of Meilong flow through the streets, like fish swimming through water.

The tradition of burning Meilong goes far back in Longzhou history. It is said that the first  Longzhou Ruler, Ji Shang, befriended a dragon named Zhilong on his journey to slay his enemy, the tyrant Jie Qing. During the journey, Zhilong was trapped in a volcano, but managed to survive, and even emerged stronger and more fierce from his tribulation.

This is why, every year, on the day of the founding of the nation(and later, the civilization), effigies of numerous Meilong are burned, to represent the trials of the nation's founding, and the continued trials it faces, to this day.


Of course, that was just an old tale, in the eyes of Xin Qu. How quaint, Qu mused. He had never been one to care much for the truth of the story. As far as he was concerned, as long as it sparked patriotism, it did not matter whether it was true or not. After all, is it not better for the citizens to burn such effigies, than burn down cities?

He scoffed. There it is again, he chided. His background as a sociology professor certainly had left his mark as Foreign Minister. That being said, he was quite pleased with the festival, much as he was loathe to admit it.

He had never been one of the staunchest of believers of all the tales of the six thousand year civilization, nor of the five thousand year old Ji Shang, even if the archeology had showed the consistency of those old records. Embellished, is what Xin Qu called them, to put it lightly.

Of course, his friend the Emperor, fifty-three year old Jia Yin, saw things differently.

A pale haired, affable man, with a mustache as wide as his famous glasses, and a beard that rolled fabulously to his midriff, Jia Yin was more than enthusiastic about his nation's long history. Having attended University and majoring in art, it was quite surprising just how well he fit into the role of leader.

Jia Yin still remembered when he had to persuade his older acquaintance to accept the post of Foreign Minister at age thirty five, more than twenty-six years ago. He had to paint an old classical portrait as a gift to finally convince him to agree.


He smiled at the memory, then as he was drinking his coffee, coughed and cleared his throat.

He checked his watch. 12:16 pm, it said. The conference was due to start at twelve-thirty.


He looked at his half-empty coffee cup. That should be enough, he thought to himself. He was meeting dignitaries from multiple foreign lands today. After three years of a recovery period after a serious economic recession that led to the downfall of the isolationist Moderate Conservative Party's Administration is that next year's elections, the nation under the guidance of the pro-free trade, diplomatically moderate Moderate Party, that defeated both the Nationalist Syndicate Party and the Social Democratic Union was ready to engage in international affairs again.

Of particular importance was the growing tensions in neighboring Baya, a military dictatorship on the mountainous southwestern border that had overthrown its monarchy less than a decade prior, promising Marxist reforms, but instead growing into a Right-Wing dictatorship after the Leaders had purged Marxist sympathizers.

Arising from his simple wooden chair, he turned and walked to the conference table, his elaborate clothes loosely swaying as he took every step.


There's no need for pictures, he thought. Xin Qu would handle the media. He had never been particularly fond of such showmanship anyway, believing it flew in the face of good values. This wasn't the first time he'd avoid such a trifling endeavor, and it was definitely not the last...

He took a seat at the head of the table, and composed himself. His mind began wandering but then he snapped to attention as he was told by an attendant the ceremony was ending, and the first guests began walking through the door...


Edited by Jiang
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