The Empire referred to sunny weather as "Emperor's Weather", while rainy and cloudy days did not enjoy the privilege of being given aliases.

Honestly, it's a good idea to associate a sunny day with a handsome sunny male face, and even if you personify the weather, people generally think of "Sunshine Boy", and a breath of life and vitality seems to come to your face. From the perspective of appearance, the emperor's handsome face that is immortal is indeed worthy of this honorific title...... It's just that people other than the citizens of the empire can't associate that sneering face with a nonchalant sneer with good weather and good mood. In the eyes of people who do not accept the king, the emperor is like a label, like a billboard. It is the symbol of empire, and it is also the standard face of the imperial machine, the shrewd and capable technocrats.

Intellectuals, engineers, doctors. Well-educated and professionally trained. He is polite, with a gentle smile and a cold and hard gaze.

A group of executors of state power who cannot feel a trace of humanity and warmth, and technocrats who cannot find a trace of good feelings from head to toe.

- only slightly better than the scum of Albion.

A small young man with a peaked cap complained in his heart as a shiny black Maybach official car drove by, driven by a fourth-class citizen, and in the back seat sat a first-class citizen in a well-dressed suit. His well-groomed hair reflected a silver glow, and his narrow face and thin lips exuded a snarky bureaucratic air, as if sensing that someone was paying attention to him, and what documents were being reviewed, his green eyes cast out of the car window, and his suspicious eyes scanned back and forth across the street, making sure that there was nothing unusual before going back to his file seriously.

The young man standing at the base of the "Wall of Resistance" glanced at the back of the departing car, frowned, and continued to recall the Albion customs officer he had just seen when he cleared customs.

I don't know if the huge Albion really can't find talent or what, the Albiang bureaucracy at the border crossing of the Lüdes occupation zone...... How to say it, all of them are thug-type characters with broken noses, necks thicker than heads, and muscles that are about to tear their clothes, and the most pleasing of them is also the appearance of a rural bun that has just entered the city. Such a group of people say that they are ruffians and gangsters, and no one will doubt that they are bureaucrats...... Growing up like this really discredits the honorary title of "bureaucrat", which can be called a shame in the bureaucratic circles.

In fact, most of the border managers in the occupied areas of Albion have some mafia background, and some are simply gang cadres. And it is the Albion government that has turned a blind eye to this strange situation, and even contributed to it.

Don't be surprised, many things that are inconvenient for the government to come forward, or that the government does not allow for its own fate in order to maintain the image of decent people, will be handed over to underground forces that cannot be put on the table to solve, including the "wet work" of burying some people who know too much and see the wrong ones in the dark, and the "dry work" of exporting crime and turmoil to hostile countries The gangsters who ran the occupied territories of Lüdes were somewhere in between, and their main business was to export opium to the occupied territories of the Empire and the United Rus' Principality.

That's right, opium, which is exactly the second largest export commodity of Albiang, after tea.

The people of Albion are known to be fanatics among tea lovers, and they have also exported tea culture and tea to the Duchy and Castile. In Albion's brave tales about the royal admirals, the admirals, who were surrounded by enemies several times their size, must have gazed at the enemy ship calmly, took a cup of Darjeeling black tea from the adjutant's hand, drank it in an elegant posture without spilling a drop of tea, and then led his men to defeat the enemy. Tea was so important to Albion that the Albiang government feared a riot if the merchant fleets that transported tea from the overseas colonies did not dock in time for the season......

On official paper, tea and textiles are Albiang's largest dumped exports. Among them, the export volume of tea far exceeds that of industrial textiles. The reason for this is that neither the United Duchy of Castile nor Rus produced tea, and they did not have a southern colony, so they wanted to drink authentic tea, so they had to buy it from Albion or the Empire, which in turn was particularly inclined to Albion in order to balance the trade and hedge against the impact of large purchases of industrial products from the Empire.

However, Albiang's tea exports have kicked an iron plate in the empire, in addition to the colonies controlled by the empire also produce tea, but also because most of the various classes of the empire are die-hard coffee parties, not to mention the Charlemagnes who can roast beans and grind them into powder with dandelion roots to make substitute coffee, and those elves who have coffee grinders in their marching bags are even more addicted to the mellow aroma of all kinds of coffee. Exporting tea to a country of avid coffee lovers? It's not very reliable to think about......

As a result, Albion's bulk exports to the empire were only all kinds of raw materials, such as ore and timber, industrial products could not be sold at all because of the gap in performance and quality, and tea sales were also not optimistic because of the empire's own national conditions. Albion, in turn, had to exchange gold and silver for the Reichsmark and then procure the various industrial goods of the Reich, and the Albion merchant ships bound for the Reich were often loaded with 90 percent – sometimes as much as 98 per cent – of gold, and only 10 per cent of it was commodity.

Faced with the dilemma that industrial goods were not competitive, and that raising taxes would lead to colonial revolt. In order to reverse the trade deficit, the Albion government chose to export opium through underground pipes to earn back gold and silver. In this way, the trade deficit has been reversed, and in case it is held accountable by the Empire, and the "corrupt bureaucrats" and "gangsters" can be blamed for everything, and the Albion government is still a clean and honest gentleman in the eyes of the world.

- An opium dealer who deserves hell.

The young man clenched his fists and cursed the empire by the way.

- An empire that deserves hell.

Albiang's opium dealers are hateful, but it does not mean that the empire is clean, Albion sells material opium, and the empire not only provides addictive psychotropic drugs, but also provides all kinds of spiritual opium, which poisons Charlemagne mentally. In terms of harm, the Empire caused more harm than Albion.

Let's say –

"It's a new day, the sun is rising. ”

The peak of the huge broadcast terminal interface is covered with snow-capped mountains, and the sun is emerging from the horizon, illuminating the world with thousands of rays of light.

"On the land of our motherland, men and women go to factories, farms, and start working. Raising a family, everyone has a job, everyone knows their role and is conscientious. ”

The narrator reports in a sonorous tone, as men assemble national cars and smelt furnace after furnace of molten steel in the workshop, women spin yarn in textile factories and tinker with sewing machines in garment factories. Wearing the uniforms of the children's group and the youth group, the sturdy and lovely children ran and laughed in the school, on the playground and on the grass.

"Our country is strong and secure, so we are grateful to our great leaders, because we are stronger, we are prouder, and the ancient traditions, the thousand-year-old bloodline, are great again. ”

The huge warship entered the water, the balloons and pigeons rose into the air, the streamers fluttered, and the faces that covered the streets stood on the balconies of the Council building, dressed in white imperial robes, waving to the countless fanatical crowds.

"This is just the beginning, and the better, greater days are ahead. Long live the Emperor!"

The young man pulled down the brim of his hat with all his might, and the scene of the harvest celebration reached its climax, and countless people—once Charlemagne's nationals, now fourth-class citizens and exemplary cattle of the Empire—were raising their arms and cheering. In the next second, the black, white, and red imperial flag covered the entire interface, and the flag that symbolized the empire and the emperor seemed to cover the entire world, fluttering in the wind in the huge interface.

The young man bowed his head deeply and said nothing.

Through a pervasive propaganda system, the Empire continues to export to the newly attached citizens of the Fourth Class the notion that only the Empire can bring them security, and only the Empire can guarantee their lives. Out of the empire, out of the control of the emperor, they are nothing, they can do nothing.

A lie repeated a thousand times becomes the truth. Not to mention that what the empire says is not exactly a lie. After comparing the old Charlemagne era with life under the occupation of the United Duchy of Albion and Rus', it is widely believed that although the empire was by no means gentle on its people, it was even more cruel in its racial policy. But under the Empire, life was guaranteed, and the quality of life was not bad. Considering the empire's powerful military power and ubiquitous and pervasive surveillance system, it is also acceptable to accept the domination of the empire and be a fourth-class citizen who keeps to himself.

Some people also refuted this, saying that there is still Charlemagne's orthodox government overseas, so why should we give up hope, dignity, and resistance early? In this regard, everyone can only shrug their shoulders and helplessly say: The eyes of the Imperial Social Order Guarantee Bureau may be close by, but where is the Charlemagne government? Besides, the propaganda apparatus has long let everyone see what the desperate remnants of the bourgeois (whose legitimacy is not recognized by the Empire) are like.

Tycoons in top hats, fat brains, greedily counting bags of gold dollars, smoking factories and ragged workers, homeless people in slums, ****s in bars, gangsters driving modified steam locomotives for street fires, burning apartment buildings, and screeching young men in fancy costumes.

What hope can you have for such a decaying and declining place?

Nowadays, whenever a government in exile is mentioned abroad, the minds of fourth-class citizens automatically conjure up images of the empire implanted for them, which become more and more ingrained day by day, and become more determined with each passing minute, until they are indestructible and unshakable.

While the young man was struggling and anxious, a middle-aged man hurried by, and just as he passed in front of the young man, a "Signal" magazine slipped through his armpit, and fell right in front of the young man's eyes. After about a minute, the young man, who seemed to have lost interest in the whole world, picked up the "Signal" magazine from last month, flipped through it casually, and strode to the city library not far away.

- See you at the municipal library in half an hour.

So says the code words tucked between the magazine gutters.