gnovel Chapter 55 A good omen, but the end is near.
Chapter 55 A good omen, but the end is near.
Chapter 55 A Good Omen, But It's About to End (Third Update)
A week has passed in the blink of an eye, and it has come to Sunday, April 15th.
Outside the Qing Dynasty legation in Berlin, the weather was exceptionally pleasant. The April sunlight was neither harsh nor intense, feeling warm and comfortable on the skin.
The heavy oak doors of the embassy were polished to a shine, and the stone steps in front of the door had been carefully washed three or four times, leaving them spotless. Even the yellow flag with a blue dragon on the lintel had been replaced with a brand new one. A gentle spring breeze caused the flag to flutter and the dragon's claws to sway, looking lifelike as if it were about to take flight at any moment.
The soft creaking of wheels echoed across the gravel road as an exquisite carriage bearing the coat of arms of the Moltke family slowly pulled up and came to a steady stop in front of the embassy.
The car door opened, and Xiao Maoqi was the first to bend down and get out. He was dressed in dark gray civilian clothes today, but his upright and steady demeanor could not hide the aura he had developed from years of military experience.
Tirpitz followed closely behind.
He has now been officially hired as the Chief Inspector of the Beiyang Fleet, and the contract has already been finalized. He has been following up on the design and refinement of the "Changyuan" warship, and is just waiting for the Beiyang Fleet to send personnel to supervise its construction so that he can lead his team to the Qing Dynasty.
Tirpitz frequently visited the embassy and was very familiar with its ways and people. Moltke had specifically asked him to come along today, simply because he knew the man well, was easy to communicate with, and would make things easier and less troublesome.
At the entrance of the embassy, Guo Shigui stood in his brand-new fourth-rank official robe, while Chang Desheng wore a fifth-rank military officer's robe. Standing beside them was Zhang Zhensheng, dressed in the official robes of a seventh-rank civil official. Behind them were four young men dressed in identical Berlin Military Academy uniforms: Duan Qirui, Shang Dequan, Kong Qingtang, and Wu Dingyuan. They were all off Sunday and had been brought along by Chang Desheng to maintain appearances.
The young men stood ramrod straight, but their eyes couldn't help but dart towards the carriage, and then towards the two German officers who got off—one of them was named Moltke!
Even someone as proud and arrogant as Duan Qirui had to admit defeat at this moment. Chang Zhenbang's ability to cultivate connections was truly genius.
Luo Jingrou stood beside Chang Desheng. Today, she was unusually dressed in a Qing Dynasty-style Hakka women's dress—a light blue, wide-sleeved short blouse with elegant orchids embroidered on the hem. Her naturally fair complexion was further enhanced by this attire, making her appear even more gentle and dignified. Yet, the shrewdness hidden in her bright eyes was undiminished.
Moltke glanced at the scene at the entrance, and Tirpitz leaned closer and whispered, "The representatives of the Zhang family from Southeast Asia and the Luo family's daughter are here. And those people in uniform are elites from the Qing Dynasty's military academy."
Moltke's lips curved slightly, and he nodded again.
It can't be wrong.
He said to himself.
The leading figures of both the Beiyang and Nanyang factions are all here, it seems this scheme was set up long ago—Germany is just a latecomer who got a port for free and can also play the good guy for the Dutch.
Germany has won again.
This is all thanks to His Majesty the Emperor's excellent leadership!
Guo Shigui quickly stepped forward, cupping his hands in a respectful bow, his face beaming with smiles: "Lieutenant Colonel Moltke, Colonel Tirpitz, it's an honor to have you here! I'm so sorry for not welcoming you sooner!"
Moltke removed his top hat and nodded slightly: "Mr. Guo, you're too kind."
"No, no, please, please come in—"
The group filed in. Moltke and Tirpitz led the way, with Guo Shigui trailing slightly behind. Chang Desheng and Zhang Zhensheng followed behind. Luo Jingrou suddenly took Chang Desheng's arm gently, took a few steps, and whispered, "Zhenbang, what were you laughing at just now?"
"I wasn't laughing at anything," Chang Desheng replied softly, his eyes still crinkling at the corners. "I just feel—our relationship is almost settled."
He turned to look out the window.
The spring sunshine in Berlin was just right, shining on the cobblestone path in front of the embassy, making it sparkle like scattered gold at first glance.
That's a damn good omen!
He said to himself.
At almost the same moment, in Tianjin, thousands of miles away.
The Zhili Governor-General's Office, the Signatory Office.
Li Hongzhang had just finished a bowl of bird's nest soup with rock sugar when he took the telegram presented by Sheng Xuanhuai, glanced at it, and didn't even raise an eyebrow.
"It was sent by Guo Jichuan from Berlin," Sheng Xuanhuai said in a low voice.
Li Hongzhang grunted in acknowledgment, held the telegram up to the light of the Western-style glass lamp, and read it again.
"Changde Sheng — Little Maoqi — Zhang and Luo of Nanyang —"
He murmured those names, as if weighing their weight in his mouth.
After a long while, he gently tossed the telegram back onto the table, picked up his teacup, and slowly skimmed off the foam with the gaiwan.
"Your Excellency, this matter—" Sheng Xuanhuai asked tentatively.
"Young people are full of vigor and ambition; it's not a bad thing for them to associate with foreigners and businessmen." Li Hongzhang blew on his tea, took a sip, and said, "The old stories of Lanfang are long gone. If the Zhang and Luo families were truly willing to serve the country, they would know how to use the connections of the Beiyang government—"
He paused.
"It's better than going somewhere else."
He put down his teacup and tapped the three characters "Chang Desheng" on the telegram with his fingertip.
"It's just that Chang Zhenbang is moving a bit too fast," Li Hongzhang said calmly, his voice revealing neither joy nor anger. "You should send a telegram back to Shigui with just eight words—"
He paused, then slowly said, "Success is achieved through secrecy, and failure through leaks."
Sheng Xuanhuai understood immediately and bowed deeply: "Xingsun understands."
These eight words, seemingly an admonition, are actually tacit approval. They mean: You can do it, but you have to do it quietly, and you have to clean up the mess afterwards, don't cause me any diplomatic trouble. Also, I know nothing about it...
Li Hongzhang closed his eyes and said nothing more.
Chang Desheng's exploits in Germany and Southeast Asia were major events in Guo Shigui's eyes, but for Li Hongzhang, they were not even worth mentioning. What the old man was thinking about was which phase of funding the Summer Palace project had reached, when the keel of the new Beiyang Fleet ship would be laid, and what memorials the corrupt officials in the court had recently submitted and where their spittle had landed.
A military attaché who travels thousands of miles away?
As long as he can get the money and win the favor of the Germans, and doesn't cause any major trouble in public—
Let him be.
If you really cause any trouble, then you'll have to bear it yourself!
Berlin, Japanese Legation.
It's just a few blocks away.
With a "whoosh," Fukushima Yasumasa crumpled the German paper in his hand into a ball.
"Little Moltke, Tirpitz—Qing Dynasty Legation—"
He squeezed out those words through clenched teeth, his voice extremely low.
"Such a spectacle is definitely not your average social gathering!"
He suddenly stood up and started pacing around in the cramped office.
Changde wins! Changde wins again!
This Qing Dynasty student, like a poisonous thorn, has deeply embedded himself in the blueprint of the Imperial Empire's continental policy. He befriended the core of the German military, introduced deadly weapons like the "Changyuan" warship to the Beiyang Fleet, and now—now it seems—he is extending his reach to Southeast Asia.
To act as a matchmaker.
The goal is no small matter.
Zhang Zhensheng and that girl named Luo Jingrou are both from the Nanyang Hakka merchant group. The amount of money they're backing is in the tens of millions of taels—
A number flashed through Fukushima Yasumasa's mind: all the "genuine goods" in the Ministry of Finance combined didn't even amount to as much as the Zhang family in Penang.
Japan doesn't have... money!
He stopped abruptly, stood by the window with his back to the door, and gazed silently at the wide, straight streets of Berlin outside.
a long time.
He turned around, walked back to his desk, opened a drawer, and took out a special coded telegram.
He picked up the calligraphy brush.
The brush tip was fully dipped in ink, hovered over the paper, paused for a moment, and then fell.
"Mr. Toyama:"
The activity of "Target" has far exceeded expectations. If its scheme to mediate between Qingde and Southeast Asia succeeds, it could jeopardize the empire's century-long fate. Conventional methods are no longer sufficient to contain it.
"To ensure absolute success, I humbly request that Your Excellency temporarily relinquish command of the [unclear] to this official. Furthermore, all arrangements should be made at the crucial point in Southeast Asia (Singapore or Borneo) that the [unclear] will inevitably pass through on their return journey, ensuring a decisive victory and eliminating any future threat."
Respectfully submitted by Yasumasa Fukushima
The last word was uttered.
He picked up the bell and shook it vigorously a few times.
A trusted confidant pushed open the door and entered.
"Use a coded telegram," Fukushima Yasumasa handed over the telegram, "Mr. Naotoyama, top secret, immediately."
"Hi!"
The door closed.
He was alone in the room again. Fukushima Yasumasa sat back down in his chair, picked up the tea that had long since gone cold, and took a sip.
A deadly trap is brewing.
Changde wins.
Your good luck —
It's about time.