(For Chapter 1-163, go to (https://chrysanthemumgarden.com/novel-tl/awbtv/))
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That single curse—so utterly out of place in such a refined, high-society setting—seemed to lightly and deftly take over the exchange of artillery fire that left no visible smoke.
In truth, aside from James, who was completely unfamiliar with Yu Jingzhi, none of the others seated upright on the sofas showed the slightest surprise at his undignified behavior. Anyone with access to intelligence, upon arriving in Haicheng, would make Yu Jingzhi the very first person to investigate.
Otherwise, how could the nickname "local emperor" have come about?
Compared to a mere local strongman, he possessed an official status; compared to government officials, he wore an additional layer of military authority; and compared to ordinary officers, he commanded real, tangible forces on par with most warlords.
Such a person was destined to be taken seriously.
And anyone who had ever laid eyes on Yu Jingzhi's intelligence file—who had personally seen the man himself—would understand that the many rumors circulating wildly through Haicheng, describing him as mercurial and volatile, were in fact quite accurate and true to life.
So after being openly and covertly belittled and mocked for so long—both Huaguo and his own people—what was so strange about this kind of reaction?
"You're being too crude, Mr. Yu."
Julien frowned and said coldly.
He had always detested those who ignored decorum.
Gao Lan, wearing a conciliatory expression, added, "Mr. Yu, you've gone too far."
Yu Jingzhi flicked a glance at Gao Lan but didn't deign to respond. Instead, he smiled and said, "Mr. Pitt, don't you have something to say?"
Pitt raised his eyes, first looking at Chu Yunsheng, then turning to Yu Jingzhi. "Mr. Yu, I know very well what you want. But when we follow the rules, it's humanitarian; and when we don't, it's still reasonable. You should understand that."
"Of course, we are not bandits. Dr. Chu and the detailed data of that medicine can be exchanged for one promise from Yinglun. This is already the greatest concession I can offer in this transaction. As for the Ouhua conference, that is beyond my power."
"One promise from Yinglun?"
Yu Jingzhi let out a snort of laughter.
How was this any different from an outright robbery—trying to seize spoils with empty hands?
What was more, as early as the moment he had set aside certain so-called identities and preconceptions, going door to door with Mr. Fang Jiming to visit the residences of those foreigners, he had already understood this clearly: no matter how much respect they showed on the surface, no matter how pleasant and cordial the conversations were, the final outcome would never change.
Because this was not the business of one person or a handful of people, but the business of this land itself. They were never regarded as equals sitting at the same gaming table.
"Pitt, you and I both know that this promise is meaningless," Yu Jingzhi said. "I'll be blunt—whether it's Yunsheng or the data on the medicine, you won't be taking either of them."
Julien narrowed his eyes. "Mr. Yu, aren't you going to ask Dr. Chu what he himself thinks?"
The next moment, it wasn't Yu Jingzhi who answered him, but Chu Yunsheng.
"No need."
Chu Yunsheng's gaze was steady as he said calmly, "Mr. Julien, right now I won't speak of any hollow fantasies or resolutions about the future. But the future will not require a hundred years, nor even fifty—this place will no longer be your noble concession."
Julien's expression turned completely cold. He withdrew his gaze from Chu Yunsheng, raised his brows with contempt and indifference, and said, "Oh? Then I'll wait and see."
"That's enough."
Yu Jingzhi set his boot down and straightened up, casting a glance over everyone present. With casual indifference, he said, "The food is inedible, the wine is finished. If Mr. Pitt has nothing else to discuss by leaning on his position besides the matter of the medicine, then I, Yu, shall take my leave."
He spoke of taking his leave, yet Yu Jingzhi made no move to stand up at all.
He simply felt that the time had come to peel away this most superficial layer of probing and expose the true purpose of this so-called welcoming banquet.
Judging by their usual conduct, neither Pitt nor Julien would ever, in full view of so many eyes, openly engage in such blatant seizure—something so crude and so lacking in decorum. They prided themselves on their status and loved to cloak themselves in the rhetoric of equality; they rarely revealed their fangs so easily.
So today's aberration had to stem from deeper reasons and intentions.
Pitt sighed softly, a trace of melancholy seeping into his voice. "Mr. Yu, it's still early. Are you leaving in such a hurry because you have business to attend to, or because there's truly no way for you to continue sitting here with us?"
Chu Yunsheng's heart sank slightly.
Those two options were, in truth, one and the same.
Yu Jingzhi's trip to Beiping; the newly built factories in Zhabei District; the shifts within the police force and the Tianming Society; the visits made in the name of reconciliation; the train detained in Qilu; Adams's death and the uprooting of the Dongyang intelligence network—everything, piece by piece, had finally been catalyzed by Gao Lan into an open eruption.
The foreigners were willing to support someone who did not submit to them to rule Haicheng outside the concessions—but they would never tolerate the existence of a force openly hostile to them, one that schemed to drive them out using troops, machinery, and pharmaceuticals.
In the past, Yu Jingzhi had belonged to the former category. But now, his actions and stance over the past year had exposed that he was, in fact, the latter.
He was a vicious jackal disguised as a stray dog—one that needed to die beneath a hunter's gun.
Of course, there might once have been hunters who still cared to speak of morality, who would have chosen to spare his life and attempt to tame him. But with the war at an end, Ouhua could finally free its hands for other matters. And so their attitude shifted once more: the former hunters were dismissed, and Pitt was sent in their place.
Chu Yunsheng also understood that they may have caught traces of Yu Jingzhi long ago, that their suspicions had never been entirely absent.
But at that time, they lacked the energy to focus on him, lacked conclusive evidence, and lacked a more suitable puppet candidate. Yu Jingzhi himself had not gone too far, and so they could still engage in polite pretenses, maintaining a façade for each other's sake.
But now, things were different.
Yu Jingzhi clearly shared the same understanding as Chu Yunsheng. After a moment of silence, he let out a soft laugh and said, "I think you don't really care how I answer this question, Mr. Pitt."
"Whether it was demanding the medicine just now, or trying to pry Yunsheng away—perhaps you truly had such thoughts. But neither of those was your real intention. Because to you, those are trivial matters. You have countless ways to achieve those ends."
"The only thing you truly care about is Haicheng."
"So, Mr. Pitt, how would you like me to answer? Should I say that I've long found you unfriendly foreigners intolerable, that I've harbored disloyal intentions toward you for ages, and that I'm constantly plotting to drive you off the land of Huaguo?"
"If I were to say all that, then would all your subsequent arrangements become unnecessary—would you simply prop Gao Lan up, stuff Haicheng into his pockets, and have the matter wrapped up neatly and beautifully?"
Yu Jingzhi raised an eyebrow, the smile on his lips fading slightly. "But allow me to remind you of one thing. Neither Yu Jingzhi, nor many people in Haicheng, are fish to be carved up on the chopping block. We don't like playing that role, and we're not good at it. And even if we were truly laid out on the board, who's to say we wouldn't turn out to be a hard bone that chips the knife?"
Pitt pressed his lips together, meeting Yu Jingzhi's cold gaze head-on.
Before he could speak, Kōtarō Yoshida beside him erupted in fury, shouting, "Yu Jingzhi, you are provoking Mr. Pitt! Are you trying to start a war with Yinglun?!"
The rage-filled outburst nearly pierced through the ambient hum of voices, plunging the vast banquet hall into sudden silence as eyes turned from all sides.
Pitt said displeasedly, "Mr. Yoshida, please keep your voice down."
Kōtarō Yoshida's expression faltered for a moment, yet he showed no embarrassment. Very naturally, he adjusted his demeanor and lowered his head. "My apologies, Mr. Pitt. I lost my composure. Hearing such remarks, I was truly enraged. I have reason to believe this constitutes an insult to the dignity of the great Empire on which the sun never sets."
Pitt cast Kōtarō Yoshida a sideways glance, a trace of weariness showing on his face.
Watch enough clowns, and even comedy becomes tiresome.
What's more, he knew perfectly well that the clown's performance had ulterior motives. Such rhetoric was nothing more than Dongyang's attempt to drag Yinglun into the fray. They coveted and drooled over Huaguo's vast territory, yet lacked the absolute confidence to conquer it outright.
"You're a smart man, Mr. Yu," Pitt said. "You know that once the seed of suspicion is planted, no matter how fertile the soil once was, it can never again bear the fruit of trust."
Pitt's words still carried a measure of Yinglun restraint, but Julien had no such concern for decorum. He picked up where Pitt left off:
"There is no longer any basis for cooperation between us and you, Yu Jingzhi. If you heed our advice and are willing to leave the turmoil of Haicheng for another city, then Mr. Pitt and I can guarantee that you'll be able to take your soldiers and your wealth with you safely."
"You will face no obstruction, no threats. You'll simply need to live somewhere else. You may lose your current position, but on this land, with guns and money in hand, you can always rebuild an even higher status."
"Think back on the fates of those who came before you—the previous rulers. I believe you wouldn't want to share their endings."
Yu Jingzhi clapped his hands once. "An excellent plan. But Mr. Julien, I have a question. The movements of the Dongyang army preparing to march south—you can't possibly be unaware of them. So let me ask: if one day the Dongyang forces truly reached Haicheng, with troops at the city gates, would you be willing to protect the whole of Haicheng?"
"Or would you simply draw a white line, keeping the gunfire and artillery on the other side of the Suzhou River—separating it from those civilian districts where lives are as cheap as grass?"
Pitt chuckled softly. "Good heavens, Mr. Yu. I never imagined you to be so benevolent. Then you should look at things a bit more broadly—our soldiers, too, are ordinary men with only one life to live. They shouldn't be made to risk it for things of no value."
This answer was entirely within Yu Jingzhi's expectations.
"You firmly believe that there will never come a day when Dongyang turns its guns on you," he said.
Pitt smiled faintly; Julien shrugged.
"So you're rejecting our proposal," Julien said.
"Obviously." Yu Jingzhi smiled as well, his brows relaxing, his expression filled with sharp, fearless resolve and an air of uncompromising dignity.
At that moment, James of the Meidi Empire suddenly raised a hand. "Gentlemen, please—wait a moment. If this continues, I have reason to believe someone is going to draw a gun on the spot. I think there's still room for negotiation here, isn't there? For example, Mr. Yu doesn't necessarily have to leave Haicheng. He would only need to cede some interests to Mr. Gao. Mr. Gao has come from afar and needs a foothold—this is understandable."
Pitt's gaze toward James cooled almost imperceptibly. "You're indulging in fantasy, James. We only need one loudest voice."
"But I don't think Mr. Gao is necessarily worthy of that much trust," James said, not sparing the slightest consideration for the fact that Gao Lan was seated right beside him.
Julien frowned. "Then perhaps you'd care to hear about the news of Gao Lan and Yu Jingzhi holding a private, secret meeting at the Guanglai Teahouse?"
"No, no, Mr. Julien —that only makes things more chaotic," James shook his head.
Sure enough, upon hearing James's proposal, Gao Lan's expression turned openly unpleasant—no one was willing to be the suppressed latecomer.
However, Chu Yunsheng understood that although James appeared to be arguing on Yu Jingzhi's behalf, in reality his stance was no different from that of the Meidi at the Ouhua conference. He wanted to exploit Yu Jingzhi to extract greater benefits from the decisions made by Yinglun and Faguo, but he was destined to fail.
"Gentlemen, is there some unpleasantness here?"
Suddenly, André—the Deyizhi officer whose status in Haicheng was second only to Adams—approached with a smile, looking inquiringly at those seated.
Pitt smiled in return. "Long time no see, André. Just a minor disagreement—nothing worth mentioning."
"That's good to hear. Enjoy your meal, then," André said.
Chu Yunsheng tilted his head slightly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something: the moment André appeared, Julien —who had not touched a drop of alcohol all evening—suddenly developed an interest in wine, lifting a glass of red wine. At the same time, his gaze shifted seemingly casually, as though glancing in Louis's direction.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, André turned to leave. And just then, Louis—who had remained silent like an inanimate object the entire time—suddenly raised his head, slapped the armrest of his wheelchair, and spoke up loudly:
"André, the murderer who killed Mr. Adams is sitting right here. Are you still going to cowardly turn a blind eye and walk away?"
André's easy stride came to an abrupt halt.
"What are you talking about, Louis?" He swept an unobtrusive glance over Chu Yunsheng and Yu Jingzhi, his face full of confusion.
Louis's outstretched arm was like a drawn blade, pointing straight at Chu Yunsheng and Yu Jingzhi.
His face filled with perfectly calibrated, seemingly genuine grief and fury as he roared hoarsely, "It was these two—Yu Jingzhi and Chu Yunsheng! They assassinated Mr. Adams, shot and wounded me, and forced Mr. Adams and me to do all manner of things that violated our principles!"
"André! You know perfectly well that everything I'm saying is true. We have eyewitnesses, we have evidence—so why don't you dare to identify them publicly?!"
"They are murderers!"
André's brows knitted tightly as he barked, "Louis!"
Pitt and Julien both looked shocked. "André, is what Louis says true? Was it Mr. Yu and Dr. Chu who killed Adams?"
Watching this scene unfold, Chu Yunsheng almost felt like awarding those two an acting prize.
Gao Lan spoke up as well.
His face was etched with sorrow, laced with barely restrained hatred, as he said, "As hard as it is to believe, the facts are indeed as he says. After arriving in Haicheng, I conducted a thorough investigation into Mr. Adams's assassination and saw a great deal of evidence and testimony. It's difficult for me to imagine Mr. Yu and Dr. Chu as such vicious murderers, and I've tried hard to find other explanations—but this is the truth."
"Mr. Adams was my closest friend. He was the one who invited me to Haicheng. Today's welcoming banquet was originally prepared by him for me. I cannot, in good conscience, enjoy all of this while turning a blind eye to my friend's death."
At this point, dozens of guests who had been hovering nearby—apparently cautious onlookers eager to glimpse the dealings of powerful figures—suddenly drew their guns.
The façade of peace and cordiality was abruptly torn apart.
The situation reversed abruptly, gathering momentum like a drawn crossbow.
The remaining guests were all thrown into panic at the sight. They barely managed to maintain their composure and refrain from screaming, yet in their haste and fear they lifted their skirts or grabbed their canes and fled the banquet hall.
André immediately shouted, "Guards!"
The doors of the banquet hall flew open, and two columns of Deyizhi soldiers rushed in, rifles in hand, forming another ring around the gun-wielding "guests."
Those seated at the table, too, were joined by their respective bodyguards, who drew their weapons in defense.
"So this is the second option Mr. Pitt had prepared for us?" Chu Yunsheng now also held a gun in his hand.
Pitt sighed. "Mr. Chu, I know nothing of this. This is a matter between you and Deyizhi, you and Louis. But if you and Yu truly are the murderers of Adams, then according to the law, you should receive the punishment you deserve. I hope you won't attempt to resist and compound one mistake with another."
Yu Jingzhi sneered. "Even a rabbit will bite when cornered. Why don't you think about this—besides your people, how many of mine are here?"
"If you manage to keep me here today, you might still be able to play that old trick of using Huaguo to control the Huaguo, propping up Gao Lan to win back people's support and barely suppress my countermeasures."
"But if you fail to keep me here, then I'm afraid, gentlemen, that everyone present will die in a foreign land."
Julien's expression shifted as he demanded, "Have you lost your mind, Yu Jingzhi? Whose dignity do you think you're challenging?"
Undoing the clasp of his holster, Yu Jingzhi drew his gun and smiled unhurriedly. "How long has it been since the war ended? Even Faguo can disregard humiliation and collude with Deyizhi to pursue shared interests—so what dignity is Mr. Julien talking to me about?"
The surrounding gun barrels closed in another inch.
They tracked Yu Jingzhi's head closely, moving with every motion he made, brimming with danger that could erupt at any moment.
"Stupid swine!"
Julien was truly enraged now, hurling the insult in a manner that nearly cost him his dignity.
Before the words had even finished falling, Chu Yunsheng's gun barrel snapped up, aimed squarely at his head.
Yu Jingzhi swept his gaze around the room, his eyes cold and sharp as a hawk's. The corner of his lips curled as he said, "Since the evidence and testimony are all in place, and it's already been decided that we're the murderers—then why don't you shoot?"
Pitt said coldly, "You need to be judged by the law."
"Spare me the lofty platitudes, Pitt." Yu Jingzhi waved a hand impatiently. "You've already laid out this formation—you're prepared to exchange fire with me. But you're not shooting for one reason only: the news you're waiting for hasn't arrived yet."
"Gao Lan's troops march at a decent pace. By rights, they should have arrived by dusk. But now it's nearly nine in the evening, and there's still no word."
At this, Julien, Gao Lan, and the others all changed color at once.
"What did you do?"
"You've been monitoring the Northern Jiang Army!"
Pitt, however, fixed his gaze on Yu Jingzhi. "So you noticed it early on, Yu. But whatever you've done will be in vain. Even if, for the moment, there isn't enough force here to completely shake you, our warships and armies can land at any time."
Yu Jingzhi pulled back the bolt of his gun. "Gentlemen, don't be nervous."
"I really am acting purely in self-defense—just as you've said yourselves, merely in the hope of peace."
His expression softened, and that gentle, affable smile returned. "Mr. Pitt, it's actually quite unnecessary for you to drive me away. After the Qingzhou Peninsula is ceded to Dongyang, Dongyang's army will soon march south. When that time comes, beyond the concession areas, the only place left will be where I fight the Dongyang forces to the death."
"That day will arrive very soon. For now, tolerating my presence is no different from supporting Gao Lan's takeover of Haicheng. Of course, if at that time you have no intention of giving up the areas outside the concessions and wish to fight Dongyang head-on, then you may consider these words unsaid."
"Put another way, putting up with me is the more cost-effective deal. At the very least, I have absolutely no possibility of making peace with Dongyang—but Gao Lan may not be the same."
Gao Lan was startled and immediately retorted, "Yu Jingzhi, don't talk nonsense!"
Nearby, Kōtarō Yoshida's expression shifted subtly, and he instinctively cast a glance at Pitt.
Pitt fell silent, deep in thought.
Yu Jingzhi smiled faintly and said, "And my demand is not as complicated as you imagine. There is only one: I hope Mr. Pitt will agree that when the Dongyang army arrives, you will take in all the people of Haicheng into the concessions as refugees and provide them with the resources necessary for survival."
"Of course, if you are unable to do so, then you should be careful of the people on the streets and in the buildings who seem to pass by you without a second thought. Perhaps at any moment, they might turn into agents of Jianmen, pull out a gun, and carry out justice."
"This is a completely unprofitable deal!" Louis said from the side.
But Julien said nothing. He, too, was weighing the balance.
Yu Jingzhi sat amid the familiar ring of guns, still waiting patiently.
If Pitt and Julien were even slightly adept at calculating costs, they would know that his proposal was the safest bet.
Mobilizing Yinglun and Faguo troops to plunge Haicheng into chaos, constantly guarding against assassinations, and installing a puppet they did not truly trust—under ordinary circumstances, that was a decent option.
But compared with letting Yu Jingzhi hold Haicheng to the death against the Dongyang army, both sides badly damaged while they reaped the spoils, the latter was clearly far simpler.
Of course, that would also give Yu Jingzhi more time to make further preparations.
"No, Mr. Yu. I can no longer trust you."
After a long, tense silence, Pitt spoke in a low voice.
The atmosphere tightened, plunging to its lowest point.
But Pitt immediately added, "However, regarding Adams's assassination, we have yet to see any concrete evidence. To open fire now or to arrest anyone would be entirely inappropriate."
Gao Lan looked up, a barely perceptible crease forming between his brows.
When that expression fell into Chu Yunsheng's eyes, he understood that although Pitt and the others had failed in their scheme today, the purpose of his and Yu Jingzhi's visit had already been achieved—Gao Lan could no longer join forces with the Dongyang people, and Pitt would never truly accept him.
Moreover, although Pitt was verbally refusing to take in civilians for the moment, Chu Yunsheng knew very well that once Gao Lan and the others had been used as bait to fully sound out Yu Jingzhi's depth, and today's outcome had been secured, Pitt would choose to accept that condition.
André said, "It seems it was only a misunderstanding for now."
The phrasing was exquisitely diplomatic.
Louis was unwilling to let it go, but he lowered his eyes and pressed his lips shut.
"Since it's a misunderstanding, then we may leave, may we not, Mr. Gao?" Yu Jingzhi asked the host with impeccable courtesy.
Gao Lan stared at Yu Jingzhi coldly, offering no reply.
But Yu Jingzhi did not need his answer.
Chu Yunsheng rose and stood shoulder to shoulder with Yu Jingzhi. Together, they passed through layer after layer of cold, hostile gazes and ranks of black gun barrels, walking calmly out of the sofa area and across the now-empty hall.
Lu Yun and Liu Er followed in retreat, guarding their rear. Yet until the four figures completely disappeared beyond the heavy redwood doors, not a single gunshot rang out.
The bizarre welcoming banquet thus came to an end, seemingly with much sound and fury signifying nothing.
Yet in the eyes of many, this was perhaps not an ending at all, but merely a beginning.
In the early hours of the following morning, towering flames erupted across multiple parts of Haicheng. Dull, thunderous artillery boomed outside the city walls. Countless people were jolted awake, gripped by panic, unable to fall back asleep.
Gao Lan sat in Pitt's study, gazing at the crimson-lit sky beyond the window, and said in a low voice, "Failing to complete your test was my mistake, Mr. Pitt. Yu Jingzhi sent troops to block my men outside the city. If we are to enter Haicheng, we may still have to fight through the night."
Standing by the window, Pitt shook his head lightly upon hearing this. "Marches and intelligence are, by nature, matters that change in an instant. You only need to take this lesson to heart, Mr. Gao."
Joy flickered across Gao Lan's face. "Mr. Pitt, you mean…?"
Pitt turned back, laughed heartily, and extended his hand toward Gao Lan. "I mean to say that you performed very well, Mr. Gao. From here on out, I look forward to a pleasant cooperation."
As he clasped Pitt's hand, the weight that had been pressing on Gao Lan's heart finally lifted completely.
During this period, he had been in contact with all sides. Yet the one he truly wished to cooperate with—or rather, to pledge himself to—was neither Deyizhi nor Dongyang, but Yinglun. However, he had no intention of becoming a worthless lapdog like Du Tianming, so he chose to accept Pitt's test.
That was the true reason he had insisted on hosting this welcoming banquet.
Under the banner of Deyizhi, he secretly coordinated with Louis and Julien, using Faguo influence to achieve the elimination of Yu Jingzhi—this was Gao Lan's plan. On the surface, he leaned on Deyizhi; in reality, he cast his lot with Faguo; and yet all of it remained under Yinglun's control. It was an intricate arrangement indeed—and precisely because of that complexity, his true intentions were better concealed.
In truth, beyond Pitt, Gao Lan also had contingencies of his own.
He had long maintained an ambiguous relationship with the Dongyang people, and he did not mind exploiting those Dongyang who harbored a bone-deep hatred for Yu Jingzhi.
But unfortunately for him, Yu Jingzhi's move to block his entry into the city had already sown a degree of distrust among the Dongyang people. Then, at the welcoming banquet that night, he openly declared Adams to be his close friend and, in the end, was forced to let Yu Jingzhi and Chu Yunsheng go. From that point on, his relationship with the Dongyang side could only remain one of mutual exploitation—true cooperation was no longer possible.
However, he no longer cared about that sliver of interest.
He had already won Pitt's trust. Though that trust appeared somewhat perfunctory in light of his misstep, it was still enough to allow him to loosen his restraints and pursue what he truly wanted to do.
A week later, Gao Lan's forces finally broke through layer after layer of obstruction and arrived at a county near Haicheng. Gao Lan secretly left the city to join them.
As he inspected the troops, he cursed Yu Jingzhi at length, lamenting the losses to his own forces, yet failed to notice the many unfamiliar faces that had appeared among the ranks.
On that very same day, the telephone in Yu Jingzhi's study rang sharply—the Ouhua conference, which had dragged on for months, had finally come to an end.
…
Two months later.
The weather had turned cold, winter gradually setting in.
Bai Chu sat backstage in the opera house, removing his makeup, when he suddenly heard the wooden door creak open. Glancing up through the mirror, he saw a small figure slip inside.
It was a young boy of eleven or twelve, dressed in coarse cloth. Moving with a mixture of caution and familiarity, he came closer and said to Bai Chu, "Boss Bai, the boss asked me to let you know—there's no need to come at the start of next month. The opera house is closing. No performances."
Bai Chu was not surprised. He simply nodded slowly and, as he took off his hair ornaments, said, "So Boss Xu is leaving Haicheng as well, fleeing as a refugee?"
The boy nodded. "The boss says he's going to southern Shanxi, to seek refuge with relatives. Boss Bai, aren't you leaving?"
"Leave? And go where?" Bai Chu asked.
The boy raised his voice a little. "Go outside—outside Haicheng. There are lots of places. The boss also said that if we head north with a merchant caravan, he's willing to take a few of the lead performers along. When we get to southern Shanxi, he plans to open another opera house. Boss Bai, didn't he tell you?"
Bai Chu brushed aside a few loose strands of hair, stood up, and walked over to the copper basin, wetting his hands with water. His clear, pleasant voice was calm and light. "He did. But I don't want to leave."
The boy's eyes widened. "How can you not want to leave? Boss Bai, haven't you heard the air-raid sirens? Wuu—wuu—that sound! Everyone in the opera house says war is coming. If you don't leave now, you won't be able to later. People are going to die!"
Over the past week or two, the outskirts of Haicheng County's jurisdiction had been faintly echoing with the sound of aircraft. Emergency sirens would go off from time to time, frightening people so badly they dared not go out onto the streets, hiding instead in the heated brick beds of their homes or in underground cellars, only then feeling as though their hearts had been swallowed back into their chests.
But that was only how it was in the first few days.
Later, notices were posted in the concessions and announcements printed in the newspapers, saying that war might break out and that residents from outside the concessions could be taken in as refugees. However, supplies were limited, so not everyone could be accepted. Priority would be given to those with identification papers, and once inside there would be rules: people had to wash their faces and hair, undergo a simple physical check, and not just anyone would be allowed in.
All of this had been arranged by that Mr. Yu, but it bore the seals of the Yinglun and Faguo, making it legally effective—effective enough that even the Dongyang people did not dare to provoke it casually.
At first, people watched and tested the waters for a while. Then they surged into the concessions in droves.
At that time, many shared the same thought: that the concessions were the safest place in the world.
With foreigners there to protect them, no matter how earth-shaking the fighting was outside, could it really reach inside the concessions?
There were also those who were genuinely frightened, who felt that the concessions were by no means a safe haven either. If the Dongyang forces really came to Haicheng—if the fighting reached the city—would they truly stop at the gates of the concessions and not go in? Or if they did come, and negotiations followed, if enough interest were offered, would the Yinglun and Faguo really protect them to the very end?
They didn't believe it.
And so they wanted to leave Haicheng altogether and go elsewhere. Huaguo was so vast—surely it couldn't be at war everywhere. Boss Xu was one such person.
But there were also those who couldn't leave, or didn't want to. The former were people like the elderly; the latter were people like Bai Chu.
"Xiao Sanzi, do you know what war is?" Bai Chu smiled faintly as he bent down to wash his face.
The sound of water splashed softly.
Xiao Sanzi grinned. "Of course I know, Boss Bai. I've heard the customers talk about it. War is terrifying. Soldiers carry guns, and once they unload a burst—rat-tat-tat—the common folk fall like cut wheat stalks, all of them going down, never able to get back up again."
"And those students on Xinting Street who are always marching in groups, they all talk about 'sacrificing themselves for the nation.' I've never been to school, can't read, don't really understand it, but the boss said 'sacrifice' means to die. War means people die—lots and lots of people…"
Bai Chu lifted his face from the basin, took down a cloth, and said as he wiped his face, "You do know quite a lot. Go get some candy from the cupboard—stop chattering in my ear."
Xiao Sanzi let out a heh-heh laugh, spun around and ran off, hopping as he reached up to a small cabinet, grabbed a little handful of sesame candy, and scampered away in high spirits.
Hearing the doorboards slam shut with a clatter, Bai Chu stood there absent-mindedly for a moment before turning back to continue packing his things.
A few minutes later, he picked up his small case, informed the people at the opera house, and hired a rickshaw from the back door to head home.
In that one hurried glance as he was leaving, he saw that the opera house—where a grand performance had just been underway and guests had gathered—was already completely empty. Clerks and servants were busy packing things up, coming and going in a flurry.
Once on the street, the rickshaw moved into the wind that carried a bite of cold. After a while, they passed only one or two hurried pedestrians; every so often, a shop could be seen with its doors sealed shut, clearly already closed for business.
When they passed the corner of Xinting Street, there was a makeshift platform set up there. Two or three students were holding banners written in brush calligraphy and handing out leaflets.
As usual, Bai Chu stopped, took one, along with a free copy of the Eastern Daily.
Sitting in the jolting rickshaw, he glanced over the newspaper. The entire front page was devoted to the Dongyang people; the second page covered the peace conference. Though it had ended a month or two earlier, the issue was only intensifying with the Dongyang troops setting foot on the Qingzhou Peninsula, showing no sign of abating.
In the past, he was literate, but he never liked reading things like this, nor did he care. Matters outside were matters outside—none of his business, and certainly not something that belonged on the stage.
But perhaps he had gone to Zhou's Pastry Shop too often, perhaps the chants of the demonstrations outside had grown too loud. Without realizing it, he had begun to pay attention to these things, to the point of obsession, to the point of madness. Even after the air-raid sirens had sounded for three days in a row, he remained listless, unwilling to pack his bags and leave.
Still, he was already living in the concession, so it ought to be all right. But was that really the only reason he stayed—simply because he believed the concession was safe?
Perhaps not entirely.
Bai Chu thought of the scene a few days earlier, when Boss Xu from the opera house had come to persuade him to leave together.
The ash from the cigarette between Boss Xu's fingers fell onto the newspapers and leaflets spread across Bai Chu's table. That old, hoarse smoker's voice let out a derisive snort. "Answer the call of national peril? What kind of national peril is this? Those students have muddled heads, throwing away their own lives. Boss Bai, don't let yourself be led astray. You're an opera singer, a leading role—you belong on the stage in all your splendor. Look, even those Dongyang people love opera, don't they? We can keep performing, keep making money just the same."
"Why should we answer any national peril? If the sky falls, there'll be someone taller to hold it up."
And how had he answered at the time?
It seemed he hadn't answered at all. But he remembered lowering his eyes and seeing the words on one of the leaflets.
Eight characters.
When the realm rises or falls, every common man bears responsibility.
Bai Chu folded the newspaper shut.
He sat in silence for a long while, then spoke to the driver: "Please turn right ahead, to the garrison by the city gate."
…
At the very same time, on the other side, Li Lingbi was blindfolded and forced into a carriage.
The carriage rocked and swayed for a long time before finally stopping somewhere. Li Lingbi was pulled down; a cold wind rushed at his face, carrying the briny stench of seawater. His mouth was gagged, so he could not speak. The planks beneath his feet shifted unsteadily—he was probably boarding a ship.
He was taken into a cabin, where the bindings were finally removed, and he regained both his sight and his voice.
"Where is this?"
After spending two or three months at the Yu residence, Li Lingbi seemed to have steadied himself a great deal. He scanned his surroundings warily, but no longer overreacted at the slightest thing.
The people who had brought him in did not answer. They shut the door and left.
Inside the cabin, however, there were two others besides him—an elderly gentleman and a middle-aged scholar.
The elderly man looked him over and spoke. "Jingzhi and Yunsheng have told me about you. I know your value, and what you have done in the past. This time, we are taking a ship up the Yangtze, heading west. I, Yuansheng, and Yuansheng's friends will be keeping a close watch on you."
"You may choose not to help us, but we will not allow you to aid the enemy."
Li Lingbi froze for a moment. The two men before him felt oddly familiar, as if he had seen them somewhere before. "May I ask who the two of you are…?"
"Fang Jiming," the elderly man said.
The middle-aged scholar inclined his head slightly. "Zheng Yuansheng."
Li Lingbi was stunned. "Mr. Fang… Mr. Zheng?"
A sudden surge of emotion welled up in him, and at last his mind recalled where he had seen them before—where else could it be but in history textbooks?
Excitement flashed across his face. Only then did another thought strike him: Yu Jingzhi actually knew both of these men—and seemed to know them well, well enough to entrust someone like him, who carried such dangerous secrets, into their hands. Although it appeared that Yu Jingzhi had not told them the whole truth, he must have revealed at least part of it. That alone meant they were absolutely trustworthy.
He had thought he would be imprisoned by Yu Jingzhi for the rest of his life, perhaps dying when Haicheng finally fell.
Who would have thought that, in the blink of an eye, he would instead find himself joining the organization?
Li Lingbi felt that all of this was almost unreal.
Suddenly, the ship began to move, and the sound of the steam whistle rang out.
Zheng Yuansheng drew back the small window curtain and looked outside at Haicheng, which was gradually receding into the dusk. Fang Jiming, too, straightened slightly in his seat, gazing out of the window.
The afterglow of the setting sun spilled into the small cabin.
Li Lingbi heard two heavy sighs, one after the other.
At that moment, a strange feeling rose in him: perhaps these two gentlemen did not want to leave. Yet they had to—there was no choice. Greater missions weighed upon their shoulders.
He thought again of that Mr. Yu. Would he leave as well? Probably not.
Li Lingbi sat there, lost in thought.
If he were Yu Jingzhi, he would certainly take his people and move elsewhere to survive. As long as the green hills remained, there would be no fear of lacking firewood. There were so many progressive minds in Huaguo, so many guns—why should it fall to me alone to defend the city, to throw my life away?
Huaguo would sooner or later break free of the flames of war and be reborn. It did not lack his small measure of strength. He admitted it openly: he was afraid of death.
He did not understand Yu Jingzhi's choice to stand his ground.
He had not understood it before, and he still did not understand it now. Yet perhaps repeated setbacks had sobered him, or perhaps he had read too many issues of the Eastern Daily and been influenced by them. He still did not understand and would not choose the same path—but he had truly begun to admire and respect such people.
Perhaps, as one newspaper had written, war can be retreated from, but a nation's bottom line cannot be yielded again and again. Those things awakened by the blood of earlier generations must also be guarded by the blood of those who come after.
And so Li Lingbi left Haicheng.
Meanwhile, Du Qi—who was still frantically searching for him—was, at the very same time, seized by Du Tianming and dragged back to the Tianming Society, where he was punished with three stabs and six perforations.
Gu Qishu came to witness the punishment.
Du Qi had suspected that it was Gu Qishu who had taken Li Lingbi away and left him gravely wounded, and so during this period Gu Qishu had been subjected to repeated harassment and assassination attempts. Unable to tolerate this any longer, Gu Qishu paid a visit to Du Tianming; the two of them acted together and finally captured Du Qi.
The next day, while still undergoing treatment, Du Qi once again took advantage of a moment of inattention by his guards and escaped from the Tianming Society.
But he did not get far. Shortly after leaving, he was discovered dead on a deserted street, having been struck by a vehicle.
The car sped away after the collision, and no trace of it could be found despite Du Tianming's efforts. Someone told him that the driver's surname was Gu, but Du Tianming seemed not to hear it and remained silent.
Gao Lan's men continued to slip quietly into Haicheng. In order to avoid Yu Jingzhi, they borrowed the shell of the Tianming Society.
By now, the Tianming Society could be said to exist in name only. Du Tianming's words no longer carried much weight.
Yet perhaps there truly was retribution in the workings of fate. Only a few days later, Du Tianming received news that Gu Feng, together with Gu Qishu and the rest of their family, had set out in the middle of the night to seek refuge with the Dongyang people in Jinling. Just three li outside Haicheng, they were wiped out by Jianmen. Gu Feng and Gu Qishu were killed, with only the elderly, the weak, women, and children left alive.
This finally extinguished Du Tianming's thought of going to see the Dongyang people himself.
"Everything is gone. What meaning is there left in living like this?"
He sat on the second floor of his residence, tapping his pipe and sighing in a daze, suddenly looking truly old and weary. "Yu Jingzhi, fine—he's one thing. That little wolf cub, I've never been able to beat him all these years. But Gao Lan, why are you joining the fray too? Even becoming a dog for the Yinglun—you want to compete with me for that as well? Do you really think I'm already old?"
"If you won't give me a way to live, then I won't let any of you live in peace either…"
…
As the year drew to a close, on the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth lunar month, Haicheng—where snowfall was rarely seen—unexpectedly welcomed its first snow of the winter.
Unlike the goose-feather blizzards of the northern lands, the snow in Haicheng was exceedingly fine and light.
It drifted down faintly and hazily, like dust, like powder. Before it could even touch the ground, it melted into droplets of water, leaving behind only a thin trace of dampness, never gathering into a vast white blanket of snow.
At dawn, the final air-raid siren at last fell silent.
Chu Yunsheng and Yu Jingzhi went out together, riding their horses through the falling snow, passing along Haicheng's long streets one by one.
They crossed the Suzhou River. The trees along the banks and the stone bridge were already damp, while the concession on the opposite shore lay sunk in boundless darkness, lit only by a few hazy streetlamps. The bridge had been divided into a restricted zone; all routes of passage were sealed off with barriers and iron fencing, guarded by soldiers who yawned incessantly, drowsy at their posts.
A great number of Haicheng's civilians had poured into the concession, creating immense strain on public order. Even though Yu Jingzhi had left behind many of his own men, with the Jiuliu Society assisting in management, things there were still somewhat chaotic. At the very least, the soldiers' patrol shifts had grown noticeably longer.
From the sky came another indistinct rumble—the sound of Dongyang reconnaissance planes.
The horses' hooves clopped steadily, gradually drowning out that distant roar.
Each street ahead was emptier than the last. The doors and windows of some shops and homes had been blown open by the cold wind, banging loudly against their frames. Many streetlights no longer shone. The uneven rooftops lay in dark clusters, and in the damp, silent snowfall, one glance was enough to make the city seem like a desolate, abandoned ruin—its people and prosperity already consigned to the past, leaving only memories behind.
Further on, near the edge of Haicheng, more than half the buildings had collapsed. Ruins were everywhere, still bearing the fresh scars of bombardment.
The fine horse let out a shrill neigh.
Yu Jingzhi reined in his mount. A layer of white frost clung to the brim of his hat and his cloak. He raised a gloved finger to lift the brim slightly and said softly, "As of today, we have known each other for a year. I often feel as though it has been a very long time—yet it turns out to be only a single year."
"But it makes little difference from a very long time."
Chu Yunsheng slowed to a stop and turned his gaze toward him.
Yu Jingzhi glanced back over his shoulder, a cloud of white vapor spilling from his breath. "Do you remember what Haicheng used to look like at this time of year?"
"Crackling firecrackers, lights in every home. Streams of traffic, streets dressed in lanterns."
He answered his own question.
Facing into the wind, he narrowed his eyes slightly, as though he could see through the pitch-black despair pressing down on the city like storm clouds, and glimpse the scenes of past bustle and joy.
On which street the temple fair had been set up; in front of which house firecrackers were being lit; from which shop the sweet scent of sugar cakes drifted. Men and women, young and old—on such a rare day, regardless of status or rank, all celebrating together the passing of the old year and the arrival of the new, hoping for a better one ahead.
"This year, it's destined not to be so."
Yu Jingzhi smiled faintly.
He drew back his gaze, flicked his riding crop, and urged his horse forward a few paces until he was riding beside Chu Yunsheng. "The Dongyang army has reached the limit of its patience. When do you think they'll launch the final assault on the city?"
Chu Yunsheng stared ahead in silence for a moment before answering, "At daybreak."
Yu Jingzhi gave a sharp call to his horse and said no more.
The road ahead was dirt, churned into thick mud. Even so, both men lashed their reins hard, spurring their mounts forward together.
Their cloaks billowed; mud and slush flew.
After running for a while, they gradually slowed, riding side by side once more.
Ahead lay the front line of the past few days. Chu Yunsheng gazed toward it from afar, then extended his riding crop to block Yu Jingzhi slightly.
He lifted the tip of the crop and pointed toward the dim heavens. "Look there."
"What is it?"
Yu Jingzhi paused, removed his military cap, and raised his eyes.
Chu Yunsheng exhaled a breath of white mist, smiling, his voice clear and resolute.
"The morning star," he said.