Chapter 26 The Sorrow of the Beile

The worst-case scenario feared by those reporters ultimately did not happen. Ghost Yang kept his word and did no harm to them. Early the next morning, Yang Xiaolin let them go. Metel drove the car with extreme tension, glancing frequently into the rearview mirror, terrified that Yang Xiaolin might give chase. After driving thirty or forty miles, the tension in his heart gradually dissipated, replaced by an increasingly uncontrollable excitement.

After traveling another ten-odd miles and passing through the mountains of Changtu, the terrain ahead became relatively flat. Realizing they were truly safe, the reporters began to celebrate. Yesterday's experience was indeed a genuine adventure for them. As anyone who has ever adventured knows, the moment of success brings the greatest sense of accomplishment!

The mood of these individuals similarly transformed into extraordinary joy.

After a two-hour drive, they arrived at Kaiyuan. Entering the Russian-controlled city, the first thing these reporters did was to find a telegraph machine and dispatch their dispatches to the newspaper offices in Beijing. They had initially thought there might be some difficulties, or that their articles would undergo necessary editing by the editors. To their surprise, however, the Japanese, German, and American newspaper offices published their reports in full and without a single alteration at the very first moment.

Public opinion erupted in an instant!

Just as the Russians were making solemn vows that Ghost Yang could never escape this time, Ghost Yang had actually run out! This was equivalent to a resounding slap across the Russian face. In the photographs, corpses mangled and soaked in blood were piled up like small hills. The characters for "Ghost Yang," spelled out using human heads, truly pierced the eyes and nerves of everyone with fresh blood.

Yang Xiaolin's arrogant remarks left readers with mixed feelings. As for the Russians, it was an utter disgrace! A mere bandit had dared to declare war on them.

The Chinese who saw the newspapers, however, felt an extraordinary sense of exhilaration! In the past, they had only ever heard of Westerners flattening the Qing Empire's cities or slaughtering entire villages. When had they ever witnessed Westerners being killed in rivers of blood?

While Yang Xiaolin's renown rose once more, Beijing was currently experiencing the year's first spring rain. That misty, fine drizzle filled people with longing for the new year. Despite the troubled times, life had to go on after all; to live was to hold onto hope.

Inside the Jude Pavilion, seated in the most secluded private room, Zaitao could find no trace of hope.

Having returned several days ago, his mood had steadily worsened with each passing day. The New Year had already passed. To pay off the first installment of military pay that Zaifu owed, Zaitao had sold half of his family's fertile land—over a million taels of silver—making his heart ache terribly.

What pained him even more, however, was that Zaifu still claimed the second installment of military pay was nowhere in sight. Zaitao grew somewhat angry. The Empress Dowager's New Year has already passed, what else are you waiting to do? Zaifu replied that he had many things to do, all of which were more important than Zaitao's troop training. As for what those specific matters were, Zaifu refused to say.

In truth, Zaifu had long since lost the desire to spend any more money. From his perspective, Zaitao seemed somewhat lacking in proper etiquette. Over the past year, he had given Zaitao more than twelve million taels of silver, while giving Yuan Shikai only two million. Yet Yuan Shikai's New Army had also developed remarkably well, and Yuan understood etiquette, dutifully offering Zaitao's brother—Zaifu—five hundred thousand taels as a tribute. Although Zaitao was a Prince Beile, having been given over ten million, one would expect at least a fraction to be left for his older brother to taste, even if not splitting the wealth equally.

All of Zaitao's money had been poured into training troops, but Zaifu did not see it that way. Therefore, despite Zaitao pleading for an entire day at Zaifu's residence yesterday, he had failed to scrape together a single copper coin.

Hosting a banquet at the Jude Pavilion this noon, Zaitao truly refused to believe he was inferior to Yuan Shikai! If you, Yuan Shikai, can manage to acquire funds, could I, Zaitao, a dignified prince of the Great Qing, be any worse than you? That would simply be a joke!

Therefore, he sent out invitations to all the merchant houses in the capital, informing those businessmen that Prince Beile wished to treat them to a meal. These merchants were all proprietors of famous commercial houses, with Zhang Jian and Sheng Xuanhuai among them.

Reality was truly cruel; sometimes the protagonists of a joke are precisely those who refuse to believe in jokes. Although these merchants held no official titles, they were extremely well-informed and had long known what this Prince Beile was really after.

No sooner had Zaitao taken his seat in the Jude Pavilion than a manager under Sheng Xuanhuai came to pay his respects, politely presenting Zaitao with a lavish gift—an expensive French gold-inlaid pistol.

"Your Highness, our master knows that Your Highness is a hero of the saddle. Presenting precious sabers is out of fashion now; this pistol was bought by our master from France at the cost of six thousand taels of silver. Please accept it with a smile, Your Highness."

The pistol was indeed fine, with an exceptionally attractive exterior at the very least. Zaitao accepted it. "And where is your master? I am treating him to lunch today, surely your master won't make me send a sedan chair to fetch him personally?"

"Oh dear, Your Highness, what are you saying? Our master wouldn't dare presume! The master has been taken ill these past two days, but upon hearing that Your Highness was hosting a banquet, he was ready to get out of bed regardless of his physical condition. Perhaps he was too excited; as he was leaving, he accidentally took a fall and broke his leg. Please forgive him, Your Highness. Right now our master is at the foreigners' hospital and truly cannot come..."

Sheng Xuanhuai had broken his leg, while Zhang Jian had sprained his waist—both supposedly so excited upon hearing the Prince was treating them to dinner that they injured themselves. The others offered various excuses as well, all different. In the end, out of the dozen or so people Zaitao had invited, not a single one showed up.

These businessmen were exceedingly shrewd and just as tight-fisted. You might think they were generous when sponsoring Yuan Shikai, and later funding the southern revolutionaries time and time again, but that was because they believed the revolutionaries could change China's status quo and that Yuan Shikai could lead them toward the future!

Zaitao? The Great Qing Empire? Lend money to the Great Qing so they could pay off debts to foreigners? Could lending money to Zaitao train an army capable of matching the foreigners?

They had their doubts.

Another crucial point was that they had no interest in this venture, or rather, they felt actively repulsed by it. Yang Xiaolin's reputation had finally begun to take effect. These merchants all knew that Zaitao intended to use the money to fight Ghost Yang. Though Ghost Yang was a bandit, he kidnapped foreigners and killed foreigners—what did that have to do with them? While they might not say anything out loud about what he was doing, in their hearts they felt it was exhilarating! With Ghost Yang currently locked in fierce combat with the Russians, as Chinese people, even if they weren't going to help him, what sort of behavior was it to help Zaitao sharpen his knife?

Therefore, the risk was too high, the profit too low, and they simply had no desire to make this deal. No need to consider it—no investment.

As the appointed time arrived, the manager peeked his head in from outside. "Your Highness, this banquet... shall we still begin?"

The corners of Zaitao's mouth twitched several times. Staring at the gifts sent by the merchants on the table, a complex mix of emotions churned within his chest, leaving him utterly speechless.

The manager walked in and laid a newspaper before Zaitao. "Perhaps Your Highness would care to read the paper. I guarantee the guests will be here shortly."

Zaitao slammed his fist onto the table in fury, sending all the gifts crashing to the floor and startling the manager. Zaitao roared in rage, "Serve the dishes! Since none of them are coming, I'll eat it all myself!"

In this contest between Yang Xiaolin and Zaitao, Zaitao had started with a faster head start than Yang Xiaolin, only to halt just as he was preparing to unleash his full speed and sprint.

Unreconciled, Zaitao stuffed his mouth with various foods during the meal while keeping his eyes fixed on the newspaper the manager had brought. The more he read, the angrier he grew, unable to understand what had happened to the Great Qing Empire today! Why could someone like Ghost Yang, a mere bandit, rise to such prominence? Why could a petty scoundrel like Yuan Shikai enjoy such smooth sailing, while he—an orthodox prince of the Great Qing—faced such arduous difficulties at every step?

As he looked on, he felt as though Yang Xiaolin's photograph in the newspaper was becoming increasingly clear, and Yang Xiaolin's smile seemed to be mocking him! Enraged, Zaitao picked up a bowl of soup from the table and hurled the entire thing straight onto the newspaper, reducing Yang Xiaolin's photograph to a messy ruin where his features could no longer be clearly distinguished.

He abruptly leaped to his feet, raised his arms, and roared in wild fury: "Ancestors! Open your eyes and see this!"

Meanwhile, Matsubara Naoshi's face was wreathed in smiles. He stood at strict attention before a Japanese officer sent by the Japanese Imperial Army General Staff—a Lieutenant General named Oshima Hisanao.

"Matsubara-kun, your work in China has been exceptional! That Ghost Yang has been most helpful. According to our reliable intelligence, the volume of supplies the Russians are transporting to Lushun has dropped at an astonishing rate over the past few days. Large quantities of weapons and artillery are stalled in the north. Conversely, various firepower assets of the Empire are being shipped ceaselessly into Korea. If this situation can continue for three months—no, two months!—we will have the confidence to capture Port Arthur at a single stroke when hostilities commence!"

Matsubara Naoshi clicked his heels sharply in a salute. "Thank you for your praise, Commander. To render loyal service to the Emperor is the honor of every soldier! Although your humble subordinate has been in China for ten years, in my heart I always remember that I am a soldier of the Empire!"

Oshima Hisanao nodded in high approval. "Mm, excellent! There is a classified matter I wish to discuss with you. The Empire has made a decision: once hostilities begin, we will dispatch a brigade of troops deep into the Russian rear to operate in coordination with Matsubara-kun's East Asian Dare-to-Die Corps!"

Matsubara Naoshi was momentarily stunned. He had known about this since last year—was this considered a secret? Oshima Hisanao's smile grew even warmer. "What I want to tell you is that to ensure seamless coordination between this brigade and those Chinese, the General Staff has decided to appoint Matsubara-kun as the Brigade Commander. Furthermore, the brigade has not yet been named; there is currently an inclination within the General Staff to designate this unit with Matsubara-kun's name. Of course, this will require Matsubara-kun's continued diligent efforts!"

Upon hearing this, Matsubara Naoshi was stirred with intense excitement! While in the Japanese military he had been merely a battalion commander, leaping straight to the rank of brigade commander made him feel as though he were floating on air! Moreover, in the Japanese armed forces, naming a unit after its first commanding officer was a supreme honor for a general.

He stood even straighter, lifting his head high. "Please rest assured, Commander! Matsubara will certainly not disappoint the Emperor's trust!" (Seeking all kinds of support! Recommendation tickets, brothers, please cast a few recommendations, won't you?)