The expeditionary force began to dominate Southeast Asia by recruiting defeated soldiers

Inside the broadcasting room, red and green signal lights flashed alternately.

Zhang Chi stood in front of the dressing mirror, adjusting his collar one last time.

Today marks the first nationwide live television broadcast of the newly established Nanyang Broadcasting Corporation, and he strives to maintain his best image.

Of course, considering that few families in Southeast Asia can afford television sets, Zhang Chi estimates that very few people will see himself on the screen today.

Fortunately, his speech will be broadcast nationwide, and his will and his ideas will be disseminated without reservation.

The secretary quietly handed him a glass of warm water, but Zhang Chi waved his hand in refusal. His Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he tried his best to calm himself down at this moment that was about to be recorded in history.

Upon entering the studio, he sat down in his seat, a black microphone hovering in front of him, while a cameraman in the distance pointed his camera at him.

He adjusted his breathing, his gaze sweeping over the newly replaced map of Southeast Asia on the wall. From the rainforests of Sumatra to the fishing lights of the Gulf of Thailand, every inch of the land awaited his voice.

Broadcast lines across the country were simultaneously connected, and electricity carried expectations in all directions.

Penang, shipyard assembly workshop.

Before the lunch break whistle blew, the workers spontaneously gathered under the high-hanging loudspeaker.

The old welder, Uncle Lin, gripped his greasy gloves tightly and nudged his apprentice, A-Qiang, with his elbow: "Turn off the gas welding machine. Our leader is about to give a speech."

Ah Qiang hurriedly cut off the acetylene tube, and the blue flame went out with a "poof".

The newly arrived apprentice from southern Fujian muttered under his breath, "This is even more solemn than ancestor worship..."

Uncle Lin glared at him: "Shut up, this is a matter of life and death."

In the countryside of Siam, in front of the village's threshing ground.

The villagers crowded around the newly erected utility pole, forming an impenetrable human wall.

A Siamese peasant woman wearing a conical hat puts down a bamboo basket full of rice ears, and barefoot children climb up the banyan tree branches as nimbly as monkeys.

The old village chief's hands trembled as he turned the radio knob. When a clear human voice came through the static noise, he breathed a sigh of relief and revealed his three remaining yellow teeth.

On the military training ground in the heart of Bago.

The soldiers, sitting on the ground, straightened their backs.

The dragon flag hung low under the scorching sun. Young artillery cadet Xiao Wang wiped the sweat from his brow, his Adam's apple bobbing.

The only sounds in the entire camp were the chirping of cicadas and the impending call of fate.

Inside a classroom at a local Chinese secondary school in Malacca.

The Chinese teacher, wearing round-framed glasses, gestured for the students to be quiet.

Chalk dust danced in the sunlight, and half of the "Memorial to the Throne on the Eve of the Northern Expedition" on the blackboard had been recited.

The girl with braided hair secretly clutched the hem of her clothes. Her father served in the Nanyang Army and participated in the expedition to Japan.

Inside the spice market in Old Port, Sumatra.

The Sindhu merchant, whose head was wrapped in a sari, stopped weighing the cardamom.

An elderly Malay woman wearing a sarong put down a straw mat she was halfway through weaving.

Everyone looked up at the loudspeaker hanging on the wooden pole, and even the noisy parrots fell silent.

"Citizens of Southeast Asia—"

Zhang Chi's voice traveled across the mountains and rivers through the electric current.

"I am Zhang Chi."

"Just recently, Emperor Hirohito of the Japanese Empire signed the surrender document."

The cheers were like a thunderclap.

Workers threw their safety helmets into the air, farmers embraced and wept, and soldiers fired shots into the sky.

In the classroom, children jumped and knocked over desks; in the market, spice bags were trampled and burst; cinnamon rose up with cheers.

Zhang Chi waited for the commotion to subside before speaking again, his voice becoming somber:

"We paid a heavy price for this victory. So many mothers' sons were left behind on the battlefield, and so many wives never saw their husbands again."

Then, his tone suddenly sharpened: "But now, justice has finally prevailed. The battle flag of the Southeast Asian Expeditionary Force has been raised over Kyushu Island, and our bombers are setting Japan ablaze every night."

Zhang paused, then each word that followed carried immense weight: "We also dropped an atomic bomb on Niigata—yes, we possess the power to end wars!"

The nation fell silent for a moment, then erupted into a tsunami-like frenzy.

Uncle Lin grabbed his apprentice's shoulder and shook him violently: "Did you hear that? It's our atomic bomb."

The Hokkien apprentice, A-Qiang, laughed loudly, tears streaming into his mouth: "In that case, won't those white people dare not bully us anymore?!"

Someone gestured excitedly: "The newspaper said that the mushroom cloud was incredibly high!"

A Javanese worker next to him patted him on the back: "Now it's our Nanyang people's mushroom cloud!"

"Soon after..." Zhang Chi raised his voice, "the Nanyang representatives will board the USS Missouri and stand shoulder to shoulder with the representatives of the White Eagle, John and other countries to accept Japan's unconditional surrender."

A deafening roar erupted from the military camp: "Victory!"

The recruit company commander kicked open an empty ammunition box: "That's right, we must let the world see clearly that we Southeast Asians have stood up."

Zhang Chi's tone gradually turned serious: "Nanyang is a newly born country. This land has always been inhabited by Chinese, Malays, Siamese... But today, we only have one name - Nanyang citizens."

He emphasized, "I want to say a few words especially to my fellow Chinese."

In a Chinese workshop in Sin Chew, an old tailor takes off his reading glasses.

This man from Guangdong, who fled famine during the Guangxu era, had fingers that were slightly deformed from holding scissors for many years.

“In the past, we always said that fallen leaves return to their roots,” Zhang Chi said in a booming voice. “But from today onwards, we will take root here! Not as dependents, but as creators of our own history.”

"We must ensure that future generations remember that it was our blood and sweat that forged this new era."

The old tailor put his glasses back on and began to sew neat and steady stitches.

The apprentice asked curiously, "Master, are you not planning to go back to the north in the future?"

The old man chuckled: "Silly boy, this is our root."

On the threshing floor, several young Chinese men looked at each other and nodded.

A Malay boy in a sarong asked in broken Mandarin, "Brother Feng, are we really family from now on?"

The young man who was asked the question grabbed a handful of rice and threw it at him: "Nonsense, I'll teach you how to plant rice tomorrow."

Then, when it was announced that there would be a three-day national holiday, the whole of Southeast Asia went into a frenzy.

The streets were instantly flooded with flags, and the sound of drums and music traveled from the docks to the valleys.

Young people hopped on trucks and paraded through the streets, while elderly people carried their treasured rice wines.

Vendors scattered cardamom pods among the crowd, and teenagers danced on bamboo poles into a sea of ​​cheers.

As soon as Zhang Chi stepped out of the broadcasting hall, the newly appointed Secretary Chen rushed over, holding a telephone notebook: "Spring City Special Line, urgent telegram from General Long."

"speak."

"General Long said that the Shancheng government ordered his First Army Group to advance into Annam to accept the surrender this morning."

A cold smile crept onto Zhang Chi's lips.

coming.

He looked at the map on the wall.

The 17th parallel north is passing through the Indochina Peninsula.

According to the agreement, the area north of Annam was to be surrendered to the Republic of China, while the area south of Annam was to be returned to Southeast Asia.

He lightly tapped Hanoi with his fingertip: "General Long is trying to probe our strength, isn't he?"

Cheers erupted outside the window, and a new game of chess was unfolding amidst the smoke of battle.