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

(The new book has been released, my mood has improved, and updates in Nanyang have resumed.)

The aftershocks of the political upheaval in Gaul have not yet subsided.

With General Dai stepping down, politicians in the Fourth Republic were eager to raise the banner of returning to Annam.

It's as if the lost imperial glory of the Gauls is buried in that tropical jungle.

The expeditionary force's ships assembled in the port of Marseille, and newspapers were filled with inflammatory headlines such as "Restore Order" and "Protect Nationals."

The shadow of war is looming over Annam.

In Southeast Asia, however, the situation is quite different.

The towering cracking towers of the refinery work day and night to turn crude oil from Borneo and Siam into gasoline, diesel, and jet fuel.

The newly built steel plant spewed out reddish-brown smoke and dust, and the roar of the rolling mill could be heard for miles around.

In the port, cargo ships laden with rubber, tin ingots, processed food, and radio equipment sounded their horns and set sail for the Middle East, Europe, and the continent on the other side of the Pacific Ocean.

Economic statistics are breaking records every quarter.

Industrial output increased by 23%, exports by 31%, and fiscal revenue by 18%.

This country is like a machine that has just finished its break-in period and is now speeding forward at full speed.

Against this backdrop, the visit of the Persian princess Ashraf seemed perfectly natural.

The publicly available itinerary reads: "Cultural Exchange – A Dialogue Between Persian Art and Modern Southeast Asian Civilization".

The newspaper headline featured a photo of the princess in traditional attire visiting the Nanyang National Museum, with a diplomatic headline: "Eastern Civilizations Join Hands to Step into a New Era."

After the daytime public events concluded, night fell.

The princess's motorcade returned to the hotel, which had been cleared out, and the official announcement stated, "Her Highness has had a long journey and will not be receiving any visitors tonight."

Meanwhile, a black sedan without any markings had already driven into the hotel's underground parking garage through a dedicated lane.

The huge bathtub, meant for only two people, was filled with steam.

The enormous white marble bathtub occupies almost half of the room, with hot spring water flowing gently from the mouth of a dragon head sculpture on the pool wall.

A thin layer of rose petals floated on the water.

Princess Ashraf's skin was dazzlingly white under the water's glow.

Her skin was ivory-colored, so smooth that you couldn't see any pores, with only a faint pinkish hue on her collarbone and shoulders from the steam.

Her wet, long hair clung to her smooth back, with a few strands sticking to her chest, the ends submerged in the water, swaying gently with the ripples.

She wrapped her arms around Zhang Chi's neck, practically hanging on him.

The water level was just below her chest, and with each breath, her alluring curves were faintly visible underwater.

“Darling,” she began, her Mandarin much more fluent now, “I saw your two children today.”

She paused, then gently traced circles on the back of his neck with her fingertips.

“How lovely,” she said, her tone devoid of emotion. “Your wife must be very happy.”

Zhang Chi didn't say anything, but simply placed his hand on her waist.

"You have so many women around you." Ashraf suddenly leaned closer, her warm breath brushing against his ear. "When are we going to get one too?"

Zhang Chi finally smiled.

"Jealous?"

"Jealous?" Ashraf laughed, but the laughter didn't reach her eyes. "I'm a Persian princess, not a lonely, resentful woman. I was just thinking... if one day I also need to bear your child to solidify the alliance, what price would you offer me?"

That's a very blunt statement.

Zhang Chi's hand slid from her waist to her back, gently stroking her.

He didn't answer, but instead asked:

"What were you thinking about during your visit to the refinery today?"

Ashraf's eyes flickered.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her voice lowered:

"I'm wondering why the John people take 80% of the profits from the oil beneath Persia's soil. We smell the oil on our own land, yet we're so poor we can't even afford to build a decent hospital."

"So your brother is interested in Mossadegh's ideas."

This is not a question.

Ashraf's body stiffened slightly.

A few seconds later, she relaxed and sighed.

“I can’t hide it from you,” she admitted. “Mossadegh’s voice in Parliament is getting louder and louder.”

He proposed 'nationalizing oil' and 'driving out the John's people'.

Many young military officers, students, and even some businessmen were quietly supporting him.

My brother... he's under a lot of pressure.

Zhang Chi's hand stopped at the middle of her spine.

There was a small bump there, an old wound—she said it was from when she fell off a horse when she was eight years old.

"Then let's analyze it," Zhang Chi said calmly. "How many forces does Persia currently have?"

The water rippled gently.

Ashraf adjusted her position, leaning into his arms with her back against his chest.

This posture made her feel safer and allowed her to focus her thoughts more effectively.

“First, the royal family.” She began to count, “My brother is the king, but he can actually control… only the Tehran garrison, about 20,000 men. There are also a few tribes loyal to us, which together make less than 30,000 armed men.”

“Secondly, those people in Parliament,” she said sarcastically, “are half John’s dogs, doing things for money. The other half are opportunists, following whoever is strongest. Mossadegh is an outlier—he genuinely believes in those ideals.”

“Third, tribal armed forces.” She paused. “The Kuru people in the north, the Bakhtiari people in the south, the Kashgai people in the southwest… They recognize chiefs but not kings, they have guns and horses, and their total strength… is hard to say, but could be as high as 100,000.”

“Fourth, religious forces.” Her voice turned cold. “They have more influence in the countryside than the king. They hate us because we wear Western suits, send women to school, and try to secularize.”

“Fifth,” she concluded, “foreign powers. The Johns have troops stationed in the south and control oil companies. The Russians have installed a puppet regime in the north, and their troops refuse to leave. The White Eagles… are throwing money around to win people’s hearts.”

Zhang Chi listened quietly until the end.

His hand began to stroke her back again, slowly, as if he were sorting through his thoughts.

“Very clear,” he said. “Then, let me ask you a question.”

He turned his head, his lips almost touching her earlobe:

"If your brother is preparing to carry out a real modernization reform."

Abolish feudal privileges, establish a Western-style judicial system, popularize education, liberate women, and transform Persia into a secular republic like that of Kemal Atatürk's time..."

He felt the body in his arms tighten.

“So, may I ask,” he continued, “who is your core base?”

Ashraf was stunned: "The core base?"

“They are the people who support you the most and are the least likely to betray you,” Zhang Chi explained. “Those who would stand by your brother's side even if the whole world opposed him.”

The bathtub was quiet for a few seconds.

The only sound was the gurgling of the flowing water.

Ashraf spoke slowly, her voice strained:

“In the city…those students and intellectuals educated in the West. Perhaps…some young military officers. And…” She paused, then added, “some merchants in the import and export trade; they need stability.”

"Where are the workers?"

“Not many.” She shook her head. “There aren’t many factories in Persia. If there are, they’re mostly John’s oilfield workers. They hate the Johns who oppress them, but they don’t necessarily like us either.”

Zhang Chi nodded: "So, your base is very small. Then who is your most steadfast enemy?"

This time, Ashraf answered quickly: "Those people who talk about Allah all the time. Every time we make a little progress in secularization, they call us traitors."

Who are the people you can win over?

“The vast rural population consists of farmers. They are poor, but easily swayed. There are also artisans, small merchants… They crave stability and fear chaos.”

Zhang Chi's hand slid down to her abdomen and stopped there. His palm was warm.

"Now, let's get back to the oil issue." His voice was low. "Mossadegh's plan to nationalize the oil industry sounds very passionate and nationalist. But think about it, what would happen if he actually did it?"