Republic of China: German-equipped divisions massacred as warlords guarded the nation's borders

It was exactly 9:00 AM.

Three black Rolls-Royces arrived at the main gate of the headquarters.

The person who got out of the lead car was the British Consul General in Shanghai, Bardon.

Behind him were Felix, a representative of Sassoon & Co., and Williams, the manager of HSBC's Shanghai branch.

There were six or seven reporters behind them, carrying cameras and lenses, like vultures that had smelled blood.

Felix wore a malicious smile.

Since being humiliated by Chen Zijun shoving a gun barrel into his mouth last time, today we can finally let this warlord taste the financial noose.

"Commander Chen, we are here on behalf of the British Chamber of Commerce in Shanghai to officially settle accounts."

Williams adjusted his glasses and handed over a thick document. "According to the building materials purchase contracts between your company and HSBC, Standard Chartered, Jardine Matheson, and Swire Bank, as of today, your company has a total outstanding balance of £473,000 that is overdue."

He paused, then gave Chen Zijun a meaningful look.

"According to the contract terms, if you are unable to settle the full amount by 5 p.m. today, we will jointly file for default arbitration with the Bank for International Settlements. At that time, your credit rating worldwide will be downgraded to the lowest level. This means that no international financial institution will accept your credit application in the future."

Felix finished off the attacker from behind.

"Commander Chen, I said this last time on Avenue Joffre: guns can shut people up, but when it comes to money, money has to be the deciding factor."

The reporters' cameras were pointed at Chen Zijun's face.

They were all waiting to see the young warlord's embarrassed expression.

But Chen Zijun leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and his expression was as indifferent as a glass of water.

"Forty-seventy-three thousand pounds?"

"Exactly the same."

"OK."

Chen Zijun stood up and walked to the door.

"Sister Huixin".

Mo Huixin walked out of the side hall, holding an account book in her hand.

"Are you ready?"

"It's all prepared."

Mo Huixin's voice was calm, but there was a hint of undisguised amusement in her eyes. "Young Master, the convoy is already on its way."

Fifteen minutes later.

The entrance to HSBC Bank on the Bund.

The entire Bund was stunned.

Twelve military trucks lined up in a long line, stretching from Nanjing Road all the way to Waibaidu Bridge. Each truck was covered with a military green tarpaulin, with the Chen Family Army's flag flying on the front, and two armed German-trained infantrymen standing on each side of the truck bed.

Felix, Williams, and Barton stood on the steps of the bank's main entrance, watching the convoy slowly approach, their expressions shifting from arrogance to bewilderment.

"Is he bringing troops to rob a bank?" Fei

Lix muttered something stubbornly.

Chen Zijun jumped out of the first car and walked to the bank entrance with his hands behind his back.

"Mr. Williams, you just said four hundred and seventy-three thousand pounds, right?"

"No more, no less."

"Okay." Chen Zijun turned around, waved to the convoy, and said, "Start unloading."

The soldiers lifted the canvas.

On the first vehicle were neatly stacked wooden crates. The soldiers unloaded the crates and pried open the lids.

Inside were bundles of British pound banknotes.

Brand new.

A 1-pound note.

Each bundle was neatly sealed with a standard bank kraft paper seal.

Williams' eyes widened.

Then came the second car, the third car, the fourth car...

Each vehicle was loaded with the same wooden crates. Each crate contained stacks of British pounds, neatly arranged like bricks.

Passersby stopped in their tracks. Employees of nearby trading companies peered out of their windows. Reporters' flashbulbs went off like crazy.

Mo Huixin stood next to Chen Zijun, opened the account book and began to count the numbers.

"The first car, exactly fifty thousand pounds. The second car, exactly fifty thousand pounds. The third car..."

She announced each vehicle one by one, her voice clear and calm.

Felix's face went from red to white, then from white to blue.

All nine trucks were unloaded.

"450,000 pounds."

Mo Huixin closed the ledger. "Adding the twenty-three thousand pounds for the tenth car, the total is forty-seventy-three thousand pounds. Mr. Williams, please check."

Williams stood there, mouth agape, unable to close it for a long time.

This is not a check. It is not a draft. It is not a letter of credit.

These are real, physical British pound banknotes.

Piled up in front of HSBC Bank, it looked like a small mountain.

The system generates one pound per second, which amounts to 86,400 pounds per day. This money would only take him six days to earn.

More importantly, it's cash; you don't need to launder it yourself, it's given directly!

Am I not a pound?

What is the difference between this and the pound sterling issued by the Royal Bank of England?

It's simply a matter of who gets their money into the vault first and who gets the real currency!

But Chen Zijun did not stop.

"Huixin, what are the remaining two cars?"

Mo Huixin smiled slightly.

"It was something the young master asked me to prepare separately."

She turned to Felix.

"Mr. Felix, as far as I know, Sassoon & Co. has a mortgage bond of £320,000 at HSBC with an annual interest rate of 8%. On behalf of the Shanghai Garrison Command, I formally offer to purchase this bond in full."

Felix's expression changed completely.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is," Mo Huixin pointed to the last two trucks, "that these two trucks are carrying £320,000 in cash. We'll buy out your bonds with cash. From now on, the money Sassoon & Co. owes is owed to our Chen family army."

Felix suddenly turned to Williams.

"You can't sell! That's our core asset!"

Williams looked at the mountain of cash piled up at the door, then at Felix, and his lips twitched.

"Mr. Felix, under English commercial law, mortgaged bonds can be freely transferred with the holder's consent. And HSBC's vaults... are indeed in dire need of substantial cash reserves at the moment."

The translation is: I'm going to sell your bonds to Chen Jiajun because your life or death is not as important as my treasury.

Felix's face turned a deep purplish-red.

Barton watched all this without saying a word. He remembered what Chen Zijun had said at headquarters last time—"You don't have to take a bullet for Sassoon."

In retrospect, his judgment was correct.

Reporters on the Bund were writing articles and taking photos like madmen.

"Chinese warlords used twelve military trucks to transport physical cash to the HSBC Bank on the Bund, whereupon they settled all foreign debts and reverse-acquired the core bonds of foreign firms—"

This news made the front page of all newspapers in Shanghai that afternoon.

Chinese businessmen spread the news.

"The young commander of the Chen family army is throwing tons of pounds at foreigners!"

"Sassoon & Co. was killed by the very run it initiated!"

evening.

Chen Zijun returned to the headquarters, and before he could even take a sip of tea, Zang Keping pushed open the door and came in.

He held an urgent telegram in his hand, his face unusually serious.

"Young Marshal, something has happened in the north."

"explain."

"The Fengtian clique won a great victory in the Second Zhili-Fengtian War. Zhang Jialiang's vanguard has already passed Xuzhou and is pressing towards our Jiangsu-Zhejiang border. Qi Yingcai, the military governor of Jiangsu Province, has already defected to the Fengtian clique."

Chen Zijun's hand stopped on the teacup.

"Moreover," Zang Keping's voice turned somber, "their special envoy... has already arrived in Shanghai."

Chen Zijun remained silent for a long time.

We just settled the foreigners' issue, and now our own people's issue has arisen.

He put down his teacup and walked to the huge military map on the wall.

Northern Jiangsu, Xuzhou, Bengbu...

The Fengtian Army pressing down from the north was like a knife that was getting closer and closer.

"Have the special envoy come to see me tomorrow."

"Yes."

Chen Zijun stared at the winding Jinpu Railway on the map, his eyes gradually turning cold.