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

Jing'an Temple Road, Shanghai.

Paramount.

Tonight is the opening night of this largest ballroom in the Far East.

The entire Jing'an Temple Road was blocked off. From the Nanjing Road intersection all the way to Tongren Road, both sides were lined with all kinds of luxury cars. Rolls-Royces, Mercedes-Benzes, Buicks, one after another, their headlights forming a long golden dragon.

The Paramount Ballroom's facade was illuminated by three thousand electric lights, making it as bright as day. The enormous neon sign shimmered with an alluring glow in the night sky. A scarlet carpet covered the entrance, and two rows of special forces soldiers in brand-new German-equipped uniforms stood ramrod straight on either side, their Mauser pistols gleaming coldly under the lights.

Fireworks have already begun to light up the Bund area.

Boom—Crackling—

Colorful fireworks exploded in the sky above the Huangpu River, illuminating half of Shanghai as if it were daytime. The large fireworks used for the entire three hundred-gun salute were specially redeemed by Chen Zijun from the system.

This kind of spectacle was unprecedented in the entire Republic of China era.

Shen Li stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window on the second floor of the Paramount Ballroom, watching the crowd pouring in below, and whispered to Zang Keping beside him:

How many people came tonight?

Zang Keping flipped through the list in his hand.

"The French consul, Welch, the British consul, Barton, and the American vice consul, Harris. The Sassoon family, a Jewish financial magnate, did not come; they sent Felix instead. Qi Yingcai's representative from Jiangsu is Zhou Qinian, who is his chief of staff. Sun Yuanfeng's representative from Fujian is Ding Baoshan, who is the commander of his Third Division. In addition, there are 470 prominent figures from all walks of life in Shanghai on the roster."

Shen Li frowned.

"Zhou Qinian and Ding Baoshan, are they the two the intelligence reports said were planning to cause trouble?"

Zang Keping's lips twitched.

"That's right. Moran's people have confirmed that each of these two men was accompanied by four bodyguards. At least two of the bodyguards are professional assassins."

"Does the young marshal know?"

"The young marshal said eight words."

"Which eight characters?"

Zang Keping's expression was calm.

"Let them in. Then shut the door and beat them."

Lobby.

Chen Zijun was dressed in a crisp black military uniform, the medals on his chest gleaming under the lights.

He stood in the main seat at the front of the stage, holding a glass of champagne.

Cao Qingdi was standing next to him.

Tonight, Cao Qingdi wore a dark blue velvet cheongsam with a jade brooch hanging from the neckline.

She was naturally strikingly beautiful. Being from the North, her height made her stand out even more among the many elegant ladies from the Jiangnan region during the Republic of China era. And tonight, with her specially chosen makeup and attire, half the eyes of the hundreds of people in the hall were fixed on her.

"Little Chen," Cao Qingdi said softly, "those two people in that corner over there have been watching you."

Chen Zijun followed her gaze.

Two middle-aged men in military uniforms sat on the sofa in the corner. One was short and stout, the other lean. The short, stout man was clinking glasses with the British Consul, Barton, who was sitting next to him.

That short, stout man is Zhou Qinian, Qi Yingcai's chief of staff.

The lean one is Ding Baoshan, the commander of Sun Yuanfeng's Third Division.

Chen Zijun smiled slightly and looked away.

Ignore them. They're not the main characters tonight.

He looked towards the stage.

It's her.

The lights suddenly went out.

The noise from the more than four hundred people in the venue disappeared in an instant.

A spotlight shone down from above, illuminating the center of the stage.

A woman in a long white dress slowly walked out from behind the curtain.

She was about twenty years old. She had an oval face, willow-leaf eyebrows, and a pair of phoenix eyes that seemed to hold a pool of autumn water. Her long hair was tied up at the back of her head and adorned with a pearl hairpin.

The Paramount's band played the prelude.

She stood in front of the microphone, tilted her head slightly, and opened her lips.

Her opening remarks were stunning.

The voice was clear and mellow, like a silk ribbon slowly unfolding. It wasn't the kind of high-pitched, shrill singing style, but rather carried a charm and languor that emanated from the very core of the voice.

A song called "Shanghai Nights".

Yes, how could Shanghai during the Republic of China era be without this song?

Chen Zijun was inwardly thankful that his mischievous side had kicked in, and he had used the pen name Zhou Xuanhe to hand her the lyrics and sheet music for the song.

Indeed, songs from the Republic of China era are only truly captivating when sung by female singers from that era.

No one spoke in the entire hall.

Even the hand holding the wine glass stopped.

Cao Qingdi turned and glanced at Chen Zijun.

"Who is this girl?"

Chen Zijun smiled.

"Feng Chengcheng. Feng Yong's daughter, who studied opera in Italy. Mo Lanzhi specifically hinted to our Director Feng Yong to offer her up. However, I think the leading lady of the Paramount Ballroom is more suitable for her."

"She sings very well." Cao Qingdi nodded slightly. "But you invited her here for more than just singing, right?"

Chen Zijun picked up his wine glass and clinked it against hers.

"Qingdi is indeed smart. She's not just a singer."

He said in a low voice.

"After the Paramount Ballroom, it became the social center of Shanghai. It was frequented by representatives of various warlords and consuls of foreign powers. These people would become more talkative after drinking, listening to music, and seeing beautiful women."

"And Feng Chengcheng is the one who hears the most secrets."

Cao Qingdi said nothing, but simply picked up her wine glass and took a sip.

at the same time.

The basement of the Paramount Ballroom.

Moranzhi sat behind a long table, in front of six state-of-the-art radio listening devices. A floor plan of the Paramount Ballroom was also laid out on the table, with the location of each private box marked in red.

She was wearing headphones and her fingers were flying across the paper as she scribbled.

Every private room, every sofa, and even every toilet stall in the Paramount Ballroom was filled with miniature listening devices that Chen Zijun had redeemed from the system.

Right now, Moranzhi is listening to the conversation in Box 3.

That was the private room that Zhou Qinian had rented.

"...Mr. Baldon,"

Zhou Qinian's voice came through the earpiece, "You should have seen it too. Chen Zijun built an arms factory in Ma'anshan. It's not just any factory, it's a complete Krupp heavy industry facility! Do you know what that means?"

Baldon's voice was slurred, clearly indicating he had drunk quite a bit.

"Of course I know. That was German junk that our British Empire sold to him."

"We need to join forces," Zhou Qinian said in a low voice. "General Qi's idea is for Britain, France, and the United States to jointly send a note to Chen Zijun, demanding that he close the Ma'anshan Arsenal. If he doesn't comply, we will cut off all his European arms procurement channels."

Moranzhi's pen paused on the paper.

She wrote down the words verbatim, then picked up the phone on the table and dialed the number for the second floor.

"Young Marshal, Box Number Three. Zhou Qinian is trying to win over Baldun. They want to unite with the great powers to force you to close the Ma'anshan Arsenal."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

Then came Chen Zijun's low laughter.

"Okay. Keep listening. Let them talk until they've had their fill before they come back to me."

Halfway through the dinner.

Feng Chengcheng had finished singing three songs and went backstage to rest. The hall was filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and the atmosphere was so lively it felt like it was about to burst into flames.

Just then, Ding Baoshan walked up to Chen Zijun with a wine glass in his hand.

This commander of Sun Yuanfeng's Third Division was lean and wiry, with sharp, triangular eyes. He raised his wine glass and said with a smile:

"Young Marshal Chen, I've long admired your name. Tonight, the Paramount Ballroom is truly magnificent. Our Commander Yuan said that such a grand event should have a 'gift'."

He took an envelope out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

"This is a proposal jointly signed by our Commander Yuan and Commander Qi."

Shen Li reached out to take it, but Chen Zijun stopped him.

"Oh? What proposal?"

Ding Baoshan's smile deepened.

"For the sake of peace and stability south of the Yangtze River, we propose that Marshal Qi, Marshal Yuan, and Marshal Chen jointly establish the 'Yangtze River Joint Defense Committee.' The output of the Ma'anshan coal and steel base shall be shared equally among the three parties."

The hall suddenly became quiet.

People at several nearby tables perked up their ears.

Chen Zijun looked down at the envelope on the table, his expression calm.

Then he picked up his glass and slowly took a sip.

"Commander Ding."

His voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet hall, every word was clear.

"Go back and tell Sun Yuanfeng and Qi Yingcai."

"Ma'anshan was built by me, Chen Zijun. Every brick, every screw, was built with my money."

"Want to split up?"

He placed the wine glass on the table.

The voice suddenly turned cold.

"dream."

Ding Baoshan's smile froze on his face.

The hands of the two "bodyguards" behind him had already quietly reached for his waist.

But their movements stopped before they were complete.

Because they sensed it. In the four corners of the hall, in the circular corridor on the second floor, and behind the curtain at the back of the stage, at least two hundred men in black suits simultaneously gripped the handles of their guns.

Those people's eyes were as cold as knives, devoid of any emotion.

Garrison Command Attendant Guard Regiment!

Chen Zijun's private bodyguard.

Chen Zijun watched as Ding Baoshan's face gradually paled, and a slight smile curved his lips.

"Commander Ding, don't be nervous. Tonight is a good night."

He raised his glass again.

"Let's drink."

His voice suddenly lowered, so that only Ding Baoshan could hear it.

"But those two assassins beside you, if they moved their hands down even an inch..."

"Two more bodies will be carried out tonight."

A layer of cold sweat instantly appeared on Ding Baoshan's forehead.

He forced a smile, raised his glass and clinked it against Chen Zijun's, then turned and quickly walked back to his seat.

As he reached the corner, his legs were trembling slightly.

Shen Li leaned closer and whispered, "Young Marshal, should we make our move now?"

Chen Zijun shook his head.

"No rush."

He gazed at the dazzling fireworks outside the window, his eyes deep and unfathomable.

"Let them say everything they want to say. Let them see everyone they want to see. Let them reveal all their cards."

"Once the doors of the Paramount close..."

He smiled slightly.

"None of them are leaving."