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

Fuzhou, the Governor's Mansion.

The sky is bright.

Sun Yuanfeng hadn't slept a wink all night.

There were seven or eight telegrams scattered on the table, each one like a knife, stabbing him hard in the heart.

First letter: Ma Zhongnan's troops were intercepted by Chen's armored forces, and all 1,400 men surrendered.

Second letter: The Hefeng Flour Factory in Xiaguan, Nanjing, was attacked by Chen Jiajun's armored brigade, and all thirty-one Japanese ronin guarding it were killed.

The third incident: The flour mills in Pukou, Liuhe, and Gulou fell one after another, and more than 30,000 shi of grain and all the cotton cloth and tung oil were seized.

The fourth message: Chen's army informed all forces along the Yangtze River of their battle results via open-text telegram.

Fifth letter: In Shanghai, three contacts, Zheng Yuanhe, Fan Debiao, and Zhou Youcai, have gone missing, and HSBC and Citibank accounts have been frozen.

Every telegram is a nail.

Five nails nailed Sun Yuanfeng to death in the coffin.

The adjutant stood at the door of the study, not daring to breathe.

Sun Yuanfeng sat in the armchair, his hands gripping the armrests, his body leaning slightly forward. His face was no longer deathly pale, but a translucent gray, like porcelain about to shatter.

"last year……"

He suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse like rust scraping against stone.

"Last September, I personally delivered 50,000 silver dollars to the people from the Mitsui & Co. They assured me that the supplies in Nanjing were safe and sound."

The adjutant dared not respond.

"In October, I transferred the funds of an artillery battalion from northern Fujian and invested them all in Zheng Yuanhe's grain and oil business."

His fingers slowly tightened on the table.

"In November, Ma Zhongnan made a pledge to me. He said that the 3,400 men under his command were all veterans who had fought alongside him from the front lines in Hubei to the bandit suppression campaign in western Fujian. He said that once they arrived in Nanjing, they could hold their ground, or even fight the Chen family army head-on for three days. I also specifically reinforced their equipment and firepower..."

He suddenly raised his head.

"Three days?"

His lips twitched.

"He didn't even last three minutes! The moment he saw the tanks, even after a fierce battle—those were 1,400 elite troops—he knelt down and surrendered faster than anyone else!"

The adjutant shrank back.

"Commander...you're not angry anymore..."

"Afraid?"

Sun Yuanfeng suddenly stood up.

He grabbed the teapot from the table and smashed it hard on the ground.

Porcelain shards flew everywhere, and tea was spilled all over the floor.

"I, Sun Yuanfeng, have been managing Fujian for over a year! But what have I received in return? They are xenophobic and don't treat me like a general! I've been plotting in Nanjing for almost half a year, spending countless sums of money, building countless relationships, and begging the Japanese for favors! All that wealth I've accumulated was wiped out by Chen Zijun in a single night!"

His chest heaved violently.

"I can't hold my ground in Fujian, and now we're out of food, out of troops, and the money supply to Shanghai has dried up."

His eyes were bloodshot, and the veins on his forehead were throbbing as if they were about to burst.

"Chen Zijun... Chen Zijun!"

He slammed his hand on the desk.

then.

His body suddenly froze.

A metallic sweetness surged up from deep in my throat.

"puff--"

He spat a mouthful of blood onto the telegrams scattered on the table.

The bright red bloodstains spread, blurring the densely packed telegram text.

The adjutant turned pale with fright.

"Commander! Commander!"

He rushed over and supported Sun Yuanfeng's swaying body.

But Sun Yuanfeng's eyes had already rolled upwards.

Blood still clung to the corner of his mouth, and he uttered his last few words incoherently:

"Chen...Zijun...I'll haunt you even as a ghost..."

Then he fell straight backward.

The back of his head hit the back of the armchair with a dull thud.

The adjutant frantically tried to revive Sun Yuanfeng by pinching his philtrum and pouring cold water down his throat. After a while, Sun Yuanfeng finally woke up.

But everyone could see that this once invincible top general of the Zhili clique, the Tiger of Beiyang, the commander-in-chief of the three-province allied army and the military governor of Fujian, was now useless.

Overnight, he went from a powerful regional official commanding 30,000 elite troops to a cripple coughing up blood and unconscious.

The news spread throughout Fujian province within half a day.

That same afternoon, the two brigade commanders stationed in southern Fujian broke off their alliance and defected to the Guangdong National Revolutionary Government in the south.

A regimental commander stationed in western Fujian led his troops directly towards Jiangxi.

The group is leaderless.

Fujian is in chaos.

……

At the same time.

Shanghai, the study on the second floor of Chen Mansion.

The plane trees outside the window have just sprouted tender green buds, and sunlight shines through the half-open blinds, casting rows of warm yellow shadows on the floor.

Chen Zijun leaned back in his mahogany chair, a glass of red wine in his hand, staring blankly at the stack of documents spread out on the table.

The sound of high heels clicking on the wooden floor echoed from the doorway.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Mo Huixin pushed open the door and walked in.

Today she wore a navy blue cheongsam with a small pearl brooch at the collar. Her hair was styled in a low bun, revealing her long, fair neck.

He was holding a thick leather folder in his hands.

"Young Master," she said with a slight bow, "the list from Nanjing is ready."

Chen Zijun put down his wine glass and nodded to her.

"read."

Mo Huixin opened the folder with a crisp, clear voice.

"23,417 shi of rice, 7,082 shi of flour, 2,300 bolts of cotton cloth, 627 barrels of tung oil, a batch of Western medicine which is being sorted and counted, and 47 boxes of Japanese-made military compressed rations."

She turned a page.

"In addition, the cash, gold bars and various negotiable instruments confiscated from the residences and accounting offices of the three liaisons of the Chamber of Commerce amounted to approximately 1.3 million silver dollars."

She turned another page.

"The funds previously frozen in the three accounts by various foreign banks have all been transferred to the headquarters' special account in accordance with our agreements with HSBC and Citibank. Including the system malfunctions and the retained profits from sulfonamides, we currently have approximately £19.7 million in available liquidity."

She closed the folder and looked up.

"Young master, what should we do with this batch of grain?"

Chen Zijun didn't rush to answer.

He picked up the wine glass, swirled it gently a couple of times, and watched the deep red liquid in the glass gleam delicately in the sunlight.

"Uncle Zang never hesitates in battle," he suddenly said, seemingly out of the blue.

Mo Huixin smiled slightly, "Brigade Commander Zang is indeed decisive and efficient. Four factories in two hours, and our army suffered zero casualties."

"Hmm." Chen Zijun took a sip of his drink. "I'll have the quartermaster department allocate an extra three months' worth of ammunition to Zang Keping's independent armored brigade. His men have worked hard this time."

"Yes."

Chen Zijun put down his wine glass.

He took a small wooden box out of the table drawer and pushed it in front of Mo Huixin.

"This is for you."

Mo Huixin was taken aback.

She reached out and opened the wooden box.

The box was lined with a layer of dark red velvet, on which lay a warm and translucent jade pendant. The emerald green veins flowed in the sunlight, like a pool of living water.

"This is from the seized supplies. It was found in that Zheng guy's house," Chen Zijun said softly. "A traitorous comprador had such good stuff, and he ruined it. You're wearing it for fun."

Mo Huixin held the jade, her eyes slightly red.

"Young Master..."

"Alright, stop crying." Chen Zijun waved his hand. "If you cry, Lanzhi will say I bullied her sister again when she gets back."

Mo Huixin burst into laughter through her tears and carefully put the jade away.

"Thank you, young master."

Chen Zijun stood up.

He walked to the huge military map on the wall of the study.

This map covers the entire East China region. It stretches from the Shandong Peninsula all the way to the Fujian coast, clearly marking every city, every railway line, and every strategic pass.

His fingers started from Nanjing.

Row southwest along the Yangtze River.

Passing through Wuhu.

Crossing Huangshan.

We passed through the mountainous region bordering Zhejiang and Jiangxi provinces.

Finally, it stopped at a place marked with a red circle.

Fuzhou.

He turned around and looked at Mo Huixin.

"Of the 30,000 shi of grain, 10,000 shi should be allocated to the Jiangnan Shipyard. The workers there aren't even enough to eat, how can they build warships for me?"

"The remaining 20,000 shi (a unit of dry measure) will be transported to Ma'anshan to replenish the grain reserves of the newly formed Second Division of the National Defense Army."

He paused.

A cold smile slowly curved his lips.

"Make sure the newly formed Second Division is well-fed and has enough energy."

"Then... we went to pick peaches."

He tapped the word "Fuzhou" lightly twice on the map with his finger.

Mo Huixin felt a chill run down her spine as she looked into his eyes.

She knew that look all too well.

Every time the young master shows that smile, it means someone is about to be in big trouble.

"Young Master wants to..."

"Sun Yuanfeng dared to ambush my father and then sent assassins to kill me. My father has a good temper, so he just fought them off and let it go."

Chen Zijun's voice suddenly turned cold.

"But I am not my father."

"My rule is that if someone hits me, they have to pay back. If someone hits my family, they have to pay back the principal with interest."

He turned around, walked back to his desk, and picked up the pen on the table.

"Draft a telegram. Send it to Zang Keping."

"Rest for three days. Three days later, the Independent Armored Brigade will advance south as the vanguard, serving as the first move in his counterattack on Fujian. It includes the newly formed Second Division of the National Defense Army and the newly formed First Division of the Zhejiang Army. Target: Fujian."

"Tell Uncle Zang that a year ago, he fled Fujian Province in a sorry state, and now it's time for him to return home in glory."

"How could the Southeastern Army be complete without Fujian?"

"How could my navy and air force be complete without the support of the Fuzhou Naval Academy?"

Outside the window, the tender leaves of the plane trees swayed gently in the spring breeze.

But the air in the study was already as cold as a knife.