The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 1004 This is a life-or-death struggle!
Paris, July 20, 1887.

The Parisian morning was awakened by a series of urgent chimes.

The bronze bells of St. Denis Cathedral rang out deafeningly, and crowds from all over the streets surged toward the City Hall Square. Workers waved red flags and sang a variation of "La Marseillaise"—"Arise, ye prisoners of starvation! Arise, ye wretched of the earth!"

"The Russian Revolution has succeeded!" A railway worker, his face covered in coal dust, waved a leaflet, his voice hoarse but full of power. "The Tsar is finished! St. Petersburg is ours!"

A cheer erupted from the crowd, hats, scarves, and even worn-out boots were tossed into the air. The corner bakery, for the first time ever, opened its doors, pushing baskets of baguettes onto the street, shouting: "The People's Commissariat for Food declares that everyone can receive a baguette—to celebrate the victory of the Russian Revolution!"

A long-lost joy filled the air in Paris, like a warm breeze suddenly blowing through the dead of winter. Workers embraced each other, women wiped away tears, and children weaved through the crowds, clutching their newly distributed bread and shouting, "Long live the revolution!"

The Russian Revolution succeeded!

The news spread like wildfire throughout Paris, and even reached the meeting hall of the French People's Council.

The members of the People's Commissariat sat around a long table, their faces beaming with barely concealed excitement. Chairman Blanqui tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his gaze sweeping over everyone present—Karl Mohr, Friedrich Engels, General Dombrovsky, Eugène Pottier…

"Comrades," Blanki's voice was deep and firm, "today, we have received news that will change the course of the world—the Russian Revolution has succeeded!"

A burst of enthusiastic applause erupted in the conference room, and some people even stood up excitedly, raising their fists.

"The People's Will has taken control of St. Petersburg and Moscow, Tsar Alexander III has been executed by the people, and his government has completely collapsed!" Blanqui continued. "This means that Red France is no longer the only revolutionary bastion in Europe; we have a true ally!"

Karl Moore took off his glasses, wiped the lenses with his sleeve, and smiled slightly: "The success of the Russian Revolution proves that our theory is correct—the end of imperialism has come, and the power of the working people is awakening."

Friedrich gave a cold laugh: "But the Germans won't stand idly by."

General Dombrovsky stood up, walked to the map of Europe on the wall, and tapped the western part of Russia heavily with his baton: "The German army has launched a fierce offensive on the eastern front, the Russian defenses have collapsed, and the Germans are frantically devouring Russian territory."

“They won’t venture deep into Russia,” Moore asserted. “Bismarck is not Napoleon; he won’t let the German army get bogged down in the quagmire of Moscow.”

“Where will they go?” Baudier asked, frowning.

“Here.” Moore’s finger slid from Russia to France, “Paris.”

The atmosphere in the meeting room instantly became tense.

Blanki took a deep breath: "How much longer?"

“The most optimistic estimate is that by the spring of 1888,” Dombrovsky’s voice was like ice. “We have received reliable intelligence that the Germans will seize 50 square kilometers on the Eastern Front and then build a 1200-kilometer defensive line along four rivers—the Narva, the Daugava, the Bug, and the Dniester.”

"and then?"

"Then they will turn to us. Paris will face an unprecedented challenge and could very well fall."

This sentence is like a knife hanging over everyone's head.

Baudier suddenly laughed, the sound particularly jarring in the heavy air.

“What are you afraid of?” He stood up, walked to the window, and pointed to Paris through the rain. “This city has been besieged countless times. Our people are used to fighting.”

“But this time is different,” Friedrich said coldly. “The Germans are not here to negotiate; they are here to destroy us.”

“Then let them try!” Baudier whirled around, his eyes burning with fanaticism. “Every stone in Paris will be their grave!”

Blanqui raised his hand to signal everyone to be quiet.

“Comrades,” he said in a deep voice, “we are not fighting alone.”

Moore nodded and pointed to another place on the map—the United States.

"The key to the victory of the revolution lies there. If America and Russia are both stained red, then even if France falls, we will still be the victors!"

After a brief discussion, the Council of People's Commissars unanimously passed a resolution: First, to send a formal congratulatory telegram to Comrade Andrei Zhelyapov, Chairman of the Council of People's Commissars of Russia, congratulating him on the success of the Russian Revolution and expressing the firm support of Red France. Second, to expedite the shipment of weapons and supplies to Russia to help the Russian revolutionary government consolidate its power. Third, to strengthen the defenses of Paris in preparation for a possible German attack. Finally, and most importantly—to fully support the American workers' movement and send more revolutionaries to the United States to assist the workers' union in its struggle.

Blanqui picked up his pen, signed his name on the resolution, and then looked around at everyone: "Comrades, history is changing before our eyes, and we must seize this opportunity."

Then, General Dombrovsky, the People's Commissar for Military Affairs, took a roll of blueprints from his briefcase and slowly unfolded it on the table. It was a detailed map of the Paris defenses, marked with densely packed fortifications, trenches, and artillery positions.

“Comrades,” his voice was steady and powerful, “what I am showing you is Paris’s last line of defense—the ‘Red Wall’ plan.”

“According to our calculations,” Dombrovsky continued, “this defensive system can hold out for at least six to eight months. The Germans would have to pay the price of 500,000 lives if they wanted to take Paris.”

A murmur of discussion broke out in the conference room.

“Six to eight months,” Blanqui murmured, “enough to wait until the United States and Russia are fully revolutionized.”

“Yes!” Dombrovsky slammed his fist on the table. “By the spring of 1889, when the Germans are exhausted, America and Russia will be a sea of ​​red flags! At that time, it will not be us who are surrounded, but them!” Pottier stood up excitedly: “Comrades, we can not only defend Paris, we can also win the whole world!”

A burst of enthusiastic applause and cheers erupted in the conference room. Everyone stood up, their eyes shining with hope.

The summer night in New York was unbearably hot and humid, but the basement of the workers' union was packed with people. Paul Farragut stood on the podium, clutching a newly received telegram tightly in his hand.

"Comrades!" His voice echoed in the crowded basement, "The Russian Revolution has succeeded! The Tsar's rule has been overthrown!"

A deafening cheer erupted from the audience, workers hugged each other, and some were even moved to tears.

Farragut raised his fist: "Today, the Russian working class has proven to the world with their blood and courage that capitalist rule can be overthrown!"

He paused, his gaze sweeping across every face in the audience: "But the American capitalists will not sit idly by! They are intensifying their suppression of the workers' movement, forcing us to submit with hunger and bullets!"

"Just yesterday, the Chicago steelworkers' strike was brutally suppressed by the police, and more than a dozen of our brothers fell in pools of blood!" Farragut's voice grew increasingly impassioned. "And what about the Wall Street bankers? They're counting the blood and sweat they've squeezed out of us, celebrating their 'prosperity'!"

The workers below the stage angrily waved their fists and shouted, "Down with the capitalists! Long live the revolution!"

Farragut took a deep breath and continued, "The success of the Russian Revolution tells us that unity is strength! We can no longer tolerate exploitation and oppression. We must stand up, like our Russian brothers, and smash this corrupt system with revolutionary means!"

He held up the telegram in his hand: "Today, we extend our warmest congratulations to the Russian people and the Russian People's Will Party! At the same time, we also warn the American capitalists—your end is near!"

Long live the revolution! Long live international workers' solidarity!

New York, July 21, 1887.

23 Wall Street, headquarters of Morgan Stanley.

The curtains in the top-floor conference room were drawn, shutting out the outside noise. Six men in black tuxedos sat around a long mahogany table, cigar smoke forming a blue cloud under the chandelier. The whiskey in the crystal glasses gleamed with an amber light, the ice long since melted.

J.P. Morgan tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his gaze sweeping over everyone present—John D. Rockefeller, Cornelius Vanderbilt, Andrew Carnegie, Jay Gould… and the man sitting in the corner—William Gordon, the supreme leader of the KKK.

"Gentlemen," Morgan's voice was low and calm, "the Russian Revolution has succeeded, and Red France is infiltrating America. Our workers have begun to awaken, and the Chicago strike is just the beginning."

Rockefeller sneered, his fingertips tracing the rim of the crystal glass: "Workers? They're nothing but a rabble."

“No,” Morgan shook his head, his eyes sharp. “The Russian Revolution tells us that a mob can also overthrow a truly powerful empire.”

Andrew Carnegie put down his cigar, his steely voice echoing in the conference room: "Mr. Morgan is right. I've already seen the signs in the Pittsburgh steel mills—the endless war, ever-increasing inflation, and increasingly tight supplies have made the workers angry and deceived. Everything is just like before the Russian Revolution!"

Vanderbilt's face darkened: "The railway workers' unions have already made connections in Missouri and Illinois. If they succeed, our transportation network will be paralyzed. The Russian Revolution also began with the paralysis of the railways!"

Jay Gould, Wall Street’s most ruthless speculator, slowly exhaled a smoke ring: “The problem is, the government is unreliable. That coward Cleveland can’t even suppress a few striking workers.”

Morgan turned his gaze to Gordon in the corner: "So, we need another kind of power."

Gordon slowly stood up, his voice rough like sandpaper: "Mr. Morgan, what do you need us to do?"

Morgan took a brown paper envelope from the drawer and pushed it in front of Gordon: "Here is one million pounds, enough for you to arm fifty thousand loyal soldiers."

A glint of greed flashed in Gordon's eyes. He reached out and took the envelope, weighing it in his hand: "How many lives could this money buy?"

“Enough to wipe out the New York workers’ union,” Morgan said coldly. “But remember, do it cleanly and neatly, don’t leave any evidence.”

Gordon grinned, revealing his uneven teeth: "Don't worry, Mr. Morgan. We'll show those workers who the real masters of America are."

Rockefeller suddenly spoke up: "Not just New York, but Chicago, Pittsburgh, Detroit, Philadelphia—all industrial cities need a 'cleanup'."

Carnegie added, "My steel mill can provide weapons—the latest Winchester repeating rifles, enough to arm an army."

Vanderbilt scoffed: "My railroad will ensure that your 'militia' can be quickly mobilized anywhere."

Gordon's gaze swept over everyone present, finally settling on Morgan's face: "So, the capitalists of the North and the white people of the South have finally stood together?"

Morgan picked up his glass and swirled it gently: “Mr. Gordon, this isn’t a question of the North or the South. It’s a question of ‘us’ and ‘them’.”

“Very good.” Gordon stuffed the envelope into his inner pocket. “The KKK will form the ‘American Defense Force’ to deal with those ‘red elements.’ But I must warn you—once we make our move, there will be no turning back.”

“We have no way back.” Morgan downed his drink in one gulp. “From the moment the Russian Revolution succeeded, this has been a war of life and death.”

Outside the conference room, lightning flashed and thunder roared in the New York night sky. A storm was brewing.

(End of this chapter)