The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 934 Backstab
Baron Ketteler's leather boots crunched over a withered ginkgo leaf as he stopped at the entrance to Xizongbu Hutong on Dongdan North Street in Beijing. The autumn sun was blinding, yet he felt a strange chill run down his spine.
The streets before me were bustling with activity: vendors hoarsely called out, "Hot roasted chestnuts!"; rickshaw pullers pulled merchants wearing gold-rimmed glasses through the alleys, the smell of sweat mixed with donkey dung filling the air; silk shop assistants stood on tiptoe to hang newly arrived Suzhou and Hangzhou silks, their patterns gleaming in the sunlight; a child with a high ponytail ran past, laughing and holding a paper windmill. They were the future of this Eastern paradise!

Through the glass window of a newly opened "Nanyang Coffee Shop" on the street corner, Klind glimpsed two Taiping Army officers in gray woolen uniforms chatting and laughing with two girls with long braids—this was probably the only scene on this bustling street that had anything to do with the World War!
Is this really a country in the midst of a global war?

If we disregard Germany and Russia's plans to betray Great Britain, the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom would now be facing an attack from almost the entire white Christian civilization!
They were so calm and composed that they didn't even mobilize the entire population.

"Six hundred million people, is this the composure of six hundred million people..." Klind slumped slightly, cold sweat soaking his shirt collar. The British Empire had long since entered a state of war; the thirty million inhabitants of the British Isles were to fight tooth and nail for the empire's glory. And here—the teahouse was filled with the strains of "Chinese rap," its interior teeming with seemingly indifferent spectators; the theater was plastered with posters for the newly staged play "Dingjun Mountain," depicting Huang Zhong's blade slashing towards the words "British Barbarians." The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's war machine had only activated ten percent of its gears, yet it was already making the British Empire's joints creak. If this Eastern behemoth were fully mobilized...
"Baron!" A call pierced the noise. Kang Youwei leaned out of the elmwood carriage, beckoning to Ketteler with a beaming smile: "Please come in for a chat!"

The wheels rolled over the cobblestones, and Ketteler gazed out the window at the Western-style clock tower that flashed by—the former site of the British Jardine Matheson firm, now adorned with a gilded bronze plaque that read "Pacific Trading Company." Workers in coarse overalls were bustling about.

"Will General Waldersee return with the Turks?" Kang Youwei suddenly asked, speaking fluent English.

“He’s a big shot in the General Staff,” Ketteler said. “Of course he has to go back to Germany, and I’ll be in charge of the negotiations from now on.”

According to the plan, Ketteler was to be the head of the German secret mission to China.

Klind continued, "So, is General Waldersee going back to that old Ottoman ship, the 'Sultan,' for a major overhaul? When will it be finished?"

Kang Youwei laughed and said, "It would be impossible to complete the major overhaul of the 'Sudan' in less than six months."

"So long?" Klind frowned slightly.

Kang Youwei laughed and said, "However, we replaced the Turks' ship with a newly upgraded 'Zhenyuan' class ship, so they can set off at any time."

Kettel's pupils constricted sharply. German intelligence had only discovered that the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom was repairing an old Ottoman ship, unaware that they had replaced it with a new one of the same class! Kang Youwei leisurely brushed non-existent dust from his sleeves: "Three twin-mounted 210mm main guns, the latest KC-type carburized armor, and new armor-piercing shells delivered with the ship capable of tearing open the broadside of the Black Sea Fleet flagship… I wonder what your country has prepared for our Turkish friends?"

Amidst the sound of horses' hooves, Ketteler heard his own heart pounding like a drum. Was the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom trying to arm the Ottoman Empire, setting a trap for the Russians?

However, his expression remained calm: "Our foreign policy is personally controlled by Prince Bismarck, who is the most outstanding politician in all of Europe, without exception!"

Kang Youwei said, "So, we and the Turkish Sultan can both trust him?"

Klind nodded solemnly.

Germany will definitely try to take advantage of Russia, even if they are allies now and in the future!

This is Europe!
As Yuan Shikai stepped through the peeling vermilion gate of Xianliang Temple, ginkgo leaves were falling like golden rain. He suddenly felt a sense of disorientation, as if he had once accomplished something "historically significant" here! But wasn't he doing something significant now? Something that could change the world order!
Thinking of this, Yuan Shikai shook his head vigorously, banishing the strange thoughts that kept appearing in his mind.
“Count!” Alekseev emerged from under the ginkgo tree, a Russian medal gleaming on his officer’s uniform. “Countess Orlova asked me to send her regards.” He deliberately emphasized the word “greetings” in Russian, his grey-blue eyes fixed on Yuan Shikai’s face.

The fallen leaves rustled beneath their feet. Yuan Shikai smiled faintly: "General and Countess are old acquaintances? But I remember you are pro-German."

"Pro-Germany? I am a Russian general!" Alexeyev suddenly lowered his voice: "If Paris falls, St. Petersburg will be next! What Emperor Napoleon did, Emperor Wilhelm will surely do again. And he may even do it better! I think you will telegraph the Countess about the results of the 'Beijing Peace Conference,' won't you?"

Yuan Shikai squinted in the shadows of the trees. These Europeans, they could never truly unite; they really lacked a "European First Emperor"...

The Third Branch of the Shuntian Prefecture Telegraph Bureau reeked of sweat and anxiety. Merchants in long gowns crowded at the windows, shouting, "Urgently send to Hankou!" "Send to Shanghai quickly!" Telegraph operators in white sleeves typed furiously, the Morse key clicking like a torrential downpour. Yuan Shikai sat alone in a dark corner of a bench, his palm clutching a telegram—a coded telegram compiled using the "secret code" given to him by Orlova, enough to make the Palais des Popes in Paris tremble.

"Lord Yuan!" Feng Guozhang sat down next to him, his new army major uniform starched crisply, but his smile resembled that of a weasel emerging from an alley. "This telegram of yours... is it addressed to that countess in St. Petersburg?"

Yuan Shikai was startled. How did they find out about this?

Feng Guozhang smiled and said, "Could you tell me what top-secret information you plan to reveal to Paris?"

Yuan Shikai was sweating profusely—they even knew that Countess Orlova had connections in Paris?

"No, nothing," Yuan Shikai stammered. "The people in Paris just want to know when the Germans will attack them!" He took a deep breath and composed himself. "I suppose your country doesn't want to see Germany unify Central and Western Europe either?"

Feng Guozhang laughed and said, "That's right! Nobody wants to see a unified Europe!"

The twilight outside the window was like spilled blood. The radio operator shouted, "Number 3! Send a telegram to St. Petersburg!" Luo Yaoguo stood before the huge map of Southeast Asia in the Prime Minister's Office's operations command center, his finger lightly tapping the mark of the Singapore fortress. Outside the window, twilight had fallen on Tianjing City, but inside the Prime Minister's Office, the lights were on, staff officers bustled about, and the telegraph machine beeped incessantly.

"Premier, a secret telegram from Vice Minister Li." An adjutant strode in and handed over a newly translated telegram.

Luo Yaoguo took it, his eyes scanning the paper, a slight smile playing on his lips.

The Tripartite Pact has been signed, with Germany and Russia promising to join the war after our army captures Singapore and Port Moresby.

"Good!" Luo Yaoguo slammed the telegram shut and turned to look at the several military and political officials who were already waiting in the command center—Wang Yan, Minister of the Navy; Shi Dakai, Minister of War; Zhu Ba, Chief of the General Staff; and Ding Ruchang, Chief of the Navy Staff.

"Gentlemen, the time has come." Luo Yaoguo's voice was deep and firm. "Singapore Fortress must be taken within the thirty-third year of the Tianli era!"

Chief of the General Staff Zhu strode forward, pointing his baton at the Malay Peninsula on the map.

"Prime Minister, colleagues, the plan for our army to attack Singapore has been finalized."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone to make sure their attention was focused on the map.

"The first step is the army landing on the Malay Peninsula! Our army will depart from Cam Ranh Bay, with 80,000 Nanyang Army Corps as the main force, and land at Kota Bharu on the east coast of the Malay Peninsula." Zhu Ba drew a line along the east coast of the peninsula with his baton. "The British defenses here are weak, and the terrain is flat, which is suitable for our army to advance rapidly."

"After landing, our army will quickly advance into the rear. The main force will be led by armored vehicles and advance straight to Kuala Lumpur along the highway to cut off the British army's north-south connection." Zhu Ba's command stick moved quickly on the map. "At the same time, the cavalry will be responsible for sweeping the British army's flanks to ensure that the main force is not disturbed."

"At the same time, the navy will blockade the Strait of Malacca, cutting off the British forces' maritime supply lines in Singapore." Zhu Ba looked at Ding Ruchang, "Chief of Staff Ding, can the navy ensure that the British fleet cannot send reinforcements?"

Ding Ruchang smiled slightly: "The South Sea Fleet is ready and will engage in a decisive battle with the British Far East Fleet after covering the army's landing, in order to seize control of the sea in one fell swoop!"

"Finally, our army will launch a general offensive from the north bank of the Johor Strait." Zhu Ba slammed his baton heavily on the Singapore fortress. "If the British army holds out to the death, our army will bombard them with heavy artillery and force them to surrender!"

After listening to Zhu Ba's report, Luo Yaoguo remained silent for a moment, then slowly nodded.

“The plan is good, but there is one thing we must pay attention to.” He walked to the map and pointed to the jungle of the Malay Peninsula. “Although the British forces are few, tropical rainforest warfare is disadvantageous to our army. We must ensure that our logistical supplies are unimpeded.”

Shi Dakai stepped forward: "Premier, rest assured, our army has been training in Southeast Asia for many years and has rich experience in jungle warfare."

Luo Yaoguo nodded in satisfaction: "Okay! It's settled then."

He looked around at the crowd, his voice suddenly rising: "Gentlemen, the battle of Singapore will determine who will rule the Pacific! If we win this battle, the British Empire's rule in the Far East will be completely disintegrated!"

"Yes!" the crowd responded in unison, their eyes gleaming with determination.

At the same time, in Brunei Bay, the home port of the Nanyang Fleet.

On the deck of the armored cruiser "Jingyuan," sailors were nervously conducting final combat readiness checks. Lin Yongsheng, the newly appointed admiral of the Second Armored Patrol Squadron of the South China Sea Fleet, stood on the bridge, gazing at the dark sea in the distance, silently reciting the battle plan.

"Admiral, the order has arrived!" The adjutant strode over and handed over a telegram.

Lin Yongsheng unfolded it and took a look, a slight smile appearing on his lips.

"Set sail immediately, destination—Singapore."

"Order the second detachment to prepare for battle!" Lin Yongsheng shouted. "We must reach the designated sea area before dawn!"

With a long whistle, the steel behemoth slowly sailed out of the port and disappeared into the vast night.

(End of this chapter)