The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 988 Being a dog of the Heavenly Dynasty is your greatest honor!

The morning mist of Osaka Bay veiled the newly painted battleship "East Palace." Yang Chengtian leaned against the gunwale, his large belly beneath his yellow robe pressing against the gilded railing, leaving a shallow dent. In the distance, the eaves of the Shinto Shrine's main shrine shimmered in the morning sun, making him feel as if he had been transported back more than twenty years—when he was still a boy, following his father Yang Xiuqing to conquer Kanto and plant the rice-stalk cross flag atop the majestic Edo Castle.

When will the spring flowers and autumn moon end? How much of the past do we know...?

The obese monarch recited in a low voice, his Adam's apple bobbing laboriously between his multiple jaws. The boy who once rode into battle on horseback now struggled to even climb a flight of stairs. The sound of a naval officer's boots behind him interrupted his thoughts.

"Long live the Eastern King! Lord Kusunoki, the former high priest of the Shinto Shrine of Japan, has arrived!"

Yang Chengtian's lips twitched, and he scolded in a low voice, "How many times have I told you... once you leave Korea, you must become the king." He turned around with difficulty, his belt creaking under the weight, "Quickly ask Aunt Daozi to come up and prepare some... prepare some rice cakes that she likes to eat."

Inside the command cabin, the sandalwood incense couldn't mask the faint musty smell—this battleship, built at a considerable cost in Korean silver dollars, had spent the entire war soaking in Incheon Bay, rotting away in the mold—the naval battles of the Pacific were simply too much for this old battleship to handle. Nanmu Inako knelt on a prayer mat, her gray hair styled in a Heian-era updo, fine wrinkles crinkling around her eyes. Yang Chengtian noticed age spots on her hands as she held the teacup—her father's most beloved Japanese concubine was now frail and elderly.

“Gao Zi must accompany the King of Wu and cannot come to Osaka to welcome you in person.” The old woman pushed a lacquer box over the low table, inside which were several exquisite kashiwa mochi. “She made these herself, saying they are your favorite.”

Yang Chengtian's fingers trembled as he held the glutinous rice skin. Back in Osaka Castle when he was a child, Gao Zi would always sneak him this kind of snack. Now that girl was Luo Yaoguo's wife, while he had to rely on potatoes from Ezo Island to feed more Koreans.

As for the ownership of Ezo Island, Yang Chengtian didn't really care about this cold land, but he couldn't give up Ezo. This was not only because it was a debt of gratitude left by his father to 16 million Koreans, but also because the 400,000 to 500,000 tons of Ezo potatoes produced annually could greatly alleviate the pressure on Korea's food supply.

"The matter of Ezo..." Yang Chengtian asked, frowning.

"King Wu's words are law: the issues of Ezo and Tsushima are temporarily shelved. Shelved!" Inako suddenly lowered her voice, a sly glint in her eyes. "The entire territory of El Salvador, and 350,000 to 450,000 square kilometers of fertile land in Nicaragua, Ecuador, Honduras, Costa Rica, Guatemala, and the western part of the Isthmus of Panama, are all bestowed upon Shinto Palace!"

There was a "click" sound.

The lacquer box lay overturned on the Persian carpet, red bean paste staining Yang Chengtian's dragon-patterned hem. His mind flashed through the harvest ledgers of the entire Korean peninsula—of the 2.4 million tons of grain, 400,000 tons came from the Ainu (Japanese). If only there were a piece of fertile tropical land…
"Auntie Rice, what do you think the King of Wu will reward me with?" His voice trembled. "Sixty thousand Korean soldiers died in North America..."

The old woman suddenly grabbed his wrist and said with a smile, "Go to Nanmu Valley quickly. King Wu has reserved a large territory for you in southern Myanmar!"

On the winding mountain road of Nanmu Valley, Yang Chengtian's sedan chair creaked. Sixteen Korean strongmen were drenched in sweat, followed by three hundred guards carrying rifles—this was the last vestige of dignity for the Korean Kingdom.

"Your Majesty, we must proceed on foot ahead," the head guard reported, kneeling in the dust.

Yang Chengtian gazed at the mountain city shrouded in mist, where the Tang-style dragon-head ornaments and crosses mingled eerily in the sunlight. He recalled his uncle Yang Fuqing's constant refrain: "In this world, even a dog has to choose the right master, or it'll starve in three days!" Suddenly, his knees, beneath the yellow robe, felt less heavy.

Three hours later, as the obese king, panting heavily, climbed the last stone step, the bronze gates of the Nanmu Divine City roared open. Thirty-six white-clad priestesses, holding rice-stalk cross banners, chanted the True Covenant. Yang Chengtian narrowed his eyes—who else could it be but Gao Zi, the figure at the end of the procession embroidered with a phoenix in gold thread?

Gao Zi is still so beautiful!

"The King of Joseon pays his respects to His Highness the King of Wu!"

As Yang Chengtian bowed, he heard the rustling sound of silk. Luo Yaoguo's bright yellow dragon robe stopped in front of him. The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's prime minister, who was over fifty years old, looked younger than his actual age, especially his eyes, which were so bright they seemed to pierce through people's hearts.

“Chengtian, your belly…” Luo Yaoguo used his ivory folding fan to lift his chin, “doesn’t look like your father’s at all back then?”

"Your Majesty... Your Majesty is ashamed." Yang Chengtian caught a glimpse of Gao Zi's smirking expression and felt as if he were back under the cherry blossoms at Osaka Castle. It wasn't until Luo Yaoguo's fan ribs tapped against the edge of the sand table that he was pulled back to reality.

"Southern Myanmar, the Irrawaddy Delta." The tip of the fan pointed to the verdant plains on the sand table. "Three harvests a year, yields per acre five times higher than in North Korea." Luo Yaoguo suddenly leaned forward. "The tens of thousands of Japanese immigrants sent by Yang Xiuqing back then have now multiplied to two or three hundred thousand. For King Thibaw, they've become too big to handle. He could keep them in check before thanks to British support, but now that the British are struggling themselves, this land is yours."

Yang Chengtian's trembling fingers traced a flat patch on the sand table—this was not a simple matter of bestowing titles and rewards, but rather arranging for Korea to guard the gates of India for the Heavenly Kingdom! Just like sending Japan to watch the gates of the Atlantic Ocean!
This is a very clever, overt strategy—both Japan and Korea face the predicament of having too many people and too little land. If they don't colonize other countries, they'll be bombed sooner or later! If these two countries are bombed, the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom will still have to step in to cover it up.

By sealing off the "gates" to the Atlantic Ocean and India to Japan and North Korea, firstly, it would relieve their pressure, and secondly, due to domestic pressure, these two countries would be more inclined to send people there and invest in development. Within twenty or thirty years at most, that region could be developed.

Once it develops, Japan and Korea will be reluctant to give it up. If war breaks out again in the future, Japan and Korea will definitely send a large number of troops there. In the next major war, the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom can send its lackeys and underlings to fight first, while it stays behind to oversee the situation!
Thinking of this, "Fatty Yang" gave Luo Yaoguo a deep bow, prostrating himself: "Your subject... Your subject wishes to be with you for generations to come..."

"Alright." Luo Yaoguo casually tossed a mango over. "Try it, it's from Southeast Asia."

As he spoke, he turned around and said to Gao Zi with a smile, "Gao Zi, could we put aside the disputes between Japan and Korea regarding Ezo and Tsushima?"

"I will obey Your Majesty's orders."

The priest, dressed in white robes and scarlet trousers, covered his mouth and chuckled softly.

Yang Chengtian, munching on the sweet, juicy fruit, chuckled, "With a place as wonderful as Burma, what are those disputes with Tsushima and Ezo compared to that?" The sea breeze of Osaka Bay swept across the pier as Nanmu Takako and Yang Chengtian stood side-by-side on the viewing platform of the Shin-Yo Shinto Shrine. In the distance, a giant ship slowly entered the harbor—the USS California, the battleship of the American Empire, its black, red, and yellow tricolor flag fluttering in the wind, its cannons menacing, symbolizing its dominance over the New World.

"Hong Tiangui has arrived," Nanmu Gaozi said in a low voice, his voice carrying a complex emotion.

Yang Chengtian squinted, his fat fingers unconsciously stroking the jade belt on his large belly. More than twenty years ago, the three of them had played and frolicked under the cherry blossom trees of Osaka Castle, but now...
"He certainly has quite the entourage," Yang Chengtian snorted. "The Emperor of the United States has an even bigger air about him than the King of Wu."

Nanmu Gaozi shook her head slightly—she vaguely remembered that Yang Chengtian and Hong Tiangui had always liked to bicker since they were little.
Yang Chengtian pursed his lips and said nothing more.

He understood, of course, that Hong Tiangui was no longer the little boy who followed Yang Xiuqing around. He was now the Emperor of the United States, wielding hegemony over the eastern Pacific, commanding a vast fleet of ironclad warships and a million-strong army; even the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom had to give him some respect. He was no longer in the same league as him, the King of Korea.

The USS California slowly approached the shore, its gangway lowered, and a squad of American guards in tan uniforms disembarked first, their rifles gleaming and their steps perfectly synchronized. Then, Hong Tiangui appeared on the deck—he wore a black cloak embroidered with gold dragons, but his body was dressed in the Western-style uniform of a Grand Marshal of the American Army and Navy, and he held an imperial scepter, symbolizing his rule over the Americas.

Yang Chengtian's pupils contracted slightly. Hong Tiangui was even taller than he remembered, with a cold and stern face, and an undeniable air of authority between his brows. He slowly walked down the gangway, his gaze sweeping over the Japanese feudal lord kneeling on the dock, finally settling on Yang Chengtian and Nanmu Takako.

"King of Joseon, it's been a long time." Hong Tiangui's voice was low, with a hint of sarcasm.

Yang Chengtian forced a smile, stepped forward and bowed: "Emperor Hong has come from afar, you must be tired from your journey."

Hong Tiangui nodded slightly and turned his gaze to Nanmu Gaozi: "Gaozi, how have you been?"

Kusunoki Takako bowed deeply and said respectfully, "Thanks to the Emperor, I have now quelled the chaos in Japan."

Hong Tiangui smiled faintly and nodded repeatedly: "Excellent! She has pacified a country; a heroine among women!"

He walked slowly forward, followed closely by the American Guards behind him, their iron boots making a dull thud on the cobblestones.

"Where is the King of Wu?" Hong Tiangui asked, his tone calm but carrying an undeniable air of authority.

Nanmu Gaozi bowed his head and replied, "His Highness Prince Wu is waiting for Emperor Hong in Nanmu Valley. A banquet will be held tomorrow to welcome the emperor."

Hong Tiangui paused, a cold glint in his eyes: "Make me wait?"

Yang Chengtian's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly smoothed things over: "Emperor Hong must be tired from his journey, why don't we rest for a day and continue tomorrow..."

“No need,” Hong Tiangui interrupted him, his voice cold and hard. “I’ll go to Nanmu Valley now.”

Yang Chengtian and Nanmu Gaozi exchanged a glance, both seeing helplessness in each other's eyes. They knew Hong Tiangui's temperament all too well—he had always been like this since childhood, stubborn and obstinate, never looking back once he had made up his mind.

"In that case, I'll arrange the carriages and horses right away," Nanmu Gaozi said, bowing.

Hong Tiangui nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over Yang Chengtian's obese body, and suddenly asked, "Chengtian, how is your Korea now?"

Yang Chengtian was taken aback, then smiled and said, "Thanks to Emperor Hong, things are still relatively peaceful."

Hong Tiangui gave him a meaningful look: "It's good that things are peaceful. After all, even a dog has to choose the right master, right?"

Yang Chengtian's smile froze on his face, his fingers unconsciously clenching his sleeves. Hong Tiangui's words were like a knife, piercing his heart. Back when the three of them played together, Hong Tiangui was always the most silent one, but now, his words were sharper than anyone else's.

Seeing this, Nanmu Gaozi quickly changed the subject: "Emperor Hong, the carriages and horses are ready, please follow me."

Hong Tiangui said no more and strode forward. Yang Chengtian stood there, watching his retreating figure, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

"Brother Chengtian, let's go," Nanmu Gaozi whispered.

Yang Chengtian snapped out of his daze, shook his head with a wry smile, and said, "Gaozi, tell me... how did the three of us end up like this?"

Nanmu Takako sighed, "The times create heroes, but they also create rivals!"

(End of this chapter)