The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 991 This is betrayal. Are you Europeans abandoning America?

Inside the bedchamber of Nanmu Divine City, the glow of the bamboo-filament lamps was filtered through the gauze curtains into a warm, dim yellow. Luo Yaoguo leaned against the headboard, his fingers twirling Natalia's loose golden hair. The Grand Duchess's forehead rested against his chest, her breathing still catching, a faint blush rising on her fair skin.

"Are we going back to St. Petersburg?" Luo Yaoguo suddenly asked.

Natalia's eyelashes trembled, and a layer of mist rose in her blue eyes: "Go back to die?" She sat up, the silk sheet slipping from her shoulders. "The Germans are not Napoleon. They don't want to occupy Moscow or St. Petersburg at all. They want to dissect Lithuania, Poland, and Ukraine piece by piece, like dissecting a frog."

She suddenly grabbed a vodka from the bedside table and took a swig, the liquid dripping down her chin and onto her collarbone: "The most terrifying thing is... the people in those places see the Germans as liberators! Professors in Vilnius teach in German, and Polish peasant women deliver bread to the Germans." Her nails dug into Luo Yaoguo's arm. "We Russians are the barbarians in their eyes!"

Luo Yaoguo grabbed her trembling wrist: "Russians are indeed quite barbaric." Before Natalia's eyes widened, he added, "Except for my Natasha, of course."

“I wasn’t a pure-blooded Russian to begin with.” Natalia grabbed her robe and wrapped it around herself, stepping barefoot onto the Persian carpet. “Since Peter III, the Romanov dynasty has had 90% German blood. If my grandfather really was Peter III’s son!” Her voice suddenly choked up. “But so what? The Germans still wanted to tear Russia apart.”

The cawing of Japanese crows came from outside the window. Luo Yaoguo got out of bed and walked behind her, pinning a jade brooch to the collar of her robe: "You've done enough for the Romanov dynasty. If Russia ultimately collapses, it's because the Tsars didn't do a good job."

“No!” Natalia whirled around, the metal clasp of her brooch tearing the silk. “Every Tsar, except Peter III, deserves Russia! If the Empire collapses, the fault lies with the people—” Her voice suddenly became hoarse, “They are blinded by the vast territory and have no idea how weak their country is!”

Luo Yaoguo pressed down on her trembling shoulders: "You can't help those fools anymore, but you can still do something for me."

"what?"

“Go to London.” Luo Yaoguo took a letter sealed with wax from the bedside drawer. “Give Victoria a message.”

Natalia's pupils contracted slightly: "Now?"

“Tomorrow.” Luo Yaoguo pointed to the brightening sky outside the window. “We’ll go back to Shanghai to see Xinbei first, and then he’ll accompany you to England.” He stroked the wine stain on her collarbone. “I’ve prepared a fast ship flying the papal flag; it’ll take 21 days to get to London.”

Natalia clutched the envelope and suddenly sneered, "What message is so important that it requires the Grand Duchess to be used as a messenger?"

Luo Yaoguo's fingers slid to the back of her neck: "Tell Victoria that the white people in Australia and New Zealand should leave." His nails lightly grazed her skin. "Wouldn't it be better to have 2.4 million Anglo-Saxons in India? India's most coveted foreign white lords are... but how many Anglo-Saxon lords are there in the whole of India right now? Only a few hundred thousand. A few hundred thousand ruling over 300 million? Can the British even do math?"

The rain and fog of London shrouded Whitehall, and the bamboo filament lamps in the Foreign Office building's conference room cast a pale, damp glow. The newly appointed British Foreign Secretary, the Marquess of Salisbury, used a silver paper cutter to pry open the sealing wax on a document, the tip casting a trembling shadow on the table.

"Gentlemen," he said, his gaze sweeping across both sides of the long table, "we need to reach a consensus before the Rome Conference."

U.S. Secretary of State Thomas Bayard, his top hat soaked with sweat, felt the dampness of London particularly uncomfortable: "Our country needs more loans! The Treasury of the United States!"

"Listen to this first!" Karl Moore, the People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs of Red France, tossed down a stack of telegrams, his thick Rhine accent causing the crystal chandelier to sway slightly. "Yesterday, the People's Commissar in Paris sent an urgent telegram: the German army has broken through the Marne River defenses! Without flank support from the British Expeditionary Force, we won't last until summer!"

Russian Foreign Minister Giles interrupted, saying, "Our country is under several times the pressure of France, and we need more assistance."

“We need them all! We need them all!” Salisbury slammed his fist on the table, knocking over Bayard’s coffee cup. “But the British Empire isn’t Santa Claus!”

The brownish liquid spread across the document, resembling a chaotic war zone on a map.

“Take care of the most pressing matter first.” Salisbury pulled out the top-ranking naval report. “The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom’s South Pacific fleet has once again amassed in Rabaul. They are likely to launch a new offensive during the Rome negotiations!”

Moore grabbed the bottle and took a big gulp: "So? You want us to abandon the European battlefield and defend the colonies?"

"Quite the opposite," Salisbury shook his head. "The European theater is the most important. But victory in Europe can only be achieved on the basis of a separate peace between the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom and us! We can always defeat Germany alone, just as we defeated Napoleon together. But with the addition of a super-powerful Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, victory is impossible!"

"This is betrayal!" U.S. Secretary of State Bayard roared, standing up and overturning his chair. "You're abandoning the United States of America!"

“Calm down, Mr. Secretary of State.” Salisbury pointed to the North American battlefields on the map. “The demands of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom and the American Empire are not unacceptable.” His fingernails traced the Great Plains of the American Midwest. “At least we can have a ceasefire.” Bayard suddenly scoffed: “A ceasefire? A ceasefire after losing East Dakota, Missouri, and Nebraska? The KKK and the American Workers Union will jump out and accuse the government of treason!”

“So be it, let them sell out the country.” Salisbury glared at the US president. “We’re afraid we’ll have a hard time keeping Australia and New Zealand!”

Moore nodded, looking regretful: "We in France are also prepared to cede New Caledonia in the Pacific Ocean."

The US Secretary of State had an urge to grab that old man Karl Moore and beat him up—can that new Donya compare to Missouri, East Dakota, or Nebraska?

Do you French people even know where that is? The US Secretary of State certainly doesn't know where that godforsaken place is—even though he's a Yale graduate!
“Mr. Secretary of State, please calm down,” Salisbury said coldly. “If Europe is dominated by the German Empire, you will lose more than just three states.”

The US Secretary of State thought to himself: If that's the case, we can just speak German! There are plenty of German Americans anyway!
Russian Foreign Minister Giles slammed his fist on the table: "Without Russia holding you back on the Eastern Front, Germany would have crushed you long ago!"

Salisbury remained unmoved. "Then you must support making peace with the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, right?" He pointed to Eastern Siberia on the map. "The Tsar adjusted the boundaries of the Eastern Siberian Governorate a couple of days ago, incorporating a large area into some kind of Principality of Siberia-Alaska. What kind of country is that? Who rules it?"

"Of course it's the Romanov family," the Russian Foreign Minister said.

Salisbury scoffed, "It's Romanova, isn't it!" He suddenly lowered his voice, "I heard... she became Luo Yaoguo's mistress when she was 18? Luo Yaoguo hadn't even unified China yet back then!"

Giles's expression changed drastically: "Watch your words."

“London knows a lot of things.” Salisbury pulled out a translated telegram, “such as the fact that King Yang Seong-cheon of Korea wants to sell saltpeter and 3-inch and 6-inch artillery shells to Russia!”

Bayard abruptly stood up, inexplicably enraged: "North Korea selling artillery shells to Russia? When did that happen?!"

Three days ago, Salisbury glanced at the U.S. Secretary of State and asked, "So, Mr. Secretary, what do you intend to do?"

What to do? It seems there's no way—the US wants to buy it too! Unfortunately, Yang Chengtian won't sell. Bayard sighed and sat down again.

Moore stroked his beard: "Now that Russia has North Korean artillery shells, could France get more military aid?"

"Give France 10,000 tons of special steel, 100 heavy artillery pieces, and 2000 tons of saltpeter per month." Salisbury quickly wrote down the numbers. "150,000 6-inch shells is the most we can do!"

Giles roared, "Russia needs aid too!"

“Yes, but you must take control of the Turkish Straits as soon as possible. With the Turkish Straits, our aid can flow steadily into Russia!” Salisbury turned to Bayard, “As for the United States…”

Bayard said coldly, "We will never give up East Dakota, Missouri, and Nebraska! Never!"

The meeting room was deathly silent!
The Americans are stubbornly clinging to those three states. This is putting everyone in a difficult position!

In the morning mist over the Huangpu River, the first wisp of black smoke billowed from the smokestack of the "St. Francis" cruise ship. Natalia stood before the gangway, the sea breeze lifting the hem of her mink coat to reveal the Russian-style women's military uniform underneath—a uniform she had specially prepared for her son.

“Mother.” Luo Xinbei stood at attention and saluted, his naval staff academy uniform making his shoulders and back stand straight. “The escort fleet is ready.”

Natalia reached out to touch her son's face, but at the last moment she adjusted his collar insignia instead: "As handsome as your father was back then."

Luo Yaoguo leaned against the door of a Shanghai-brand car, watching the mother and son interact. He noticed Luo Xinbei's "baby face"—exactly the same as Natalia's when she was young.

“Remember,” Luo Yaoguo stepped forward and stuffed a roll of parchment into Natalia’s handbag, “when you get to London, remember to meet the Rothschilds. There are still some differences between Britain and the United States, France, Russia, and Germany. Populism is not popular in Britain. As long as the bankers and politicians from the old aristocracy in London reach an agreement, they can give up Australia and New Zealand.”

(End of this chapter)