Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 322 is really difficult.

boom! "

Su Yaoyang's mind seemed to have been struck by lightning, and he froze on the spot. He looked down at Song Mei's lower abdomen, then looked up at her shy yet happy face. He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

"Really...really?" His voice trembled.

Song Mei nodded heavily, her eyes also becoming a little moist.

The next second, Su Yaoyang, the usually decisive and ruthless commander of the militia, suddenly burst into a deafening cheer like a three-year-old child!

"Oh my god... I'm going to be a dad! I, Su Yaoyang, am going to have an heir!"

He suddenly picked Song Mei up by the waist and excitedly spun her around several times, completely ignoring Song Mei's exclamations of "Hey, slow down!"

Su Yaoyang's face beamed like a blooming chrysanthemum, and tears even welled up in his eyes from laughing.

He put Song Mei down and then picked up Xiao Lu next to him, causing the little girl to scream repeatedly.

Song Mei and Xiao Lu couldn't help but laugh at his over-the-top, uncontrolled gesticulation, but their eyes were filled with sweetness and happiness.

That night, Su Yaoyang barely slept a wink.

He carefully lay down next to Song Mei, his hand resting on her lower abdomen, as if he could feel the presence of that little life.

Since transmigrating to this war-torn era, he has built an army, won wars, and gained power and status. But deep down, he always has a lingering sense of alienation, like a spectator who has stumbled into history.

Only at this moment, when he felt that the continuation of his bloodline was about to be born in this world, did he truly feel for the first time that he was no longer a passerby.

This is also his home.

The next day, the news that Commander Su was going to be a father spread like wildfire throughout the entire Wutai County base.

Officers like Li Gaoyuan and Cheng Rufeng even came directly to the door with congratulatory gifts.

The entire base was filled with a festive atmosphere. For several days in a row, Su Yaoyang's face was beaming with smiles, and he looked at everyone with a cheerful expression.
The festive and peaceful atmosphere lasted for nearly a week at the Wutai County base.

Besides spending time with Song Mei, Su Yaoyang spent his days handling daily affairs, enjoying a rare moment of peace and happiness.

However, the shadow of war never dissipates because of individual happiness.

More than ten days later, while Su Yaoyang was still immersed in the joy of becoming a father for the first time, an urgent intelligence report was like a bucket of cold water poured over his head.

In the headquarters of the militia, Su Yaoyang sat behind his desk, looking at the telegram in his hand with a solemn expression.

The telegram was personally delivered by Pi Ruoyu, from an intelligence agent operating in the Taiyuan direction. It was brief but contained a wealth of information.

At least three divisions of the Japanese North China Area Army are rapidly assembling towards Taiyuan from the Pinghan, Zhengtai, and Tongpu railway lines. Their vanguard has already engaged in fierce fighting with the Jin-Sui Army on the outskirts of Taiyuan.

"The Japanese are still unwilling to give up Taiyuan after all."

Su Yaoyang tossed the thin telegram onto the desk, leaned back heavily in his chair, and let out a long sigh.

What was supposed to come finally came.

He closed his eyes, his mind racing.

The scale and speed of the Japanese counterattack exceeded his expectations. That old fox Yan Xishan is probably as anxious as an ant on a hot pan right now.

After thinking for a long time, he opened his eyes again, his gaze now calm.

“Well…” He hesitated for a moment, then turned to Pi Ruoyu, who had been standing solemnly to the side, and said, “Tell Doolittle immediately to reinforce the Taiyuan direction… uh…”

He suddenly stopped mid-sentence. It dawned on him that this guy had taken a transport plane to Hong Kong two days earlier, and was on his way back to the United States from there.

Now, the entire flight squadron is completely under the control of the Chinese.

Ye Qiyuan, the former deputy squadron leader, took over as the commander of the Thunder Flight Squadron, while Feng Mingqian took over as the commander of the bomber squadron.

"Ugh……"

Su Yaoyang pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Habit is a terrible thing. He reorganized his thoughts.

"Okay, call Cheng Rufeng right away."

He changed his tune, saying, "Let him deploy all our reconnaissance aircraft to conduct 24-hour uninterrupted armed reconnaissance in three directions: east, north, and south, centered on Taiyuan."

We must closely monitor the Japanese army's every move, especially their artillery positions and supply lines. We can't let the devils pull off another sneak attack like last time.

"Yes! I'll call Captain Cheng right away," Pi Ruoyu replied readily.

"besides……"

Su Yaoyang seemed to want to say something, but swallowed his words and finally just waved his hand, "If... never mind, it's fine, you go and take care of it."

He had initially intended to say that if Yan Xishan called for help, he should ignore him for a day. But after thinking about it, he realized there was no need to be too explicit; Pi Ruoyu naturally knew how to handle the situation.

"Yes." Pi Ruoyu didn't ask any further questions, saluted, and quickly walked out.

Once the office door was closed, Su Yaoyang was left alone in the room. He wearily raised his hand and patted his forehead helplessly.

I originally thought that capturing Taiyuan would at least bring me a month or two of peace, allowing me to spend more time with my wife and enjoy the warmth of family.

Unexpectedly, this happy time was so short-lived, and the Japanese were about to cause trouble so soon.

The provincial government building in Taiyuan.

The atmosphere in Yan Xishan's spacious office was so oppressive it felt like water could freeze. This "King of Shanxi," who had just recovered lost territory and hadn't even had a few days to celebrate, was now deeply troubled and anxious.

The Japanese offensive came so suddenly and so swiftly that it completely disrupted all his plans.

According to his and his staff's estimates, the Japanese army was severely weakened after the disastrous defeat in Taiyuan. In addition, the battle lines were stretched and logistics were strained. It would take at least three to four months of preparation time to reorganize a large-scale offensive against Taiyuan.

These precious few months are enough for him to reorganize his troops, strengthen the city's defenses, and even get another batch of aid from the central government.

But to his utter surprise, reality delivered a resounding slap in the face. Less than half a month after he took over Taiyuan, the Japanese, as if possessed, mobilized three elite divisions—the 3rd, 4th, and 27th—from all over North China, totaling seventy to eighty thousand troops, and launched a massive attack.

On paper, after nearly three years of recuperation, Yan Xishan's Jin-Sui Army had indeed recovered considerably. He commanded ten infantry divisions and one cavalry corps, totaling a force of 120,000, seemingly holding a numerical advantage.

But only those within the family know their own situation. Yan Xishan knew better than anyone the true worth of his 120,000 men.

The team was severely understaffed, lacked training, and was equipped with a wide variety of weapons and equipment, including bullets that were not universally compatible.

Using our limited forces to fight head-on against the three Class A and Class B divisions of the Japanese is bound to result in only one outcome—like an egg hitting a rock.

He slumped into the armchair, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table. The ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts.

It was absolutely impossible for him to hold onto Taiyuan, the political center he had cultivated for half his life, on his own.

Without the Eighth Route Army harassing and containing the enemy behind enemy lines, and without the Shanxi militia's abnormally strong fighting force confronting them head-on, the fall of Taiyuan was only a matter of time.

The thought of the Shanxi militia, and of Su Yaoyang, that excessively young yet cunning old fox, sent a pang of pain through Yan Xishan's heart. He vividly remembered Su Yaoyang's "clearly stated prices, fair dealings" businessman's face at the negotiating table just a few days ago.

It's easy to invite a god, but hard to send him away. It seems I'll have to bleed a lot of money to get them to help me this time.

That two million dollars was probably just an appetizer.

After weighing the pros and cons for a long time, the desire to survive ultimately overwhelmed the pain of cutting off his own flesh. He slammed his fist on the table and made up his mind.

He rang the doorbell on the table, and soon a confidential secretary dressed in a Zhongshan suit entered, bowing respectfully.

Yan Xishan squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth and instructed his secretary: "Immediately send a telegram in my name to the Eighth Route Army and Su Yaoyang of the Shanxi militia."

"Just say... just say that the Japanese army is pressing in, and Taiyuan is in imminent danger. Xishan earnestly requests that you two take time out of your busy schedules to come to Taiyuan to discuss strategies for defending against the enemy!"

At this point, he emphasized his words, almost gritting his teeth as he added, "Remember, your wording and attitude must be sincere! Extremely sincere!"

"Yes, sir!"

The secretary felt a chill run down his spine. He had never seen Commander Yan issue orders in such a humble tone before. He dared not delay and quickly withdrew after receiving the order.

Once again, only Yan Xishan remained in the office. He closed his eyes wearily, as if he could already see the snowflake-like silver dollars in his provincial government's treasury sprouting wings and flying towards Wutai County.

Deep in the Taihang Mountains, in a simple cave dwelling, the headquarters of the Eighth Route Army was located.

A dim kerosene lamp hung on the wall, its light barely illuminating the huge battle map on the wall, which was densely covered with red and blue pencil drawings.

A faint smell of livestock manure filled the air.

The commander stood with his hands behind his back, his brows furrowed into a deep frown, pacing impatiently back and forth in front of the map. He held several telegrams in his hands, the thin paper almost dripping with moisture from his grip.

Finally, he stopped and turned to look at the deputy chief of staff, who was sitting at the table, carefully studying documents under the lamplight. His voice was filled with barely suppressed anger.

"The liberation of Shanxi was certainly a great event that all the Chinese people should be happy about, but it also put our Eighth Route Army in the eye of the storm and made us the target of everyone's criticism!"

He slammed the telegram in his hand onto the table with a loud "thud".

"Look! These days, the Japanese troops in various parts of Shanxi have gone mad, mobilizing heavy forces to launch one frenzied sweep after another against our base areas, leaving us in a state of chaos."

Now, things have gotten even worse. The Japanese have brought in three divisions of heavy troops from North China, intending to retake Taiyuan.

That old Yan Xishan sent me three telegrams in one day, each word filled with tears and sincerity, inviting me to Taiyuan to discuss military affairs.

Not content with the spectacle, he specially invited celebrities from all walks of life and reporters from across the country. What is he up to? He's putting us in a very difficult position!

Faced with the commander's anger, the refined deputy chief of staff simply raised his head, a slight smile even appearing on his lips.

"Hehe, don't be angry, sir." His voice sounded unusually calm: "In my opinion, if he didn't do this, he wouldn't be Yan Xishan."

At this point, he stood up, walked to the map, and his expression became serious.

"Actually... I can understand Yan Xishan's actions. He finally managed to recover the stronghold he had built up over half his life, and before he could even settle in, the Japanese came in aggressively and took it back. Anyone would be unwilling to accept that."

He stretched out his finger and lightly tapped the location of Taiyuan on the map.

"The problem is that his 120,000 poorly trained and poorly equipped Jin-Sui Army is simply not enough to defend Taiyuan."

So what can we do? We'll have to find outside help.

He drew two circles on the map with his finger, one around the Eighth Route Army base in the Taihang Mountains, and the other around Wutai County in the north.

"Looking across the entire Shanxi province, the only ones who could help him hold off three Japanese divisions were us and that powerful Shanxi militia."

His move—inviting reporters and celebrities—was a calculated scheme. He was trying to pin the label of "resisting Japan and saving the nation" on us and Su Yaoyang.

"Going would be serving Yan Xishan; not going would be abandoning him to his fate and undermining the anti-Japanese national united front. Then, newspapers across the country would be condemning us. He's played his part very cleverly."

The leader walked to the table, plopped down on a small stool, picked up the now-cold coarse porcelain teacup, took a big gulp, and continued.

"To be honest, I really don't want to get involved in this mess."

He snorted, "Dealing with someone like Yan Laoxi is more exhausting than fighting a Japanese division with bayonets."

Just now, a telegram arrived from the Central Committee, clearly stating the strategic importance of rushing to Taiyuan's aid.

The telegram said that the recapture of Taiyuan was hard-won, and its subsequent loss would deal an immeasurable blow to the nation's resolve to resist Japan. Therefore, we absolutely had to help them.

"Everything is based on the overall situation of the War of Resistance Against Japan, and the Central Committee's telegram is not wrong." The deputy chief of staff nodded in agreement. He walked back to the table, picked up the telegram from Yan Xishan, and read it again, his expression becoming increasingly solemn.

"The question now is, what exactly is our wealthy and powerful Commander Su thinking? Yan Xishan's open strategy works for us, but it may not work for Su Yaoyang."

He paused, looked at the leader, and pointed out the core issue.

"After the last attack on Taiyuan, Old Chen (Brigade Commander Chen) came back and gave us a special report."

Su Yaoyang had made it clear when they parted that he would at most send his air force to provide paid assistance, and would never send a single ground soldier to Taiyuan.

This is the most troublesome part. Without his elite troops capable of directly confronting Japanese divisions, it's incredibly difficult for us and the Jin-Sui Army to hold Taiyuan!

(End of this chapter)