Did he trick the young marshal into becoming sworn brothers and then go south to Huangpu Military Ac

Luoyang, the main base of the Zhili clique.

The cold wind of the Central Plains swirled withered leaves on the bluestone slabs.

Wu Ziyu, dressed in a faded old cotton robe, sat behind a rosewood desk.

On his desk lay a well-worn copy of the Spring and Autumn Annals. He considered himself a scholar-general, valued integrity above all else, and rarely wore military uniform.

A confidential staff officer, wearing military boots, strode into the study, stood at attention, saluted, and handed over a top-secret copy.

"General, an urgent telegram from our southern informants reports that Sun Yat-sen has set up a huge entourage at Tianzi Wharf in Guangzhou. The entire staff of the Grand Marshal's Office has been mobilized to welcome an overseas Chinese named Lin Tuozhi."

Wu Ziyu didn't look up; his gaze remained fixed on the book, and he dipped the wolf-hair brush in ink.

"Who are they? How many guns and cannons did they bring?"

The staff officer swallowed hard, his expression somewhat strange.

"Reporting to the Commander, he didn't bring any guns or cannons. He said he donated 150,000 silver dollars, plus a bunch of blueprints in foreign languages. Our informants have thoroughly investigated this man! He's a scholar who returned from studying abroad. A few days ago in Shanghai, he was hanging out with Lu Yongxiang's son, Lu Xiaojia, every day. The two of them were drinking and carousing in a brothel on Fourth Road. By the way, I heard that this man is also a sworn brother of that young marshal in Fengtian."

Wu Ziyu stopped writing with his brush, and a drop of ink fell onto the rice paper, spreading into a black blotch.

He looked up, first in surprise, then let out a cold laugh of extreme contempt, and casually tossed the brush into the brush washer.

"Sun Yat-sen is really senile."

Wu Ziyu picked up the cold tea on the table, rinsed his mouth, and spat into the spittoon: "I thought he brought some kind of god from Soviet Russia. Turns out, he's just a rich kid who spends all his time going to brothels with the second son of a powerful family. 150,000 silver dollars? That can't even buy equipment for two infantry regiments. He thinks he can have the whole South worship him like an ancestor just because he has a few worthless blueprints. It's utterly ridiculous. Send the order to remove the people keeping watch on him. Don't waste your energy on this good-for-nothing."

……

Beijing, Zhongnanhai.

The floor heating in the room was scalding hot.

Cao Kun, dressed in a silk mandarin jacket, leaned against a rosewood Luohan bed, twirling a pair of lion-head walnuts in his hands, which creaked and crackled.

After hearing his adjutant's report on the situation in Guangzhou, Cao Kun grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth, and laughed so hard he almost fell over.

"150,000? Just for 150,000 silver dollars, Sun Yat-sen personally went to the dock to pick them up?"

Cao Kun laughed so hard he coughed: "When I ran for president, the bribes I gave to congressmen amounted to more than this! This Lin guy, he threw some loose change and thinks he can fool those poor, pedantic scholars in the South? Let them do whatever they want, a scholar's rebellion won't last three years."

……

Tianjin, the Japanese Concession.

Duan Hefei sat on the prayer mat with his eyes closed, twirling prayer beads in his hand. After listening to his subordinate's report, he didn't even lift his eyelids.

"A mere child, not worth mentioning."

……

Dongjiang River in Guangdong was Chen Jiongming's old stronghold.

This local tyrant, who was entrenched next to Mr. Sun's bedside, was terrified when he received the secret report.

Thinking that the Grand Marshal's Mansion had gained strong support and was about to use force against him, Chen Jiongming breathed a long sigh of relief after he investigated Lin Qi's glorious deeds in Shanghai.

"It was a false alarm. What does a spoiled brat who relies on back channels to curry favor with the powerful know about military strategy? Sun Yat-sen was just grasping at straws in his desperation."

The entire Beiyang clique, from top to bottom, regarded the Grand Marshal's Mansion's high-profile welcome as a joke.

No one took a foreign-educated scholar seriously, and no one believed that a few blueprints could make any waves.

The atmosphere was completely different at the Marshal's Mansion in Fengtian, a thousand miles away.

The snow is falling heavily.

In the Tiger Hall of the Marshal's Mansion, the brazier burned brightly, and the old marshal, dressed in a black leather jacket, had a face so gloomy it seemed to drip water.

Yang Yuting stood to the side, his hands tucked into his sleeves, a barely perceptible sneer on his lips.

Zhang Hanqing, dressed in military uniform, stood ramrod straight in the center of the main room, his head bowed.

"You little bastard, raise your head!"

The old general slammed his hand on the table, making the teacup lid rattle: "It's causing quite a stir in the South! Sun Dapao brought back a living god! I had someone investigate, and this living god is actually your sworn brother, you brat! When did you get involved with this kind of person? How come I had no idea?!"

Zhang Hanqing's mind worked quickly; he had guessed before he came that the old man would cause trouble.

The eldest brother's true plan must not be revealed, not even to the old man.

The Fengtian clique was rife with factions, and if word got out, the eldest brother would be doomed in the south.

He adopted a nonchalant and carefree attitude, casually raising his head.

"Dad, don't listen to the rumors outside. What living god? He's just a stupid old man with a bit of money."

Zhang Hanqing curled his lip: "Back in the day, I was wandering around the Eight Great Hutongs in Beijing when I ran into this guy fighting over a courtesan. I saw that he was generous and a bit naive, so I befriended him."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Zuolin was so angry that he threw the half-smoked cigarette in his hand at his son.

"You bastard! I paid money to get you into the military academy, and what do you do? You spend all your time hanging out with these brothel-go-lucky cronies!"

Zhang Hanqing dodged the smoke and approached with a grin.

"Dad, calm down. That kid is stubborn and insists that the South has a bright future. Let him go south and cause trouble. Once he's squandered all the money he brought, he'll go back to America."

Yang Yuting, who was standing to the side, finally spoke, his voice sarcastic.

"It's good that Hanqing is young and makes friends, but national affairs are not child's play. Although Sun Dapao is down on his luck, he's not stupid. Anyone who can make him personally greet someone must be extraordinary. Hanqing should keep his eyes open when making friends in the future, lest someone sell out our Fengtian clique and then help count the money."

These words were barbed and sarcastic; ostensibly an offer of advice, but subtly a veiled criticism of Zhang Hanqing's lack of intelligence.

A fierce glint flashed in Zhang Hanqing's eyes. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to swallow it, without arguing back.

He lowered his eyes, feigning a submissive and resigned demeanor, but inwardly he was sneering wildly.

Laugh!

You bunch of frogs in a well.

Whether it was the old man or Yang Yuting, they all treated their eldest brother like a clown.

In the future, you'll see just how brilliantly I, Zhang Hanqing, have made this move today.

……

Guangzhou.

The Grand Marshal's Mansion, Study.

The grand and elaborate welcoming ceremony finally came to an end, and the noise outside was completely shut out by the heavy wooden door.

There were no outsiders in the study.

Only Mr. and Lin Qi sat facing each other; even Liao Zikai and Mr. Wang did not remain in the room.

Two cups of tea were placed on a rosewood tea table, their steam rising gently.

The man leaned back in his chair, looking somewhat tired, but his eyes shone with an astonishing brightness.

He stared at Lin Qi sitting opposite him, his eyes filled with undisguised anticipation.

"Tuozhi, those warlords outside are all laughing at us."

The gentleman picked up his teacup and gently skimmed off the tea foam: "I'm not bothered by others' laughter. Having seen your blueprints for synthesizing ammonia, I know you have a vast army at your fingertips. Today, in this study, only heaven, earth, you, and I know, and I want to hear the truth."

The gentleman put down his teacup and leaned forward.

"How can this Republic of China, riddled with problems and the South, repeatedly defeated in battle, break free from this predicament?"

Lin Qi made no polite gestures, sat up straight, crossed his hands on his knees, and stared with a sharp gaze that seemed to pierce the core cancer of this era.

"Sir, those warlords claim to have a million soldiers! In reality, they are all paper tigers. They are not fighting modern warfare, but wars waged by comprador agents."

Lin Qi's voice was steady, cold, and devoid of any emotion.

"Wu Ziyu's guns were German-made, Cao Kun's cannons were Japanese-made, and even the most basic bullet primers had to be transported in by foreign trading companies' steamships. This is what you call a comprador army! If the foreigners are happy today, they'll give them a batch of guns, and they can become kings and tyrants. But if the foreigners turn their backs tomorrow, they'll cut off the gunpowder supply. Those soldiers carrying foreign guns are not even as good as fire pokers; they'll collapse in one battle."

The gentleman nodded repeatedly as he listened, for this was precisely the issue that had caused him the most heartache over the years.

"To break the deadlock, we can't rely on buying; we have to create it ourselves."

Lin Qi held up one finger: "Making guns and cannons isn't something you can solve by just buying a few lathes. The core lies in the heavy industry base. Without sulfuric acid and nitric acid, you can't purify smokeless gunpowder. Without special smelting, the gun barrels you make will explode after firing a few dozen rounds."

Lin Qi took a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of his suit and pushed it in front of his husband.

"This is my three-year draft plan for heavy industry infrastructure. The first step is to establish an independent chemical plant producing three acids and two bases in Guangzhou. The second step is to establish a single-base smokeless gunpowder production line, relying on the chemical plant. The third step is to introduce retired open-hearth furnaces from Krupp in Germany and upgrade them for special steel smelting."

Lin Qi tapped his fingertip on the paper.

"With these three things, we no longer need to be beholden to foreigners. Every rifle we manufacture and every bullet we fire is ultimately in our own hands. This is called industrial independence. Only with industrial independence can we have military independence, and only with military independence can the Grand Marshal's Office have the confidence to stand on its own two feet."

The study was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The man stared intently at the thin draft, his breathing becoming increasingly rapid.

For many years, he traveled around appealing to Japan, Europe and America, and the Soviet Union, but all he received was charity and subservience.

No one has ever pointed out a truly self-reliant path for him with such cold and hardcore industrial logic as Lin Qi.

"Great! What a wonderful industrial independence!"

The gentleman slammed his hand on the armrest, his face flushed with excitement: "Tuozhi, your words are worth more than ten thousand elite soldiers! Heaven blesses our party, to have such a national hero as you!"