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

The headquarters meeting adjourned, and the recruitment brochure, stamped with the Grand Marshal's bright red seal, was transformed into countless invisible radio waves amidst the rapid ticking of the telegraph machine, crossing the Nanling Mountains and the Yangtze River, flying to major trading ports across the country.

Within two days.

The front pages of the Morning Post in Beiping, the Shen Bao in Shanghai, and the Da Han Bao in Wuhan were completely occupied.

The bold, large-font headline blatantly displayed the recruitment notice for the newly established Whampoa Military Academy on the dinner tables of warlords and ordinary people across the country.

The announcement caused an uproar throughout the country.

The uproar wasn't because the impoverished southern base was finally going to establish a military academy, but because the contents of the brochure and the selection of the person in charge were so absurd that it seemed like an April Fool's joke.

What kind of people are they hiring?

The recruitment notice clearly stated in black and white: We do not accept veterans who graduated from military academies, nor do we accept well-read scholars.

They specifically recruited farm boys aged 18 to 25 who could barely read or write and laborers.

The medical examination standards are ridiculously strict, and even flat feet, trachoma, and minor traces of lung disease are not allowed.

This isn't recruiting officers; it's clearly recruiting strong laborers to work in the coal mines.

What's even more laughable is the signature of the principal and vice-principal at the end of the notice.

Principal: Chiang Kai-shek.

Among the thick archives of intelligence held by the Beiyang warlords, this man's resume was simply appalling.

In his early years, he spent some time in Baoding and Japan, but he didn't fight any real hard battles.

A few years ago in Shanghai, Hengtai Exchange partnered with someone to speculate in stocks, but ended up losing everything and was so pressured by creditors that he almost jumped into the Huangpu River.

He usually mingled on the fringes of the Green Gang in the French Concession, making a living by delivering invitations to gang leaders.

Lin Tuozhi, Vice Principal and Director of the Quartermaster Department.

This name originally caused no stir in military circles, but Lin Qi had quite a bit of trouble in Shanghai a few days ago.

The warlords all believed that he was a rich young master who had just returned from overseas, using the guise of a PhD from abroad, but actually engaging in all the activities of a spoiled brat.

We had just disembarked at the Shiliupu Wharf when we booked the most upscale brothel on Fourth Road in the French Concession.

He spends all his time drinking and carousing with Lu Yongxiang's spendthrift son, Lu Xiaojia.

There were even rumors that, out of jealousy, this guy, relying on the several boxes of foreign exchange he brought back, casually ordered Lu Xiaojia to mobilize the regular army to arrest the old man of the Green Gang.

A gangster speculator who went bankrupt from stock speculation, and a spoiled rich kid who only knows how to visit brothels and drink alcohol.

These two got together to run a military academy?

Do they need to recruit hundreds more peasants to be modern military officers?

The news spread along the railway lines and the telegraph network, and the entire Beiyang military and political circles were overjoyed.

Luoyang.

The direct headquarters.

The cold wind from the Central Plains swirled with withered yellow leaves in the courtyard with its blue bricks.

Wu Ziyu, dressed in a faded old cotton robe with patches on the hem, sat upright 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 riding boots, hurried into the study, stood at attention, saluted, and handed over a copy of a Southern newspaper that he had just intercepted.

"General, a huge joke has been made in the south."

The staff officer, barely suppressing a laugh, reported: "Do you remember two weeks ago, when we made a huge show of welcoming an overseas Chinese named Lin Tuozhi at Tianzi Wharf in Guangzhou? Now this man has become the vice principal of a military academy."

Wu Ziyu didn't look up; his gaze remained fixed on the bamboo slips as he dipped his wolf-hair brush into the inkstone.

"Oh? The vice principal? That one?"

Wu Ziyu's voice was flat, clearly indicating that he had forgotten who Lin Qi was.

The staff officer swallowed hard, his expression extremely strange.

"Reporting to the Commander-in-Chief, it's that foreign PhD who didn't bring a single gun, but donated 150,000 silver dollars, plus a bunch of tattered blueprints in foreign languages. The spies have thoroughly investigated this man's background; he's just a scholar who returned from studying abroad. A few days ago in Shanghai, he was spending his days drinking and carousing with Lu Yongxiang's son, Lu Xiaojia, from Zhejiang. Oh, and I heard that this man is sworn brothers with that young marshal from Fengtian."

Wu Ziyu slowly raised his head, first in surprise, then remembered, and let out an extremely contemptuous sneer, casually throwing the brush into the celadon brush washer next to him.

"Sun Yat-sen is really senile."

He picked up the cold tea on the table, rinsed his mouth, and spat it into the spittoon at his feet, his face full of disdain: "I thought that after being driven out of Guangzhou by Chen Jiongming, he would have learned his lesson and that even if he went to beg the Soviets, he could at least bring back a few real gods. In the end, he found a rich kid who goes to brothels with warlords all day long."

Wu Ziyu stood up and walked to the charcoal brazier to warm his hands.

"150,000 silver dollars? That can't even buy the equipment for two infantry regiments under my command. To think that a few lousy blueprints can make the entire Southern Headquarters treat them like royalty is utterly ridiculous. Sun Dapao used to rely on Chen Jiongming's guns, and now he relies on a Green Gang opportunist and a comprador rich kid—it's truly absurd!"

……

Beijing, Zhongnanhai.

The floor heating in the house was scorching hot, and the doors and windows were tightly shut.

The air was filled with the strong smell of opium paste and the heat emanating from the warm copper basin.

Cao Kun, dressed in a loose silk mandarin jacket, leaned back on the rosewood Luohan bed without any regard for his image, holding a pair of lion's head walnuts from a hundred-year-old tree in his hands, which made a crunching sound.

Two young and beautiful concubines were carefully massaging his legs.

After listening to the adjutant's vivid report on the situation in Guangzhou.

Cao Kun grinned, revealing teeth stained yellow from years of opium smoking, and laughed so hard he bent over, his fat jiggling wildly.

"Sun Yat-sen is really grasping at straws in his desperation!"

Cao Kun laughed so hard he coughed, shoved his concubine aside, and patted his thigh, panting.

"Sun Yat-sen was considered a figure back then, thinking that with the Soviets backing him this time, he could pull off something big. Is this all he's got after saving the day?"

"This Lin guy, just by throwing around some loose change, has he managed to scare those poor, pedantic scholars in the South so much that they've lost their bearings? Sun Dapao is desperate, grasping at straws, letting them do whatever they want. What's that old saying again? A scholar's rebellion won't last three years. If these guys can pull off something like this, I'll give the presidency to Sun Dapao."

……

Tianjin, the Japanese Concession.

Duan Hefei sat on a futon with his eyes closed, a string of sandalwood prayer beads twirling in his hand. Japanese incense burned in the room.

After listening to his subordinates' report on the recruitment of students for the Whampoa Military Academy, this once powerful Anhui clique leader didn't even raise his eyelids.

"A mere child, not worth mentioning."

"To think you can build an army with just a few peasants and two blueprints, with Soviet aid and a rich kid, is nothing but a clown."

……

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

This local tyrant, who had been entrenched beside the gentleman's bedside and had once driven the headquarters to the brink of ruin.

He was terrified when he learned that the Whampoa Military Academy was about to be established.

When his intelligence officers presented Lin Qi's appointment as vice principal and his glorious deeds of that day, Chen Jiongming let out a long sigh of relief, and his hand holding the teacup became much steadyer.

"It was a false alarm."

He sneered as he tossed the newspaper into the wastebasket: "What does a spoiled brat who relies on back channels to curry favor with the powerful know about military strategy or logistics? Sun Dapao is desperate, using a scarecrow as a figurehead. Just ignore him and let him squander his meager funds. Guangzhou will fall without a fight."

The entire Beiyang warlord circle, from top to bottom, regarded the Grand Marshal's Mansion's high-profile welcoming ceremony and recruitment brochure as the biggest joke of the year.

No one took a foreign-educated scholar and a fringe member of the Green Gang seriously.

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

As the end of February approached, the snow in Fengtian fell even more heavily, with the north wind howling, carrying ice shards.

Inside the Tiger Hall, four large braziers burned bright red with the finest smokeless coal, making the spacious hall feel like early summer.

The old marshal was wearing a black mink coat, holding a pipe, and his face was so gloomy it looked like it could drip water.

Yang Yuting, dressed in a general's woolen overcoat, stood by the brazier with his hands tucked into his sleeves. A barely perceptible cold smile played on his lips.

Zhang Zuoxiang, Tang Yulin, and other veteran generals of the Fengtian clique sat on armchairs on both sides, whispering among themselves and occasionally letting out a few mocking chuckles.

Zhang Hanqing, dressed in a crisp Fengtian Army major general's uniform with the top button fastened tightly, stood alone in the center of the main room, head bowed.

"You little bastard, raise your head!"

The old general slammed his hand on the octagonal table, making the lids of the blue-and-white porcelain teacups on it clang loudly.

"It's causing a huge uproar in the South, newspapers are everywhere, saying that Sun Yat-sen invited back a living god to be the vice principal of some military academy. I had someone investigate, and this living god turns out to be your sworn brother, Zhang Hanqing!"

The old general pointed at his son's nose and cursed, "It's not a big deal that he's embarrassed, but you're embarrassed too, and your old man is embarrassed as well."

Zhang Hanqing's mind worked very quickly.

Lin Qi's true plan must not be revealed, not even a single word can be uttered by the old man.

The Fengtian clique was rife with factions, and the generals sitting in this room had shady dealings with the Japanese Kwantung Army and the Zhili clique.

If word gets out, Lin Qi will be doomed in the south. Not only will Lin Qi die, but the most important strategic piece that the Fengtian clique has planted in the south will also be completely useless.

Zhang Hanqing took a deep breath and looked up, already adopting a nonchalant and carefree attitude.

"Dad, why are you so angry? Don't listen to the nonsense in the newspapers."

He curled his lip, his face full of disdain and indifference: "I'm not even familiar with that Lin Qi. We just went out for a few drinks and somehow became sworn brothers. What does it matter to us men whether he's disgraced or lives?"

Zhang Hanqing took two steps forward, grabbed an apple from the table with a grin, and took a bite.

Seeing his son's behavior, the old general was so angry that he slammed his pipe against the brazier in front of him.

"You bastard! I spent so much money to get you into the military academy, and what you do is spend your days hanging out with these brothel-go-lucky cronies!"

Zhang Hanqing chuckled, not annoyed at all.

"Dad, calm down. Isn't Lin Qi's mischief in the south actually helping us out? Sun Dapao was originally a big shot, but with his and Chiang Kai-shek's antics, his family fortune will be gone in no time."

The old general thought it made sense and snorted, while the doctor remained silent.

Yang Yuting, who had been standing silently by the brazier, finally spoke, his voice sarcastic and carrying an air of superiority.

"It's a good thing that Hanqing is young and likes to make friends."

"But national affairs are not child's play. Although Sun Yat-sen is down on his luck, he was still a formidable figure. It's hard to believe that someone who would personally go to the dock to greet you and be appointed as the vice principal of the military academy is just a spoiled brat who only knows how to frequent brothels!"