Chapter 283: The More It's Banned, the Higher It Rises; the Higher It Rises, the More It's Sold

After the new year, the land of Gan and Po remained locked in bitter cold.

A young man arrived in Jingdezhen, Jiangxi. Though past forty, he wore a blue scholar's robe and a square cap—clearly a man of letters bearing official rank.

The kiln owners and craftsmen who saw him dressed thus all stepped aside, wondering privately why a xiucai gentleman would come to their workshops instead of staying at an academy.

That scholar took great interest in the kiln furnaces. Not only did he stop to watch, he frequently asked the artisans about porcelain blank dimensions and raw material ratios.

Seeing his easy manner and respecting his scholar's status, the craftsmen eagerly shared what they knew.

The man carried paper and brush with him, jotting down everything the artisans said.

He worked straight through until noon, when the scholar finally found a tavern to eat. While waiting for his food, he spread his notes across the table to organize them.

This man was named Song Yingxing. From childhood he had been erudite and quick-witted, extremely intelligent. In the forty-third year of Wanli he sat for the provincial examination, passed on his first attempt, and placed third—at the time, his future seemed brilliantly bright.

But the following year he went to the capital for the metropolitan examination and failed. Three years later he tried again, and failed once more.

By now Song Yingxing had sat for the metropolitan examination five times without ever passing. Instead, on his travels back and forth, he had watched peasants and artisans at their labor, and grown interested in these miscellaneous crafts, feeling deeply that no matter how well one wrote eight-legged essays, they could not fill the people's bellies or clothe their backs.

Thereafter, in his spare time between exam preparations, Song Yingxing frequently visited farmers and artisans, hoping to write a book that would compile all these miscellaneous arts for posterity. Just as he was organizing his notes, the waiter came trotting over again: "Honored sir, I forgot to ask earlier—how many parts salt would you like on your dishes?" Song Yingxing was baffled; he didn't understand.

The waiter smiled apologetically. "You're clearly not from these parts, sir. Asking about salt parts means asking how much salt to add. Ten parts means full salt, but it's dreadfully expensive. These days most diners order five parts or three parts."

Song Yingxing looked up, puzzled. "However expensive salt gets, how costly can it truly be?"

"For one dish, ten parts salt costs two fen of silver more than five parts."

"What?" Song Yingxing couldn't believe it. "Two fen of silver—more than twenty wen?"

The waiter's smile turned somewhat helpless. He lowered his voice to explain: "The overland route between Jiangxi and Fujian is cut off. Salt is expensive now."

The words were euphemistic, but Song Yingxing understood the meaning. In plain terms, when trade routes had been open, the tavern had used Fujian's smuggled salt, which was why the food was cheap.

The waiter continued: "Also, these days two fen of silver can be exchanged for thirty-eight copper coins. If you have silver, sir, you'd best pay in silver." Song Yingxing was somewhat startled and pressed further: "Why is the exchange rate so high here? In our Fengxin, one tael of silver still exchanges for twelve hundred wen." "That I wouldn't know."

Song Yingxing didn't press him further. He dismissed the waiter, then called him back to add: "I'll take five parts salt."

His family was not wealthy, and the limited silver he had needed to be saved for the afternoon, to tip the kiln master, the master craftsmen, and the workers.

After all, what Song Yingxing wanted to ask were the very skills by which they earned their living—no one would share their secrets freely for nothing.

"Right away." The waiter agreed and withdrew.

Before long the dishes arrived: a plate of stir-fried bamboo shoots and a bowl of rice. Though it was five parts salt, it tasted barely different from having no salt at all—truly like chewing wax.

Song Yingxing scanned the tavern and saw only a few diners, presumably unwilling to eat such flavorless food.

Finishing his lunch hastily, Song Yingxing prepared to order a pot of tea and rest a while before heading to the kilns. After ordering the tea, he also asked the waiter to buy him a copy of the Nan'ao Times.

The waiter said: "My apologies, but the Nan'ao Times has been banned as well. These days the bookshops only sell the Gan Report. If you'd like one, sir, I'll go fetch it at once." Song Yingxing had no choice but to agree.

Soon the waiter returned with the Gan Report. Song Yingxing took it and saw at first glance that it was nearly identical to the Nan'ao Times—the same layout, the same reprints from the Capital Gazette, the same commentary articles. Only the title typeface was slightly different.

The Capital Gazette items reprinted in the Gan Report were less timely than those in the Nan'ao Times. Song Yingxing had already read them before leaving home, so he skimmed past.

As for the commentary articles, he saw one written by a man using the pen name "Hermit of Admonition," attacking the Nan'ao rebels.

The article said: The rebel Lin rose from sea banditry. In his early years he plundered the seas, killing without mercy, his hands stained with countless innocent blood—this is his first evil. The court fights the Jianzhou barbarians in the north to defend the Chinese realm, yet the rebel Lin obstructs and hampers in the southeast at every turn, coordinating with the Jianzhou barbarians north and south—this is his second evil. The wokou and the red barbarians repeatedly violate the Ming's maritime borders, slaughtering coastal folk, yet the rebel Lin trades with them frequently, abandoning righteousness for profit, secretly colluding with foreign barbarians, and funding the enemy with heavy sums—this is his third evil.

The rebel Lin violated the Guanyin sacred site at Zhoushan, wantonly slaughtering monks and disturbing their pure cultivation, arousing the wrath of gods and men alike—this is his fourth evil.

After the sea bandit Lin submitted to the Great Ming, he rebelled once more, faithless and untrustworthy. He also bribed Wei Zhongxian, corrupting official governance—this is his fifth evil.

The article concluded that with these five evils, the rebel Lin ought to have lost the people's hearts. Yet he deceived the masses with seditious words and tempted them with petty profits, bewitching the common folk. It called upon the people of Jiangxi to unite in resisting the rebels; and declared that the people, soldiers, and officials of Fujian and Guangdong, should they abandon darkness for light and return to the Great Ming, would have all past offenses forgiven. Jiangxi had been a great examination province since ancient times, with countless literati and scholars, and academies clustered everywhere—the famed White Deer Grotto Academy, for instance, was in Jiangxi. In such a place, finding pens-for-hire to write articles was all too easy.

Still, the squabbling between the Great Ming and Nan'ao had little effect on Song Yingxing. Since he could not feel it personally, he naturally had little interest in their war of words. Skimming through, the entire paper was filled with articles criticizing Nan'ao, with one or two singing its praises mixed in.

When his tea was finished, Song Yingxing tucked the newspaper into his robe and prepared to settle the bill and leave.

But when the waiter saw the bits of loose silver Song Yingxing offered, his expression changed: "Honored sir, in Jingdezhen, using loose silver means a discount fee will be charged." Song Yingxing was utterly bewildered. He had only ever heard of meltage fees when paying taxes in silver, never of paying a discount fee to spend it.

Seeing he was an out-of-towner, the waiter reminded him: "Do you have any yuan-yang?"

Song Yingxing shook his head in confusion. He had heard of foreign silver dollars, but yuan-yang was something he had never encountered.

Nor was his ignorance his fault—yuan-yang had only just flowed into Jiangxi. Because it was smuggled in, it was concentrated in the hands of overland merchants, who used yuan-yang to buy goods at Jingdezhen's kilns, making Jingdezhen a distribution hub for yuan-yang.

And nine-tenths of Jiangxi's silver flowed in from Fujian and Guangdong. Once the passes were sealed, silver was cut off, the silver on the market rapidly dwindled, silver prices rose, and commodity prices fell—creating the illusion in the days before the new year that people's lives had improved.

As silver grew ever more valuable, merchants and common folk alike began hoarding it rather than spending, further worsening the deflation.

Just then, Nan'ao yuan-yang, smuggled in alongside porcelain, flowed into Jingdezhen.

The yuan-yang had excellent fineness, uniform weight, and exquisite minting. The moment they appeared, they displaced foreign silver dollars entirely and drove silver ingots and loose silver completely out of the market.

Now business in Jingdezhen only recognized yuan-yang. Silver ingots and loose silver were not accepted at all—and even if accepted, a hefty discount fee was charged.

As for copper coins, they couldn't spend a single one; the coins had nearly been reduced to scrap copper.

That was also why the waiter quoted prices in qian and fen of silver, rather than in copper coins.

"Wait." Song Yingxing stopped him. He was more than a little skeptical of the waiter's words—twelve parts doubtful out of ten.

Song Yingxing rose and walked to the tavern entrance to look around. Spotting a vendor selling glutinous rice balls, he waved him over and asked: "How much are these?" The vendor said: "Thirteen for one fen of silver."

Song Yingxing was stunned. He pulled out a string of copper coins, estimating there were over eighty coins on it, all fine Wanli tongbao.

"Give me one."

The vendor looked troubled. "Sir, you'll have to pay in yuan-yang. Don't worry—I've got salt here, I can make change."

Song Yingxing was dumbfounded. He sent the vendor away, sat back down at his table, and asked the waiter: "You people make change with salt?"

The waiter nodded.

Song Yingxing thought to himself: no wonder they ask how many parts salt when ordering—this is literally eating money.

His interest piqued, he forgot about visiting the kilns that afternoon. He picked up another cup, poured himself some tea, and invited the waiter to sit and talk.

The waiter dared not sit with him, but Song Yingxing insisted, and since it was already afternoon and the shop truly had nothing to do—the manager was dozing—the waiter carefully sat down and said: "Besides salt for change, some use sugar. Some use the bamboo tally marks of the big merchant houses. And regular customers can run a tab, settled at month's end."

Song Yingxing had traveled far and wide and had seen barter before—rumor had it that in Shaanxi they used rice as money—but a place that refused copper coins entirely? Jingdezhen was the first.

The waiter said: "The silver-to-coin exchange rate changes every single day. Who knows—a month from now, one tael might buy three thousand big coins. Who would dare hold onto copper?"

Song Yingxing frowned. "Fine! Refusing copper coins I can accept, but refusing silver? What's the reasoning? Silver is silver—what difference is there?" "Oh, the difference is enormous. Look here." The waiter took a silver coin from his belt and handed it to Song Yingxing.

It was a silver coin with a face value of "five fen," and on the reverse was stamped a seagull.

"This is called a yuan-yang coin. One coin is worth five fen. At the money changer's, you need seven fen three li of scrap silver to exchange for one. And the exchange rate keeps changing—maybe in a few days it'll rise to seven fen four li."

Song Yingxing was a man of wide experience, and he saw at once why the yuan-yang coin carried a premium—the same reason foreign silver coins did. But why did the premium keep climbing?

The waiter explained that it was because the yuan-yang coin was convenient to use. When silver credit tightened, shopkeepers feared counterfeit silver most of all. Scrap silver and silver ingots varied too much in purity—weighing, testing, and melting losses were all troublesome. Over time, everyone came to prefer accepting yuan-yang coins. Even the yamen, when collecting routine fees, specified that only yuan-yang coins would be accepted. As the yuan-yang coin kept appreciating, the price of scrap silver kept falling in correspondence, and copper cash became virtually worthless—which further spurred the common folk to exchange all their copper cash and scrap silver for yuan-yang coins.

The money changer's business flourished, so the exchange rate naturally rose with the tide, which in turn spurred the common folk on further.

And so the yuan-yang coin, stepping left foot over right, climbed all the way to the heavens.

Song Yingxing was dumbfounded. Seeing the waiter drain his teacup, he refilled it and asked, "The yuan-yang coin circulates so freely—doesn't the government do anything about it?" "Ha!" The waiter let out a mocking laugh. "Of course they do. A few days ago the prefecture posted a notice banning the use of yuan-yang coins in trade—and the exchange rate went up two li that very day."

"When a thing is scarce, it becomes precious—so it has always been since antiquity..." Song Yingxing murmured.

"But the masters at the county yamen aren't fools either. When collecting shop fees and routine levies, they only accept yuan-yang coins. If you dare offer scrap silver, they'll skim more than the money changers." "For the situation to have reached this point in so short a time?"

Song Yingxing, bearing the rank of juren and being a reserve official, grasped the whole convoluted scheme at once.

The yuan-yang coin was full weight and full purity—extremely convenient for tax collection, saving a great deal of labor. It was also easy to melt down and cast into silver ingots for delivery to the province. It was even possible that the county yamen led the way in exchanging collected yuan-yang coins for scrap silver, melting that down to remit upward, and keeping the surplus premium for themselves.

The Great Ming yamens never lacked for opportunists—whenever anything had the slightest loophole, someone would find a way to exploit it.

Even the petty clerks guarding the treasury silver mostly had family-inherited tricks, stuffing official silver up their backsides to smuggle it out.

With the yuan-yang exchange rate so high, the grease here was far richer than silver stuffed up a clerk's arse.

Song Yingxing asked again, "And which money house does that money changer belong to?"

"Not any money house—most of them are itinerant merchants with connections over there." The waiter pointed mysteriously toward the southeast. Everyone understood what "over there" meant. "At first the itinerant merchants dealt in raw silk and porcelain. Now they've started dealing in silver—scrap silver goes over there, and yuan-yang coins flow back here."

Song Yingxing was already shaken: "If that's so, then the more the yuan-yang coin is banned, the more it rises; the more it rises, the more it's trafficked; the more it's trafficked, the scarcer silver becomes? The prefectural yamen's yuan-yang ban and the Governor-General's trade ban—will they all become dead letters?"

The waiter flattered him: "Master, you truly are a scholar—what profound words you speak!"

Song Yingxing only felt a deep chill. He couldn't see where this would end, but instinctively felt that Jiangxi's economy might be doomed. He asked the location of the money changer, rose, and took his leave.

The waiter said, "Master, you haven't paid for your meal yet!"

Song Yingxing snapped back to himself, pulled out scrap silver to settle the bill, and accepted the heavy skim without complaint.

After leaving the tavern, he went straight to the money changer. It turned out to be a porcelain trading house. Entering, Song Yingxing stated his business, and the clerk readily completed the exchange for him.

The next day, Song Yingxing took his exchanged yuan-yang coins to grease palms at the Jingdezhen kilns. The kiln masters and craftsmen all beamed with joy at the sight of the yuan-yang coins, and things indeed went much more smoothly.

When Song Yingxing returned to his hometown a few days later, he discovered that even there people had begun using yuan-yang coins. This little silver coin seemed to have grown legs—it spread with astonishing speed.

With the lesson of Jingdezhen fresh in mind, Song Yingxing immediately persuaded his family to exchange all their stored silver and copper cash for yuan-yang coins.

At the same time, on Nan'ao Island, the second joint military-civilian conference was being convened.

But compared to the last one, this session was far smaller in scale. Most of the border generals, including Lei Sanxiang, Ma Chenglie, and Huang Hetai, did not attend. It wasn't that this conference was unimportant—it was simply that the military pressure from Yuan Chonghuan and Fu Zonglong was too intense, and the generals simply could not get away.

"... Even though Nan'ao has seized Zhoushan and won the first round of the financial war, the situation remains far from optimistic..."

In the great hall of the Administrative Bureau, Zheng Zhilong spoke in a heavy tone.

The Chartered Agricultural Reclamation Company had gotten onto the right track, but with Ming military pressure increasing, he had been recalled to Nan'ao Island to resume his former post. The company's governorship had been taken over by Lü Zhou, while the merchant caravan was now run independently by He Sai.

"What's there to be pessimistic about?" Chen Jiao said discontentedly. "Brother Yiguan, don't always speak such discouraging words. Didn't we win at Iron Ox Pass? That so-called Guanning Army is nothing special. If they push us too far, we'll sail the fleet straight into the Yangtze waterway—or even strike directly at Tianjin!"

"Big Brother, that Yuan barbarian is now accusing us of colluding with the Jianzhou barbarians, north and south in league. At a time like this, whether we block the grain canal or attack the capital region—what will the people of the realm think?"

The speaker was Scholar Zhou, holding the latest issue of the Jiangxi Gazette in his hand.

Chen Jiao retorted: "Those are all slanders—when have we ever done such a thing? A straight foot is not afraid of a crooked shoe. The common folk can see clearly what kind of people we are!"

Zheng Erman said, "In about three more months, the Candle Dragon-class fourth-rate warships of the navy will be launched, won't they? We've got ample troops and supplies. If you ask me, let's just storm the capital directly! Once the helmsman becomes Emperor, who gives a damn what the common folk think."

At these words, the generals responded one after another, and even the civil officials wore pleased expressions.

Zheng Zhilong shot his second brother a glare and said in a low, stern voice: "Nonsense!"

"Lately I keep hearing people talk about 'meritorious service in supporting a new sovereign' and 'winning it all in one stroke'—as if we already hold absolute power and it's time to take that final step."

Lin Qian spoke unhurriedly, and in an instant the entire hall fell silent.

"Granted, we've won too many battles. On Changsheng Island we fought the Jianzhou barbarians. We've beaten the red barbarians, the Frankish barbarians, the Cambodians, the Acehnese. We've taken Guangxi, Zhoushan, and Malacca.

And we haven't lost in commerce either—our warehouse receipts and Nan'ao yuan-yang coins have filled our coffers to overflowing.

But we must always remember one thing: an army that is proud is doomed to defeat! Never forget who we are!

We can't defeat the guard station troops and then dismiss the Guanning Army out of hand; we can't win battles relying on the common folk one day, then treat them as stumbling blocks and kick them aside the next.

Throughout history, heroes have been as numerous as fish crossing a river—Fuchai, Xiang Yu, Yuan Shao, Guan Yu, Fu Jian... who among them was not brilliant beyond compare? Who did not win victory after victory? And who did not fall to their own arrogance?

Our warships can bombard the capital region, that's true—but can they fight their way into the capital itself? Hong Taiji with tens of thousands of Eight Banner iron cavalry couldn't break in. What makes the Nan'ao Army think it can?

Are cannons and muskets exclusive to the Nan'ao Army?

The world says the Nan'ao Army is invincible at sea—do we truly believe ourselves invincible under heaven?

If I don't throw this bucket of cold water today, then one day a crushing defeat will throw it for us!

Perhaps it will be when we advance up the Yangtze and someone cuts off our retreat, or when we attack Zhejiang and fall into an ambush!

By the time we suffer heavy casualties, by the time we taste a defeat as catastrophic as the Battle of Red Cliffs, it will be too late for regrets about pride and complacency!"

By the end of his speech, his tone had become very stern.

Since the uprising began, Lin Qian had always been gentle and amiable with everyone—such harsh words were extremely rare.

For a moment the hall fell silent, and no one dared to reply.

Ye Xianggao stroked his beard repeatedly, unable to hide the approval in his eyes.

Lately, along the borders of Fujian, Guangdong, and Jiangxi, there had been no major battles, but minor skirmishes never ceased. Both sides traded wins and losses. Nan'ao Army generals would often rashly advance and fall into ambushes, barely fighting their way back thanks to the elite quality of their soldiers—no catastrophic defeats resulted, so no one paid it much mind.

On the contrary, voices clamoring for a decisive battle with Yuan Chonghuan—or even a decisive battle with the Great Ming itself—grew louder and louder.

Ye Xianggao wanted to offer some words of counsel, but then reflected that since antiquity, strong armies bred arrogance and weak armies bred obedience—the stronger an army's fighting power, the more proud and unruly its soldiers and generals. Ye Xianggao was a top-tier talent at governance, but his knowledge of military affairs was superficial. Since the Nan'ao Army had been founded by Lin Qian himself, surely Lin Qian knew how to restrain his own subordinates—there was no need for Ye Xianggao to stick his oar in.

Things indeed turned out as Ye Xianggao had predicted. At today's military-civilian conference, Lin Qian had thrown this matter out in public, and he had picked his opening so perfectly that Ye Xianggao suspected Chen Jiao's words had been fed to him by Lin Qian—after all, Chen Jiao was stationed in Dongning, and whether or not they attacked the capital had little impact on him personally.

Regardless, this speech would surely go a long way toward cutting down the unhealthy trends in the army.

After a moment of silence, Scholar Zhou spoke: "Big Brother just said that a straight foot is not afraid of a crooked shoe. That's true, and it isn't. Your shadow may be straight, but you have to worry about someone twisting the story for the common folk.

Take those bald donkeys on Zhoushan—they showed every kind of ugly face before they died, and yet weren't there still common folk speaking up for their grievances?"

Ye Xianggao stroked his beard and said: "I have already instructed Ye Yisun to handle this matter, but Jiangxi is a major province for the imperial examinations, with an extremely large number of literati and scholars. A battle on paper cannot be decided quickly—in the end, it must come down to practical affairs."

Lin Qian asked: "Yiguan, what is the current military situation?"

"At present, the border fighting between Fujian and Guangdong provinces has seen victories and defeats on both sides. Yuan the Barbarian has set up cannons at key passes and cities, uses the Gan River to transport supplies, personally supervises the distribution of military pay, and even uses the Gan Dispatch to win over hearts and minds—he is not easy to deal with."

Zheng Zhilong paused, then said: "But we have operated in Fujian for a long time, and most of the Nan'ao New Army is stationed in Guangdong—the Ming troops of these two provinces cannot break through. On the other hand, Guangxi has only recently submitted to us; its passes and city defenses were built late, and the garrison troops are newly arrived, unfamiliar with the terrain—several gaps have been torn open." Scholar Zhou was somewhat surprised: "Have prefectures and counties fallen?"

Lin Qian continued: "According to the latest military dispatch, Fu Zonglong has divided his forces into two routes—one attacking Huaiyuan, the other attacking Quanzhou. Both prefectures have already fallen. The General Staff Department has transferred five thousand New Army troops to reinforce."

Chen Jiao scratched his head and said: "Wasn't it said that Lingnan was easy to defend and hard to attack? How could the prefectures and counties be taken so easily?"

Lin Qian explained: "Since ancient times, Lingnan has been hard to attack—not because of the danger of its passes, but because of its climate, diseases, and dense forests.

When the pre-Qin dynasties attacked Lingnan, the Hundred Yue tribes did not engage them in open battle—they specialized in night raids and ambushes, cutting off their supply lines, leaving even the Qin army helpless.

The She-An rebels were hunted for ten years and still not wiped out, precisely because they used this kind of Mobile Corps Commander warfare.

The men under Fu Zonglong are all elite troops personally trained by Governor Zhu—more familiar with mountain warfare than the locals of Guangxi—so naturally they can take the cities smoothly." At present, the land forces under Nan'ao's jurisdiction are divided into two types. One is the New Army, totaling thirty thousand men, with the best equipment and the highest morale, commanded by Lei Sanxiang. The other is the Garrison Army, totaling over eighty thousand men, all selected Ming defectors, commanded by Ma Chenglie and Huang Hetai.

The troops stationed in Guangxi are mainly the Garrison Army. Among the overall Ming military, the Ming troops of the three provinces of Fujian, Guangdong, and Guangxi are basically at the bottom in combat effectiveness, so the selected defectors are naturally no match for the elite of the Great Ming's southwest.

Lin Qian glanced at Qin Liangyu without changing his expression, then continued: "In my view, the New Army can hold its own in frontal combat, but in the mountains, they may not be a match for the southwest border troops. Fu Zonglong is, after all, too strong..."

Zheng Zhilong asked: "Helmsman, why not recruit wolf soldiers?"

Lin Qian thought to himself that this lad Zheng Zhilong was indeed clever—he had asked exactly the right question—and said: "Though the wolf soldiers are fierce and brave, their military discipline is extremely poor. Wherever they go, property is plundered without exception—they cause too much harm to the common people. Unless forced to, I do not wish to deploy them lightly."

Qin Liangyu could no longer sit still. She stood up and said in a deep, rumbling voice: "Helmsman, do you trust this old woman?"

Lin Qian was delighted inwardly, yet pretended to look puzzled and solemn as he replied: "General Qin's conduct is noble and pure, clear as the sun and moon—how could I not trust you?"

Qin Liangyu clasped her hands in salute and said: "Since the Helmsman trusts me, why not let this old woman go guard Guangxi? I am willing to sign a pledge—I guarantee Guangxi will be safe!" Lin Qian had been laying the groundwork all this time precisely to hear these words from Qin Liangyu. Pretending to be pleasantly surprised, he said: "Excellent! With General Qin guaranteeing Guangxi's safety, what do you need—men, provisions, or subordinate generals—just name it."

Qin Liangyu said: "I only ask that the Helmsman grant me the authority to command Guangxi's troops and horses concurrently. This old woman will go to her post alone!"

Though Qin Liangyu was nominally just a chieftain, she had long possessed the ability to command great armies and govern an entire province, and she had fought in the southwest for years. Having her serve as Regional Commander of Guangxi to resist Fu Zonglong was the most suitable choice.

Lin Qian agreed immediately and said: "General Qin, bring Generals Ma and Zhang along with you—they can serve as your helpers!"

Qin Liangyu suddenly raised her head, staring at Lin Qian in disbelief.

When she said she would go to her post alone, her hidden meaning was that she would leave her son and daughter-in-law behind as hostages.

Yet Lin Qian was voluntarily letting her take the hostages away?

After a moment, Qin Liangyu's gaze turned resolute. She clasped her hands in salute and declared in a clear voice: "This general will devote herself to the utmost!"

Pink Round

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