Chapter 10: Tokyo

The cherry blossoms in Tokyo fell and bloomed again, and Li Yuxuan and Jiang Ruiyuan have been at Qinghua School for half a year. The days have passed so calmly that it was somewhat unexpected; there is no sword‑clashing drama as imagined, nor an immediate plunge into the school's military training. Their daily work is grinding Japanese—from Hiragana to Katakana, from everyday conversation to official document style—so tedious that Jiang Ruiyuan several times wanted to toss the textbook into the Sumida River.

These damned characters are harder to handle than foreign languages. Jiang Ruiyuan slammed his pen, sighed at the Tokyo street view outside the window, and wondered when he would learn real skills. Making me memorize these あいうえお again will drive me mad.

Li Yuxuan set down the *Outline of Japanese History* in his hands, rubbed his sore eyes, and said: Young Master, you can't rush. He heard you have to spend a full year at Qinghua School, pass Japanese, and then you can enter the military school. Besides, knowing more about Japan can't hurt.

During these six months, they took advantage of weekends to visit many places: the cherry blossoms in Ueno Park, the Kaminarimon of Senso‑ji, the snow‑capped summit of Mount Fuji… Jiang Ruiyuan raved about Mount Fuji, saying it was far more majestic than the mountains of Xikou, while Li Yuxuan thought it was just so‑so.

In terms of presence, it still fell far short of our Mount Tai. He stood at the Fifth Station of Mount Fuji, gazing at the summit shrouded in mist, and thought to himself that the mountain looked delicate but lacked a solid, imposing aura.

Also at the foot of Mount Fuji, they met a Japanese boy in a kimono with graceful manners. He could speak a few sentences of Chinese, approached them proactively, and said his name was Konoe Fumimaro, a student from Kyoto.

The Konoe family is part of Japan's aristocracy. Later Jiang Ruiyuan heard from a school handyman that they are equivalent to a Prince in Huaxia, and several Prime Ministers have come from their Family.

Li Yuxuan, however, felt no particular fondness for the boy. Konoe Fumimaro always spoke with a smiling face, but his eyes hid an indescribable shrewdness; when discussing the conditions of Japan and Huaxia, he kept saying the two nations share the same culture and race and should advance hand in hand, yet his words were laced with a sense of Japanese superiority over Huaxia.

That fellow will probably become a hard‑to‑handle character in the future. Li Yuxuan made a mental note, feeling that the name sounded vaguely familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before.

Besides Konoe Fumimaro, they also befriended several Japanese. There was Miss Nijo Gokuka of the Nijo family, studying at a girls' school, secretly learning Chinese from them, saying she wanted to become a translator in the future; and there was Ichijo Kikei, the son of an Army provincial official, who was arrogant and constantly bragged about the combat power of the Japanese Army, each time being rebuked by Jiang Ruiyuan until his face turned red.

These Japanese each seemed to have their own motives. One night, the two were in the dorm drinking Sake with pickled vegetables, when Li Yuxuan suddenly said, "Young Master, I see that Japan, though small in territory, harbors the ambition of the python‑sparrow to swallow the dragon; we must be on guard."

Jiang Ruiyuan was pouring the drink into his mouth when he froze at the words: "Yuxuan, I don't understand—what is the ambition of the python‑sparrow to swallow the dragon?"

Li Yuxuan set down his cup, lifted his chopsticks and gestured on the table: "The python‑sparrow means they look now like a snake and a bird, unremarkable. Swallowing the dragon means they want to devour a prey far larger than themselves—our Huaxia, that dragon."

He pointed at Tokyo's nightscape outside the window, its lights dazzling, appearing prosperous yet hiding a taut ambition: "Look, their newspapers say every day they are opening up ten thousand miles of waves, projecting national power in all directions. The Army province has troops stationed in Chaoxian, the Navy is building a naval base at Lushun, their eyes constantly fixed on our Northeast and Taiwan. After winning the Russo‑Japanese War last year, they feel invincible, even the British have allied with them."

Jiang Ruiyuan furrowed his brows: "But don't they always say they share the same culture and race? They also claim they will help Huaxia reform, like their Meiji Restoration…"

That's a lie. Li Yuxuan cut him off, his tone darker, "When they say they'll help us, they actually want to turn us into their vassals. Didn't you hear Ichijo Kikei? His father always says in the Army province that Huaxia is too large and must be divided and ruled. Doesn't that sound frightening?"

He recalled a *Asahi Shimbun* video he had seen in his past life on his phone, which featured a cartoon: Japan depicted as a male eagle clutching the Korean Peninsula with its talons, its wings extending toward China's Northeast, with a caption reading "Pioneer of Greater East Asian Co‑Prosperity." At the time his heart flared and he almost tore the newspaper apart.

He also mentioned their education. Li Yuxuan continued, "In elementary textbooks they teach children to chant 'Long live the Emperor,' to sacrifice themselves for the nation gloriously; recruitment posters line the streets, and even mothers shout 'A husband's death on the battlefield is an honor.' Tell me, can a country that raises soldiers like that produce good troops?"

Jiang Ruiyuan fell silent. He recalled the scene he saw when visiting Zhenwu School: Japanese students crawling across the playground, knees bleeding but not uttering a word. During live‑fire drills, each rifle was aimed at the bullseye, eyes as cold as ice. At the time he only felt admiration; after Li Yuxuan's reminder, he sensed a different flavor. "So… do they really dare to strike Huaxia?" Jiang Ruiyuan's voice trembled. When he was in Xikou, he only knew foreigners were formidable, never imagining that Japan across the sea harbored such great ambition.

Just because they don't dare now doesn't mean they won't in the future. Li Yuxuan sighed; they are now busy learning the West, building up resources, and when their national strength is sufficient they will certainly act. They dared to fight Russia in the Russo‑Japanese War; why wouldn't they dare to fight us later?

He looked at Jiang Ruiyuan's pale face and softened his tone: "That's why I say this Study Abroad cannot be in vain. We must learn their military skills and also see through their ambitions. When we return later, we can prepare early."

Jiang Ruiyuan lifted his cup, drained it in one gulp, the liquid trailing down his mouth corner, his eyes brightening: "You're right. We can't just be students; we must also be spies. Their drills, tactics, weapons—we must master them; their ambitions, conspiracies, methods—we must memorize."

He picked up a pen and wrote in his diary: "Japan is not a friendly nation, but a neighboring jackal. Today, observing its court and populace, all harbor annexationist intent; we must be vigilant, study them, and prepare for the future."

Li Yuxuan watched his earnest expression and felt a slight relief. It seemed his words were not in vain, at least giving Jiang Ruiyuan a bit more caution.

Moonlight from outside streamed into the dorm, illuminating the two young faces. In the distance, the lights‑out signal from a Japanese barracks sounded, long and sharp, like a needle piercing the silent night.

Li Yuxuan knew this was only the beginning. In the coming decades, this python‑sparrow would indeed flare its fangs and strike at the sleeping giant dragon. He, Jiang Ruiyuan, and countless Study Abroad Chinese now stood at the edge of this creature's nest, needing to steal knowledge while guarding against a backlash.

He picked up the Japanese textbook on the desk, reopened it; as a respectable modern university student, he would not be stopped by this tiny Japanese language. Mastering Japanese is not to blend in here, but to better understand it, and then defeat it.