Chapter 12: Unexpected Encounter in Vienna

The train had been jolting along for half a month; Li Yuxuan felt nauseous, and just when he finally saw a stop, he was told the train was broken and would need a few weeks of repairs in Vienna.

"Brother, where is this?" he asked, holding the platform railing, staring at the Baroque‑style building and the long‑skirted pedestrians, his face blank.

The German merchant traveling with him pointed to the golden spire of the distant hall: "Vienna, the capital of the Austro‑Hungarian Empire."

"Weren't we going to Germany? How did we end up in Vienna?" Li Yuxuan asked anxiously; his destination was the Berlin Military Academy, still several hundred kilometers away.

"The train broke down," the merchant shrugged. "We have to unload the cargo and fix the leak before we can go; it'll take about three weeks to repair."

"Three weeks?!" Li Yuxuan nearly jumped up. "I have only two months left before I report to the military academy; can I afford a delay?"

"Why are you panicking?" the merchant patted his shoulder. "The military academy doesn't start for another two months; three weeks is enough time for you to take a train from Vienna to Berlin."

"Then why can't I take a train right now?" Li Yuxuan persisted.

The merchant gave him a sideways glance: "Do you have money?"

Li Yuxuan was stunned: "No... didn't the government cover the travel expenses?"

"Heh," the merchant laughed. "The government only covers expenses after enrollment; you get the subsidy once you enter the school. For now, you have to figure it out yourself."

"Damn, the stingy government!" Li Yuxuan couldn't help cursing. Bureaucracy in the late Qing was always sluggish, and he hadn't expected even the Study Abroad funds to be blocked so tightly, as if he had been abandoned halfway in Vienna.

"So what do I do now? What will I eat, drink, where will I stay?" He looked at the few Silver Yuan left in his pocket, on the verge of tears. That amount would last two months back home, but in this European city it might not even cover three days.

"What else can you do? Find a place for odd jobs," the merchant said, pointing to the distant factory district. "Vienna lacks labor; moving goods and carrying crates can always earn a bite to eat."

Li Yuxuan had no choice but to grit his teeth and nod.

In the following days, he found a moving job at the dock, hauling crates taller than a person across the pier each day, and sleeping in the factory's temporary workers' shacks at night. It was exhausting, but it provided meals and a bit of spare change, keeping him from starving.

After work that day, he stopped by a small tavern near the workers' shacks for a free drink and ran into a tall, skinny young man. The other wore a faded coat, hair in disarray, sighing over a mug of beer while muttering, "Damn the art academy."

"Hello, I'm Er Zhan Touzi," the young man said, seeing he was from the East, extending his hand; his German carried a slight Austrian accent.

Li Yuxuan nearly spat out the water he had just taken: "You... what's your name?"

"Er Zhan Touzi, what's the matter?" the young man blinked. "Is there something wrong with my name?"

"No... nothing," Li Yuxuan swallowed, his mind roiling with turmoil.

Er Zhan Touzi? The demon who sparked the World War? He was actually in a Vienna temporary workers' shack, meeting the young Er Zhan Touzi?

He surveyed the young man from head to toe: high cheekbones, deep‑set eyes, a gaze full of resentment and anger, unlike the hysterical portrait in history books yet bearing a few similar features. What made his scalp tingle was a nearby sign pointing toward the Vienna Art Academy—wasn't that the very school Er Zhan Touzi had failed to enter twice?

Li Yuxuan's heart raced. A wild thought flashed through his mind: although later generations had misread some of his "accomplishments," killing him now might prevent the World War.

He quietly felt the dagger at his waist— a parting gift from Jiang Ruiyuan. If only he could act under the cover of night when no one was around...

But on second thought he hesitated. Even if he killed Hitler, could history truly change? Imperialist expansionist ambitions were there; even without him, someone else would step up, and war might simply erupt in another form.

"Forget it, fewer problems is better," he thought, sighing, and slipped the dagger back into his waist.

"Are you also worried about the art academy?" Er Zhan Touzi, seeing him stare at the academy's direction, assumed he had met a kindred spirit and pounded the table excitedly. "Those judges are idiots! They don't understand my paintings at all! My 'Vienna Street' is clearly full of power, yet they say it 'lacks spirit'!"

Li Yuxuan gave a perfunctory reply: "Ah, right, right, they really don't get it."

Watching Er Zhan Touzi spew saliva as he lambasted the academy faction, he suddenly found it absurd. Who could have imagined that this down‑and‑out painter, rejected by the art academy, would later stir the world's fortunes?

"Li, in your terms, you're literally my Confidant!" Er Zhan Touzi grew more enthusiastic, pulling him into a discussion of his artistic philosophy, his love of architecture, and even produced a sketchbook for him to see— it was undeniably good, especially the architectural sketches, with precise proportions and strong lines.

Li Yuxuan listened intermittently, his mind fixed on a single thought: the gears of fate had begun to turn. This observer from the future was inevitably becoming part of history.

Three weeks flew by. The ship was repaired, and Li Yuxuan had saved enough for the journey to Berlin. Before leaving, he went to the art academy's entrance to look for Er Zhan Touzi, only to find him standing on the steps, despondent, clutching a rejection notice.

"Sigh, Li, I failed again," Er Zhan Touzi crumpled the notice, smiling wryly. "What unlucky fate. You're leaving too; how shall we meet again?"

Li Yuxuan saw the bewilderment in his eyes and felt a pang of melancholy. At this moment, Er Zhan Touzi was still just an unappreciated young man, not yet twisted by hatred and power.

"It's okay, Er Zhan Touzi," he patted his shoulder. "If we truly meet again, it'll be like the first time—on some street corner, in some tavern, maybe we'll run into each other."

Er Zhan Touzi stared blankly, then smiled. "You're right! Perhaps one day when I go to Germany to develop my career, I'll see you again." He extended his hand. "Li, safe travels!"

"You too," Li Yuxuan shook his hand, turned, and hurried toward the train station.

Sitting on the train bound for Berlin, he watched the passing scenery and felt a mix of emotions. This unexpected stop in Vienna was like a bizarre dream. He hadn't changed anything, yet he had truly felt the warmth of history—those cold names in the annals had once lived vivid, possibility‑filled moments.

The train entered German territory, and Berlin's outline appeared on the horizon. Li Yuxuan inhaled deeply, pushing thoughts of Er Zhan Touzi aside. Whatever the future held, he first had to master German artillery tactics—that was the most pressing matter now.

Only occasionally would he recall that down‑and‑out painter in the Vienna tavern. He wondered what their situation would be the next time they met. The thought flashed briefly, then was swallowed by the impending military academy life. He had no idea that this seemingly chance encounter would, in later years, intertwine again in an unexpected way.