Chapter 177: Defending Jinling 1

At midnight on November 14, 1937, Jinling Li Gongguan. The mansion was brightly lit, yet it could not dispel the heavy, oppressive atmosphere that lingered in the air. The servants had long been dismissed, leaving only a few close Adjutants such as Zhou Weian and a handful of guards, who stood tensely in the courtyard and corridors, listening to the faint, anger‑laden argument coming from the study.

Li Nian'an forced his way into Jinling City at 11 p. m., covered in smoke and fatigue. His th Brigade had been ordered to withdraw to the front line at Zhenjiang for re‑equipping, but he abandoned his troops, taking only a few guards and driving straight for Jinling. He hadn't even had time to change his torn uniform; the grime and blood scabs still clung to his face, and his eyes burned with a fierce flame and a near‑desperate stubbornness.

"Father! Why? Why Tang Shengzhi? That Tang Mengxiao who was sidelined long ago and only spouts empty talk? What does he understand about defending a city? What can he use to defend Jinling?" Li Nian'an almost growled, his hands braced on the broad mahogany desk, his body leaning forward, staring fixedly at his father seated behind the desk, his expression calm to the point of coldness.

Li Yuxuan did not answer immediately; he leisurely closed the document he was reviewing on Third War Zone material transfers, gently twisted the pen cap back on, and then lifted his eyes to look at his emotionally agitated son. His gaze was deep, swirling with emotions that a boy his age could not fully grasp—fatigue, helplessness, struggle, and a hard‑won, steel‑like reason forged by reality.

"The order came directly from the principal. A soldier's duty is obedience." Li Yuxuan's voice was not loud, but carried undeniable weight.

"Obedience? Obedience means watching tens of thousands of soldiers and civilians in Jinling march to their deaths?" Li Nian'an's voice sharpened with agitation, "Tang Shengzhi can't hold it! Everyone can see he can't! Father, can't you see? The principal is abandoning his own son! He wants to trade the blood of Jinling City and its defenders for his so‑called 'international outlook' and 'political stance'!"

"How dare you!" Li Yuxuan slammed the desk hard, finally angered, "Li Nian'an! Watch your words! The principal's strategic considerations are not for you to speculate about!"

"Strategy? What a damn strategy!" Li Nian'an went all out, the accumulated anger, resentment over defeat, and bleak outlook finally exploding, "From Songhu to Kunshan, how many of us have died? Layer after layer of resistance, step after step of retreat! Every time it's called a 'strategic redeployment'! But where does that redeployment lead? Now even the capital is being 'strategically' abandoned? Father, tell me, whose strategy is this?"

He sprang upright, pointing at the dark sky outside, intermittently sliced by searchlights, his voice a heart‑piercing question: "Listen! What's that sound outside? Japanese planes! The cries of fleeing civilians! You sit in this study, reviewing these transfer documents, thinking only of how to leave this place that's about to become a hellhole as quickly as possible, to tend to your 'more important' Third War Zone, right?!"

"You scoundrel!" Li Yuxuan erupted in fury, leapt to his feet, his finger trembling as it pointed at his son, "Do you even know who you're talking to?! Do you think you alone worry about the nation and its people? That you alone feel for those civilians?! I'll tell you, war is exactly like this! It demands deaths! It demands sacrifice! Some sacrifices are unavoidable! They must be borne!"

"Unavoidable? Must be borne?" Li Nian'an gave a bleak smile, the grin full of mockery and disappointment, "Father, you've changed. You really have changed. Do you remember how you taught me to read the 'Premier's Testament' back in Guangzhou? You told me that Revolutionary soldiers must take rescuing the nation and its people as their duty, and regard death as a return home! And now?"

His gaze was as sharp as a blade, as if to cut through his father's seemingly steadfast shell: "Tell me, our revolution, our Northern Expedition, the National Government we built—what for? Is it merely so that today the high‑ranking officials can sit in safe offices, look at maps, and whimsically decide which cities and which civilians can be 'strategically' sacrificed?"

"What do you know!" Li Yuxuan's face turned ashen, his chest heaving violently, "Do you think a burst of hot blood can stop Japanese planes and artillery? That it can hold Jinling? That's a death sentence! It's foolish! It's stuffing you, your th Brigade, and countless soldiers into a worthless tomb that was doomed to fall."

"Moreover, now we must prioritize the big picture! This is not a time for sentiment!" Li Yuxuan slammed the desk hard, shaking the tea‑cup lids on the table, "Eight hundred thousand troops from Songhu plus aircraft and tanks cannot stop the onslaught led by Japanese commander Shen He; with the few thousand remaining soldiers you have now, how many days can you hold? It's nothing but adding a few thousand more corpses, letting Jinling City bleed a few thousand more lives!"

"Value? What is value?!" Li Nian'an shouted, his eyes rimmed red, "Father! The Kuomintang in my heart, the ideal I held, died long ago with Mr. Sun's passing! What you see now is just a corpse rotting and stinking! And the principal? He's about to bolt! If he can't run, what then? Abandon the army, abandon the people?!"

He stepped closer, his voice hoarse yet carrying a soul‑shaking force: "Shouldn't there be a barrier between the ordinary people and the Japanese? We—those of us in these uniforms—are that barrier! Even if the barrier is made of flesh and blood, torn apart by artillery, trampled by iron hooves! As long as we still stand, as long as there's a bullet in the gun, we must stand before the civilians! That is our duty! It is the fate we were destined to bear the day we put on this skin!"

"Barrier?" Li Yuxuan seemed pricked by the word, he spun around sharply, back to his son, his shoulders slightly hunched, his voice carrying a deep fatigue and an almost imperceptible choke, "Nian'an… do you think… do you think your father doesn't want to be that barrier?"

His voice lowered, no longer the lofty rebuke of moments before, but filled with helplessness: "But have you ever thought? This barrier, if we know it will be crushed, destroyed, what purpose does its existence serve beyond letting the people behind witness even more horrific deaths, and giving the enemy more frenzy to flaunt their might?"

He turned slowly, his face showing an age and wear Li Nian'an had never seen, "The principal is right; our value isn't measured by the gains or losses of a single city or spot, nor by meaningless sacrifice. Our roots lie in a broader place. The Third War Zone needs me, the future counter‑offensive needs strength! I cannot… I cannot sacrifice you as well! You are my only son! You are my only heir!"