Chapter 178: Defending Jinling 2

At this moment, Li Yuxuan shed all the pretenses of a war‑zone commander and of a time‑traveler, revealing the most primal fear and selfishness of a father. He knows the history, he knows Jinling's fate, and he cannot bear that his son would also be erased in that cataclysm.

Li Nian'an watched his father's silhouette hunch instantly and those eyes that were no longer sharp but full of pleading; the fury in his heart was doused as if by a bucket of ice water, leaving only bone‑deep sorrow. He understood: his father was not ignorant, nor unfeeling, but wholly assimilated and shackled by the brutal circumstances, the weight on his shoulders, the cold logic of "protecting the greater good," and the deep‑seated fear of losing his only son.

He staggered back a step, shook his head, and a smile uglier than crying appeared on his face: "Father, you take your bright road, I'll take my lone plank bridge. The brothers of the th Brigade who are willing to stay with me, I will not hinder. Those who wish to go with you, I will not force to stay. Even if Jinling becomes a death trap, even if in the end I am the only one left, as long as I am still wearing this uniform, as long as I remain a Huaxia soldier, my front line will be between the civilians and the Japanese. Father… take care."

He offered no further argument, no further plea. He knew that words were useless. The chasm of ideals, at this moment, was bottomless.

He straightened his tattered uniform, though it was smeared with mud and comrades' blood, yet he still tried to make it appear upright. He faced his father, the man who had once been his idol and model, gave the final salute, then turned decisively, striding outward.

Having spoken, Li Nian'an spun around sharply, strode outward, his military boots striking the floor with a heavy, resolute sound, each step as if treading on Li Yuxuan's heart.

"Nian'an!" Li Yuxuan finally could not hold back, calling out, his voice tinged with an unmistakable tremor.

Li Nian'an's steps paused at the doorway, but he did not look back.

Li Yuxuan knew he could not keep his son, just as he could not hold onto the city that was about to fall.

The footsteps receded, eventually vanishing into the night outside the mansion.

Li Yuxuan sagged, collapsing back into his chair as if all strength had been drained. The study was left only with his heavy breathing. Outside, the wail of an air‑raid siren echoed from afar, one after another, like a desperate dirge for this ancient capital.

He extended a trembling hand to reach the teacup on the table, but it fell limp. A single murky tear finally slipped from the corner of the battle‑scarred, high‑ranking general's eye, striking the smooth tabletop and spreading a small dark stain.

He lost. He lost to his son's sincere devotion, and he lost to his own unspeakable fear and compromise regarding the known tragedy. He knew that from this moment on, something between him and his son had changed forever.

Only his heavy breathing remained in the study; after an indeterminate time, the door was gently knocked.

"Come in." Li Yuxuan's voice returned to calm, though it carried a trace of lingering fatigue.

It was Huang Wei who entered. He, too, was dust‑caked, his eyes sharp and steady. As one of the commanders Li Yuxuan trusted most within the Fifth Army System, he had been secretly left in Jinling.

"Director." Huang Wei stood at attention, saluting, his words concise.

Li Yuxuan did not look at him, his gaze still fixed on the pitch‑black night sky beyond the window, as if it could pierce the darkness and see the city about to be drenched in blood and storm. His voice was low and clear, devoid of emotion: "By my side, Tang Shengzhi… have all the arrangements been made?"

A tacit, sharp glint flashed in Huang Wei's eyes as he whispered, "Director, rest assured, everything is in order. All are absolutely reliable brothers. Should Commander Tang Shengzhi 'assess the situation' and decide to 'withdraw,' the brothers will certainly 'see him off,' ensuring he departs cleanly, without falling into Japanese hands, and without … hindering subsequent plans."

The meaning was crystal clear. If Tang Shengzhi were to flee in cowardice, the 'see him off' would come not from Japanese bullets but from their own men. This ensures the Jinling Garrison Command does not collapse prematurely and clears obstacles for certain later operations.

Li Yuxuan gave a slight nod, unsurprised by the answer. He asked again, "And the ship I asked you to find…?"

"Found them." Huang Wei's voice dropped further, "Through connections with the Shanghai Green Gang, seven reliable cargo ships were secretly prepared, moored at a concealed spot in Xiaguan Dock, fully stocked with fuel and necessary provisions. They can be deployed at any time. However… the river is now blockaded by the Imperial Japanese Navy, and Japanese aircraft patrol day and night, making the risk enormous."

"No matter how great the risk, it must be done." Li Yuxuan turned, his eyes deep and inscrutable in the dim light, "That wasn't prepared for us. It's a fallback for… possibly withdrawing troops, or… anyone else needing to cross the river. This matter is top‑secret."

"Yes! Understood!" Huang Wei replied resolutely. He knew that this so‑called 'fallback' might never be needed, but it represented the utmost effort and foresight Li Yuxuan could muster within the rules and harsh reality.

Elsewhere at the Military Intelligence Bureau Headquarters, Dai Li held a freshly decoded Encrypted Telegram and hurried into the temporary office where the Director was stationed. Though the government was relocating, the Director had not yet left Jinling.

"Director," Dai Li placed the telegram on the table with both hands, his tone cautious, "we have intercepted and decoded portions of the communication between the Director and Huang Wei; the content… involves a 'special arrangement' concerning Commander Tang Shengzhi, and… the secret preparation of ships at Xiaguan."

The Director took the telegram, examined it carefully, his face showing no expression. After reading, he casually tossed the telegram onto the desk, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest.

Dai Li watched the Director's expression cautiously, probing, "Director, does the Director's action… have any…? Does it require…?"

The Director waved his hand, cutting off Dai Li's words. He stared out at the heavy night sky for a long moment, then let out a soft sigh, his tone complex, tinged with a barely perceptible tolerance and deeper resignation: "Jingxing is angry inside; let him… vent, vent."

He paused, then emphasized, his gaze sharp on Dai Li: "This ends here. Do not record, do not disseminate, do not let anyone know. Understand?"

Dai Li's heart tightened, and he immediately bowed, "Yes! Director! I understand!"

The Director waved, indicating Dai Li could leave. As the office door closed softly, the Director sat alone beneath the dim light, his fingers absent‑mindedly rubbing the copy of the Encrypted Telegram, his gaze clouded. He understood Jingxing's anger and that lingering conscience, and tacitly permitted these behind‑the‑scenes maneuvers. In his cold, overarching calculation, such trivial "venting" and "fallback" did not hinder the larger plan, and perhaps even left a faint thread of humanity and a margin for maneuver; the night over Jinling grew deeper.