Chapter 183: Power On 1

At noon on December 12, 1937, the Jinling Garrison Command was already in chaos, artillery fire drawing nearer, and one could even hear sporadic gunshots and huge explosions within the city. Inside the command, documents lay scattered on the ground, the radio ticked incessantly, staff looked frantic, running back and forth, and the air was thick with the scent of failure and despair.

Tang Shengzhi's face was ashen, his hand that had just translated the principal's "immediate retreat" order trembling slightly. His earlier boast of "living and dying with the city" now seemed so pale and ridiculous. Overwhelming fear and the instinct to survive crushed everything.

"Order… order each unit, according to… according to the Pre‑Arranged Plan, break out toward Wannan and Zhejiang West…!" he forced out through clenched teeth, a command that would push hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians into a deeper hell. The so‑called "Pre‑Arranged Plan" was vague, lacking any detailed retreat sequence, routes, or river‑crossing arrangements.

With the order issued, the already precarious command structure collapsed instantly.

At the same time, at Xiaguan Dock, the order spread like wildfire, bringing not order but utter madness. Abandoned soldiers and terrified, helpless refugees surged like a breaching flood from all directions toward Yijiang Gate—the gate leading to the Yangtze River bank, theoretically the only possible way to survive.

Inside the gate passage, the crowd surged, trampling each other, cries, shouts, and pleas blending into one din. Those crushed had no chance to get up. Bullet belts, luggage, even scattered gold and silver lay on the ground untouched. The last shred of human dignity was trampled to pieces in this survival inferno.

The riverside scene was even more horrendous. On the wide river, only a handful of vessels—mostly under military control—hurriedly loaded senior officials, their families, and core troops. More soldiers and refugees struggled in waist‑deep icy water, trying to climb onto any floating object. Planks, door panels, even bundles of straw became contested prizes. Japanese artillery shells occasionally fell into the river, spouting towering water columns that ripped bodies to pieces. Machine‑gun fire swept the surface like water splashing, staining the river red with blood. Stacked corpses piled on the banks and drifted downstream, the tableau resembling a living hell.

And at that moment, Li Nian'an had just received this belated and chaotic retreat order.

"Dammit! Now they say retreat?! Where to retreat?! How to retreat?!" Li Nian'an stared at the completely out‑of‑control chaos below the mountain, so angry he felt he might vomit blood. He knew that under these circumstances, not even a breakout—just making it to the riverbank alive—would be a miracle.

"Brigade Commander! What do we do?!" Chief of Staff Wang Weilin asked anxiously, as the remaining three‑hundred‑plus brothers beside him all looked at him.

Li Nian'an forced himself to stay calm, recalling the fallback his father had left for him. He gritted his teeth: "Don't go to Yijiang Gate for the spectacle! That's a dead end! Follow me, to the east side of Xiaguan Dock, Reed Marsh!"

Late night on December 12, at a secret contact point inside Jinling City, Underground Party leader Lao Zhang watched the firelight reflecting in the sky and the roaring crowd outside, his face grim to the extreme. "The Kuomintang has completely abandoned Jinling; they have thrown the civilians and most soldiers to the Japanese!" he ordered his comrades quickly, "Act according to the Final Plan! Advance Personnel and Backbone Members who can be taken out should be evacuated immediately through the scattered channels we control! Those who cannot be evacuated should lie low on the spot, establish Secret Contact Points, do everything possible to protect refugees, and record Japanese Invaders' atrocities! Remember, survive, keep fighting!"

In the early hours of December 13, Tang Shengzhi, escorted by a squad of elite bodyguards, fled Jinling City in a black sedan in a panic. Their goal was to bypass the chaotic Yijiang Gate and 'break out' from the relatively quiet Zhongshan Gate direction toward Wannan.

The car sped over the bumpy road, Tang Shengzhi slumped in the back seat, dazed, his former 'heroic spirit' gone. Yet when the vehicle reached Zijin Shan Lu, near the secluded stretch by Zhongshan Mausoleum, several military trucks suddenly blocked the road ahead.

"What's going on?!" Tang Shengzhi's Bodyguard Captain shouted, sticking his head out.

The answer was a sudden burst of dense gunfire in the darkness! Bullets accurately struck the sedan's tires and engine, as well as the resisting bodyguards. The attackers' fire was ferocious, their movements clean and swift, clearly elite veterans.

The fight was brief but fierce. Tang Shengzhi's bodyguard unit was quickly wiped out. The car door was forced open, and Tang Shengzhi stared in terror at several men outside, dressed in ordinary Central Army uniforms but with cold, sharp eyes.

"You… which unit are you from? I am the Jinling Garrison Commander Tang Shengzhi!" he tried to intimidate them with his authority.

The leader, expressionless, said coldly: "Commander Tang, the battle has turned this way; someone must give Jinling, give the people an answer. Your pledge to 'live and die with the city' must now be fulfilled."

Tang Shengzhi's pupils snapped shut; he instantly understood and roared: "It's Jing Gong? Jing Gong has betrayed me! …"

"Bang!"

A crisp gunshot cut off his unfinished words. A blood‑filled hole appeared on Tang Shengzhi's forehead, and his body fell limp. After the leader confirmed his death, he ordered his subordinates: "According to the plan, carry him to the side of the Zhongshan Mausoleum, position him properly. It should look as if he was ambushed by a small Japanese unit while being transferred, fighting to the death for the nation."

"Yes!"

Several corpses were swiftly dealt with, Tang Shengzhi's body was carried to the roadside and posed in a resisting stance, weapons scattered nearby. The attackers vanished like phantoms into the pre‑dawn darkness. All of this was done silently, as if it were a trivial interlude in the massive collapse.

At noon on December 13, in Jinling, at a secret radio station not yet fully occupied, gunfire and cannon blasts rang throughout the city as the Japanese swept street by street, clearing remaining resistance. Deep within an unremarkable back alley, a basement disguised as a grocery shop housed several technicians frantically operating a High‑Power Radio. They were not from the Garrison Command; they were Huang Wei, one of the 'Rear‑Hand Arrangement' set up in secret. The person in charge was a trusted officer left by Huang Wei.

"Quick! Send this Document out! Use Plain Code, broadcast to the whole nation, the whole world!" the officer handed a paper full of text to the Radio Operator, his tone urgent and firm. The signature on the Document was unmistakably—Jinling Garrison Commander, Tang Shengzhi.