Chapter 193: Three Kingdoms

"Really? I don't believe it." Li Nian'an shook his head, a youthful doubt flashing in his eyes, "You used to tell me when I was a child that you liked reading 'Three Kingdoms'. Especially after Wei Wudi left, the Sima family arrived. Not only did they arrive, they also took and ate, and even said the Nine-Rank Zhongzheng System was also close."

He paused, his voice softer: "Of course, I was talking about the Three Kingdoms."

Those words had already brushed against a dangerous boundary. Li Yuxuan's complexion darkened instantly, and the jade toggle "clacked" against the table.

"Enough," he said, his voice cold and hard, "Don't speak anything that harms unity."

The air in the study seemed to solidify. Father and son stared at each other, the desk lamp's light drawing an invisible line between them.

After a long while, Li Yuxuan sighed, the exhale full of fatigue and helplessness. He leaned back against the chair again, rubbing his brow.

"Nian'an, you're still young. Some matters aren't simply black or white."

Li Nian'an gave no reply, merely watching his father quietly. He knew that what his father was about to say next was the core of tonight's conversation.

"Do you think the principal doesn't know that those below each have their own thoughts?" Li Yuxuan's voice low, "He knows, but he doesn't care— or rather, what he cares about is how to balance. Tang Enbo is dragging his feet in Taierzhuang; doesn't the principal want to deal with him? He does, but he can't. Because Tang's unit belongs to the Central Army's direct line; if they dealt with him, how would the other direct‑line units think?"

"The Gui faction, the Sichuan Army, the Yunnan Army, the Jin‑Sui army… each force is like a piece on a chessboard. The principal is the player; his goal isn't to make any single piece exceptionally strong, but to have the whole board move according to his will. Occasionally sacrificing one or two pieces, even letting a piece take a loss, as long as the overall situation remains controllable, it's fine."

Li Nian'an frowned, "What about us? What position does the Li Family hold on the board?"

Li Yuxuan looked at him, his gaze complex, "We are the principal's last card in his hand."

"So you want me to preserve my strength?" Li Nian'an asked.

"It's not just about preserving strength," Li Yuxuan stood, walked to the window, back turned to his son, "It's to make you understand that on this board, merely fighting wars isn't enough. You must know when to advance, when to retreat, when to win, when… even when to lose."

He turned, the lamp shining from behind, his face hidden in shadow: "The battle at Jiangcheng will be fierce. The Fifth Army must fight well, but it cannot be exhausted. The balance in between is far harder than fighting itself."

Li Nian'an fell silent. He suddenly felt that the father he knew, who taught him strategy and took him horseback riding and archery, had become somewhat unfamiliar. That father was a pure soldier, whereas the man before him… was more like a politician.

"You've changed." Li Nian'an said softly.

Li Yuxuan laughed, a hint of bitterness in his laugh: "It's not I who changed; you've finally begun to see the world's true face. You think war is just two armies clashing? Wrong, war is merely an extension of politics. Why could Taierzhuang win? Because politics needed a victory. Why must Xuzhou fall? Because politics needed to preserve the direct‑line forces. Now why must Jiangcheng be defended? Because politics needs to show resolve at home and abroad."

He walked back to the desk, sat down again: "You think the Republic side is simple? That there's no internal struggle? Let me tell you why Zhang Guo fled— because he lost the fight. Everywhere is the same: where there are people, there is struggle; where there is power, there is game‑playing."

Li Nian'an recalled the earlier topic: "You just said Dai Yunong placed people in the Special Higher Police. What about us? What about us over there…"

He didn't finish, but the meaning was clear.

Li Yuxuan gave him a glance, his gaze deep: "Yes. But not many, and not deep. The Republic's organization is too tight; their Party member vetting is ten times stricter than ours. Moreover…" He paused, "They have something we lack."

"What?"

"Faith." Li Yuxuan spat the two words, his tone complex, "True faith. Not for promotion or wealth, not for glorifying one's ancestors, but a genuine belief that their doctrine can save Huaxia. Such people can't be bought with money, nor frightened into submission. So our informants can at most reach the middle layers; the core layer… we can't penetrate."

Li Nian'an recalled the Underground Party liaison "Qing Shi" he had met on the outskirts of Taierzhuang. The man wore ordinary soldier's clothes, his hands covered with thick old calluses, yet his eyes were unusually clear and resolute. When "Qing Shi" handed him the intelligence, he only said, "For the anti‑Japanese war." He asked for no reward, mentioned no conditions.

"So they can obtain genuine intelligence, whereas we…" Li Nian'an didn't finish, but the meaning was understood.

Li Yuxuan nodded, "Here, intelligence often becomes a commodity, a stepping‑stone for advancement. Why can Dai Yunong move back and forth between me and the principal? Not because of his abilities, but because he can turn intelligence into the principal's weapon, striking political enemies and consolidating power."

He opened a drawer, took out a document, and pushed it before Li Nian'an: "Take a look at this."

Li Nian'an opened the file; it was a personnel list with brief backgrounds, about twenty‑plus individuals, spread across Jiangcheng's various departments, from the Military Affairs Department to the logistics Committee, and even two in the Fifth War Zone's staff bureau.

"What is this…?"

"Possibly people infiltrated from that side," Li Yuxuan said calmly, "Or perhaps they're merely left‑leaning in thought. I had someone compile it."

Li Nian'an skimmed quickly, spotting a few names he recognized, all talented young officers. He looked up at his father: "What do you intend to do?"

"Do nothing." Li Yuxuan folded the document, returned it to the drawer, "As long as they don't jeopardize the overall anti‑Japanese war effort or leak military secrets, let them be. Even… when necessary, we can use them to convey some messages we want that side to know."

Those words left Li Nian'an utterly shocked. He stared at his father as if meeting him for the first time.

"What you're doing is…"

"This is politics," Li Yuxuan interrupted, "Politics isn't a children's game, not a brotherly camaraderie of 'you're good, I'm good.' Politics is calculation, weighing, choosing the most advantageous path among all possibilities."

He stood, walked to the bookshelf, pulled out a copy of "Zizhi Tongjian," flipped to a page: "Why could Sima Yi succeed? Not because he was the best fighter, but because he was the best at waiting— waiting for the right moment, waiting for the opponent's mistake, waiting for changes in the world, waiting until the opponent was gone."

He closed the book, returned it to the shelf, "We must also wait now. Wait for the Japanese to err, wait for international conditions to shift, wait… for the right moment to arrive."

Li Nian'an recalled the Nanyang Plan his father had mentioned before. At the time he thought it was merely his father's contingency, but now it seemed it might be the core of the Li Family's future strategy.

"The Nanyang side…" he asked tentatively.

Li Yuxuan walked back to the desk, took a map from another locked drawer. It wasn't a Huaxia map, but a detailed chart of the Nanyang archipelago, with numerous red and blue pencil markings.

"The Dutch East India Company is on the brink of collapse," Li Yuxuan pointed at Sumatra and Borneo, "The British are also in a mess in Malaya. How many Chinese are in Nanyang? Seven or eight million, always. They have money, they have assets, but lack protection, lack organization."

He looked up at his son: "If we can establish a foothold there, have our own armed forces, control some key resources… then regardless of how domestic affairs shift, the Li Family will have a place to stand."

Li Nian'an stared at the unfamiliar place names on the map: Palembang, Pontianak, Banjarmasin, Sandakan… He suddenly grasped his father's far‑sighted scheming.

"But this requires money, people, time." he said.

"I have some money," Li Yuxuan said calmly, "These years I haven't scrambled for cash like others, but I do have some savings. More importantly, I have connections in Modu and Hong Kong, which can facilitate trade. People… can be brought from the interior, or recruited locally. Time… what we lack most now is time."

He folded the map, locked it back in the drawer: "Thus, in the domestic chessboard, we must play but not wager all our chips. The Fifth Army is your foundation; lead it well, yet also know how to preserve it. The battle at Jiangcheng, I'll try to secure a relatively safe position for you, but the battlefield changes in an instant; ultimately you must rely on yourself."

Li Nian'an felt a surge of complex emotions. Shock at his father's deep scheming, a slight resistance to his own destiny being so meticulously arranged, and a heavy sense of responsibility.

"If…" he hesitated, "If in the future the Republic truly wins, and we go to Nanyang, what does that make us? Deserters? Warlords?"

Li Yuxuan looked at him, his eyes holding something indescribable: "What we're called doesn't matter; surviving does. History is written by the victors. If the Republic wins, they'll label us reactionary warlords, fleeing officials. If the Kuomintang wins, we'll be hailed as pioneers overseas, spreading national prestige. If… if one day we establish a foothold in Nanyang with enough strength, we could even be…"

He didn't finish, but Li Nian'an understood. The unfinished word was—king.

Li Yuxuan glanced at the wall clock; it was past eleven. "Tomorrow you'll set out for Jiujiang," he said, "Some things weren't meant to be said, but you're my son, so I must say them."

Li Nian'an sat up straight.

"On the battlefield, survival comes first. Don't emulate those fools who say 'die with the position.' You can retake a lost position, but a dead man leaves nothing." "Regarding the Republic, you can make contact, you can use them, but don't trust them, and don't align with them. They belong to another world, not the same path as us."

Li Nian'an listened silently, committing each point to memory. He knew these were survival rules his father had distilled from decades of bureaucratic turbulence and gunfire.

"I've memorized them all." he said.

Li Yuxuan looked at him, his eyes finally showing a father's tenderness: "Go. Rest early. Tomorrow… I won't see you off."

Li Nian'an stood, stood at attention, and gave his father a military salute. The salute honored not only his father, but a soldier about to step onto a bloody battlefield bidding farewell to his family.

He turned toward the doorway, his hand touching the doorknob, when a voice from behind his father's called out:

"Nian'an."

He turned his head.

Li Yuxuan stood in the halo of the desk lamp, his figure looking somewhat lonely: "No matter what happens, remember, you are my son, Li Yuxuan. We, the Li Family, may lose, may be defeated, but our backbone must not bend."

Li Nian'an nodded heavily, pulled open the door and walked out.

In the study, Li Yuxuan stood alone for a long time. He walked to the window, gazing at the pitch‑black night outside; the Yangtze River flowed in the distance, unseen but audible with its water sound.

He took the Pocket Watch from his pocket, opened it, and on the inner side of the cover was a tiny photograph—him, young, holding a child Li Nian'an. The photo had yellowed.

"This era..." he muttered to himself, his voice so soft that only he could hear it.