Chapter 195: Meeting 2

In the end, the debate yielded no result. The battalion commander did not make a decision on the spot, but announced a recess, to continue discussing other defense deployments in the afternoon. Yet everyone knew that once the option of breaching the dike was formally put on the table, it already signaled a leaning at the highest level.

During the noon recess, Li Yuxuan stood alone by the corridor window, watching the stifling streets of Jiangcheng outside. He Yingqin walked over and stood beside him.

"Lord Jing, why must you be so agitated?" He Yingqin's voice gave no hint of emotion. "The battalion commander is also forced. The pressure on the northern front is too great; Jiangcheng's defenses still need time."

Li Yuxuan did not turn his head: "Brother Jingzhi, you also support breaching the dike?"

He Yingqin was silent for a moment: "When two evils contend, choose the lesser. You are a commander; you should understand this principle."

"I understand," Li Yuxuan said, "but some harms cannot be chosen. If public sentiment is lost, it is scarier than losing ten Jiangchengs."

"Public sentiment?" He Yingqin chuckled lightly, a hint of sarcasm in the laugh. "Lord Jing, you are too naive. What do the common folk understand? Flood their fields today, give them some relief grain tomorrow, and they'll be grateful. The crucial thing is to win this war and preserve the regime. As long as the regime exists, everything exists. If the regime falls, any talk of public sentiment is empty."

Li Yuxuan snapped his head to look at him. He Yingqin's expression was calm, but his eyes were as cold as winter river water.

"So," Li Yuxuan said word for word, "in your eyes, the people are merely chess pieces? Pieces that can be sacrificed at will?"

"Not chess pieces," He Yingqin corrected him, "but a price. War always demands a price. The difference lies in who pays it."

He finished speaking, turned, and left, leaving Li Yuxuan standing alone by the window.

The afternoon meeting discussed other defenses. The Fifth and Ninth War Zones reported on the deployment along Poyang Lake and the Dabie Mountains, and the River Defense Force reported on the reinforcement progress of the Madang and Hukou fortresses. Yet Li Yuxuan listened to these discussions absentmindedly.

At the end of the meeting, the battalion commander gave a summary deployment: "First, the Henan East forces shall, from today, relocate to Yuxi, relying on the mountains for step‑by‑step resistance. Second, the matter of breaching the Yellow River dike shall be handled by the First War Zone, which will survey sites, draft a plan, and submit it to the Military Commission for approval. Third, the Fifth and Ninth War Zones shall intensify their deployments, and the River Defense Force must ensure the Madang and Hukou fortresses are flawless. Fourth, each war zone shall strengthen civilian evacuation preparations, especially in cities along the river."

But once the Yellow River breaches, the flood will surge down. Will the farmers who have lived for generations in the Yellow River Floodplain, the peasants who rely on the land, have time to evacuate? Even if people escape, what about their houses, fields, grain, livestock?

After the meeting adjourned, Li Yuxuan was the last to leave the conference room. At the doorway, the battalion commander called out to him.

"Jingxing, stay a moment."

Only the two of them remained in the conference room. The battalion commander gestured for Li Yuxuan to sit, and offered Jingxing a cigarette. He had quit smoking long ago.

"Jingxing, what you said today was too heavy," the battalion commander began, his voice weary.

"Young Master, I…"

"I know you act for the people, for public sentiment," the battalion commander cut him off, "I have thought about all that. But have you considered what would happen if Jiangcheng falls?"

He stood up and walked to the map: "If Jiangcheng is lost, Yangtze River shipping is cut off, and Sichuan's link to the Southeast Coast is severed at the waist. How long can we hold out in Shancheng? How will international aid arrive? How will morale be maintained? Have you thought about any of these?"

Li Yuxuan was silent.

"It's not that I don't feel for the people," the battalion commander's voice lowered, "but sitting in this position sometimes requires the most brutal choices. Sacrificing a few million in Henan East today is to preserve several tens of millions behind us, to keep the flame of resistance alive. I have to settle this account."

He looked at Li Yuxuan, his gaze bearing a rare candor: "Jingxing, you have followed me for so many years; you should know what kind of person I am. I am not a blood‑thirsty man. But this time… I have no choice."

Li Yuxuan lifted his head, looking at the man he had followed for nearly fifty years. From page‑boy to General Officer, from youth to middle age, he had seen the battalion commander's vigor, his hesitation, his cold decisions, but had rarely seen him so bluntly admit his helplessness.

"Young Master," Li Yuxuan's voice was hoarse, "is there really no other way regarding the breaching of the dike? We could set up layered defenses in Henan East, we could redeploy my forces stationed in the Southwest, we could …"

"It's too late," the battalion commander shook his head, "the Japanese Mechanized Forces are advancing too fast. We have been fighting in Henan East for two months; the troops are exhausted, casualties are heavy. If we keep fighting, we'll either be annihilated or routed. By then, even step‑by‑step resistance will be impossible."

He returned to his seat: "I have already decided on this matter. I heard your dissenting opinion, and I have noted it. But the decision will not change."

Li Yuxuan knew that, at this stage, nothing could be undone.

"Then… regarding the location and timing of the breach, can we at least choose options that minimize impact on the people?" he made a final effort.

"That's natural," the battalion commander nodded, "the Staff Headquarters will study it carefully. We'll try to select sections where Japanese forces are dense but our troops and civilians are relatively sparse. Evacuation work will also be carried out."

But both knew these were merely comforting words. Once the Yellow River breaches, the flood will not discriminate, it will not distinguish between Japanese troops and civilians.

"Furthermore," the battalion commander said, looking at him, "this matter ends here. The breach plan and timing are top‑secret. Before implementation, no one may be told, including your subordinates, including… Xuewen."

Li Yuxuan felt a chill in his heart. He knew this was both a warning and a protection—warning him not to cause further complications, protecting him from trouble for opposing the decision.

"Understood." he said softly.

"Go then," the battalion commander waved his hand, "the Third War Zone's defenses still require your attention. The downstream Yangtze River line must not falter."

Li Yuxuan rose, saluted, and turned to leave. As he reached the doorway, he heard the battalion commander's voice from behind, very light, as if muttering to himself:

"How future generations will judge today's decision… I don't know."

Leaving the camp, Li Yuxuan did not take a vehicle but walked back to Li Mansion. The June streets of Jiangcheng were oppressively hot, yet his heart felt icy.

Passing a tea stall, he heard a few townspeople chatting:

"Did you hear? The north is fighting fiercely; the devils are approaching Kaifeng soon!"

"Sigh, when will this war ever end…?"

"Better than being a conquered slave! Didn't Taierzhuang win? We can hold Jiangcheng too!"

In the townspeople's tone were worry and fatigue, but more so trust in the government and perseverance in the resistance. They believed the army could protect them, that the government could lead them to victory in this war.

Li Yuxuan quickened his pace, almost jogging back to the mansion. He shut the door, leaned against the panel, and remained motionless for a long while.

Zhou Weian heard the sound and came out, his face startled at Li Yuxuan's pallor: "Lord Jing, what is this…?"

"It's nothing," Li Yuxuan waved his hand, "bring me a glass of water."

He sat in the living room, a glass of cold water down his throat, and felt a little relief. Zhou Weian asked cautiously, "Lord Jing, today's meeting…"

"Don't ask what shouldn't be asked." Li Yuxuan cut him off, though his tone wasn't harsh.

Zhou Weian understood, said no more, and silently stepped back.

Li Yuxuan sat alone in the dim living room. Outside, night fell over Jiangcheng, and in the distance a faint river‑wheel whistle could be heard. The city's lights came on one after another; people continued their normal lives—working, eating, sleeping. They did not know that, hundreds of kilometers away by the Yellow River, a decision that would alter the fate of millions had already been made.

He thought of his son, Li Nian'an. At this moment, Li Nian'an should be deploying around Jiujiang, leading the Fifth Army to dig trenches, build fortifications, and prepare for the imminent great battle. The young man still believed in a soldier's honor, in the ideal of defending the homeland.

Li Yuxuan suddenly felt a pang of heartache. He did not want his son to know this, did not want that still‑blood‑filled young man to see this cruel truth—sometimes, to protect a nation, one must first destroy part of its people.

It was late at night. Li Yuxuan went to his study, spread out stationery, intending to write his son a letter. Yet he lifted the pen and set it down repeatedly, and in the end never wrote a word.

What to write? Tell him of his father's powerlessness? Tell him of this regime's cruelty? Or tell him that sometimes ideals are no match for reality?

In the end, he wrote only one line:

"Nian'an, my son: the battlefield is perilous, take care above all. Father."

He placed the letter in an envelope and called Zhou Weian: "Tomorrow, send someone to deliver it to the Fifth Army headquarters in Jiujiang."

"Understood."

Zhou Weian took the letter, hesitated a moment, then asked, "Lord Jing, you look unwell; shall we call a doctor?"

Li Yuxuan shook his head: "No need. You go down."

After Zhou Wei stepped back, Li Yuxuan walked to the window. In the night, the Yangtze River showed no visible rushing water, only a faint sound of water could be heard.

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