Chapter 200: Prologue 3

At the same time, at the Taiwan Kaohsiung Fortress Command. The battalion commander stood before the battle map, but his gaze did not focus on the map. Director of the Aide Office Yu Jishi hurried in, holding a telegram.

"Battalion commander, a telegram from Zhejiang… Jing Gong, captured."

The battalion commander's body swayed slightly, but he did not turn. He remained silent for a long time, long enough that Yu Jishi thought he hadn't heard.

"Where was he captured?" The voice was terrifyingly calm.

"Xikou, your old residence. According to reports, he voluntarily stayed, offered no resistance. Most of his subordinates laid down their weapons."

"Voluntarily stayed…" The battalion commander repeated the four words, then suddenly seized the inkstone on the table and slammed it to the floor! Ink splattered everywhere, like spattered blood.

"Foolish! Stupid! I sent him to Taiwan, and he insisted on staying! Now look, he's become a Sect captive! He'll face a public trial! He'll face execution by firing squad!"

Yu Jishi lowered his head, not daring to speak.

The battalion commander panted heavily, pacing back and forth in the room. After a while, he stopped, his voice dropping: "Is there any chance… rescue?"

Yu Jishi gave a wry smile: "Battalion commander, Xikou has been completely liberated. Our men… can't get in."

"Send aircraft! Airborne operatives!"

"Battalion commander, this… is too risky. Moreover, since Jing Gong chose to stay, he probably won't consent to a rescue."

The battalion commander sagged and sat down heavily. At that moment, the sixty‑two‑year‑old old man looked exceedingly frail. He recalled many years ago, at his old home in Fenghua, a four‑year‑old Li Yuxuan trailing behind him, squeaking "Young Master". He was seven then, about to go to Private School.

"Young master, are you setting out on a long journey?"

"No, to study."

"Then I'll grind ink for you; take extra ink for writing."

Later, he and Li Yuxuan went to study together, then to Japan for further study. Afterwards, Li Yuxuan became his able aide, one of the people he trusted most. Decades of storms wove together a tangled web of master‑servant, brotherly, hierarchical… relationships.

"I was wrong," the battalion commander said suddenly.

Yu Jishi was startled.

"I shouldn't have sent him to Southeast," the battalion commander closed his eyes, "I clearly knew… he had old ties with the Sect, the people were his students, … I clearly knew he was hesitant about the civil war… yet I still sent him, because I believed he had been loyal to my family for generations, and wouldn't betray."

He opened his eyes, his gaze vacant: "But I forgot, people have conscience besides loyalty. Over the years he watched the people suffer, watched the nation crumble… his conscience is uneasy."

"Battalion commander, it's not your fault…"

"Blame me!" The battalion commander snapped his eyes open, "If I had let him come to Taiwan earlier, this wouldn't have happened! Now he's a captive; how will the Sect treat him? Public trial? Execution? Or life imprisonment? He's fifty‑nine this year… has followed me for fifty‑nine years…"

His voice choked.

Yu Jishi had never seen the battalion commander so emotionally exposed. He silently handed over a handkerchief.

The battalion commander didn't take it, merely murmuring: "Jingxing, Jingxing… you chose the hardest road."

Outside Xikou Town, the Temporary Command Post.

Third Yejun Seventh Corps Commander Wang Jian'an stared at the freshly delivered report, his brows knit. Political Commissar Tan Zhenlin sat opposite, smoking.

"Li Yuxuan has been detained, his attitude is cooperative," Wang Jian'an said, "Now we request instructions on how to handle him?"

Tan Zhenlin exhaled a puff of smoke: "The Central command has issued directives; for former Kuomintang senior generals, especially those with Anti‑Japanese Merit, they must be treated differently. Li Yuxuan's case is rather special…"

"Is his hand stained with our blood?" Wang Jian'an asked.

"We checked: after the civil war broke out in 1946, his Third War Zone was mainly stationed along the Southeast Coast, seeing little direct combat with our forces. In the 1947 Laiwu Campaign, his troops did not fight; in the 1948 Huaihai Campaign, he was transferred to Xuzhou, but soon returned to Southeast. It can be said that during the civil war… he was not active."

"But he was the Kuomintang Southeast military‑political chief; the position itself is culpable."

"So it's difficult," Tan Zhenlin pinched out the cigarette, "According to policy, he should be counted as a war criminal. But out of humanity… officials like Chen Geng and Lin Husan called specifically, saying Li Yuxuan was their teacher at Huangpu, upright and with Anti‑Japanese Merit, hoping for leniency. The People's Chairman and Vice Chairman Zhou also instructed that he be properly settled."

Wang Jian'an thought for a moment: "First send him to Jinling, let Yejun headquarters decide. Ensure his safety on the road; nothing must go wrong."

"There's another issue," Tan Zhenlin said, "His son Li Nian'an went to Nanyang in January 1949, now has raised an armed force in Borneo, controlling a territory. We have intel that Li Nian'an sent people back, trying to bring his father to Nanyang, but Li Yuxuan refused."

"Why refuse?"

"Don't know. Perhaps… he feels guilty toward this land."

The two were silent for a while. Outside the window came the soldiers' song, "Three Major Disciplines and Eight Points of Attention."

"Sometimes I think," Wang Jian'an said suddenly, "These Kuomintang generals, if born in peaceful times, might all be talents. Li Yuxuan studied in Japan and Germany, understood military affairs, could lead troops, fought many tough battles during the Anti‑Japanese war. Unfortunately, he chose the wrong side."

Tan Zhenlin nodded: "That's why the Central wants to 'provide a way.' Where possible, strive; where possible, reform. The construction of New Huaxia needs talent from all fields."

"The fear is he's too old; reform may not work."

"Still, we must try. This is the intention of the People's Chairman and Vice Chairman Zhou."

The escort convoy set out at dawn. Li Yuxuan sat in an American‑made Jeep, a young soldier on each side. As the vehicle left the town, he glanced back at the old residence receding into the distance.

There lay his childhood memories, his yearning when he left home to study, his solace each time he returned. Now, perhaps he will never go back.

The vehicle traveled along the road, beside May‑green rice fields where farmers toiled; when they saw the military vehicle pass, some looked up, others kept bending to transplant seedlings. The war was over, life must go on.

Li Yuxuan brushed his hand over the letter inside his inner bag. The feel of the paper transmitted through the fabric to his fingertips.

"We, who owe you the gratitude of your teachings, cannot bear to see you become a historic criminal; therefore we jointly weep and urge: put the nation's great cause first, the Southeast people above all, decide swiftly, abandon darkness for light!"

He recalled a letter his son had sent a month ago from Nanyang. Li Nian'an wrote in the letter:

"Father, the situation here in Nanyang is stabilizing. The British‑Dutch colonial forces are weakening, and the local tribal king is willing to cooperate. We now control thirty thousand square kilometers, have two deep‑water ports, rubber plantations and tin mines in production. If you wish, I can send a ship to fetch you. This place needs an elder like you to sit in authority."

He replied with a refusal. The letter said:

"Nian'an, my son: you are now an adult, capable of handling matters on your own, which comforts your father. As for the affairs in the South, decide for yourself; do not think of me. I was born and raised here, and during the war I swore to live and die with the motherland. Though now the situation is beyond remedy, I still cannot abandon my native land. You should cherish yourself; if you can carve out a realm for overseas Chinese, that too is a merit. Do not worry."

Now, he is being escorted to Jinling, his future uncertain. He may be tried, may be imprisoned, perhaps even… but he does not regret.

When the vehicle rounded a mountain road bend, he saw distant ridges undulating, shrouded in mist. These mountains and rivers he has loved all his life, and guarded all his life—in his own way.

"Chief, would you like some water?" the young soldier beside him handed over a military water flask.

Li Yuxuan was startled for a moment, took the flask: "Thank you."

"You're welcome," the soldier smiled, showing two tiger teeth, "The commander ordered us to take good care of you."

Li Yuxuan took a sip; the clear water went down his throat, sweet. He suddenly recalled many years ago at Huangpu Military Academy, when he had handed water to his students the same way. Back then they trained together, sweated together, and talked openly about the ideal of saving the nation.

Among those students, some became generals of the Sect, some became backbone members of the Kuomintang, some perished in the Anti‑Japanese war, some died in the civil war… and he himself had arrived at this point.

The car continued onward, heading for Jinling, heading for an unknown destiny. Outside the window, the 1949 China The Good Earth was ushering in a new era.