Chapter 27: Leaving 1

New York's morning carries the salty, damp breath of the Atlantic Ocean, the cool sea wind slipping through the gaps between skyscrapers, gently brushing the newspaper boy at the corner and the early‑shift workers. The thin dawn mist has not fully dispersed, intertwining with the coal smoke rising from distant factory chimneys, casting a hazy veil over this city as it awakens. Li Yuxuan stands before the floor‑to‑ceiling window of his twelfth‑floor room in the Waldorf Hotel, looking down at the incessantly shuttling carriages and the occasional passing Ford T‑type car on the street below. He grips a still‑wet Arms List in his hand, his knuckles whitening from the pressure.

After a full week of arduous negotiations, he finally purchased complete production blueprints for three Maxim Heavy Machine Guns from three arms firms, and also ordered twelve mm Field Cannons. Although American merchants hiked the price to nearly double the normal market rate, given the urgent domestic need he could only grit his teeth and accept. This deal almost exhausted all the funds he had brought, leaving even the return Ship Ticket to be the cheapest third‑class cabin.

Dong dong dong, three restrained knocks sounded at the door.

"Please, come in." Li Yuxuan carefully folds the list and slips it into his inner pocket.

The door is gently pushed open, and Luosi Fu, dressed in a sharply tailored gray striped suit, enters holding a gilt‑edged folder. A customary gentle smile rests on his face, yet a faint, barely perceptible regret hides in his eyes. "Li, I hope I haven't disturbed you while you were packing."

"Mr. Luosi Fu?" Li Yuxuan is indeed a bit surprised; this son of a New York State Senator, who is usually swamped with affairs, has personally come to see him off. "How did you find the time to come?"

"I'm here to see off a respected friend." Luosi Fu walks up to him, solemnly handing over the folder. "This is a special Appointment Letter I prepared for you—Major Advisor of the New York State National Guard, with an annual salary of five thousand dollars, ten times what you earn in the Huaxia Army. Moreover, you will enjoy all the privileges of U. S. citizenship, including a residence on Long Island."

Li Yuxuan gazes at the gleaming state‑government seal on the folder, understanding everything. These past days, Roosevelt had hinted during dinner that he hoped Li would stay in the United States, but he never expected such a formal invitation at the moment of parting.

"Li, haven't you reconsidered?" Roosevelt's tone carries sincere earnestness. "As far as I know, you have not been given due recognition in your homeland—graduating with top marks from the Berlin Military Academy, yet only assigned to teach gymnastics at a normal school in Sanxiang, and now sent on this errand of procurement. This is far beneath someone of your talent."

He steps forward, pointing at the rows upon rows of skyscrapers outside the window: "In the United States, you can access the world's most advanced military technology, command a modern army, and receive the respect and status you deserve. Your homeland is struggling in a quagmire, while staying here you will see a broader world."

Li Yuxuan lightly runs his fingers along the edge of the folder, his gaze drifting to the towering Woolworth Building outside the window, now the world's tallest structure, symbolizing the nation's vigorous vitality. Yet his eyes remain clear; he slowly closes the folder and pushes it back into Luosi Fu's hand.

"Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Luosi Fu." His voice is not loud, but each word is clear, "but I must return to my country."

He pauses, then continues: "You are right; my homeland is in peril. The Great Powers loom, the populace suffers, internal warlords clash, and external foes covet us. Precisely because of this, I cannot leave at this time." His tone carries a hint of emotion, like a sick mother—though impoverished and ill, a son should stay by her side rather than seek comfort elsewhere.

Luosi Fu's fingers tighten slightly around the folder, the blue veins on the back of his hand faintly visible. The smile on his face softens, but a few genuine respects appear: "You really… still won't reconsider? America can give you far more than this."

"No." Li Yuxuan shakes his head, turns to the coat rack and takes the already packed suitcase. "The weapons and blueprints I purchased will be loaded onto a ship at Brooklyn Pier the day after tomorrow, and I will return home with that ship. The students of Sanxiang First Normal School are still waiting for me to teach gymnastics, and the mother and children at Xikou also look forward to my return."

Luosi Fu falls silent for a moment, slowly retrieves the folder, and sighs lightly: "Very well, Li. I respect your choice."

He walks to the window, watching the traffic of cargo ships weaving across the East River: "Actually I understand your feelings. As my father often says, no matter how splendid New York's bustle is, it can't compare to the lawn of the old Haide Park residence."

"If you change your mind, at any time, the doors of the United States will remain open for you." He turns, pulls a business card from his suit pocket; it bears my private telephone number, and as long as you call, I will arrange everything immediately.

"Thank you for your understanding, Mr. Luosi Fu." Li Yuxuan takes the card, shakes hands firmly with him, "Then, let us part here."

"Goodbye, Li." Luosi Fu's gaze lingers on his face for a long while, as if trying to imprint this young man from the East deep into his memory.

Li Yuxuan lifts the slightly aged leather suitcase, turns and walks out of the room. Sunlight streams through the arched windows of the hallway, gilding his silhouette with a golden rim and casting a long shadow. He does not look back; his steps are steady and resolute—he knows clearly that behind him, the United States offers a flourishing future, but ahead lies his homeland, where the responsibilities he must bear await.

Luosi Fu remains by the window, watching Li Yuxuan's figure exit the hotel's revolving door, board a rickshaw waiting on the street, and gradually disappear into the traffic of Fifth Avenue. Only when the figure is completely out of sight does he slowly turn around.

The attendant John can't help but mutter lowly: "Young master, why is this man so ungrateful? Is that poor, remote corner of Huaxia any better than the United States? He abandons a bright road to return to that quagmire—does he merit your effort?"

Luosi Fu does not answer immediately; his slender fingers rhythmically tap the marble windowsill, his gaze deep. After a while, he speaks, his voice bearing an unquestionable certainty: "No, after these days of conversation, I am even more convinced that he belongs with me, not with that impoverished and weak Huaxia."

"Look at his eyes when he discusses military strategy, see how he analyzes world affairs with such logic, even his judgments on America's future—those insights even our Parliament's senators might lack. A hint of complex smile curls at the corner of his mouth; his foresight and world understanding constantly astonish me. Such talent should not be buried in Huaxia's wars."

John pauses: "But didn't he say he'd die before going back?"

"Now is now, and the future is the future." Luosi Fu walks to the mahogany desk, pulls open a drawer, and gently places the returned Appointment Letter inside. The European war has just begun, and once this battle ends, the whole world order will shift, and China's situation will change as well. By then......

He pauses, his tone becoming resolute: "We must find a way to bring him over through official channels. We can use the pretext of a military cooperation project, a technical exchange excuse, or even negotiate with their government—any cost to bring him to the United States is worth it."

"Such talent, left in Huaxia, is truly a waste. Only by my side can his abilities be fully utilized." A glint of determined light flashes in Luosi Fu's eyes; he is like an uncut jade, regrettably buried in the wrong place.

"Yes, young master." John bows and replies, still puzzled but daring not to question his master's judgment.

Luosi Fu smooths his suit jacket, his face regaining its customary gentle expression: "Let's go. We should meet that Senator now. Though we couldn't keep Li, at least today's sunshine is still nice, isn't it?"

John follows behind his master, watching Luosi Fu's upright silhouette.

Meanwhile, seated in the rickshaw, Li Yuxuan carefully checks the Ship Ticket and cargo documents in his hand. He plans to first arrive in Shanghai, hand the weapons list to Jiang Ruiyuan waiting there, who will try to intercept part of it and ship it back to Hunan. He himself will detour to Xikou to see that special—calculating the days, the little fellow should already have grown teeth.

Outside the carriage, New York's streets rush past. Li Yuxuan watches the blond‑haired, blue‑eyed pedestrians, the huge Coca‑Cola billboard, the passing streetcar, and a strong sense of belonging wells up inside him. The United States may be wonderful, but it is still a foreign land; Huaxia may be hard, yet it is the soil that raised him.

Just as he told Luosi Fu, a mother who is ill—being a son, how can one not return home? I have crossed this era; if I were as numb as others, wouldn't I have crossed in vain?

The rickshaw turns the last corner, and the massive suspension bridge of Brooklyn Pier looms into view. The salty sea wind slaps his face, mingling with the scent of coal and cargo. Li Yuxuan takes a deep breath, as if already smelling the misty vapor of the Xiang River, hearing Xikou mother's earnest call.