Chapter 29: Leaving (End)

In Duan Qirui's office, cigar smoke drifted, the cicada cries outside rose and fell, stirring a suffocating feeling in people's hearts. Li Yuxuan stood at the desk, listening to the Chief analyze the situation, his knuckles unconsciously rubbing the cuff button— a habit he developed at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs; the more uneasy he felt inside, the more he had to appear calm and untroubled.

"Jingxing, what are your plans for the future?" Duan Qirui exhaled a puff of smoke, his gaze lingering on him with a measuring tone. Once Yuan Datou leaves, the Beiyang faction may immediately split into the Wan faction and the Zhi faction; in the south, the National Protection Army and the Revolution are subtly echoing each other. Now the whole Huaxia is like a scattering of sand, and everyone wants to clench their fists.

Li Yuxuan was silent for a moment, then slowly spoke: "Chief, in my view, the most urgent matter now is to stabilize the north. Feng Guozhang is restless in Nanjing, Zhang Xun is still thinking of restoration; perhaps we should first negotiate with the Southwest side, secure the Parliament, and then consider moving south." He deliberately avoided the words "Military Unification", knowing Duan Qirui is deeply obsessed with that issue.

The two talked for a long time, from the parliamentary election to the deployment of troops in the south, from the Great Powers' attitude to the strained finances. Li Yuxuan chose his words carefully, stating his position clearly while not directly opposing Duan Qirui— the skills he honed during his two years at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs were now fully employed.

"Fine, you may go." Duan Qirui waved his hand, leaning back against the chair. The cigar rested in the ashtray, its ember flickering.

"Yes, Chief." Li Yuxuan bowed and stepped back, and as he left the Army Department, the back of his coat was already damp with sweat. He knew full well that Duan Qirui was not pleased with his "moderate" approach; the younger, vigorous members of the Wan faction had long looked down on him, privately calling him "Pro‑South" and "Spineless".

Sure enough, three days later, an order arrived at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs: to relieve Li Yuxuan of his diplomatic adviser post and transfer him to be a consultant for the Water Resources Bureau—a completely idle appointment.

"Ha, fortune and disaster go hand in hand." Li Yuxuan pinched the order, a cold smile tugging at his mouth. The bad news was that he was clearly being dismissed. The order cited the reason "being overly aggressive in dealings with friendly nations, compromising the state's dignity"— in other words, at a recent banquet he had beaten up the French diplomat who was harassing a Chinese hostess.

"What a 'overly aggressive'…" he slammed the order onto the desk, his jaw clenched to a sour ache. In his two years at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, he had had enough of the Great Powers' arrogance and his colleagues' servility; a rare moment of firmness had become the pretext for his dismissal.

But on second thought, he felt relieved— the good news was that he could finally leave Yanjing's murky waters. The factional infighting here is more dangerous than any battlefield; staying any longer would inevitably drag him into the vortex.

"This debt will have to be settled someday." he thought fiercely. When the National Government eventually makes Jinling its capital, he will have to show those who sidelined him who truly can get things done. But for now, he must first find a place to set foot.

Where to go? Return to Sanxiang? The position at the First Normal School has already been filled. Return to Xikou? His mother's letter said the "son" can already walk, brandishing a little wooden gun all day, which is reassuring, but he cannot stay in the countryside forever.

After much thought, only one destination remained. He took out his Pocket Watch, which held a letter Jiang Ruiyuan had sent early this year, its closing bearing the address of Qilu Weixian— the site of the National Protection Army's arms factory, a territory Jiang Ruiyuan covertly runs.

"Go find the Young Master." Li Yuxuan packed his luggage, feeling a pang inside, "Even though he used to constantly set me up, making me take the blame for him in Xikou, at least I know him thoroughly."

He suddenly recalled meeting Roosevelt in New York, and couldn't help mocking himself: "Back then even the future President of the United States tried to win me over, and now I have to go, disheveled, to seek an old friend— such is the world…"

He shook his head, stopped overthinking, grabbed his coat and headed out. Passing the Telegraph Bureau, he sent an urgent telegram, then found a public phone and dialed the contact point Jiang Ruiyuan had in Weixian.

"Hello?" on the other end, the background was noisy, with a faint hum of machinery.

"I, Young Master." Li Yuxuan lowered his voice.

After a brief silence, Jiang Ruiyuan's laughing voice came through: "Jingxing? What's up? I'm busy here, just received a batch of German machine tools."

"I'm coming to join you, Young Master." Li Yuxuan got straight to the point.

"Hey, between you and me, why talk about joining or not? Come straight to Shandong Weixian; I'll have the contact point give you the address. Just in time I need someone who knows armaments; the skills you learned in Germany can finally be put to use."

"Alright, Young Master." Li Yuxuan felt a surge of excitement and hung up.

On the other end of the phone

"Sir, who is it? Look how pleased you are." the Adjutant beside Jiang Ruiyuan said.

Jiang Ruiyuan patted the telegram on the desk, his eyes shining: "My brother who grew up with me since childhood is coming to Shandong." He recalled the boy in Xikou who always followed him, young yet pretended to be mature; now he was about to become a capable pillar, and a strange sense of anticipation rose in his heart.

"He's a foreign‑educated top talent, versed in military affairs and able to deal with foreigners. With him, we won't have to worry about our arms factory's technology or sales." Jiang Ruiyuan picked up a fountain pen, circled Weixian on the map, "Prepare a decent courtyard and make two new guns. When he arrives, I'll plan the next step with him."

The Adjutant stepped back on cue. Jiang Ruiyuan stared at the smokestacks of the arms factory outside the window, a smile curling his lips. In these chaotic, war‑torn times, having a trustworthy brother at your side is worth more than anything.

At this moment Li Yuxuan was already aboard the train bound for Shandong. The North China Plain rushed past the window, endless sorghum fields woven into a blue‑silk canopy. He leaned against the seat back, looking at the dismissal order in his hand, and suddenly felt a lightness throughout his body.

Leaving Yanjing is fine, sparing himself from uttering insincere diplomatic rhetoric all day. When he reaches Qilu, he can feel the cold weapons at the arms factory, visit the Training Ground to see real soldiers— perhaps that suits his temperament better.

As for future grudges and upcoming schemes, they can be set aside for now. The most urgent thing now is to find the principal and secure a foothold in this chaotic era.

The train's whistle blew as it surged toward the Qilu lands. There are people waiting for him there, unfinished business, and perhaps the path he truly ought to take.