Chapter 38: The Era That Belongs to Me Is About to Arrive

A few months later, Li Yuxuan returned from Xikou to Yangcheng. He had originally planned to go straight back to Yangcheng with his belongings, but midway he suddenly received a letter from his mother, asking Li Yuxuan to return to Xikou for a visit. At the time he thought it must be something important, but it turned out to be that the principal missed him and wouldn't lose face, so he asked Li Yuxuan's mother to come and persuade him.

In Yangcheng, 1922, the kapok flowers fell to the ground, covering it like a layer of rouge. Li Yuxuan stood outside the gate of the Yue Jun garrison, watching a familiar figure in a military uniform stride toward him; the uniform's cuffs were frayed, yet still crisp— it was Jiang Ruiyuan.

"Jingxing, you're back!" Jiang Ruiyuan's face bore a genuine smile; he reached out and patted his shoulder, the force a bit heavier than before. "I figured you should have arrived; yesterday they just cleared out the courtyard where you were staying."

"Young Master, I'm back." Li Yuxuan looked at the red veins in his eyes, knowing that this year had not been easy for him—he had heard that last year Chen Jiongming rebelled, bombarded the President's Office, and Jiang Ruiyuan almost didn't escape Guangzhou Cheng with Sun Xiansheng.

"It's good that you're back, it's good that you're back," Jiang Ruiyuan repeated twice, pulling him inside. "You must be exhausted from the road? I've had the mess hall simmer a chicken soup; it's waiting for you."

As they passed the training ground, Li Yuxuan caught sight of the soldiers' rifles, now a new model, and, feeling a stir, asked casually, "By the way, what about those old brothers of ours in Modu?"

"Oh, I have them stationed in the barracks outside the city," Jiang Ruiyuan kept moving, his tone a bit proud. "But rest assured, I haven't lacked them for food, clothing, or supplies. And didn't you suggest I purchase German equipment last time? It's already been bought back; they're all the latest Mauser Rifles, far superior to what the Yue Jun troops have."

Li Yuxuan felt a warmth inside. Before he left years ago, he had told Jiang Ruiyuan that "German equipment is smoother to train with," and hadn't expected the other to take it to heart. "Alright, thank you, Young Master."

"Do we still need to say thank you between us?" Jiang Ruiyuan turned and glared at him, but his tone softened. "I am your Young Master for a day, and will be your Young Master for life; how could I forget you? Back in Xikou, if you hadn't taken the blame for me, my mother would have broken my leg long ago."

Li Yuxuan smiled. Those youthful embarrassments now seemed like medals. He followed Jiang Ruiyuan into the barracks, gazing at the steaming chicken soup on the table, and suddenly felt that, no matter how muddled he was in the stock market, his deep sense of loyalty and righteousness remained unchanged.

In the days that followed, Li Yuxuan threw himself back into military duties. He noticed Jiang Ruiyuan had changed a lot—no longer staring at stock quotes all day, but focusing on training troops, even poring over the drill manuals he had brought back from Germany, word by word.

"Jingxing, how should we practice this 'Step Cannon Coordination' properly?"

"Jingxing, how do the German armies handle ideological and political work?"

Seeing him frown while holding the book, Li Yuxuan suddenly understood that last year's rebellion and stock market loss had indeed taught him a lesson.

Time flew, and before long it was July 31, 1923. That early morning, Jiang Ruiyuan deliberately changed into a newly tailored Zhongshan suit, examined himself in the mirror from side to side, and even brought Li Yuxuan in as his aide.

"Jingxing, how does this outfit look on me?" He spun around, the collar fastened with meticulous precision.

Li Yuxuan examined him: "Fine, Young Master, it's just a trip to the Soviet Union with Sun Xiansheng, not a banquet."

"Different, different," Jiang Ruiyuan said seriously, his fingers rubbing the buttons on the lapel. "Jingxing, this trip to the Soviet Union holds a different significance for me."

He looked at the soldiers training outside the window, his tone deepening: "Sun Xiansheng said the Soviet Union truly wants to help our revolution. They're willing to send us weapons, dispatch advisors, and even help us build a Military Academy. I have to go and see how they actually conduct a revolution."

Li Yuxuan said no more. He knew Jiang Ruiyuan's ambition—to use Soviet support to build a truly his own army, no longer subject to local warlords.

A few days later, Moscow's Hong Chang welcomed this group of guests from Huaxia. Jiang Ruiyuan stood before Kelimulin Gong, watching workers and peasants marching with red flags across the square, his eyes full of wonder.

"Jingxing, what do you think of Moscow?" he asked.

"It's okay." Li Yuxuan looked at the simple yet tidy streets, recalling Berlin's splendor and New York's bustle; everything here exuded a raw, sturdy strength.

Jiang Ruiyuan shook his head, murmuring, "That's not right; this Soviet Union is actually a regime founded by workers and peasants." His tone carried a hint of undisguised contempt, as if thinking "mud‑legged people in power" was unbelievable.

Li Yuxuan rolled his eyes inward: "No, you damn it, you look down on it? Later you'll be beaten by such a regime, clutching your head and fleeing."

Later, when he happened upon Jiang Ruiyuan's diary, his anger flared—inside was written, "The Russians are vulgar, governing with workers and peasants; it will be hard for them to endure. Their markets are far less tidy than those of Europe and America—laughable."

"I can only say, as expected of you, Principal," Li Yuxuan muttered inwardly, "You look down on them, fine, but you also write a diary ridiculing them. When they later help you build the Huangpu Military Academy, see if you can still laugh."

After spending a few months in the Soviet Union, Jiang Ruiyuan returned home with his head full of 'army‑building plans,' while Li Yuxuan used the time to consult Soviet advisors on many military training questions, and also obtained numerous Red Army drill manuals.

Time quickly arrived at January 19, 1924. The night in Yangcheng was a bit cool; Li Yuxuan sat outside the Kuomintang First Congress venue, his fingers nervously tapping his knee.

"Sigh, tomorrow is the first national Kuomintang Representative Conference," he inhaled deeply, feeling a bit nervous, "I'm also a bit excited; it's my first time participating in such an important meeting."

He thought it was still unbelievable—he, an ordinary person from the future, could actually witness the start of KMT‑CCP Cooperation, and share a room with Sun Xiansheng, Mr. Li, those figures from history books.

"No, I can't get too excited," he patted his face, trying to calm himself, "You've already met German rulers, a future United States President, plus the founding father; you can't show weakness."

From the venue came the representatives' discussion, faintly hearing the words 'alliance with Russia, alliance with the Communist Party, aid to Workers and Peasants.' Li Yuxuan looked at the flickering lights inside the window, suddenly feeling that the previous confusion and frustration had vanished.

Regardless of whether the great‑power plan includes Huaxia, regardless of how many obstacles lie ahead, at least now a group of people are working for the country's future. And he, being part of it, watching the blueprint of the Huangpu Military Academy become reality, accompanying this sometimes muddled, sometimes clear Young Master along this thorny road, perhaps that is the meaning of his time‑travel.

The night wind brushed by, carrying the distant sound of a camp horn. Li Yuxuan stood, straightened his collar, and walked toward the venue.