Chapter 55: Badong

In 1927 Modu, the whistle of the Huangpu Jiang sounded especially muffled in the damp cold air. Fallen phoenix tree leaves in the French Concession were lifted by the wind, spiraling and sticking to the wet asphalt. Li Yuxuan followed Jiang Ruiyuan, stepping into a brilliantly lit Western‑style mansion. The polished marble floor reflected the creases in his uniform that had not been ironed after days of travel, dazzlingly bright.

The living room was already filled with smoke. Financiers from Jiangzhe and Shanghai wore crisp suits, their cigars flickering between fingers, chatting and laughing while their eyes exchanged unspoken calculations. Jiang Ruiyuan was seated at the head seat, his smile perfectly placed, and he mingled with the crowd in official Mandarin tinged with a Fenghua accent.

Li Yuxuan slipped into the shadowed corner, his fingertips unconsciously brushing the cold leather of his gun holster. The low murmurs about "bonds" and "interest" sounded as if behind frosted glass—blurred and unsettling. The cigar smoke and an intangible aura of trade filled the air, tightening his chest. When the gathering ended, he clearly saw the cotton‑silk magnate wearing gold‑rimmed glasses shaking hands firmly with Jiang Ruiyuan; a heavy leather briefcase changed hands under their bodies, their eyes sharing a wordless understanding.

He didn't fully know the exact weight of the case, but the ominous feeling was soon confirmed by gunfire.

In January of the same year, a cold gunshot pierced the morning in Modu—Principal Jiang launched a coup, and comrades who once fought side by side instantly became souls cut down by the blade.

In February, new signs went up in Jinling City as the Jinling National Government declared its establishment. Li Yuxuan stood on the street, watching familiar faces don new official uniforms, and suddenly felt a pressure in his chest.

In April, news came from Jiangcheng that Wang Zhaoming also raised a slaughtering knife. The once‑raised banner of cooperation, the meticulous land‑reclamation, and the master who tried to mend the heavens were all reduced to powder in the blood‑soaked storm.

At that time in Jiangcheng, in a dim room, someone discussed: "Direct confrontation is unfavorable; letting the enemy slaughter us is unacceptable. Right now there is only one way—hand over the guns first and preserve strength…."

Meanwhile, at another stronghold, a fist slammed onto the table: "Old Jiang is slaughtering us, Wang Jingwei wants to join the fun, then we fight! I'll stake my life, we cannot let the flame of the Revolution be extinguished!"

Months later, in the mountains of Yuzhang, a young officer stared at the three government markers on the map, his eyes reddening as he roared: "One country, three governments! Isn't this division? Isn't it a betrayal of Mr. Sun?"

On August 1, gunfire rang from the heights of Hongdu City like the first thunder of an awakening spring, shaking the silent Good Earth.

Soon after, on the Xiang‑Gan border during the autumn harvest, more sparks were lit, stubbornly flickering in the darkness.

In Jinling, in an office adorned with lavish chandeliers, Jiang Ruiyuan stood with his back to the door, in front of a massive military map. His fingertips moved slowly and forcefully over Yuzhang and Sanxiang, a faint cold smile curling his lips.

"Mud‑legged, broken troops, and a few who wield pens," he muttered, as if to himself or to the staff officer standing behind him, "what do they have to argue with me?" He turned, his gaze sharp, "Ten years. I want to see, after ten years, whether they can stand and talk to me, or only flee overseas, scraping for survival."

He paused, his voice low yet issuing an unquestionable command: "Summon Jingxing to see me."

"Yes, Chairman."

Outside the courtyard, Li Yuxuan heard the summons, his steps faltering slightly. He gazed at the withered ginkgo in the courtyard beyond the corridor, a barely audible sigh slipping from his lips: "In the end… we've come to this point."

"You listened to me early, why did it end up like this?" Li Nian'an emerged from some corner, leaning against a corridor pillar, his youthful face bearing a sarcasm beyond his age. Having once put down roots in the river region, now he needn't watch anyone's expression here, left helpless.

Li Yuxuan shot him a sideways glance: "When the day comes that your fists can beat me, then you can brag."

The guard's voice, "Staff Officer Li," interrupted their low talk.

Speak.

Staff Officer Li, the Chairman asks you to go immediately.

Understood. Li Yuxuan straightened his cap, whispered to Li Nian'an, "Return to school, behave, don't cause trouble."

He pushed open the heavy wooden door of the office, Jiang Ruiyuan standing by the window, his hand caressing a warm jade ring. Hearing the footsteps, he didn't turn, but spoke directly: "Jingxing, prepare, go to Badong."

Li Yuxuan was startled: "Young Master?"

"Weren't you always wanting to build an arms factory?" Jiang Ruiyuan chuckled, "I approve. Go to Badong as Provincial Chairman, manage the arms factories and iron mines there, forge good steel, make fine guns for me."

Li Yuxuan's eyes lit up: "Young Master, you agree?"

"Hmm." Jiang Ruiyuan nodded, watching his eager expression, and suddenly found it somewhat amusing—getting a benefit and then playing obedient? He shifted his tone, "By the way, I see that boy Nian'an can't bear to leave Jinling, so keep him here. It happens I'm about to marry Miss Song, let him learn the ways of the court."

Li Yuxuan felt a thud in his heart, but his face did not betray it: "Yes, Young Master."

After he left, the staff officer said anxiously: "Chairman, sending Li Yuxuan to Badong—might that be improper? The mountains are high and the emperor far; if he…"

"It's fine." Jiang Ruiyuan cut him off, his tone firm. "He's just been brainwashed by those revolutionary slogans; deep down he's still the clueless youngster from Xikou who followed me. You think I called him back and he'll be different? Besides, weren't the people from that region already gone from his troops?"

The staff officer quickly echoed: "Chairman, you are wise."

"Hmm." Jiang Ruiyuan gave no direct answer, his gaze returning to Badong on the map, his fingertip lightly tapping—placing Jingxing in Badong could harness his abilities for industry, keep him farther from Jinling's vortex, and perhaps cut off some of his unrealistic ambitions. A win on multiple fronts.

On the other side, Li Nian'an stopped Li Yuxuan as he returned to his quarters, urgently asking: "What does the Principal want with you?"

"He's sending me to Badong to govern; I stay in Jinling."

"What?!" Li Nian'an nearly leapt up, "On what grounds? Badong is the foundation! Leaving me here in this damned place to learn those laborious rites—what can I possibly achieve?"

"Just because of the decades of friendship between me and him," Li Yuxuan said, looking at him with a complicated gaze. "He trusts me, but may not fully trust you. You're still young; keeping you by his side reassures him."

"He still watched me grow up!" Li Nian'an retorted, his neck stiff, his eyes involuntarily reddening, "You leave me here alone; what if… he takes me as a hostage…"

"Nonsense!" Li Yuxuan snapped, pressing a heavy hand onto his still slender shoulder, his voice low yet crystal clear: "Listen, this time I'm not just going to be an official. The arms factory, the iron mines, a reliable force—these are the very foundations for making a life in these chaotic times. I'll go lay that foundation for you. When you're older, your wings fuller, this place—" he pointed to the ground, "or perhaps a broader world—will be where you belong."

Li Nian'an turned his face away, muttering: "Looks like you haven't gone senile yet."

Li Yuxuan smiled, but a weight like a stone settled in his heart. He knew Jiang Ruiyuan kept Nian'an behind under the pretense of cultivation, but really to restrain him. And his own assignment to Badong, seemingly delegating power, was in fact a placement on a furnace—he must deliver results, cannot let the locals win over him, and must guard against ever‑looming suspicion.

But he had no other choice. At least Badong still had a clean piece of land where he could accomplish something real.

While packing, Li Nian'an slipped him a hand‑drawn arms factory blueprint: "I revised this from the Germans' notes; take it and try it out."

Li Yuxuan took the blueprint, his fingertips touching the boy's warm handwriting, and suddenly felt his nose sting with sourness.

Stay well in Jinling, don't cause me trouble.

Understood.

A few days later, as the train set off, Li Yuxuan watched the shrinking figure outside the window, silently thinking: "Kid, wait for me to return."

On the platform, Li Nian'an watched the train vanish into the distance, quietly clenching his fist. He knew this parting might be the start of two paths. The wind in Jinling was cold, but he was unafraid—one day he would make the people here know that Li Nian'an is not anyone's restraint, nor a pawn to be moved.