Chapter 64: The Fifth Army's Preparations 1

In the temporary residence in Jinling, on the blue‑stone floor of the main hall, Li Yuxuan's military boots struck a steady rhythm, mirrored by the swaying lanterns in the corridor, casting his shadow on the wall in flickering light and dark. He paced back and forth with his hands behind his back, a restless excitement hidden in his brows.

"What kind of circle are you turning?" Li Nian'an looked up from the pile of books, rubbed his sore neck, placed the copy of The Art of War on the desk, and said, "Now you never give me a break; I can't even read my books."

Li Yuxuan stopped at the sound, turned to face his son, a searing light flashing in his eyes: "You don't understand, the weight of the Newly Organized Fifth Army is enough to move any soldier's heart." He raised his hand in a vague grasp, as if already clutching ten thousand troops—five divisions, each with six regiments—such a structure and manpower, if honed properly, will become a blade that sweeps the battlefield in the future.

"And then?" Li Nian'an raised an eyebrow, her tone tinged with skepticism, "Can you really forge an elite force? Don't end up with just an empty shell. Besides, the air force hasn't been secured yet; what good is relying solely on the Army? The foreigners are already flying planes and dropping bombs."

The words fell like cold water, yet they did not douse Li Yuxuan's enthusiasm; instead his eyes shone brighter: "You're right, we need to buy aircraft, acquire ships, and build our own Marine Corps." He slapped his hands together sharply, then looked at Li Nian'an, a mysterious smile curling his lips, "Kid, today I'll let you see the connections I've amassed over the years."

"What connections?" Li Nian'an scoffed, "Weren't they just a few classmates from the Berlin Military Academy back then? After all these years, who can still remember you?"

"Ha, who says I only know German friends?" Li Yuxuan walked to the desk, spread out a sheet of paper, and took up a steel pen, "I also have contacts in the United States. Back then I went to Washington for a military exchange, drank with people from the Army Department; I can't call it a close friendship, but there is a thin acquaintance."

The pen tip hovered over the paper, and he suddenly looked up: "By the way, the principal wants to give you a courtesy name, calling it Xuewen."

"Xuewen?" Li Nian'an frowned, her face full of disdain, "Why not call it Xuewu? I practice boxing and shooting every day; what literature should I study? It sounds like a sour scholar."

"The principal says your military strategy is sufficient; what you lack is political insight," Li Yuxuan dipped his brush in ink, his tone deepening, "In chaotic times, merely knowing how to fight isn't enough; you must understand public sentiment, know how to balance power, or you'll eventually fall. The two characters Xuewen are meant to encourage you to read more, to discern when to advance or retreat, and to know what to take or leave."

"On what grounds can others decide my name and my courtesy name?" Li Nian'an sulked, lowering her head, her fingers picking at the corner of the page, "From childhood to now, no one ever asked if I was willing."

"Don't like it?" Li Yuxuan set down the pen, walked to his side, his tone amused, "Nian'an, your grandmother hopes for your lifelong peace. Xuewen, the principal hopes you become open‑minded and magnanimous; both are well‑meaning."

"Both Nian'an and Xuewen sound soft," Li Nian'an pouted, "I'd rather be called Tieniu; it sounds powerful."

"Hahaha!" Li Yuxuan laughed at him, raised his hand to ruffle his hair, "When you grow up to be a big shot, you can choose a thunderous name yourself; no one will stop you. For now, endure a bit of grievance."

He turned back to the desk, spread the letter paper flat, the pen tip touched down, the rustle sounding especially clear in the silent night. "I'm going to write a letter," he said without looking up.

"Write to whom?" Li Nian'an leaned in curiously, but Li Yuxuan gently blocked her with his elbow.

"Confidential," Li Yuxuan smiled mysteriously, German letters flowing smoothly from his pen.

Li Nian'an pursed her lips, did not step forward, and simply sat beside him, watching her father's focused profile. In the dim yellow light, his eye wrinkles had deepened, a few strands of white hair had appeared at his temples, yet the hand holding the pen remained as steady as a rock, unlike hers, which trembled after writing just two characters.

After finishing a letter, he blew dry the ink, folded it neatly and sealed it; then he took up another sheet of paper, this time in English, the handwriting still vigorous and forceful. "This person, some call him a demon, others say he is Germany's sole savior," he suddenly let out a light laugh.

Li Nian'an's heart fluttered: "Are you talking about Little Beard?" She had seen that name in the foreign newspaper her father brought back; the man in the photo had sharp eyes and a small tuft of beard, but who called him a demon?

Li Yuxuan neither confirmed nor denied, continued writing: "Our Fifth Army's air, land, and naval supplies, as well as the German-Equipped Army's instructors, will have to rely on him." He looked up at his son, "You know the strength of German arms industry; the Mauser Rifle, the Krupp cannon, are hard currency. As long as he loosens his mouth, our Fifth Army can acquire the best equipment."

"But he has nothing to do with us," Li Nian'an said, puzzled, "The newspaper says he's busy forming factions in Germany; how could he have time to mind our affairs?"

"That's what you don't understand," Li Yuxuan set down the steel pen, his gaze deep, "There are no eternal friends, only eternal interests. We have what he urgently needs—Tungsten Sand, Antimony Ore—both key raw materials for making guns and cannons. Exchanging these for equipment makes the deal worthwhile."

He picked up the finished English letter, nodded with satisfaction, "This one is for the United States arms dealers; their aircraft are decent, reasonably priced, not as precise as Germany's, but they deliver quickly."

Li Nian'an watched her father methodically seal the envelope and write a long address, and suddenly realized he was far from the simple person she had imagined. The days she thought he was just "killing time" were actually quietly laying groundwork.

"When will it be sent?" she couldn't help asking.

"Tomorrow morning we'll have the Adjutant deliver it to the post office, using a Diplomatic Pouch for speed," Li Yuxuan placed the envelope into his briefcase, gave it a pat, "Within a month we should have a reply. Then our Fifth Army can trade a makeshift gun for a proper cannon."

He walked to the window, gazing at the heavy night, as if speaking to Li Nian'an and also to himself: "Xuewen, remember, in this world, having integrity alone isn't enough; you also need means. Connections aren't spoken of, they're built through transaction after transaction, favor after favor. When you eventually take over this unit, you'll understand that having a gun in hand is less valuable than having a way to acquire guns."

Li Nian'an remained silent, quietly picked up The Art of War and opened it again. Moonlight streamed through the window lattice onto the pages, the eight characters "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy's plans; next is to subdue alliances" standing out clearly. She suddenly felt her father's words today were more practical and insightful than the book's teachings.

The corridor wind gradually ceased, the lanterns no longer swayed, and Li Yuxuan's shadow settled steadily on the wall like a silent stone statue. He knew these letters were only the beginning; for the Fifth Army, for the Strong Nation Dream in his heart, he still had many roads to travel and many people to deal with. Even if the other side is seen by the world as a demon, as long as it can strengthen the troops and lessen Huaxia's suffering, the letter is worth writing.

Night deepened, the kerosene lamp on the desk remained bright, reflecting the pensive faces of father and son. One plotted the future chessboard, the other digested his father's counsel.