Chapter 90: Northeast 1

On December 16, 1928, in Jinling, the winter sun filtered through thin clouds and fell on Huangpu Road. The sycamore trees lining the street had long shed all their leaves, their bare trunks swaying gently in the cold wind. In front of the President's Office, the Blue Sky White Sun Flag fluttered in the wind, the guards stood straight-backed, and the white breath they exhaled vanished instantly in the crisp air.

A black sedan slowly pulled up in front of the President's Office. The door opened, and Li Yuxuan stepped out. He wore a dark suit beneath a woolen overcoat, looking weary‑travelled, yet his eyes retained a sharp edge. He looked up at the plaque reading "The World Belongs to All" on the lintel of the President's Office, inhaled deeply, smoothed his collar, and strode inside.

In the Chairman's office, the charcoal fire burned brightly, dispelling the winter chill. Principal Jiang was bent over reviewing documents; when the knock came, he didn't lift his head and replied, "Come in."

"Young Master, I'm back," Li Yuxuan's voice echoed in the room.

The Chairman paused with his pen, then slowly lifted his head. He looked at Li Yuxuan standing before him, a barely perceptible smile flickering across his face before his stern expression returned.

"Jingxing is back," the Chairman said, setting down his pen and leaning back in his chair. "How was the United States trip?"

Li Yuxuan walked to the desk, pulled out his chair and sat down. "It went fairly smoothly. The United States' industry is indeed advanced, especially the military‑industrial sector. I visited their Arms Factory; the production efficiency was astonishing." Excitement flashed in his eyes. "Young Master, I hope we can have our own Arms Factory."

The Chairman tapped the desk lightly. "Fine, as long as you don't cause trouble."

"Oh, I've never caused any trouble," Li Yuxuan said, spreading his hands with an innocent expression.

"Niang Xipi, you've caused quite a few incidents," the Chairman raised his voice. "The affair at the Song Family casino a few months ago—if I hadn't covered for you, you wouldn't be sitting here now?"

Li Yuxuan shrugged dismissively. "Those were just minor matters. Young Master, what I saw in the United States wasn't limited to Arms Factories; they also have an education system and research institutes. For a nation to be truly strong, it can't rely solely on purchased weapons; it needs its own Industrial System and its own talent..."

"Enough, go out," the Chairman waved his hand, cutting him off.

"Very well, Young Master," Li Yuxuan rose, saluted, and turned to leave.

The door closed softly; the Chairman let out a long sigh and rubbed his temples. At that moment, Chen Bulei slipped in silently through the side door.

"Chairman, are you still worried about Chairman Li?" Chen Bulei asked softly.

The Chairman shook his head, stood, and walked to the window. "It's not about him. I heard those people are gathering near Jinggangshan."

"Yes, they officially convened on December 11," Chen Bulei said, moving behind the Chairman, his tone heavy. "Cook Leader and Li Desheng's troops met at Ninggang, forming the Red Fourth Army."

"Hmm, a troublesome autumn," the Chairman said, gazing at the bleak winter scene outside, his eyes deep. "The northern situation remains unsettled, and the Red Bandits in the South have risen again. This year looks bleak."

Li Yuxuan stepped out of the President's Office; a sedan was already waiting by the roadside. As soon as he opened the car door, a familiar voice called from behind.

"Director!"

Li Yuxuan turned and saw Hu Zhongnan hurrying toward him, a delighted smile on his face.

"Shou San!" Li Yuxuan laughed as well, shaking Hu Zhongnan's hand firmly. "How did you know I was returning today?"

"What could be happening in Jinling City that could hide from me?" Hu Zhongnan laughed, patting his shoulder. "Come, Director, I've already booked a table at the Jinling Hotel to give you a warm welcome."

In the private room of the Jinling Hotel, warmth filled the space. After a few glasses of wine, both of them opened up their conversation boxes.

"Director, how was the United States?" Hu Zhongnan filled Li Yuxuan's cup, asking curiously.

"Stunning," Li Yuxuan's gaze deepened. "Their factories produce in a single day more firearms than we make in a month. Their universities host scholars from around the world. Shou San, we are far too behind."

Hu Zhongnan shook his head dismissively. "No matter how good the weapons are, it depends on who wields them. During the Northern Expedition, the Japanese forces had weapons equal to ours, yet we still defeated them, didn't we?"

"That's a different matter," Li Yuxuan set down his glass, his tone serious. "The era of individual bravery is over. Modern warfare is a contest of national strength and industrial capacity. If we cannot build our own Industrial System, we will forever remain dependent on others."

"So Director, you suggested to the principal that we should build an Arms Factory?"

Li Yuxuan nodded. "It's only the first step. We also need to establish our own research institutes, train our own engineers and skilled workers. It will take time, but we must do it."

Hu Zhongnan was silent for a moment, then lowered his voice. "The principal may not back your idea, Director. His current priority is how to unify the nation quickly, not these long‑term plans."

"So I need your support even more," Li Yuxuan said, looking straight into Hu Zhongnan's eyes. "Shou San, you swore during the Huangpu days to revitalize China. Isn't now the perfect moment?"

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in Shenyang, the atmosphere inside the Grand Marshal's Mansion was heavy.

Zhang Xueliang stood in the study his father Zhang Zuolin had loved most before his death, his fingers lightly brushing the rose‑wood desk. Six months earlier, the explosion at Huanggutun had not only taken his father's life but also placed the entire Northeast's burden on the shoulders of this 27‑year‑old young man.

"Young Marshal," a steady voice called from behind.

Zhang Xueliang turned and saw Deputy Marshal Zhang Zuoxiang and Secretary‑General Wang Shuhan walking in.

"Deputy Marshal, Mr. Shuhan," Zhang Xueliang gestured for them to sit. "Any new news from the Nanjing side?"

Wang Shuhan pulled a letter from his briefcase. "The Chairman has sent another handwritten letter, hoping we can change the flag quickly."

Zhang Zuoxiang snorted. "The Japanese sent a Special Envoy yesterday, warning us not to act rashly. Shen He's influence is such that not becoming a detective would be a waste of talent."