Chapter 456: South China Democratic Federation (I)

In the temporary command post of Mandalay, the setup was simple yet tidy: a rough wooden table stood in the center, covered with a thin cloth, scattered with several pieces of intelligence and telegrams.

Jiang Anguo was originally seated on a wooden chair, chatting idly with Chen Jiageng about the suffering of Nanyang Chinese; upon hearing Chen Jiageng speak of the Chinese's helpless struggle in the cracks, he rose slowly, his expression growing solemn.

"Xiao Si, bring a map over." Jiang Anguo's voice was steady and forceful, his tone carrying unquestionable certainty.

The Xiao Si guarding the doorway responded immediately, stepping forward, holding a yellowed map in his hands, and carefully placing it on the wooden table.

This was not an ordinary Southeast Asian map, but one seized from the remnants of the Japanese Army's 18th Division.

It marked the Japanese Army's deployments across Southeast Asia, with dense place names and routes; the corners were blackened by the fire of war, yet remained clear and legible, bearing ironclad proof of the Japanese Army's invasion of the Nanyang.

Jiang Anguo leaned forward, his fingertips lightly touching the map, slowly tracing the outline of Southeast Asia.

Jiang Anguo turned his head toward Chen Jiageng beside him, and in a solemn tone said, "Uncle, please look. This is the map used by the Japanese Army's 18th Division, showing the Japanese positions throughout the Nanyang. I want to ask you, do you think Nanyang Chinese still have room to survive in Southeast Asia in the future?"

Hearing this, Chen Jiageng's body stiffened slightly, then he leaned forward, his gaze following Jiang Anguo's fingertip, his eyes slowly scanning each place name on the map.

Singapore, Vietnam, Java, Philippines, Sumatra… these places are the core zones where Nanyang Chinese congregate, and also the locales where he has spent years traveling, protecting his compatriots.

But now, these places have long fallen under the Japanese Army's iron hooves; Chinese are brutally persecuted, displaced, and even basic survival has become a luxury.

His finger brushed lightly over Singapore on the map, a trace of sorrow flashing in his eyes as he whispered, "Anguo, you ask me this question—how could I not have pondered it day and night."

"You see, after the Japanese seized Singapore, tens of thousands of Chinese were massacred, shops looted, homes burned; in Java the Chinese were confined, beaten, cursed, killed, even children could not escape; in Vietnam and the Philippines, Chinese are barely surviving under the double oppression of the Japanese Army and local forces. Not to mention future living space, even now we Nanyang Chinese are struggling to survive in the cracks."

Chen Jiageng's voice was hoarse, his tone full of helplessness and bitterness: "We Nanyang Chinese left our homes, came here, worked diligently, lived frugally, built a livelihood, only to seek a stable life, yet in the end we became objects anyone could bully."

"The natives' marginalization, the British's exploitation, the Dutch's plunder, and now the Japanese Army's slaughter—we are like duckweed in the wind, rootless, without support; a slight misstep and we are shattered."

"I know the Nanyang Chinese have contributed greatly to the domestic anti-Japanese war."

Jiang Anguo slowly straightened, his gaze fixed on Chen Jiageng, his tone both earnest and resolute, "All these years, you have raised supplies overseas, coordinated forces, risking your lives to ship batches of grain, medicine, weapons back home to support our anti-Japanese struggle. This gratitude Huaxia's children will never forget. I also understand what you want—a stable life, respect, an end to bullying, a place for Nanyang Chinese."

Jiang Anguo knew exactly what Chen Jiageng wanted: a strong motherland, but now Huaxia's lands are ablaze with war, and there is no time to attend to Southeast Asia.

At this point, Jiang Anguo's tone suddenly grew heavier, his eyes sharper, and word by word he said, "But Uncle, have you ever thought that all this is not something that will come to you, nor something you can ask for, but something you must seize and fight for!"

In fact, Jiang Anguo had another point he did not voice, which was to seize.

Those words struck Chen Jiageng's heart like a heavy hammer.

Chen Jiageng jerked his head up, eyes wide with shock and disbelief, his lips trembling, and for a moment he could not speak.

For a long time, Chen Jiageng had been pondering how to protect Chinese lives caught between the great powers and the Japanese Army, how to gather more supplies for the homeland, yet he had never considered the word "struggle."

Not passive defense, not humble pleading, but a proactive strike to claim the Chinese right to survive.

Jiang Anguo looked at Chen Jiageng's shocked expression, did not pause, and continued, "Uncle, think back to when the British and the Dutch came to the Nanyang; they did not possess power by birth, but through plunder and slaughter they forcibly seized this land, enslaving the locals and the Chinese."

Jiang Anguo went on, "Today the Japanese invasion is even more extreme, treating us Chinese as weeds, slaughtering at will. If we keep passively enduring, always hoping to rely on others and wait for victory at home before seeking stability, then Nanyang Chinese will never truly stand."

"The Japanese may be strong, but they are ultimately invaders without popular support; the British and the Dutch, though cunning, have already lost their former edge, and under the Japanese assault they are at a loss."

Jiang Anguo's finger landed on the map again, his tone firm, "Now is the best time for our struggle. The Expeditionary Force has already retaken Mandalay; the next step is to move south, clear the Japanese from Myanmar, reopen the Dian-Mian Highway. Then we can dispatch troops from Myanmar to support Nanyang Chinese's anti-Japanese fight."

Jiang Anguo paused, saying, "And you, as a leader of the Nanyang Chinese, if you raise your arm and call, you can surely rally Chinese armed groups across the regions, and together with us strike from inside and out, not only driving the Japanese out of the Nanyang but also seizing the chance to secure living space for the Chinese."

In Chen Jiageng's eyes, a spark of light gradually ignited, the shock in his heart slowly giving way to excitement.

He watched Jiang Anguo's steadfast gaze, heard these resonant words, and the long‑suppressed thoughts in his mind were awakened.

Indeed, after so many years of being passively beaten and swallowing grievances, what they gained was only more bullying and slaughter.

Perhaps Jiang Anguo was right: only through struggle, only by taking initiative, can a path out be forged for the Nanyang Chinese.

But this surge of excitement lasted only a moment before being replaced by a deep sense of helplessness.

Chen Jiageng slowly lowered his head, the light in his eyes dimming, his shoulders sagging, his whole being deflating, and in a despondent tone said, "Anguo, I understand the reasoning you present, but struggle is far from easy. The Dutch and the British are not simple lights to be switched off; they have operated in the Nanyang for years, their power is massive. Even if the Japanese are driven out, they will never readily abandon their control of the Nanyang, nor will they welcome a rise of Chinese."

"Moreover, although Nanyang Chinese are numerous, they are scattered, lacking unified arms, sufficient weapons, and tight organization."

In the end, it comes down to hearts not aligning; the more people there are, the more factions arise.