Chapter 602: Singapore (1)

Chen Jiageng took his entourage and left Singapore, heading to Huadu to arrange matters after establishing the capital, but he deliberately left his daughter Chen Baoyi behind.

On the one hand, he felt at ease letting Jiang Anguo look after her; on the other, he tacitly allowed the two to spend more time together, so that this already arranged marriage could have a bit more spark.

In Jiang Anguo's command post, Chen Baoyi sat on a rattan chair beside him, hands supporting her cheeks, her clear eyes affectionately gazing at Jiang Anguo, who was bent over handling documents.

Chen Baoyi's tone carried a hint of coquettish reproach: "Brother Anguo, why are you ignoring me? I've been sitting here for almost an hour."

Which young lady wouldn't be in love, especially since Jiang Anguo is a general who rose to fame at a young age.

At twenty‑six he already commanded the Expeditionary Force elite st Division, pacifying the wars in Southeast Asia; his features bore both a soldier's firmness and a strategist's composure, his bearing was upright and his demeanor extraordinary.

Although Jiang Anguo is not a Nanko general, Chen Baoyi learned from her father that Nanko's heavy troops are all under Brother Anguo's command.

Not only Chen Baoyi, but also many classmates who retreated with her to Kunming, upon learning that her fiancé is Jiang Anguo, were extremely envious and kept asking about her past with Jiang Anguo.

Because the 56th Division had previously attacked Lashu, the Expeditionary Force Staff Department withdrew from Lashu early; these South Sea Chinese expatriates received no attention and could only follow the main force in retreat.

Later, Chen Jiageng was elected President of Nanhua, pacified the early unrest, and finally sent someone to bring her back from Kunming; this time in Singapore, he deliberately kept her by his side, hoping she could spend more time with Jiang Anguo.

Jiang Anguo heard this, lifted his head, a slightly embarrassed smile appearing on his face, set down the steel pen in his hand, and rubbed his slightly throbbing temples: "Baoyi, I'm sorry, it's not that I'm not busy—Singapore's defense, immigrant resettlement, and the planning over at Huadu are a huge pile of tasks that keep me working late every day, and I've neglected you."

Half of those words are true, half are false.

Jiang Anguo is indeed busy; Nanko is newly founded, with countless things to rebuild, and every aspect requires his personal coordination; but the other half is his deliberate aloofness.

He naturally understands the affection in Chen Baoyi's eyes and is clear about Chen Jiageng's intention; the marriage contract has long been approved by both families, and elder sister Jiang Anwen, as the senior of the Jiang family, had already discussed the wedding date with Chen Jiageng early on.

Jiang Anguo does not oppose the marriage; in fact, he harbors a degree of approval in his heart.

In Chen Baoyi, he sees no trace of a pampered rich‑family daughter's arrogance or willfulness; instead, she possesses a rare genteel grace and clarity, treating others with humility, well‑read and sensible.

Even amidst chaotic times, she consistently maintains a purity and kindness.

Yet he remains somewhat hesitant; Chen Baoyi is only eighteen this year, at a naively innocent age.

He, however, is already twenty‑six, having endured the blood‑soaked horrors of battle; his mindset is no longer that of a youth, and the eight‑year gap makes him feel he can't quite take the next step.

He only wishes to protect her a bit more, unwilling to let her be drawn prematurely into worldly turmoil and the shackles of marriage.

Seeing his guilty expression, Chen Baoyi immediately rose, walked to his side, gently grasped his hand, her fingertips warm and soft, and her tone softened: "I know you're busy, I'm not trying to disturb you on purpose; I just… just want to go out for a walk with you."

"Brother Anguo, shall we go shopping? I heard Singapore's streets are bustling, with lots of delicious food, and I've never really strolled around before."

Jiang Anguo lowered his head, watching her tug at his sleeve with her small hand, then lifted his gaze to meet her hopeful eyes—clear and bright, bearing the unique liveliness and yearning of a girl, making it impossible for him to refuse.

He glanced at the mountain of documents on the table, then at the girl before him, finally exhaled, stood up: "Alright, let's go."

"Great!" Chen Baoyi instantly burst into a bright smile, leapt up with joy, her brows and eyes curved like a child who got candy, completely shedding her usual gentleness for a few touches of girlish coquettishness.

Jiang Anguo watched her jubilant demeanor, his mouth involuntarily curving into a tender smile, shook his head, realizing she was still an ungrown little girl.

He turned and entered the inner room, swapped his crisp military uniform for a light‑gray cotton shirt, casually rolling the cuffs to his forearms, shedding some military authority and gaining a touch of ordinary male warmth.

Going out like this is also more convenient, not overly conspicuous.

In fact, they need not worry about Japanese Army spies operating within Singapore.

Nowadays Singapore's Chinese population exceeds seventy percent.

Through Jiang Anguo's deployment, any civilian with a Chinese appearance must mutually identify each other, confirming acquaintance before free passage, thereby reducing the chance of Japanese Army spies to the minimum.

Moreover, Singapore's Chinese harbor a deep‑seated hatred toward the Japanese Army.

When the Japanese Army occupied Singapore, they slaughtered Chinese en masse, burned, killed, looted, committing every evil; this blood‑soaked hatred is etched in every Singapore Chinese's heart.

If suspicious persons are discovered, they will report immediately.

Stepping out of the command post, the bustling street scene hit them.

At this time, Singapore has long shed the war's gloom, restoring its former lively atmosphere.

Shops line both sides of the street, mostly Chinese‑style shophouses, walls adorned with Chinese reliefs, blending traditional charm with a touch of Nanyang flavor.

This is Singapore's unique "Chinese Baroque" style, a cultural imprint left by generations of Chinese who migrated here.

People come and go on the street, mostly Chinese civilians, faces bearing calm smiles; occasionally children chase and play, their crisp laughter echoing through the streets.

The currency issued by the Japanese in Nanyang, called "hand notes" by the Japanese, is known among South Sea Chinese as "banana notes," because the Japanese 10‑yuan note bears a banana, thus the nickname.

These Japanese notes were rendered void; after discussion, the Staff Department established an exchange rate of Nanko Yuan for banana notes to reclaim all banana notes.

At the same time, this helped Singapore's Chinese get through the previously most difficult period.

They found that the purchasing power of Nanko Yuan even surpassed the pound.

Nanko state‑run stores can sell many items that even during the British colonial era were unavailable, offering a very rich variety of supplies.

Zhou Haitong's Marine Corps 1st Division, organized by Squad, patrols back and forth along the streets.

The soldiers stand tall, eyes sharp, constantly alert to surrounding movements, yet they do not appear overly stern; occasionally they pause, sharing a few friendly laughs with nearby civilians, a picture of military‑civilian unity.

Civilians who see the patrolling soldiers also proactively nod and greet them, their eyes full of respect and reassurance.

It is these soldiers who repelled the Japanese Army and protected their homeland.

Of course, Jiang Anguo transferred all of Zhou Haitong's Marine Corps 1st Division to Singapore, naturally for a new mission.