Chapter 242: Dongxiang Must Participate

Shanben's spine twitched imperceptibly: "What about the conditions?"

"No specific conditions were mentioned. They only said the location is set in Borneo, the time a month later—November 20th." Sinei chuckled wryly, "They even want the negotiation venue on their own territory; they expect us to kneel from the start."

"Borneo…" Shanben murmured, his gaze drifting to the pitch‑black night outside, "the land we once coveted. Now we have to go there to sign the surrender."

The water in the kettle boiled, white steam spouting from the spout. Sinei finally set about making tea, moving slowly and deliberately as if it were the most important thing in the world. Matcha powder swirled in the tea bowl, and the sound of the bamboo whisk stirring the tea was unusually crisp in the silence.

"I need you to go with me." Sinei placed the first bowl of tea before Shanben, "The navy must have a representative present, and you are the only suitable candidate."

Shanben did not touch the bowl: "What could I possibly do there? Sign the surrender on behalf of the navy? Admit the navy's total defeat?"

"Go and take responsibility." Sinei looked straight into his eyes, "And also go… to fight for the navy's last chance of survival. Shanben, you know better than I do that Lanfang's terms will certainly include restrictions on the navy. If we don't fight for it, the navy may not even get a chance to rebuild."

"Rebuild?" Shanben laughed, a bitter smile on his face, "Rebuild with what? The treasury is empty, the shipyards are destroyed, technology lagging at least ten years. Even if Lanfang lets us keep the navy, we couldn't build ships capable of confronting them."

"But at least we can preserve the seed." Sinei's voice suddenly grew urgent, "Preserve some ships, preserve some talent, preserve… hope. Shanben, if even you give up, the navy will truly be dead."

Shanben remained silent for a long while. Tiny bubbles rose on the surface of the tea, then slowly burst.

"What about the army?" he finally asked, "Will they agree to such peace talks?"

"I've already met Gangshi Zhizhu." Sinei rubbed his temples wearily, "He of course opposed it, saying we must mobilize three million civilian volunteers, fight a homeland decisive battle, and die gloriously. I asked him: after we die gloriously, what then? What will become of the empire? What of the people?" He couldn't answer.

"So you suppressed him?"

"I told him that if he dared to obstruct the talks, I would, as prime minister, petition Your Majesty Tianhuang to dissolve the Army Ministry, placing the troops under direct command of the imperial family." Sinei's tone grew cold, "He knows I'm not joking. So… he'll stay silent, at least outwardly."

Footsteps sounded outside the paper door, light yet steady. Then the old steward's voice: "Prime Minister, Marshal Dongxiang Pingbalang wishes an audience."

Sinei and Shanben exchanged a glance, each seeing surprise in the other's eyes. Dongxiang Pingbalang had been retired for many years, living a reclusive life and rarely attending court meetings. A midnight visit like this…

"Please, invite him." Sinei said.

The paper door opened again. When Dongxiang Pingbalang entered, Shanben instantly rose and gave a deep bow— the most basic respect for a navy legend. At sixty‑seven, Dongxiang's hair was all white, yet his posture remained upright, dressed in a simple dark‑blue haori, a plain wooden staff hanging from his hand.

"Sorry to disturb you at this late hour." Dongxiang's voice was low yet clear, bearing the characteristic ruggedness of a Satsuma accent, "But some words must be said now."

Sinei gestured for him to sit and personally poured tea for him. Dongxiang did not decline; when he took the bowl, his fingers were steadier than one would expect of an old man.

"Marshal, are you here for the peace talks?" Shanben asked tentatively.

"Both, and not." Dongxiang sipped his tea, set the bowl down, "I'm here to request one thing—let me join the negotiation delegation."

The tea room fell silent instantly. Even the rain outside seemed to soften.

"Marshal…" Sinei said with difficulty, "This mission is dangerous, and… it is a humiliating journey. You have already achieved greatness, why…"

"Why must you court humiliation yourself?" Dongxiang took the thread, smiled, "The prime minister thinks so, doesn't he?"

Sinei did not deny it.

Dongxiang turned his head toward Shanben, "Shanben, what do you think?"

Shanben chose his words carefully: "The marshal is the symbol of the Imperial Navy, the hero of the Battle of Tsushima. If you appear at the negotiating table… it would be tantamount to announcing to the whole world that even Dongxiang Pingbalang must bow."

"Then bow." Dongxiang said calmly, "Losing is losing; bowing isn't shameful. The shame lies in refusing to bow after a loss, forcing more youngsters to die for pride."

He paused, his gaze turning distant: "When we defeated the Russians in the Tsushima Strait, I believed the Japanese navy was invincible. Now it seems we were merely a frog at the bottom of a well. Lanfang's people showed us, through a single sea battle, that the times have changed. Facing the times, bowing isn't disgraceful; the disgrace is refusing to open one's eyes to reality."

"But your reputation…" Sinei began to urge.

"Does my reputation compare to the lives of hundreds of thousands of citizens?" Dongxiang retorted, "Does it compare to the survival of the empire? Prime Minister, Shanben, do you know the current price of rice in Nagasaki? Do you know how many people in Tokyo are hospitalized daily for malnutrition? Do you know how much lighter, on average, the cadets at the Naval Academy have become this month?"

A barrage of questions left both men silent.

Dongxiang sighed, his breath heavy with desolation, "I'm sixty‑seven now, with only a few good years left. If I can use this old skeleton of mine to secure slightly better terms for the empire, to bring about an earlier cease‑fire, to spare some lives… that would be my honor, Dongxiang Pingbalang."

He stood and walked to the wall of the tea room. There hung a calligraphy piece, his own handwriting: "Serve the Country Seven Times." The ink had faded slightly, but the strokes remained vigorous.

"When I wrote that piece, I thought of dying for the nation." Dongxiang said, facing away from the two, "Now I realize that sometimes living requires more courage than dying. Sometimes, signing a surrender is harder than seppuku."

He turned, his gaze as sharp as ever, "So, please be sure to let me go. I want to see with my own eyes what our conquerors look like. I want to hear with my own ears what they truly want. More importantly—"

He paused, then said word for word, "I want to use these eyes of mine to show all the fallen navy soldiers what kind of opponent we actually lost to. Then, carve this lesson into the navy's very marrow."

Sinei Zhengyi closed his eyes. After a long moment, when he opened them, tears glistened within.

"I understand." He bowed deeply, "Delegation leader Sinei Zhengyi sincerely invites Marshal Dongxiang Pingbalang, as the empire's fully authorized deputy envoy, to Borneo."

Dongxiang returned the salute, then looked at Shanben, "Shanben, what about you?"

Shanben Quanbeng stood rigidly, "It is my honor to walk alongside the marshal."

"Then it's settled." Dongxiang sat down again, lifted the now slightly cooled tea, "Now let's discuss the bottom line—what we can accept at most, and what we absolutely cannot accept."