Chapter 259: Tokyo: A Funeral in the Snow

December 2nd, Tokyo saw its first snow of the year. The flakes were fine, like sifted ashes, drifting onto the plaza before the imperial palace, quickly forming a thin layer of mournful white on the stone pavement.

Xiyuan Si Gongwang stood before the window on the third floor of the Prime Minister's Residence, watching the snow outside. The old man's back remained straight, but his hand gripping the window latch trembled slightly— not from cold, but from effort. He hadn't closed his eyes properly for three days.

From below came the sound of a car engine. Si Nei Zhengyi's black sedan slowly drove into the residence courtyard, stopping amid the swirling snow like a moving coffin.

Xiyuan Si turned and walked toward the office. He knew the historic moment was about to arrive— not glorious, but disgraceful.

Five minutes later, Si Nei Zhengyi entered the office. The former prime minister looked twenty years older, his hair completely white, deep eye bags, and his steps floated as he walked. He held a kraft paper bag containing his resignation documents.

"Your Excellency Xiyuan." Si bowed deeply, his voice hoarse like a cracked wind chest, "I have caused you… embarrassment."

Xiyuan gestured for him to sit. The secretary brought two cups of tea, but neither of them touched them.

"The treaty… has already been ratified." Si said, his tone unnaturally calm, "Yesterday at three p. m., the House of Nobles passed it 187 to 42. The House of Representatives passed it 312 to 101. The opposition mainly came from army‑aligned legislators, but… the tide has turned."

Xiyuan nodded, "Your Majesty Tianhuang?"

"It has already been sealed with the imperial seal." Si pulled a document from the bag; at the top was the treaty approval paper stamped with a golden chrysanthemum emblem, "It was delivered to the palace late last night and returned this morning. From now on, the Borneo Treaty is officially in effect!"

His voice trembled slightly as he spoke the final sentence.

Xiyuan took the document and opened it. He had read those clauses countless times in telegrams, but seeing the official text bearing the state seal in person still made his heart wrench.

Five hundred million in reparations (deleted portion).

Each word struck like a slap, slapping the face of this once‑proud empire.

"When do you plan to resign?" Xiyuan asked.

"This afternoon," Si said, "the cabinet meeting has already concluded, all ministers agree to a total resignation. I have the resignation letter ready; I'll go to the imperial palace shortly to submit it."

Xiyuan looked at the junior who was eleven years younger than himself. Si Nei Zhengyi had occupied the prime minister's seat for only four months and seven days, and would become the shortest‑lived prime minister in Sakura Nation's constitutional history— a record that may remain unbroken for a long time.

"What are your plans?" Xiyuan asked.

"Plans?" Si smiled wryly, "Go home, shut the door and decline visitors. I might write memoirs, or I might do nothing and simply grow old and die. But regardless… I will no longer involve myself in politics. I have no right to."

He paused, then looked at Xiyuan, "As for you, Minister Xiyuan, taking on this mess… have you really thought it through?"

Xiyuan did not answer immediately. He stood, walked to the wall. There hung a portrait of Emperor Tianhuang in his prime— a young Tianhuang in military uniform, eyes sharp, representing the most vigorous era of Sakura Nation.

"Forty‑three years ago," Xiyuan began slowly, "I went to Europe with the Iwakura diplomatic mission. At that time Sakura Nation had just undergone the Meiji Restoration, everything was in ruins, lagging behind. In Paris, a French reporter asked me: 'Your Sakura Nation is so small, so weak, why do you still strive to learn Western shipbuilding and soldier training?'"

He turned, looking at Si, "I answered then: 'Precisely because we are small, precisely because we are weak, we must learn. We do not seek world domination, only to avoid being bullied by the world.'"

"And now?" Si asked, "We have studied for forty years, built a fleet, trained an army, won two wars. The result… the result is we are still bullied. And by a nation that has existed only ten years."

"We learned the wrong things," Xiyuan said calmly, "We only copied the surface of the West— battleships, cannons, colonies— and missed the essence— institutions, science, rule of law. We thought strength meant winning wars, but Lanfang taught us that true strength is letting the people live well."

He walked back to his seat and sat down: "Si Nei, do you know what per‑capita income Lanfang now has? It's twice that of Sakura Nation. Their school enrollment rate is 98%, ours is 62%. Their port throughput is three times Yokohama's. These figures shock me more than four Bismarck Class battleships." (The editor didn't spend much ink on the oil issue, although oil prices are low now.)

Si fell silent. He had seen those numbers before, but refused to contemplate them. The more he thought, the more desperate he felt.

"So after you assume the premiership," he asked, "what will you do?"

Xiyuan pulled a document from the drawer and placed it before Si. The title read "Imperial Reconstruction Basic Guidelines."

"First, accept reality and fully implement the treaty," Xiyuan said.

"Second, use the saved money to import grain, stabilize prices, and restore production."

"Third…" He paused, "seek cooperation with Lanfang. Not equal cooperation, but dependent cooperation. Borrow from them to buy grain, introduce their technology, even… send laborers to their factories."

Si's eyes widened, "Send laborers? Isn't that a disguised form of human trafficking?"

"It is labor export," Xiyuan corrected, "What is Sakura Nation's biggest problem now? Unemployment. Factories idle, ports paralyzed, millions jobless. Meanwhile Lanfang is developing rapidly and lacks labor. We send people there, they pay wages, we earn foreign exchange, the workers get food. A win‑win."

"But that is humiliation…"

"Living is more important than humiliation." Xiyuan cut him off, "Si Nei, you have already signed the treaty; you should understand this. Today's Sakura Nation has no right to speak of dignity. Survive first, then discuss other matters."

Si Nei looked at the elderly man before him. Seventy‑four‑year‑old Xiyuan Si Gongwang, a veteran of the Meiji Restoration, close friend of Ito Hirobumi, who had served twice as prime minister. Now, at the darkest hour of the empire, he was willing to rise again, not for glory, but to clean up the mess.

"Why would you do that?" Si said softly, "You have already achieved great success and could enjoy your old age in peace. Taking this position would only ruin a lifetime of honor."

Xiyuan smiled, the smile was bleak: "Si Nei, you are sixty‑three this year, our generation has witnessed Sakura Nation rise from weakness to strength, and then from strength back to weakness. If we now abandon ship and leave this mess to the young, that would truly ruin a lifetime of honor."

He stood, walked to the window. Snow was still falling, the palace roofs already white.

"Someone has to bear it," Xiyuan said, his voice light yet firm, "Since history has chosen me, I will bear it."

Si Nei Zhengyi also stood. He bowed deeply, ninety degrees, holding the position for three seconds.

"Your Excellency Xiyuan, I beg of you."