Chapter 283: Imperial Army Shows Its Might in Europe! Aogusituofu

This question came out of the blue. Wang Wenwu hesitated for a moment, then chose to answer honestly: "Sometimes, yes. But I also understand that governing a nation requires rationality, even coldness. Acting on emotion can't save a country."

Chen Feng nodded, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon beyond the window.

"Over a decade ago, when we declared the founding of our nation in Dubai, we had only a few people, a few ships. The Western powers laughed at us, the Sakura Nation wanted to wipe us out, and even many Chinese didn't believe we could succeed."

His voice was soft, as if recalling:

He turned around and looked at Wang Wenwu:

"It's not kindness, not morality, it's calculation, trade, making the right choice at the right time. The path the Sakura Nation is on now is the one they chose after the First Sino‑Japanese War and the Russo‑Japanese War. They wanted to become a great power, to gain benefits through force; now that they've lost, they must bear the consequences."

"And we," Chen Feng concluded, "only make that consequence… a bit more valuable. For them, for us, it's the same."

Wang Wenwu bowed deeply and left the office.

After the door closed, Chen Feng stood alone before the map. His finger rested on the Sakura Nation archipelago and lingered for a long time.

Then he walked to the liquor cabinet, poured a small glass of whiskey, no ice, and drank it in one gulp.

The drink was strong, scorching his throat.

It was like the words he had just spoken, burning his conscience.

But he had no choice. History gave him this chance, Lanfang gave him this chance. He must seize it, must use it, must let this country survive in the cracks between the great powers and become strong.

For that, he could make a deal with the devil.

He could even let part of himself become a devil.

Outside, Dubai was bathed in bright sun, the port bustling, the city expanding. Thousands of miles away in East Prussia, snow still fell, blood still flowed.

All of this was within his calculations.

In Tokyo's Kanda District, inside an izakaya called Hewu, smoke curled.

At eight p. m., supposedly the busiest hour, the shop held only three tables of patrons. Owner Sanpu, listless, wiped glasses, his eyes occasionally flicking to two notices on the wall—a government‑issued "Food Conservation Order" and today's Asahi Shimbun, its front‑page headline in huge black type: "Imperial Army Shows Its Might in Europe! Aogusituofu Great Victory!"

"Hey, Sanpu‑san, another pot of sake."

The voice came from the table by the window. Sanpu looked up; it was regular customer Jida, a middle‑aged clerk at Marunouchi Trading Company. Two others, both in office‑worker attire, sat with him.

"Coming right up." Sanpu fetched a pot of hot sake from under the counter, carried it over, and casually asked, "Any good news today? You all look in good spirits."

"Did you see the news?" Jida pointed at the newspaper on the wall. "Our army won a battle in Europe! We annihilated a Russian army, captured over eighty‑thousand!"

Sanpu nodded, his expression flat: "I saw it. But… Europe is far from us, isn't it?"

"You don't get it." The young man opposite Jida spoke up; his name was Zhongdao, a bank employee, his tone intellectual. "This isn't just a victory; it's the Empire's resurgence on the world stage! The West always says we Asians can't do it; now look—our soldiers defeated white troops on the world's most brutal battlefield!"

"And there's money too." The third man, a plump Shanxia, added—he dealt in import‑export—"I heard the government received a huge foreign‑exchange payment from the Deguo. Now food imports are secured; rice prices might even drop."

Sanpu poured them drinks and asked casually, "But many died, right? The paper said casualties were twenty‑five thousand…"

"War without death doesn't exist," Jida said, draining his cup. "More died in the Russo‑Japanese War! Yet we earned international respect and gained rights in Manchuria. This time is the same!"

Zhongdao nodded, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. "Exactly! And this time is different; our soldiers went as 'volunteer troops,' which shows what? It shows the Imperial Army's combat power has been recognized worldwide! The Deguo are so proud they're all clamoring for our help!"

Among the three tables, two were discussing the same topic. Their voices grew louder, their emotions more heated.

In the far corner, a lone man in an old suit with graying hair sat quietly, sipping the cheapest shochu. A folded newspaper lay on his table, never opened.

Sanpu noticed him and approached: "Mr. Songwei, just shochu today?"

The man called Songwei looked up. He seemed about fifty, deep wrinkles on his face, heavy dark circles under his eyes.

"Hmm." Songwei answered briefly, his voice hoarse.

Sanpu hesitated, then asked low, "Your son… any news?"

Songwei's hand trembled, a few drops spilling from his cup. He was silent for a long while before saying, "A death notice arrived last month. Aogusituofu Forest… they said he died heroically."

Sanpu's heart sank. He wanted to say something comforting, but nothing came out.

"They gave a condolence payment," Songwei continued, as if speaking about someone else. "Three hundred yen. One hundred more than the usual death benefit, because it's an 'overseas combat special allowance.'"

Three hundred yen—two years' wages for an ordinary worker. The price of a twenty‑year‑old's life.

"Mr. Songwei, I…"

"No need to comfort me." Songwei cut him off, pulling a crumpled banknote from his pocket and placing it on the table. "Settle the bill."

He stood, his body a little unsteady, but walked steadily toward the door. Passing Jida's table, Zhongdao was loudly proclaiming, "…so those sacrifices are worth it! For the Empire's honor, for the nation's future!"

Songwei stopped, turned around.

His eyes fixed on Zhongdao, the stare causing the young bank clerk to involuntarily shut his mouth.

"My son," Songwei said word for word, his voice low, but the shop fell silent, "my son Songwei Kenichi, twenty this year. Before he left he said he went to Europe to fight for money to support the family, because I am ill and cannot do heavy work."

He took a step forward:

"Now he's dead, and I received three hundred yen. With that money I can buy medicine, pay rent, and live a little longer."