Chapter 284: Each Soldier's Life Priced at 800 Yen, Death Costs 300, Net Profit 500

Song Wei's gaze swept over everyone in the shop:

"So please don't talk about honor, the future, or rising. My son is dead, and your sons might die too. When they die, we get the money, and the state gets foreign exchange. That's all, don't make it sound so noble."

After speaking, he turned, opened the door, and stepped into Tokyo's cold winter night.

The izakaya fell into dead silence. Ji Da opened his mouth to say something, but in the end only lowered his head and drank.

San Pu silently walked back to the cash register, looking at the money Song Wei left on the table. A ten‑yen note, enough for twenty bottles of shochu. It was one‑thirtieth of the money a father exchanged for his son's life.

The door was pushed open again, cold wind pouring in. This time two young officers entered, an Army Lieutenant and a Navy Lieutenant. They scanned the shop and then walked straight to the counter.

"Two cups of sake, and some snacks," the Army Lieutenant said, his tone stiff.

San Pu recognized them as young officers from the nearby Army Ministry and Navy Ministry, who often came to the shop but rarely appeared together.

"Right away," he turned to prepare.

The two officers sat at the counter. The Navy Lieutenant spoke first, his voice pressed low: "Did you see the news? The Army scored a 'great victory' in Europe."

The Lieutenant hummed: "Saw it. Twenty‑five thousand casualties, you call that a great victory? If I were in command…"

"If you were in command, even more would die," the Lieutenant said bluntly. "I've read the detailed battle reports; your tactics are still stuck in the Russo‑Japanese War era. Frontal charges, 'ten‑thousand‑year' attacks, using lives to fill the front. Deguo people treat you as expendables, and you actually cooperate."

The Lieutenant's face flushed red: "Watch your words! Army soldiers bleed and sacrifice on the front lines; what right do you have to make cold remarks here?"

"I'm merely stating facts," the Lieutenant said calmly. "The Navy has also shed blood in the East Sea, but we know why we fight — to defend the state and the shipping lanes. What about you? Going to Europe to fight for Deguo for money, how is that different from being mercenaries?"

"That's a state decision!" the Lieutenant slammed the table. "The state needs foreign exchange, and the Army earns it for the state! If you have grievances, go tell Prime Minister Xi Yuan Si Gongwang!"

Their voices grew louder, and the other patrons turned to look.

San Pu hurriedly brought out the drinks and snacks: "Gentlemen, please enjoy. This shop runs on a modest budget, so please…"

"No need to worry, San Pu-san," the Navy Lieutenant took the glass, his tone softening. "We're just discussing. After all, the Army and Navy are both the Empire's forces, just… a different Concept."

The Army Lieutenant also realized his lapse and silently drank.

The Lieutenant glanced at him and suddenly asked, "Do you know anyone going to Europe?"

The Lieutenant was silent for a few seconds: "My cousin, from the 9th Division. A letter arrived last month saying he was wounded in Ao Gusituofu… not seriously, still able to fight."

"Are you proud of him?"

The question came suddenly. The Lieutenant lifted his head, his gaze complex.

"He is a soldier; obeying orders is his duty," he finally said. "But as family… I hope he returns alive."

The Lieutenant nodded, and the two continued drinking, but the atmosphere eased considerably.

After returning to the counter, San Pu listened to their conversation, glanced at the newspaper on the wall, and then at the empty seat where Song Wei had sat.

Tokyo has two temperatures. One is the feverish enthusiasm for victory and hope for the future; the other is the coldness of losing loved ones and the sober reality.

Both temperatures stem from the same war thousands of miles away.

In the study of the Prime Minister's Residence, the heating was cranked up, yet Xi Yuan Si Gongwang still felt cold.

He wore a thick kimono coat, sat at a broad desk, with three documents spread before him. One was the Ministry of Finance's newly submitted "Emergency Foreign‑Exchange Balance Report," another was the Army Ministry's "Second Mobilization Plan Draft for the European Expeditionary Force," and the third was the Health Ministry's compiled "Summary of Families of the Fallen in the Ao Gusituofu Campaign."

Each document was weighty.

Xi Yuan Si lifted his reading glasses and opened the first file. It listed, in dense numbers, the detailed allocation plan for the 8,600,000 yen that arrived yesterday:

3,200,000 yen for emergency food imports (mainly from Siam, Burma, French Indochina)

2,100,000 yen to pay the next installment of Lanfang compensation

1,500,000 yen injected into Sakura Nation Bank to stabilize the financial market

1,800,000 yen for disbursing death benefits and treating the wounded

Next to the last item, in red pen: "The actual total death benefits needed are about 2,400,000 yen; a shortfall of 600,000 yen must be covered by reallocating other items or issuing government bonds."

Xi Yuan Si's mouth twitched. Even the death benefits for those killed couldn't be fully paid, and they still had to rely on borrowing.

He opened the Army Ministry's draft. It planned to mobilize a second batch of four divisions, about 105,000 troops (including replacements), with training and equipment to be completed within three months, and departure for Europe no later than early June.

The draft concluded with a simple cost‑benefit analysis:

"Based on the first expeditionary force's combat performance, the second batch is projected, over a twelve‑month contract, to inflict 150,000‑200,000 casualties on the Russian forces, while sustaining 30,000‑40,000 of its own. Deguo side will pay total costs of 12‑15 million marks; after deductions, the Empire's net income is about 5‑7 million yen."

Next to it, Army Minister Da Dao Jianyi's handwritten note read: "Though the cost is heavy, the nation's crisis demands it; this is a necessary evil. The Army must share the nation's burden."

Xi Yuan Si closed his eyes. Da Dao's words sounded easy, "necessary evil." Yet that "evil" comprised thirty‑to‑forty thousand living young people, sons like Song Wei, families that would weep.

He recalled the questioning he faced this afternoon in Parliament. Councilor Dao Tian Sanlang of the Political Friends Association spoke generously in the House of Representatives Hall:

"Prime Minister, I heard that each fallen soldier in Europe receives only three hundred yen in death benefits! Yet the money the government receives from Deguo yields an average net income of eight hundred yen per soldier for the Empire! Does that mean our government treats soldiers as commodities? Each soldier's life is priced at eight hundred yen, dead they cost three hundred, net profit five hundred?"

The hall erupted. Xi Yuan Si could only reply: "That is a slander against the sacrifice of the Empire's soldiers. All the fallen are heroes who gave their lives for the nation; their worth cannot be measured in money."

But privately, he knew Dao Tian's calculation was roughly correct. Cruel, but accurate.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in."

The door opened, and a secretary led someone in. The newcomer was about sixty, dressed in a plain black kimono, hair meticulously combed, a gentle yet weary smile on the face.

It was Jia Tuo Gaoming, the newly appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs and a long‑time political ally of Xi Yuan Si.