Chapter 285: There Will Be a Third Batch, a Fourth Batch

"Excuse me, Prime Minister," Jia Teng bowed slightly.

"Please sit, Jia Teng," Xi Yuan Si signaled the secretary to pour tea, "You came this late—what's the matter?"

Jia Teng sat opposite, and after the secretary left, he began, "I have received President Chen Feng of Lanfang's handwritten letter. It was sent as diplomatic classified mail and came directly into my hands."

He took a thick envelope from his briefcase and handed it to Xi Yuan Si.

Xi Yuan Si opened the envelope; inside were two letters. One was an official diplomatic note, its content essentially the same as the earlier telegram: congratulating the victory, proposing a second batch deployment, a 10% price increase, and offering an improved weapon model.

The other was Chen Feng's personal letter, handwritten on elegant Lanfang official stationery, written in fluent Japanese.

Xi Yuan Si read the private letter first.

"To Prime Minister Xi Yuan Si: I was startled by the swift news from the continent, learning that your troops fight bravely, projecting the empire's might thousands of miles away; I deeply admire this. War is brutal, casualties inevitable, and I extend sincere condolences and sympathies for your army's heavy losses…"

The letter was long and exceedingly sincere. Chen Feng praised the Sakura Nation soldiers' bravery, mourned the fallen, and then his tone shifted:

"... Yet, the wheels of history keep turning forward. If today's sacrifices can lay the foundation for tomorrow's revival, then the soldiers' blood is not shed in vain. Though Lanfang has had conflicts with your country, we share East Asia and cultural ties, and should advance together. Should your nation be interested, Lanfang is willing to assist in all respects: loans for economic reconstruction, support for technological cooperation, even coordination of post‑war international arrangements..."

"Post‑war international arrangements?" Xi Yuan Si looked up at Jia Teng.

Jia Teng nodded, "Chen Feng is implying that if Deguo wins the war, the Sakura Nation, as a belligerent, could gain certain benefits—perhaps colonies, perhaps trade privileges, perhaps an elevated international standing."

"Empty promises," Xi Yuan Si set the letter down, "The war has just begun; who can guarantee Deguo's victory? And even if Deguo wins, will they share real benefits with us? We are merely mercenaries, not allies."

"But at least it's a notion," Jia Teng said, "Chen Feng is clever; he knows we need hope, even if it's an illusory hope."

Xi Yuan Si picked up the official note: "Price increase of 10%... they really know how to do business."

"And the improved weapon model," Jia Teng said, "Our battlefield feedback surely reached them. To roll out an improved model so quickly shows they were prepared. I suspect... the defects in those weapons were intentional."

Xi Yuan Si fell silent. He, too, had doubts. Those 'Lanfang-made' weapons were designed so... awkwardly, with such low reliability, yet they were the contract‑specified 'standard equipment.' There must be commercial scheming behind this.

"The Ministry of Armaments' analysis report is out," Jia Teng pulled another document from his briefcase, "They disassembled several captured damaged weapons; the conclusion: the design was deliberately simplified, material quality average, craftsmanship precision insufficient..."

Xi Yuan Si felt a chill. Such scheming was so deep it was terrifying.

"Chen Feng..." he murmured, "is terrifying."

"But we also need him," Jia Teng said frankly, "Without Lanfang's ships, our soldiers can't reach Europe. Without Lanfang's weapons, our soldiers' combat effectiveness would drop. Without Lanfang's mediation, we couldn't secure such favorable mercenary contracts."

"So we're bound to death," Xi Yuan Si chuckled wryly, "From the moment we signed the Borneo Agreement, we embarked on a road with no turning back."

The study fell silent. Only the radiator emitted a faint hissing.

"Prime Minister," Jia Teng finally broke the silence, "Second batch deployment... do you truly intend to approve it?"

Xi Yuan Si did not answer directly. He stood, walked to the window, and gazed at the night view of Nagatacho outside. Tokyo's night was dim, as power shortages left only half the streetlights lit.

"Jia Teng, do you know the current rice price in Tokyo?" he asked, his back turned.

"Thirty yen per liter," Jia Teng replied, "that's five times higher than three months ago."

"Do you know how many people eat only one meal a day?"

"The Ministry of Health's survey says forty percent of households are cutting their diets."

Xi Yuan Si turned, his face marked by deep fatigue: "This afternoon I received an urgent report from the Governor of Nagasaki Prefecture. Last week a grain‑raiding riot broke out there; police opened fire and killed seven people. Seven people, for a single bite of food."

He walked back to the desk, his finger pressing on that foreign‑exchange report:

"8.6 million yen can purchase 20,000 tons of rice, enough to feed one million people for a month. It could lower rice prices a bit, reduce the number of police shots fired, and... keep this country afloat a little longer."

"But the cost is tens of thousands of young lives," Jia Teng whispered.

"I know," Xi Yuan Si closed his eyes, "I know. But if we don't send troops, don't earn foreign exchange, what will happen? Rice price rising to fifty yen per liter? One hundred yen? Then the deaths won't be forty thousand, but four hundred thousand, four million—dying of starvation, disease, or riots."

He opened his eyes, and there was no hesitation left in them:

"Therefore I will approve the second batch deployment. I will sign the documents, sending one hundred thousand young men onto ships, to Europe to die. Then I will await the applications for the third and fourth batches, and continue to sign."

Xi Yuan Si's voice was calm, yet each word sounded as if pulled from an ice cellar:

"How will history judge me? Traitor? Cold‑blooded politician? I don't care. I only know that now, at this very moment, I must keep the Sakura Nation alive—by any means, at any cost."

Jia Teng bowed deeply. He understood Xi Yuan Si's choice, even admiring the courage to bear such a vilified responsibility.

"Then, tomorrow I will reply to Lanfang," he said, "agreeing to the second batch deployment, accepting the price increase, but requesting detailed specifications and test reports for the improved weapon model."

"Understood," Xi Yuan Si nodded, "Also, tell them we need faster transport and more ample ammunition supplies. If the Deguo want more troops, we can dispatch more—provided the money is in place."

"Got it."

As Jia Teng prepared to leave, Xi Yuan Si called him.

"Jia Teng, one more thing."

"Please give your orders."

Xi Yuan Si took an envelope from the drawer, "This is my private reply to President Chen Feng. Send it through secret channels; do not involve the Ministry of Foreign Affairs."

Jia Teng took the envelope, feeling it was very thin.

"What did you write?"

"Some... thoughts of the heart," Xi Yuan Si said, "Words from an old man to another person. Perhaps he won't understand, perhaps he doesn't care. But I wish to say."

Jia Teng bowed and left. The study was once again empty save for Xi Yuan Si.

He sat back at the desk, opened the Ministry of Health's compiled report on the families of the fallen. Turning to a certain page, there was a list arranged by region. Under the 'Tokyo Prefecture' column were over three hundred names, each followed by age, unit, and place of death.

Xi Yuan Si's gaze lingered on one name: Kenichi Matsuo, twenty, 3rd Division Infantry 18th Regiment, Augustov Forest.