Chapter 726: Italy's Sincerity

Xingdengbao sits in the second‑floor living room of the villa, a glass of hot red wine before him. He wears civilian clothes—a dark‑gray thick wool coat over an ordinary suit and tie—looking just like a German wealthy businessman on holiday in the Alps. But his eyes betray him. Those cloudy yet sharp eyes have been fixed on the winding mountain road outside the window for a full two hours.

Chief of Staff Huo Fuman sits opposite him, also in civilian clothes, also watching the mountain road.

"Marshal," Huo Fuman says softly, "you should rest a while. Bo Saeli still needs two more hours to arrive."

Xingdengbao shakes his head.

"No need. I'll wait right here."

Huo Fuman remains silent for a few seconds.

"Marshal, do you really believe the Italians?"

Xingdengbao turns his head, looking at him.

"Do you believe?"

Huo Fuman is startled for a moment, then shakes his head.

"Don't believe."

Xingdengbao nods.

"That's right. Not believing is correct. The Italians betrayed us two years ago, and again a year ago. Now they want to come back—who the hell knows what's in their hearts."

He stands, walks to the fireplace, and watches the dancing flames inside.

"But I must come. Your Majesty needs hope."

Huo Fuman says nothing.

Outside the window snow begins to fall. Fine flakes drift from the sky, landing on the pine forest, on the mountain road, on the distant, faintly visible peaks. The whole world slowly turns white, grows quiet, like a water‑ink painting still being completed.

At three p. m., a tiny black dot appears on the mountain road.

The black dot draws nearer, growing larger, gradually becoming a black automobile. The car struggles up the snowy road, its wheels crunching over the packed snow with a squeaking sound. It rounds one bend, then another, and finally stops at the villa's gate.

The car door opens, and Bo Saeli steps out.

He wears a thick leather coat, a black top‑hat on his head, his face bearing the fatigue of travel. He looks up at the villa, glances at the two plain‑clothed men at the gate, then strides toward the entrance.

In the second‑floor living room, Xingdengbao stands by the window, watching the figure that is slowly approaching.

"He's here," he says.

When Bo Saeli enters the living room, Xingdengbao is already seated on the sofa by the fireplace.

The two stare at each other for three seconds.

In those three seconds, Bo Saeli sees a seventy‑year‑old old marshal, his face covered with knife‑like wrinkles, his cloudy eyes flashing an indescribable sharpness. In those three seconds, Xingdengbao sees a politician in his fifties, deep‑set eye sockets, a scruffy beard sprouting, but those eyes—those eyes are as sharp as his own.

"Marshal Xingdengbao," Bo Saeli begins, bowing slightly, "thank you for coming."

Xingdengbao nods and points to the opposite sofa.

"Please, sit, Prime Minister."

Bo Saeli removes his coat, hands it to the attendant at the door, then sits on the sofa. Huo Fuman pours him a glass of hot red wine, which he takes, warming his palm with it.

The fire in the fireplace burns brightly, crackling. The scent of burning wood mingles with the rich aroma of the wine, making one drowsy. Yet no one feels sleepy.

Xingdengbao speaks first.

"Prime Minister, let's get straight to the point."

Bo Saeli nods.

"Very well. Straight to the point."

Xingdengbao looks directly into his eyes.

"Two years ago, Italy was our ally. When the war first broke out, you claimed 'the alliance treaty only applies to defensive wars,' refused to join us in attacking France. Then you secretly negotiated with Britain and France, took their benefits, and turned around to declare war on us."

Bo Saeli's expression does not change.

"One year ago, Italy officially became a member of the Entente. You amassed five hundred thousand troops on the Isonzo front, tying down at least fifteen of our divisions. Our soldiers died at your hands, no fewer than one hundred thousand."

Bo Saeli still says nothing.

"Now," Xingdengbao's voice lowers further, "you want to come back. Prime Minister, tell me—on what basis does Germany trust you?"

The living room falls silent for a few seconds.

Only the fire in the fireplace crackles.

Bo Saeli lifts his wine glass, takes a big gulp of red wine. Then he sets the cup down, looking at Xingdengbao.

"Marshal, you're right. Italy did betray Germany. Twice."

He pauses.

"But do you know why?"

Xingdengbao says nothing.

Bo Saeli stands, walks to the window. Outside, snow continues to fall, the distant peaks already blurred by wind and snow.

"Because Italy is too weak. So weak that it must swing between great powers just to survive."

He turns back to Xingdengbao.

"Marshal, do you know the difference between Italy and Germany?"

Xingdengbao still says nothing.

Bo Saeli answers himself.

"Germany has steel, coal, industry, a powerful army. What does Italy have? We have sunshine, beaches, the ruins of ancient Rome, ten million peasants who can't get enough to eat. We have nothing." (Is anyone saying there are also Italian girls?)

He walks back to the sofa and sits.

"When the war first broke out, we thought Germany would win. So we stood on Germany's side. But when we saw the British‑French navy blockading the Mediterranean, saw Germany's submarines unable to rescue our merchant ships, saw our cities on the brink of starvation—we were scared. We were scared of being dragged under, scared of sinking together with Germany."

Xingdengbao watches him.

"So you betrayed us?"

Bo Saeli nods.

"Yes. We betrayed. To survive."

He stared straight into Xingdengbao's eyes.

"Now we must betray Yingguo and Faguo again. It's the same—survival."

Xingdengbao remained silent for a long while.

Then he asked, "This time, can you guarantee you won't betray?"

Bo Sai Li shook his head.

"Can't."

General Huo Fu Man's complexion changed. He sprang to his feet, hand on the sidearm at his waist.

Bo Sai Li waved his hand.

"General Huo Fu Man, calm down. Hear me out."

He looked at Xingdengbao.

"Marshal, I cannot guarantee I won't betray. No one can guarantee the future. But I can guarantee one thing—"

He paused.

"This time, Italy's betrayal will be against Yingguo and Faguo, not against Deguo."

Xingdengbao stared at him for a long time.

"How can we prove it?"

Bo Sai Li took a thick dossier from his briefcase and pushed it before Xingdengbao.

"Marshal, this is the plan I drafted. Please review it."

Xingdengbao took the document, opened to the first page. Huo Fu Man leaned over to look together.

The first page contained the military plan.

"Italy will transfer twenty divisions from the Austro‑Hungarian front, secretly massing at the northern border. The concentration will be completed before December 25. On January 1, a full‑scale offensive will be launched against southeastern Faguo. Targets: Nice, Savoy, Corsica."

Xingdengbao lifted his head and glanced at Bo Sai Li.

Bo Sai Li nodded.

Xingdengbao continued turning the pages.

The second page outlined the naval plan.

"The Italian navy will sweep out, blockading the central Mediterranean. The main fleet will attack Yingguo's transport lines in the Mediterranean, and submarine forces will enter the Strait of Gibraltar to strike Yingguo merchant ships entering or leaving the Mediterranean. At the same time, some vessels will sail to Egypt to cooperate with Lanfang's army in the attack on the Suez Canal."

The third page presented the political commitment.

"The Italian government will publicly announce its withdrawal from the Entente and rejoin the Central Powers. Prime Minister Bo Sai Li will personally issue a statement condemning Yingguo and Faguo's betrayal and oppression of Italy, urging the Italian people to unite under the flag of the German‑Italian alliance."

Xingdengbao finished the last page, closed the document, and looked at Bo Sai Li.