Beiyang Dream

Chapter 56 The Crossroads of History

Chapter 56 Crossroads of History (Fourth Update)

Berlin, inside Guo Shigui's signing room at the Qing Dynasty's embassy in Germany.

The room wasn't big to begin with, and with five people crammed in, it suddenly felt cramped and small, with barely any room to turn around.

The air was filled with a faint aroma of coffee. Luo Jingrou had just served everyone a cup of coffee before stepping outside and closing the door behind her. Someone was stationed outside to keep watch, and no unauthorized personnel were allowed to approach.

Duan Qirui, Shang Dequan, and the other three had already been sent by Chang Desheng to translate military textbooks. Today's secret meeting is of utmost importance, and they absolutely cannot be allowed to get involved.

Chang Desheng, Guo Shigui, Moltke, Tirpitz, and Zhang Zhensheng, representing the Nanyang forces, took their seats, and the atmosphere instantly became heavy, making it a little hard to breathe.

The temperature in Berlin in April was slightly cool, without any heat, but Guo Shigui felt a tightness in his chest and sweat on his forehead. He secretly glanced at Chang Desheng beside him, his heart pounding: This guy is too bold, I hope he doesn't cause any uncontrollable trouble.

On the other side, Moltke held a thin piece of paper in his hand, looking down at it quietly. As he looked, his originally calm and composed expression gradually darkened.

He slowly raised his eyes, his gaze first falling on Zhang Zhensheng. The wealthy businessman from Southeast Asia wore a somewhat stiff smile.

He raised his head, his gaze first sweeping over Zhang Zhensheng, the wealthy businessman from Southeast Asia, who had a forced smile on his face, as if it were pasted on.

His gaze swept over Guo Shigui again; the embassy counselor's hand, holding the coffee cup, seemed to tremble slightly.

Finally, the image focuses on Chang Desheng's face.

"Zhenbang." Xiao Maoqi's voice was calm, but something lurked beneath the calm. "This list—are you sure?"

Chang Desheng, on the other hand, had an expression of complete control: "Teacher, is there a problem with this list?"

"A problem?" Moltke slammed the paper on the table with a "thud," the sound wasn't loud, but everyone in the room jumped.

The paper is in German, and the entries are clear:

1200 Gew. 1888 rifles.

Accompanying ammunition: 150 million rounds.

Maxim machine guns, 40 units.

Machine gun ammunition, 100 million rounds.

Schneider indirect fire guns, 60 in total.

3 artillery shells.

Hand grenades, 8000.

500 sets of entrenching tools.

Total price: 913,000 marks (excluding commission and shipping).

"Rifles, 1,200," Moltke's fingers pressed down one by one. "Ammunition, 1.5 million rounds. Machine guns, 40. Artillery shells, 30,000 rounds—"

With each number he announced, Guo Shigui's face paled a little more.

"Tell me, Zhenbang," Moltke leaned forward, his gray eyes like two knives, "what kind of operation" would require so many weapons of mass destruction?"

He paused, then said, word by word, "You Beiyang Army—are you planning to wage a real war on the island of Borneo?"

These words, like a muffled thunderclap, exploded in the signing room.

Guo Shigui nearly dropped his coffee cup on the table, spilling a considerable amount of brown liquid.

Zhang Zhensheng's smile froze, and he subconsciously looked at Chang Desheng, his eyes full of pleading.

Chang Desheng's heart tightened as well.

But he showed no sign of it on his face; instead, he smiled and said, "Teacher, what you're saying is true—the Southeast Asia is different from our place."

He put down his crossed legs, sat up straight, and said sincerely, "The Dutch only have a few thousand troops stationed there, scattered across hundreds of islands. In Borneo, the Dutch actually only control a few coastal outposts. The inland areas are full of aborigines, natives, and pirates who have migrated from Sulu."

"A small robbery every three days, a major massacre every five days. We Chinese people there mine and grow rubber, earning a little money through hard work, but we have to risk our lives to make it work."

He held up three fingers: "In the past year alone, there were no fewer than thirty attacks on Chinese estates in the Pontianak area. More than five hundred people were killed or injured. And that's just the cases that were reported to the authorities; there were many more that weren't."

Little Moltke didn't speak, he just looked at him.

"Do you know what those natives use?" Chang Desheng continued, "Bows and arrows, blowguns, and poisoned spears."

The Dutch gave them some outdated muzzle-loading muskets, but those things had a range of less than 100 meters and took half a minute to reload after each shot.

"Even so, our Chinese manor's guards, armed with knives, spears, and clubs, couldn't defeat them." He sighed. "That's why we went to the Grand Secretary to beg the Beiyang government for a way out."

Guo Shigui finally recovered and quickly replied, "Yes, yes, Your Excellency—there's nothing you can do about it."

The overseas Chinese in Southeast Asia donate at least several hundred thousand taels of silver annually to the Beiyang government for coastal defense. How could the Grand Secretary, having accepted their money, refuse to do their bidding?

His voice was weak as he spoke, and he didn't dare look at Maoqi.

Mao Qi stared at Chang Desheng for a long time before finally speaking: "So, these weapons are mainly for the Chinese manor's security team?"

"Yes." Chang Desheng nodded. "It's mainly about self-preservation. You see, the Dutch can't be relied on, so we Chinese can only protect ourselves."

"And what about the sixty cannons?" Moltke pointed to the line on the list: "Schneider indirect fire cannons, 60 cannons." "80mm caliber cannons, also for dealing with native arrows?"

Chang Desheng was waiting for this sentence.

He exclaimed "Ouch!" and slapped his forehead, as if he had just realized something: "Look at my brain! How could I call this thing a 'curved-shot cannon'? That name sounds pretty scary."

He leaned forward and lowered his voice: "Teacher, this is a little gadget that Schneider Electric has just come up with. Strictly speaking, it can't be considered a cannon."

"What is that?"

"A projectile launcher," Chang Desheng said. "It's a seamless steel pipe, without rifling, using the simplest impact fuse. It fires four-kilogram projectiles loaded with C/88 picric acid explosive. The range isn't long, only about a thousand meters, and the accuracy is poor; hitting the target two or three out of ten times is considered good."

He paused, looking at Moltke: "But this thing has two advantages. First, it's cheap. A cannon plus a hundred shells only costs a few thousand marks. Second, it can fire indirect fire. In Southeast Asia, the jungles are dense, and the natives hide behind rocks or on reverse slopes, making them unreachable by direct fire weapons. This thing can throw the projectiles over there, and they'll land right on their heads."

Little Moltke didn't speak, but tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

Click, click, click.

The sound was exceptionally clear in the quiet room where the lottery was being drawn.

Chang Desheng continued, "Moreover, this thing has low requirements for gunners. They can be used after three months of training. Unlike the Krupp 75..."

"You can't master a field gun in less than six months. Back in Southeast Asia, the security teams hired by Chinese estates are mostly farmers, uneducated, and can't handle complicated gadgets; this simple kind is perfect for them."

Moltke remained silent for a long time.

It went on for so long that Guo Shigui felt the sweat on his back had soaked through his inner shirt.

Finally, Moltke spoke up: "You really want all of these on the list?"

"Really?" Chang Desheng nodded.

"Okay," said Moltke. "Next Sunday, outside Berlin, at the Seventh Target Range. I want to see for myself what this projectile launcher of yours is all about."

He stood up, picked up his top hat: "If it really is just a 'defensive weapon' as you say—I can help with this shipment."

He paused, looking at Chang Desheng: "But I must remind you, Zhenbang, that the Imperial Customs Service has a new chief inspector, who is one of Prince Bismarck's men. He is very strict about arms exports."

"Especially," he emphasized, "those destined for the colonies... so you can't be too blatant!"

Chang Desheng's heart tightened.

Bismarck's men?

Although the Iron Chancellor has retired, he still wields considerable influence within the imperial bureaucracy. If his men have their eyes on this shipment—it could be a bit troublesome.

"I understand." Chang Desheng took a deep breath. "See you at the firing range next Sunday."

Moltke nodded and left with Tirpitz.

The door closed.

The signing room was deathly silent.

Guo Shigui slumped back into his chair, panting heavily, his face deathly pale: "Zhen...Zhenbang—Bismarck's men—"

"What...what should we do?"

Zhang Zhensheng also panicked: "If we get caught, this batch of goods—"

"What's the rush?" Chang Desheng leaned back in his chair, picked up his now-cold coffee, took a sip, and said, "We'll go through all the necessary procedures. Contracts, customs documents, official seals—we've prepared everything for him."

"But----"

"No buts." Chang Desheng put down his cup, looked at Guo Shigui, and said, "Bismarck has retired, and Wilhelm II is now in charge of Germany... Since he still covets Pontianak, as long as we have all the necessary paperwork, there won't be any problems!"

Guo Shigui shook his head: "But, but I'm not the minister, Lord Hong is... Such a large arms deal requires the minister's seal!"

Chang Desheng waved his hand: "Brother Jichuan, Lord Hong will always find a way. Remember, we in the Beiyang clique do things for money. It's only right that we help the overseas Chinese in Southeast Asia purchase self-defense equipment after they've donated."

Guo Shigui opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he only sighed heavily: "Okay—I'll think of a way."

77

He stood up, seemingly intending to go outside, but turned back at the door: "Zhenbang, this matter—can it really work out?"

"It can succeed," Chang Desheng said. "It must succeed."

Guo Shigui nodded, pushed open the door, and went out.

In the signing room, only Chang Desheng and Zhang Zhensheng remained.

Zhang Zhensheng looked at Chang Desheng, seemingly wanting to say something but then stopping himself.

"Fifth Uncle, what do you want to say?" Chang Desheng asked.

"Zhenbang—" Zhang Zhensheng hesitated for a moment, "Doing it this way is too risky. What if—"

"There's no 'what if'," Chang Desheng interrupted him. "Time isn't on our side. The Qing Dynasty is still barely a major power, and the Dutch are still somewhat wary of it. Even if we compete with them for territory in Borneo, so what? But a few years from now, it's hard to say!"

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the street scene of Berlin outside: "Fifth Uncle, do you know? I learned a sentence at the Prussian War Academy."

"What did you say?"

"The best defense is offense." Chang Desheng turned around and looked at Zhang Zhensheng. "When we still have the advantage, we should launch an attack in time. This way, if the situation becomes unfavorable, we will have room to maneuver."

"Sixty cannons, forty machine guns, and twelve hundred rifles—that's enough for a big heist!"

Zhang Zhensheng fell silent.

After a long silence, he nodded: "I understand."

He left too.

In the signing room, only Chang Desheng remained.

He walked to the table, picked up the list, and looked at the densely packed items on it.

Rifles, bullets, machine guns, cannons, grenades —

Will these weapons change anything?

he does not know.

But he knew that if he did nothing, and the last vestiges of the Qing Dynasty's dignity were destroyed, then there would truly be nothing he could do.

"Such a good place, if we don't take it, someone else will..." he muttered to himself, folding the list and stuffing it into his pocket.

Outside the window, Berlin's scenery was peaceful and serene, a picture of a prosperous and peaceful era.

Meanwhile, 10,000 kilometers away in Southeast Asia, the region is at a historical crossroads.

Just like the northern part of China!

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