You are ordered to support the War of Resistance against Japan; China enters Level 1 combat readines

The message reached the rear in the evening.

The afterglow of the setting sun spilled into the ancient courtyard, gilding the blue bricks and gray tiles with a warm golden hue.

The courtyard was quiet, with only the occasional chirping of birds.

Then, that silence was completely shattered.

"What? How much?"

A bespectacled man suddenly stood up, dropping his teacup to the ground where it shattered into pieces.

He was completely oblivious, his eyes fixed on the messenger delivering the telegram.

The correspondent stood up straight and spoke in a loud voice:

"1600 tons of gold! A gift from Mr. Shen to the Eighth Route Army!"

"1600... tons?"

The room erupted in chaos.

"My God!"

"This...how is this possible?"

"Where's the telegram? Let me see!"

A crowd gathered around, eagerly passing the thin telegram around.

The expressions on the faces of everyone who saw the numbers were incredibly varied—some were shocked, some were ecstatic, some were incredulous, and some were in a daze as if they had been struck by immense happiness.

"1600 tons...that's how many taels?"

"3200 million taels!"

"hiss--"

Gasps of shock rose and fell.

The bespectacled comrade plopped back into his chair and muttered, "There were some voices before, suggesting we should offer some gifts to the great powers in exchange for international support... We argued about it for half a month, until we were red in the face..."

A colleague nearby chimed in, "There's no need to argue now. Let them negotiate. Do you think they can negotiate back 1600 tons of gold?"

"Don't even mention 1600 tons, I doubt even 16 tons would be enough!"

"It's most likely a case of throwing good money after bad, never to be seen again!"

"Some people still don't understand the true colors of the great powers!"

"Wow, a whole 1600 tons! That's gold!"

A burst of laughter came from inside the room.

The voices that had previously insisted on "actively donating in exchange for support" were shattered in the face of these 1600 tons of gold.

Facts speak louder than words.

What can you possibly achieve by going to talk?

Mr. Shen not only did not grovel, but he also took back 3200 tons of gold from the foreign powers and gave half of it to the Eighth Route Army!

This is the gap.

"By the way, didn't someone say before that giving Mr. Shen the title of military region-level advisor was too high?" a comrade suddenly asked.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Then someone sneered: "Who would dare say that now? 1600 tons of gold were dumped on you, and you still think it's too high?"

"Exactly! Forget about being a military region-level advisor, I think he'd be qualified even at a higher level!"

"When others were sending weapons and food, some people didn't realize their value. Now that gold is right in front of them, shouldn't they see it now? Since ancient times, gold has been the hardest currency!"

Everyone nodded in agreement.

indeed.

While those tanks, airplanes, and rocket launchers were incredibly powerful, they were still novelties for some comrades in the rear, who lacked a clear understanding of them.

They know it's powerful, but they don't know just how powerful.

But gold is different.

What is gold? It is the most familiar and recognized measure of value for the Chinese people for thousands of years.

They could calculate with their eyes closed how many silver dollars a tael of gold could be exchanged for, and how much grain a ton of gold could buy.

1600 tons of gold—that's an astronomical figure that no one would even dare to dream of.

"Meeting!" The bespectacled man abruptly stood up. "Meeting immediately! Discuss how to respond to Mr. Shen!"

"Yes! A meeting is necessary!"

"We can't be careless this time!"

A group of people filed out, their pace much faster than usual.

……

The meeting lasted a long time.

What exactly was discussed remains unknown to outsiders.

All I know is that the light in that room stayed on until late at night.

Several figures pacing back and forth were reflected in the window, occasionally punctuated by arguments, and sometimes by long silences.

The next morning, a special "return gift" was sent out from the courtyard.

It's not gold, not materials, not anything that can be measured in money.

It was a piece of calligraphy.

To be precise, it is a poem.

The Xuan paper is laid out, the ink is not yet dry, and every character is powerful and penetrating, every stroke is vigorous and forceful.

Those familiar with the handwriting would recognize it at a glance—it was written by the person who personally penned it.

"Qing Ping Yue - A Gift to Shen Mingyuan"

The sky is high and the clouds are light; I gaze until the wild geese fly south. He who has not climbed the Great Wall is no true hero; the journey is twenty thousand li.

On the high peak of Liupan Mountain, red flags flutter in the west wind. Today we hold the long spear in our hands, when will we bind the azure dragon?

The entire poem is grand and majestic, written with vigorous and flowing strokes.

Especially the last two sentences—

"With the long spear in hand today, when will we bind the azure dragon?"

It's so exciting to read.

The long rope was originally a long rope used to bind enemies.

As the ancients said, "I am willing to accept the long rope, and I will surely bind the King of Nanyue and bring him to the capital." Now, Shen Wang has sent weapons, food, and gold—aren't these the "long rope" that binds the invaders?

With these, how could we not bind the invading azure dragon?

The messenger carefully rolled up the calligraphy, placed it in a specially made wooden box, and then wrapped it in layers of oilcloth to ensure its safety.

"Make sure to deliver it to Mr. Shen personally," the leader solemnly instructed as he saw him off.

"yes!"

. . .

Headquarters of the Southeastern Shanxi Military Region.

The sign is now up, white with red lettering, and stands out brightly in the sunlight.

There were more guard posts in the courtyard than usual, and communications soldiers were constantly going in and out, their steps hurried.

The brigade commander, Shen Wang, Li Yunlong and other key generals were all in the headquarters.

A huge battle map was spread out on the table, densely marked with the enemy and friendly positions.

The red arrow starts from Zhicheng and heads north, pointing straight to Jinan. The winding black railway line—the Zhengtai Railway—is like a snake coiled at the border of Shanxi and Hebei.

The previously submitted battle plan has been approved: take Quancheng and cut off the Zhengtai Railway!

The brigade commander stood in front of the map, his hands resting on the edge of the table, his gaze fixed on the small dot marked "Spring City".

Shen Wang sat to the side, holding a teacup in his hand, his expression calm.

Li Yunlong squatted on the chair, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth, his eyes fixed on the map like a wolf eyeing its prey.

Several regimental commanders and staff officers were sitting around, all looking energetic and eager to try.

"The operation plan has been approved by headquarters," the brigade commander said bluntly. "Target—Quancheng, Zhengtai Railway."

As soon as he finished speaking, a burst of barely suppressed excited whispers filled the conference room.

Li Yunlong slapped his thigh: "It should have been done a long time ago! Old Li's hands have been itching for it!"

The brigade commander glared at him, signaling him to shut up, and then looked at the crowd.

"What we're going to discuss today is how to play."

He tapped his finger on the map.

"According to the latest intelligence, the garrison in Quancheng consists of approximately two infantry regiments, plus puppet troops, totaling over ten thousand men!"

"The city is well-defended with a complete system of fortifications, and there are several strongholds along the railway line, which support each other."

"Our advantages are clear to everyone: tanks—14 Type 99A tanks, 80 Type 59 tanks, as well as aircraft and rockets."

"But siege warfare is not like open field battles. No matter how powerful tanks are, they cannot be used as infantry, and we cannot use airplanes to bomb our own cities."

The brigade commander raised his head and his gaze swept over everyone present.

"So, what are everyone's thoughts?"