Republic of China, 1922: Rise from the Post-Zhili-Fengtian War

The Japanese soldier never expected that the young man in front of him would react so quickly, and that he would even turn the tables on his side.

Moreover, Yamamoto Kei really couldn't answer Gu Cheng's question.

Going along with him, this person isn't from our South Manchuria Railway, so it's unreasonable for him to come here today to demand someone;

If the people belong to the South Manchuria Railway Company (SMR), then the SMR is responsible for their current actions.

However, they simply cannot afford to shoulder this responsibility right now.

Even if Japan wanted to annex Northeast China, it would still have to maintain a facade of "cooperation" and "amity."

If Zhang Zuolin is pushed too far, it will not only disrupt the Japanese high command's plans for Northeast China, but it will also make "competitors" such as Britain and the United States wary of them, which would be extremely detrimental to development.

The room was so quiet that it seemed as if they could hear each other's heartbeats. Gu Cheng calmly scrutinized the other man, watching his expression change from astonishment to anger.

The translator beside him was speechless, his hand trembling slightly as he held the pen, but he couldn't remember a single word.

They remained silent, but Gu Cheng pressed his advantage, saying, "Mr. Yamamoto, I heard you say 'strong protest.' But you also need to give me an explanation—your people caused damage on my turf, how are we going to settle this score?"

Yamamoto Keiya took a deep breath: "Commander Gu, what those people did has nothing to do with the South Manchuria Railway Bureau's investigation department. They... they acted as individuals."

"Personal actions?" Gu Cheng sneered, his gaze aggressive as he looked over. "You just said they were your employees, and now you're saying it was their own doing? You keep changing your story; which statement is true?"

Yamamoto Keiya's expression darkened further, but the translator beside him spoke curtly: "Commander Gu, Mr. Yamamoto means that although these people are nominally employees of the South Manchuria Railway Bureau's Investigation Department, their activities in Jinzhou are not official actions of the Bureau. The Bureau cannot be held responsible for their actions in Jinzhou."

Gu Cheng chuckled softly: "We Chinese have an idiom, 'shameless'... It's quite fitting to describe the two of you here."

From the moment he entered, Yamamoto Kei had been suppressing his anger, but when Gu Cheng uttered the word "shameless," he finally lost control, slamming his hand on the armrest and standing up abruptly: "Commander Gu, I am a full-time official of the Consulate of the Empire of Japan in Fengtian. I am here on behalf of the South Manchuria Railway Bureau's Research Department to conduct formal negotiations with your side! How dare you humiliate me like this—"

He was trembling with anger, pointing at Gu Cheng, his voice trembling, "In all my years in China, I've never..."

Before he could finish speaking, a low cough echoed down the corridor.

The cough wasn't loud, but it was like a bucket of cold water, precisely poured onto Yamamoto Keiya's anger.

Immediately afterwards, a series of deep, rhythmic footsteps came from outside the door.

Seven burly guards filed in, instantly filling both sides of the side hall.

They each had a Mauser pistol tucked into their waistbands, their faces expressionless, but their gazes were like knives, piercing Yamamoto Keiya and the translator beside him.

Yang Song was the last to enter. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and looked at Yamamoto Keiya with a half-smile: "Oh, Mr. Japanese, what do you want? In our brigade headquarters, right in front of our Commander Gu, you're slamming your fist on the table and glaring at him—are you here to negotiate, or to cause trouble?"

Yamamoto Keiya's face stiffened, and the translator next to him turned deathly pale, dropping his pen to the ground without even daring to pick it up.

They were certain that most of these Chinese soldiers wouldn't dare do anything to them.

But accidental clashes at the military level are too common. Even if the Fengtian Army makes some compensation in the future, their lives will be in danger.

The air seemed frozen.

Seeing the two unlucky fellows looking so bad, Gu Cheng stood up, straightened his collar, and walked step by step to Yamamoto Keiya.

His pace was neither hurried nor slow; his leather shoes made a crisp, rhythmic sound as they stomped on the blue brick floor, each step like a tap on Yamamoto Keiya's heart.

"Mr. Yamamoto, you are a public official." Gu Cheng's voice wasn't loud, but every word pierced the other man's ears like nails. "Do you think I, Gu Jingchuan, am a vegetable vendor in Jinzhou City?"

Yamamoto Keiya was speechless.

Gu Cheng took half a step forward, getting closer to him: "You're working at the Fengtian Consulate, and in Jinzhou, you're the guest. I'm guarding Jinzhou; this is my territory. The guest is banging on the table and cursing the host—Mr. Yamamoto—what do you think the host should do?"

Yamamoto Keiya's face turned from flushed to deathly pale, but he didn't utter a single word.

Gu Cheng stared at him for a moment, then said, slowly and deliberately, "You are from the consulate, and I am the garrison commander of Jinzhou; it would be best if we could sit down and resolve the issue calmly. But some people just don't know how to speak properly—"

He paused deliberately for a few seconds, then spoke in Japanese, "Assuming you Japanese people want to act recklessly, I, Gu Jingchuan, am not afraid of you!"

After saying that, he switched back to Chinese and said to Yang Song, "See the guest out!"

Gu Cheng had barely finished speaking when Yamamoto Kei exploded in anger: "You Chinese are utterly rude! How dare you—"

Gu Cheng didn't even lift his eyelids, and turned away.

There was no rebuttal, no explanation, and he didn't even glance at Yamamoto Keiya, as if nothing had happened.

"Whatever." His voice drifted from the doorway, which was then slammed shut.

The young officer didn't even bother arguing—he simply walked away, leaving him standing there.

Yang Song straightened up from the door frame, walked up to Yamamoto Keiya, and made a "please" gesture with a forced smile: "Mr. Yamamoto, please. Our Master Gu has official business to attend to and doesn't have time for idle chatter."

Yamamoto Keiya was furious: "You—you're nothing but bandits! I'm protesting to our Commander-in-Chief! I'm reporting this to the consulate!"

Yang Song still smiled and said, "Alright, go ahead, hehe, I can't exactly chop off your foot, can I? Please, please—"

Yamamoto Keiya wanted to say something more, but the translator beside him grabbed his sleeve and said urgently in Japanese, "Mr. Yamamoto, please stop! This is their territory, and we're the ones who will suffer! Let's go back and discuss this further!"

Yamamoto Keiya gritted his teeth, his chest heaving violently several times, but ultimately swallowed back the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

He glared at Yang Song, then turned and strode towards the door, his leather shoes clattering on the blue brick floor.

The translator quickly gathered his pen and documents and hurried after him.

The two figures hurried across the courtyard in the sunlight and disappeared through the gate in the blink of an eye.

Yang Song stood at the entrance of the side hall, looking at the two disheveled figures, and sneered: "With this kind of attitude, they still dare to act tough here?"

He turned around and walked into the side hall.

Gu Cheng had returned to the window and was staring blankly at the pomegranate tree in the courtyard.

Sunlight fell on his shoulders, enveloping him in a warm halo, as if the tension from the previous confrontation had been blown away by the wind.