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

"She ran back!" someone shouted.

Upon hearing the shouts, Zhang Tingshu left ten men to continue besieging the front gate, while he led the remaining brothers to chase after the temple from the back.

The torches flickered in the night wind, casting the woods in shifting light.

Haruka Yumi ran wildly, panting heavily, like a startled wild deer, at an astonishing speed.

We must not let these despicable Fengtian Army soldiers capture us!

Once arrested, she would become a witness for the South Manchuria Railway's supply to Jinzhou. If that happened, Zhang Zuolin would surely collude with those traitors to the empire to coerce their forces to withdraw from the area around Jinzhou.

Then all the forces they've built up over the years will be wiped out!

She absolutely could not allow this to happen—

The intense tension made her lungs feel like they were about to explode, but she dared not stop, nor could she stop.

The footsteps of her pursuers grew closer and closer, the chaotic sounds of footsteps and shouts blending together like an invisible net, tightening inch by inch behind her.

Knowing the terrain well, she knew that beyond the woods lay an open wasteland.

If you just run over there, you can climb over that earthen slope. Behind the slope is a dry ditch overgrown with weeds. If you just crawl in, you can escape under the cover of night.

She rushed toward the earthen slope with all her might, one hundred steps, fifty steps, thirty steps—just as she was about to reach it, a dark figure suddenly emerged from behind a tree and blocked her way.

Zhang Tingshu gripped his Mauser pistol, the muzzle pointed at her chest, panting heavily, but a cold smile played on his lips.

Full of contempt.

"Miss Haruka, you run pretty fast. Too bad you're running in the wrong direction."

Haruka Yumi paused, but didn't turn around. She knew there were at least a dozen guns pointed at her from behind.

She stood there, her chest heaving violently, her hair disheveled, her face covered in dirt and sweat, but her eyes were still filled with hatred, like a trapped mother wolf, staring intently at Zhang Tingshu.

"Put down your gun." Zhang Tingshu pointed the gun at her and continued to approach. "You can't escape."

Haruka Yumi slowly raised her hand, her fingers touching the trigger of the submachine gun.

Zhang Tingshu's eyes sharpened, and her finger tightened on the trigger. The surrounding soldiers also raised their guns, the dark muzzles all pointing at her.

"I advise you not to move." Zhang Tingshu's voice turned cold. "My marksmanship isn't very good; I'm prone to accidental discharge. Master Gu wants me alive, not missing an arm or a leg."

Haruka Yumi stared at him for a while, then suddenly smiled.

There was a hint of sadness, a hint of determination, and a hint of something else that was hard to define.

“Tell Gu Cheng,” her voice was hoarse, “he won. But—he won’t win forever. Only the empire will be the victor!”

She released the submachine gun, letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud.

Then she slowly squatted down, pulled out the pistol from her waist, and threw it at her feet.

Two soldiers stepped forward, grabbed her arms on either side, and forced her to kneel on the ground.

She did not struggle or scream.

The night wind ruffled her disheveled hair, revealing a pale face. Her eyes stared blankly into the distance, as if piercing through the forest, the dilapidated temple, and the walls of Jinzhou, to see a place very, very far away.

Zhang Tingshu put away his gun, took out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and slowly smoked it.

The smoke dissipated quickly in the night wind, and he let out a long breath, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

"take away."

The soldiers escorted Haruhiko Yumi through the woods toward the main road.

Her steps faltered, but she never looked back. Behind her, the dilapidated temple was still burning, flames shooting into the sky and reddening half the night sky.

Of those few men in black who put up a stubborn resistance, some were killed and some were captured; none escaped.

Zhang Tingshu stood there, watching Haruhiro Yumi's figure disappear into the night, then stubbed out his cigarette, mounted his horse, and rode off towards the brigade headquarters.

…………

It was afternoon when the train came to a stop at Fengtian Station.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the platform's roof, falling on Gu Cheng's military rank insignia, giving it a faint golden glow.

He stood at the carriage door, looking at the armed guards standing in formation on the platform, and felt a sense of inexplicable peace—the chaos in Jinzhou was finally coming to an end.

When Haruka Yumi was taken off the train, she had already changed into clean clothes, but her hands and feet were locked with heavy iron chains, and every step she took made a dull clattering sound.

The Japanese woman had no expression, as calm as a stagnant pool, as if she were being escorted not by soldiers of the Fengtian Army, but by a group of passersby who had nothing to do with her.

Two soldiers held her arms on either side. She neither struggled nor quickened her pace, but walked at a leisurely pace, like a guest who had come to Fengtian for an appointment, rather than a prisoner.

Gu Cheng walked in front, Zhang Tingshu followed closely behind, and Yang Song brought up the rear with several guards.

The group crossed the platform and exited the train station, where several black cars were already waiting at the door.

The people sent by the General Staff stepped forward, saluted, and respectfully accepted the handover documents. They glanced at Haruhi Yumi, and after confirming that everything was correct, waved to signal for her to be put into the car.

"Commander Gu, we'll take the person with us first. The Marshal said that after you finish the handover, you should go directly to the Marshal's residence; he's waiting for you."

Gu Cheng nodded, said nothing more, and turned to get into another car.

Zhang Tingshu followed behind him, and the two sat in the back seat. The car door closed, the engine started, and the car slowly drove away from the train station, merging into the traffic of Fengtian City.

Outside the window, pedestrians came and went on both sides of the street, and the cries of vendors rose and fell. Occasionally, a few rickshaws would pass by, the drivers shirtless and sweating profusely.

Gu Cheng leaned back in his chair, gazing at the street scene outside the window, but his mind was on the Marshal's Mansion.

Zhang Zuolin wanted him alive, so he brought him back.

But Gu Cheng understood that while the old fox was happy, someone else was unhappy.

The car stopped in front of the Marshal's Mansion.

Gu Cheng straightened his clothes, pushed open the door and got out of the car. Zhang Tingshu followed behind him, and the two walked into the gate of the Marshal's Mansion one after the other.

The guards, having already been informed, stepped aside and respectfully led them through the courtyard toward the Grand Brothel.

As soon as the two entered the gate, they walked a few steps along the corridor of the Western-style building and ran into Sun Liechen and Yang Yuting.

"Hey, Jingchuan Tingshu!" Sun Liechen laughed as soon as he saw Gu Cheng, taking three steps in two to walk up to him and grabbing his hand. "You're really something, kid—"

I heard about your great deeds in Jinzhou while I was in Fengtian. Well done! Damn, really well done!

Gu Cheng's hand ached from being gripped so tightly, but he couldn't pull away. He could only smile and reply, "Sixth Uncle, you flatter me. It's just my duty. I don't deserve it."

"It's my duty?" Sun Liechen's voice was even louder, echoing in the corridors of the Marshal's Mansion. "You've repeatedly distinguished yourself in Jinzhou; that can't be explained away with just 'it's my duty'!"

After saying this, he turned his gaze to Yang Yuting beside him, "I told you, Chief of the General Staff, am I right?"