On the eve of the fall of Liaodong, he led his troops in a remonstrance against the young marshal.

The parliament hall was filled with smoke.

The debate had lasted for a full six hours, from afternoon until late at night. The members of parliament were all hoarse, the ashtrays were overflowing with cigarette butts, and the tea in their cups had been refilled time and time again, until it was practically water.

Nominations were put forward one after another, and then rejected one after another.

Every name is a tug-of-war, and every tug-of-war ends in a stalemate.

Chairman Lin Sen sat on the podium, took off his reading glasses, and rubbed his sore eyes.

He was 65 years old and had presided over parliament for half his life; he had never seen a scene like this before.

Anyone willing to take on this mess is either incompetent.

The chairman, who was both willing and capable, was just ousted by them and is now sitting in his official residence watching coldly, waiting to see them make a fool of themselves.

Just then, someone stood up from the corner.

"Gentlemen."

"I nominate Zhang Xueliang, Commander-in-Chief of the Northeast Army and Deputy Commander-in-Chief of the Chinese Army, Navy and Air Force."

Upon hearing this, the council fell silent instantly.

"Zhang Xueliang? Are you kidding me!"

"He's in the Northeast, thousands of miles away, how can he preside over the Executive Yuan?"

"He's no good! What does he have besides a good father?"

Zhang Biao stood there, calmly waiting for the commotion to subside on its own.

He only spoke again after the last opponent had also run out of things to say.

"You all say the commander-in-chief is no good."

He placed his hands on the table, leaning slightly forward. "Then let me ask you, who is capable? Among your nominees, who can annihilate 120,000 Japanese troops on the battlefield?"

"Of your nominees, who can recapture Lushun? Of your nominees, who can crush the two Japanese Class A divisions into dust at Fengcheng?"

No one answered.

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: ①⓪①ⓚⓚⓢ.ⓒⓞⓜ]

"no."

Zhang Biao answered on behalf of everyone, "Our commander-in-chief, together with his second commander-in-chief Zhang Xueming, led the Northeast Army in a bloody battle and annihilated 120,000 elite Japanese troops."

"China is in a frenzy, the whole nation is celebrating, the people's hearts are with us, and who else but me should take this position as Premier of the Executive Yuan!"

The name Zhang Xueming was like a pebble thrown into water, creating ripples in the parliament hall.

No one shouted anymore; instead, there was a buzzing of whispers.

The two Japanese divisions, along with the 2nd Division of the Kwantung Army, were the cream of the Imperial Japanese Army, all swallowed up by these two brothers.

Such a record is unmatched since the First Sino-Japanese War.

Not to mention the civil servants and politicians nominated by the members of parliament present, even if you lined up all the military leaders in the entire country, you wouldn't find a second person who could rival Zhang Xueming.

"Logically speaking, Zhang Xueming would have been a better nominee."

Zhang Biao finally raised his voice, "But he was, after all, the second marshal. Zhang Xueliang was his elder brother, the commander-in-chief of the Northeast Army, and the deputy commander-in-chief of the army, navy, and air force."

"There is an order of seniority, and this order must not be overstepped."

This statement is very clever; it highlights Zhang Xueming's achievements while also giving Zhang Xueliang the proper title.

The councilors present all understood: electing Zhang Xueliang was tantamount to electing Zhang Xueming, who was behind Zhang Xueliang, which was equivalent to tying the gun barrels of the Northeast Army to the war machine.

What this country lacks most right now is not politicians, but people who can keep things in check.

Looking across China today, the person most capable of maintaining order is standing before the Tomb of Wan Zhong in Lushun, using a blunt, worn-out knife to behead the Japanese soldiers.

In the evening, the nominated candidates were determined.

Lin Sen struck the gavel three times, announcing the start of the voting process.

The vote counting process was long and tense.

Each ticket was taken out of the ballot box, unfolded, the name was read out, and then the clerk drew a tally mark on the whiteboard.

Wang Jingwei, Hu Hanmin, Sun Ke, Li Zongren.........

The names that had been nominated still appeared on the tickets, but as the vote count progressed, one name began to rise at an unstoppable pace.

Zhang Xueliang! Zhang Xueliang! Zhang Xueliang!

When the final vote count was announced, Lin Sen stood up and declared:

"Zhang Xueliang was elected as the new Premier of the Executive Yuan by a single vote."

There was a two-second silence, followed by scattered applause.

The applause wasn't enthusiastic because many people hadn't yet reacted.

Zhang Xueliang?

Zhang Xueliang, who was watching a play in a theater on the night of September 18th? And that's how he became the Premier of the Executive Yuan of the Republic of China?

But most people remained calm.

The one-vote advantage—where did this vote come from? Nobody knows for sure. After all, Zhang Xueliang had no roots in the parliament, so why would anyone vote for him?

This election may seem chaotic on the surface, but the undercurrents beneath the surface have never stopped surging.

Someone manipulated this election behind the scenes, and the person who manipulated it was the chairman.

At the very moment the election results were announced, a radio in the official residence's study was broadcasting a live report of parliamentary proceedings.

The chairman leaned back in his wicker chair, a faint, cold smile playing on his lips.

Weren't the Northeast Army supposed to be awesome?

Then let's bring over the commander of the Northeast Army.

You guys keep chanting "Long live the Second Marshal!" Well then, let your Northeast Army be the Premier of the Executive Yuan.

The Chairman had a cold smile on his lips. He knew Zhang Xueliang all too well; he would obey his orders without question.

Zhang Xueliang was disobedient before because he was held hostage by Zhang Xueming. Now that he has come to Nanjing, a den of dragons and tigers, what waves can he stir up?

When Zhang Xueliang came to power, it was as if he himself was in power.

When he causes a major disaster in office and is overwhelmed by political affairs, the people of the whole country will see clearly that the so-called commander of the Northeast Army is nothing more than an incompetent fool.

As for himself, he would be the only one who could clean up the mess, and the council would be begging him to come back.

This move killed two birds with one stone, and the Chairman thought he had made a killing.

..........

parliament.

Lin Sen signed his name on the letter of appointment and then stamped it with the parliamentary seal.

The letter of appointment was solemn and elegant in its wording, filled with clichés such as "the people's expectation" and "sharing the country's burdens," but everyone knew that this letter of appointment was essentially a death warrant.

Li Sen sent the telegram to his confidential secretary and instructed him:

"Send this to the Northeast immediately, and have Zhang Xueliang come to Nanjing to assume his post."

Messages travel faster than radio waves.

Before the telegram even reached Fengtian, extra editions of the newspaper had already been printed in Nanjing.

Newsboys ran through the streets, holding up extra editions still warm from the ink, their sharp shouts piercing the cold early winter night:

"Breaking News! Breaking News! Zhang Xueliang elected Premier of the Executive Yuan! Commander-in-Chief of the Northeast Army takes control of the central government!"

The crowd, which had mostly dispersed, gathered again upon hearing the shouts, surrounding the newsboys and snapping up all the extra editions.

Those who received the extra edition read the text by the light of the street lamps, and then let out a thunderous shout.

The entire city of Nanjing was in an uproar once again.

Beijing, Tianjin, Wuhan, Guangzhou... every city experienced the same uproar on the same night.

From students at Peking University to rickshaw pullers on the streets of Guangzhou, from dockworkers at Tianjin Port to technicians at the Hanyang Arsenal, everyone held great hope in Zhang Xueliang.

It wasn't because they understood Zhang Xueliang, but because they trusted the Northeast Army.

A few days ago, it was the Northeast Army that defeated the Japanese invaders, it was the Northeast Army that made China proud, and it was the Northeast Army that used blunt knives to avenge the blood feud of thirty years at the Wan Zhong Tomb.

Since the Northeast Army was good at fighting, its commander must also be good at governing the country.

This logic may not stand up to scrutiny, but it is enough for the Chinese people who have struggled in despair for too long.

When the telegram arrived in Lushun, Zhang Xueliang was in his study.

The night outside the window was as dark as ink; early winter in Northeast China was already quite cold, and a thin layer of frost had formed on the windowpane.

A charcoal fire burned in the study, the tin stove glowing slightly red, the heat filling the room and making one drowsy.

Zhang Xueliang was nestled in a recliner covered with a tiger skin, holding a copy of "Records of the Grand Historian" in his hands, and was turning to the page on the Hereditary House of Marquis Liu.

But he didn't absorb a single word.

The words on the pages blurred before his eyes, and his eyelids felt as heavy as lead.

These days, Zhang Xueming has been handling all the political affairs in Northeast China. As the nominal commander-in-chief of the Northeast Army, he has become the most idle person. Every day, apart from eating and sleeping, he reads books to relax.

He felt like a bird trapped in a gilded cage, the cage was exquisite, and the food was plentiful, but its wings had been clipped.

"Bang!"

The door was kicked open.

Zhang Xueliang nearly dropped the copy of "Records of the Grand Historian" into the charcoal brazier.

His adjutant, Tan Hai, rushed in, clutching a telegram in his hand, his face beaming with ecstatic joy.

"General...General! Urgent telegram from Nanjing! The parliamentary election results are in! You have been elected Premier of the Executive Yuan!!"

Zhang Xueliang stood there, stunned, the book slipping from his hand and falling to the ground. The pages were open to the chapter on the Hereditary House of Marquis Liu, and the passage about Zhang Liang assisting Liu Bang in pacifying the world was glowing red in the charcoal fire.

His mouth was agape, his eyes were wide open, and his face was filled with disbelief.

He slowly reached out, took the telegram, and read it word by word.

He recognized each character individually, but he simply couldn't understand the meaning behind their combination.

Premier of the Executive Yuan.

In today's Republic of China, this would be equivalent to the Prime Minister, who would effectively hold power in China.

He, Zhang Xueliang, a nominal commander whose real power was stripped away by his younger brother and who spent his days lounging in a recliner reading "Records of the Grand Historian" to pass the time, has now become the highest administrative official of China.

At that moment, he felt as if he had been struck by lightning.

"What...what's going on?!"

Zhang Xueliang cried out in surprise:

"Why did they choose me? I can't even manage this small area in Northeast China, and they want me to manage the whole of China? Are they crazy?"

Tan Hai opened his mouth, clearly unsure how to answer the question.

Zhang Xueliang paced back and forth in the room with a telegram in his hand, his military boots making a chaotic sound as they pounded on the floor.

He walked back and forth more than a dozen times, then stopped and looked at Tan Hai with an almost desperate expression:

"Who the hell came up with this idea?"

"They were elected by parliament."

A voice came from outside the door, "One vote advantage, just over half."

Zhang Xueming pushed open the door and walked in.

He was wearing a dark gray Zhongshan suit, with the collar unbuttoned and the cuffs casually rolled up to his forearms. He was also holding the same telegram in his hand.

But his expression was completely opposite to Zhang Xueliang's.

Zhang Xueliang was terrified and confused, while Zhang Xueming exuded confidence that everything was under control, along with a hint of mockery that was not quite a smile.

He walked to the charcoal brazier, took the telegram from Zhang Xueliang's hand, and waved it in front of Zhang Xueliang.

"Brother, congratulations! Premier of the Executive Yuan, you've reached the pinnacle of your career, bringing glory to your ancestors."

His tone was playful and teasing:

"Your current achievements truly surpass those of our old man."

Zhang Xueliang grabbed his sleeve, his hand trembling:

"Second brother, tell me the truth, what exactly happened? Were you behind this?"

"I don't have a single soldier in Nanjing. Are we just going to send them there to their deaths?"

"I'm not going."

"It's the parliament's business to elect me as president; it's my business not to accept the appointment."

"They want to find someone to be the dean. Let them find someone else. I'll stay in Northeast China and not go anywhere else."

"You have to go!"

Zhang Xueming's words were resolute: "I must go!"

Zhang Xueliang suddenly turned his head and glared at his younger brother.

"Second brother, do you want me dead so you can inherit Dad's estate?"

Zhang Xueliang was panting heavily. He had no power base in Nanjing, yet he was elected Premier of the Executive Yuan. There was definitely a conspiracy involved, and a big one at that.

Even if he doesn't die, he'll be skinned alive if he goes there, so why would he go?

He made up his mind that even if he died, he would not leave Northeast China.

But Zhang Xueming's next words made Zhang Xueliang beam with pride and brimming with confidence, so much so that he couldn't wait to fly to Nanjing.