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

Zhang Xueming raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Chen Cheng?"

He muttered those two words in his mouth, "When did you arrive?"

"6:15 this morning."

Wang Jiazhen opened the notebook in his hand, "The entourage consisted of twelve people. They flew from Nanjing to Beiping and then to Fengtian. When they changed trains at Beiping Station, they did not even notify the military and political personnel in Beiping. They kept a low profile throughout the entire journey."

"After entering Fengtian, he went directly to the West Suburbs Guesthouse. Chen Cheng himself said that he was ready to be summoned by the commander at any time."

Zhang Xueming did not speak immediately after hearing this.

He leaned back in his chair, tapped his fingers three times slowly on the table, and then suddenly turned his head to look at Zhang Xueliang sitting next to him.

Zhang Xueliang has barely spoken a word since he entered the room today.

He sat in the chair in the corner of the office, his eyes darting around, his lips pursed, his hands crossed on his knees, his thumbs circling each other incessantly, looking preoccupied.

Zhang Xueming looked at his older brother and suddenly grinned.

"Big brother,"

Zhang Xueming leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms behind his head, and looked at him with a mocking expression.

"What do you think Chen Cheng is here for?"

Zhang Xueliang raised his eyelids and glanced at him, his lips twitched, and then he expressionlessly squeezed out two words through gritted teeth.

"Peace talks".

"Peace talks?"

Zhang Xueming repeated, a smile playing on his lips, "With whom to negotiate?"

Zhang Xueliang took a breath and slowly uttered two words.

"devil."

There was a two-second silence in the office.

Zhang Xueming did not respond immediately. Instead, he lowered his hands from behind his head, leaned forward, placed his hands on his knees, and stared intently at Zhang Xueliang's face.

"So what do you think...?"

He deliberately dragged out his words, asking one by one, "Should we negotiate?"

The moment those words were asked, Zhang Xueliang's expression changed instantly.

How would Zhang Xueliang have answered this question three days ago?

He would definitely say without hesitation:

"Peace talks are a must."

Three days ago, Zhang Xueliang was the young marshal who, after the Northeast Flag Change, was facing the aggressive posture of the Japanese Kwantung Army and couldn't sleep at night.

He firmly believed that the Northeast Army was no match for the Japanese, and he also trusted Chiang Kai-shek and the League of Nations to contain the Japanese.

Therefore, he insisted on a policy of non-resistance, agreeing to negotiate if possible, compromise if possible, and back down if necessary.

He would tell himself that the country was still unstable and that we were no match for the Japanese. Only by enduring humiliation and accumulating strength could we wait until the day we could truly defeat the Japanese.

He even saw Chen Cheng's arrival in Fengtian as a lifeline.

Nanjing's willingness to mediate is tantamount to buying the Northeast some breathing room. No matter how harsh the conditions for mediation are, the Northeast will have no choice but to accept them.

Because he never imagined that the Northeast Army could defeat the Japanese on its own, not even once.

But now—

Everything is different now.

Two hundred and eleven enemy aircraft were shot down over the Hun River, and three aircraft carriers, two battleships, and one heavy cruiser were sunk off the coast of Lushun, with no losses suffered by our side.

He sat alone in his office last night, looking at those numbers no less than twenty times. Every time he looked at them, he felt as if someone had hit his heart with a hammer.

It turns out that you can defeat the Japanese without having to endure humiliation.

It turns out that there's no need to expect the Nanjing government to send troops; the Northeast Army alone could sink the Japanese aircraft carrier and shoot down their planes.

It turns out that the Japanese navy and air force that he regarded as invincible were nothing more than a bunch of live targets in the hands of Zhang Xueming, Li Changkong and Zhu Wudi.

Since we are so capable of fighting, and since the Japanese are so easily defeated, why should we compromise?

When this thought first appeared in Zhang Xueliang's mind, it startled him.

He subconsciously tried to suppress the thought, because his education and the cognitive system he had accumulated over the past twenty years were telling him that it was too arrogant, too risky, and too frivolous.

But that thought, like a sprouting seed, pushed aside all the stones pressing down on it, and could not be pushed back down no matter what.

Zhang Xueliang raised his head and looked at his second brother.

Zhang Xueming was staring at him with a half-smile, as if mocking his cowardice.

Zhang Xueliang sighed softly, slowly shook his head, and his voice carried a hint of relief.

"I have no idea."

He said, "You decide for yourself."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Zuoxiang, who was sitting on the other side, paused for a moment while holding his teacup.

Zhang Zuoxiang had remained silent since earlier. At his age, he had long since learned to keep his mouth shut when he shouldn't speak.

But his eyes are not blind, nor is his mind confused.

When Zhang Xueliang said, "You decide for yourself," what Zhang Zuoxiang saw was the young marshal helplessly admitting defeat when facing someone much stronger than himself.

This is so weird.

But what's even stranger is that, apart from Zhang Zuoxiang himself, no one present seemed to think there was anything wrong with what he said.

Zhang Xueming chuckled, slowly stood up, straightened the collar of his military uniform, and neither looked at Zhang Xueliang nor asked any further questions.

He turned his head and gestured with his chin towards Wang Jiazhen.

"Go and summon Chen Cheng to the Governor's Mansion."

"I want to hear carefully what the Chairman is trying to do."

"If it's fighting, I welcome it; if it's peace talks, then screw it!"

Wang Jiazhen stood at attention, saluted, turned around, and quickly left the office.

Zhang Xueming sat back down in his chair, picked up the teacup on the table, and took a sip.

His rapid-fire questioning was meant to push Zhang Xueliang, this coward, to the limit. If he remained so weak, Zhang Xueming would place him under house arrest for life.

After all, if you lose the war and have to negotiate, there's nothing you can do. But if you win the war and still want to negotiate, then you're just a complete waste of space.

Such a piece of trash doesn't deserve to stay in the Northeast Army, much less be his elder brother.

Fortunately, my older brother isn't completely hopeless; at least he's starting to look like a decent human being again.

Zhang Zuoxiang held his teacup, slowly stirring the tea leaves floating on the surface with the lid. His gaze swept back and forth between Zhang Xueming and Zhang Xueliang twice, but in the end, he said nothing.

He brought the teacup to his lips, took a sip, and said to himself, "It's time to change commanders."

...........

Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door of the West Suburbs Guesthouse.

Chen Cheng was already fully dressed when he opened the door.

He wore a dark gray Zhongshan suit, the collar was buttoned up tightly, his leather shoes were polished so bright they reflected his image, and his hair was combed meticulously.

Behind him were two staff officers, followed by about a dozen military and political personnel, each with a cautious expression.

"Minister Chen, the Commander requests your presence."

Wang Jiazhen stood at the door and gestured for them to enter.

Chen Cheng nodded and, with his entourage, followed Wang Jiazhen into the car.

The car drove from the western suburbs all the way to the Governor's Mansion, passing through several main streets of Fengtian City along the way.

Chen Cheng looked out the car window at the street scene. Students were marching with banners, and newsboys were running around shouting "Extra! Extra!" The whole city was like a pot of boiling water, constantly bubbling with passion.

Chen Cheng's lips twitched slightly downwards, but he didn't say anything.

The gates of the Governor's Mansion were wide open, and the guards at the gate let Wang Jiazhen's car through immediately after seeing his license plate.

Chen Cheng and his entourage were led into the main hall of the building. Wang Jiazhen then stopped, turned around, and smiled at the entourage behind Chen Cheng, saying:

"Please wait in the side hall. The commander will only be seeing Minister Chen."

Chen Cheng frowned, but quickly smoothed his brow.

He waved to his entourage behind him, signaling them to wait in the side hall, and then followed Wang Jiazhen alone into the heavy oak door at the end of the corridor.

The moment the door opened, Chen Cheng's gaze swept quickly across the entire room.

This is a typical office for a high-ranking military and political official in Northeast China. It is spacious and imposing, with a huge topographical map of Northeast China hanging on the wall.

Behind the desk was a large south-facing window, through which the afternoon sun streamed in, casting a large patch of golden light on the floor.

A young man sat in the main seat behind the desk.

He was dressed in a crisp military uniform, sitting casually with one hand on the armrest of the chair and the other casually resting on the table, a lit cigarette between his fingers.

His face held an expression that made Chen Cheng very uncomfortable—a condescending one.

Zhang Xueming.

Chen Cheng recognized the face. Before coming here, he had seen Zhang Xueming's file and photos in Nanjing and knew that he was Zhang Zuolin's seventh son and Zhang Xueliang's half-brother.

The file said he was only in his early twenties, but the young man sitting in the main seat looked much more composed and sharper than he had imagined.

Then Chen Cheng glanced to the side and saw another person in the corner.

Zhang Xueliang.

The Commander-in-Chief of the Northeast Border Defense Army, nominally the number one figure in Northeast China after Zhang Zuolin, was sitting in a chair in the corner.

That chair wasn't the seat of honor, nor even the seat of honor for a guest.

Zhang Xueliang sat in that chair, one hand supporting his chin, his gaze fixed on the view outside the window.

His expression was neither cold nor warm; he seemed more like someone who had been temporarily pulled in to listen in, waiting for a meeting that had little to do with him to end quickly.

Chen Cheng paused for a second.

A thought flashed through his mind.

What exactly happened in the Northeast Army? Why was Zhang Xueming sitting in the main seat instead of Zhang Xueliang? Why was Zhang Xueliang sitting in the corner, and why did he not seem to find it strange at all?

But he didn't have time to think about it.

As a trusted confidant of the Chairman, and as one of the most astute people in the Nanjing government.

Chen Cheng's first reaction after regaining his senses was textbook-perfect.

He turned around, faced Zhang Xueliang in the corner, and bowed respectfully to greet him.

"Young Marshal, Cixiu greets you."

His voice was steady and respectful, and his posture was very low, almost bending his waist to a forty-five-degree angle.

Zhang Xueliang then turned his gaze away from the window, as if he had just noticed Chen Cheng enter.

He looked at Chen Cheng's hunched back without any expression, and casually raised his hand, pointing his index finger at Zhang Xueming in the main seat.

"Tell my second brother what's wrong."

"His meaning is my attitude."

Chen Cheng's back was still bent, but he was frozen in place.

The same thought flashed through his mind for the second time: What exactly happened to the Northeast Army?