Chapter 124: 123, Confucian Temple And National Government, Mr. Lin Of Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum
The introductions and indexes for the two sets of information were specially made in English versions by the officers during the Weimar Republic to make it convenient for Fang Wen to understand.
Huo Duanyang could read them.
He looked at the first set of information, full of surprise.
“This infantry gun is so convenient, it’s really good. Our factory has been researching this kind of thing, but no progress.”
He happily flipped through the second set of information, but was somewhat disappointed.
“The Type 20 mortar that our factory developed is very similar to it, and the performance parameters are also similar.”
Fang Wen was surprised: “We already have a similar mortar?”
“Yeah.” Having been at the arsenal for a year, Huo Duanyang was very familiar with his factory’s weapons.
He explained: “The information says that your mortar is a copy of the French Brandt mie27/31 mortar, and our Type 20 mortar is a copy of the French M1927 mortar.”
“Is there any difference?” Fang Wen asked.
“The Brandt mie27/31 is the French army’s first-generation mortar, the M1927 is the second generation, with some modifications, probably better.”
Fang Wen felt a bit embarrassed; the mortar information brought all the way from Germany turned out to have similar copies in Jinling Arsenal.
It turned out that before World War II, France’s military equipment, whether air force or army, was not bad; just mortars alone were copied by Germany and the Republic of China, and the copiers were probably not just these two.
But what war truly relies on is still soldiers who bravely and skillfully use weapons, as well as strategy and tactics.
France lacked both.
At this moment, Huo Duanyang asked: “Sir, are you going to give these weapon design information to our Jinling Arsenal?”
Fang Wen shook his head: “No. I’m here this time to talk to you about another matter. These information are for a person proficient in German to translate.”
Huo Duanyang became anxious.
“Sir, such a fine weapon, why not let us make it at Jinling Arsenal to deal with the Japanese?”
“How do you talk like that. Huo Duanyang, I see your wings have hardened.” Shunzi glared and scolded angrily. Last year he and Huo Duanyang had lived and eaten together for a while, their relationship was pretty good, but he didn’t like the other speaking to the young master like that.
Fang Wen raised his hand to stop Shunzi, calmly looking at the anxious Huo Duanyang.
“I ask you, who gets the weapons and ammunition produced by Jinling Arsenal?”
Huo Duanyang didn’t even think: “We are a National Government directly affiliated arsenal, of course it’s the Central Army!”
“What is the Central Army doing?” Fang Wen asked coldly.
“Aren’t they fighting the Japanese?” Huo Duanyang’s words were somewhat uncertain.
Fang Wen looked at him, making Huo Duanyang even more uneasy.
“I’ll assume you’ve been staying in the arsenal, oblivious to outside affairs, single-mindedly researching your bombs. Now I’ll explain it to you once. Right now, those Central Army troops holding weapons manufactured by your arsenal are gathering in Southern China. They claim to have mobilized 400,000 troops for the fourth encirclement and suppression of the Red Army.”
“Aren’t the red bandits rebels? To repel foreign aggression, we must first stabilize the interior.” Huo Duanyang argued.
“Whether they are rebels or not, we won’t argue here; the innocent will clear themselves. I’ll ask you one more thing. Do you know how many Japanese soldiers are in the Northeast?”
“Tens of thousands, no, over 100,000 maybe.” Huo Duanyang said uncertainly.
“No, after the September 18th Incident, there were less than 10,000 Japanese soldiers that year. Even now, according to the intelligence channels I got from Shanghai, they are only about 40,000. As long as the National Government is willing to fight, even at several times the cost, they can drive them out of the Northeast. Instead of now, using hundreds of thousands of troops to encircle their own people, letting the Japanese army keep growing.”
Fang Wen stated his views in one breath, drank a cup of wine, and boldly said: “If I give the weapon blueprints information to your arsenal, they all fucking have to be stained with our countrymen’s blood.”
These words alarmed the diners in the wine shop.
Huo Duanyang quickly stood up to explain: “My friend talks nonsense when he drinks, everyone don’t mind.”
After speaking, he turned back: “General Manager, I understand. Let’s leave here first and talk somewhere else.”
Immediately, Shunzi settled the bill, and the three walked out of the wine shop.
Continuing forward in Yanghu Lane, Huo Duanyang took the initiative: “On the weapon blueprints matter, General Manager decides. Whether the red bandits, um, Red Army are good or bad, I’ll go find out. General Manager, don’t you have an important matter to talk to me about?”
Fang Wen had calmed down; he hadn’t expected to suddenly get angry just now, but as he spoke, he got worked up and couldn’t control it for a moment.
Now calm, he also understood that Huo Duanyang represented the cognition of many current intellectuals; they saw the National Government as legitimate and still held expectations.
In this situation, not just Huo Duanyang, but a large part of his own small group probably still had the same ideas.
But as time passes, the National Government’s corruption, chaos, and even reckless actions causing national turmoil would gradually disappoint most people and make them see clearly.
He said calmly: “I’ve formed the Taishan Volunteer Army and want to invite you to join.”
“Volunteer Army? I’m willing.” Huo Duanyang agreed without hesitation; he had left the small county town to fight the Japanese.
“The Taishan Volunteer Army’s first action plan is to bomb the Japanese army north of the Great Wall; I need a large number of napalm bombs.” Fang Wen stated the real purpose of finding Huo Duanyang this time. “I want you to resign from Jinling Arsenal, organize manpower to mass-produce napalm bombs.”
Hearing it was bombing the Japanese, Huo Duanyang immediately got excited.
Last time bombing the Japanese barracks in Shenyang, he hadn’t slept well for days; that excitement took a long time to fade.
Making bombs to deal with the Japanese was something he loved doing.
“Resigning is no problem; I can leave anytime. General Manager, how many napalm bombs do you want to produce? So I have a number.”
“8000 kilograms of napalm bombs, how long will it take you to make them?”
The demand Fang Wen stated was just the full payload capacity for one f.220 bombing.
It stunned Huo Duanyang.
He pondered and calculated intensely.
“8000 kilograms, last time making 300 kilograms of napalm bombs, 0.5 kilograms each, took 2 days to make the gel gasoline, filling was done by arsenal workers, took half a day. To produce 8000 kilograms, oh man, I can’t figure it out.”
Indeed, producing 8000 kilograms was completely different from 300 kilograms; just Huo Duanyang alone thinking about it nearly knotted his brain.
Fang Wen understood this; an assembly-line bomb factory was what he wanted.
He patted Huo Duanyang’s shoulder.
“This won’t be left to you alone; go back first to apply for resignation, then take a plane to Shanghai, and we’ll discuss details.”
“Alright. I estimate I can go tomorrow. Then I’ll head back to the factory now to handle resignation.”
“Go ahead.”
Huo Duanyang turned to leave but stopped: “General Manager, rest assured, I won’t tell outsiders about the weapon blueprints.”
Fang Wen nodded, watching Huo Duanyang leave.
Shunzi beside him asked: “Young Master, can we go to the imperial tomb now?”
Seeing Fang Wen nod, Shunzi quickly waved, and rickshaws parked roadside immediately surrounded them.
The rickshaw pullers competed for customers.
“Sir, where are you going?”
“Ride my rickshaw. I have strength, can pull both of you.”
Shunzi stated the destination: “Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum.”
Immediately, the rickshaw pullers fell silent and dispersed.
“What’s wrong with you all? Don’t you want the job?” Shunzi shouted.
One rickshaw puller stopped: “You can take the job but may not make the run; this is almost across half the city, can’t run it.”
Shunzi, who didn’t know where Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum was, still wanted to shout but was stopped by Fang Wen.
Fang Wen asked: “Then how can we get there?”
That rickshaw puller replied: “We don’t go out of the city, at most to Guanghua Gate, then you figure out the rest to Zhongshan Mountain.”
Fang Wen roughly knew the way from Yanghu Lane to Guanghua Gate; from there to Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum was still more than half the distance, not fun to walk.
He thought of another person, perhaps could ask her for help; it had been a long time since seeing her.
“Then go to Confucian Temple.” Fang Wen said.
Immediately, the dispersed rickshaw pullers surrounded again.
One got on a rickshaw, crossed Qinhuai River, heading north.
The destination Confucian Temple was the liveliest place in Nanjing.
Half an hour later, two rickshaws stopped.
Fang Wen and Shunzi got off, admiring the scenery here.
The tall archway was the most prominent building.
Passing through the archway was Confucian Temple.
Shunzi, who failed the flight apprentice exam twice, was very expectant here.
“Young Master, I want to go in to burn incense for the Master, pray for his blessing to pass the exam next time.”
Since they were here, naturally fulfill Shunzi’s wish; Fang Wen agreed, and the two followed the tourists forward.
Not walking far, behind the trees, a two-story wooden classical building.
This is Confucian Temple!
Once the gathering place of literati in Jiangnan, many people came to visit every day.
Shunzi entered the temple with great reverence but came out disappointed.
He said: “Inside doesn’t allow incense; I asked how to make a wish without incense, and they chased me out.”
Fang Wen waiting outside was amused; yes, this temple is not that temple; the Master doesn’t need incense worship, right.
Thinking of this, Fang Wen smilingly took Shunzi in again; no incense is fine, sincerity matters.
From Confucian Temple out, upward is the academy, where ancient masters lectured and debated.
Fang Wen didn’t go to see this time, but after asking a passerby for directions, headed northeast.
Passing the examination hall from there, going up, reached the Nanjing National Government compound at No.1 Jinling Road.
The National Government gate should be modeled after ancient imperial palace gates, three gateways, one main two side, yet with strange Greek-style columns.
The guards at the gate were lax in posture, some leaning, some legs apart chatting idly.
There were also stone lions on both sides to ward off evil.
Fang Wen led Shunzi toward the gate.
The soldier raised his hand to stop them.
“Stop, where from? Looking for someone or doing business?”
“Looking for Yue Jinping of the Revival Society.” Fang Wen replied.
“Go inside to register.” The guard pointed to the guard post.
Fang Wen entered the guard post; the duty officer looked up and repeated: “Looking for someone, left notebook; doing business, right notebook. Write your name, identity, address, and purpose.”
Fang Wen picked up the ink pen on the table, dipped ink, and wrote as required on the left notebook.
The officer glanced: “Wait outside; will tell you after notification.”
This kind of thing, if waiting outside, would be troublesome, maybe no reply all day.
Those with connections or status would directly show identity, ensuring the officer welcomes with a smile.
No connections? No problem, silver dollars pave the way.
Fang Wen took out a silver dollar, placed it in his palm, covered and pushed it over the notebook.
“The matter is a bit urgent, please notify as soon as possible.”
The officer opened the notebook, pocketed the silver dollar, smiled: “Urgent matters can be notified first.”
He immediately picked up the telephone microphone and dialed.
“Revival Society? Looking for Yue Jinping, say there’s a person named Fang Wen at the main gate looking for her, from Shanghai, Taishan Airlines.”
After notifying, he smiled: “Wait a bit, the person will come out.”
Fang Wen nodded, and with Shunzi exited the guard post, waiting at the gate.
After a while, Yue Jinping in military uniform trotted out.
Seeing it really was Fang Wen, she said delightedly: “You’ve returned from Europe.”
“Yeah, came to Nanjing to see you.” Fang Wen smiled.
“Really?” Yue Jinping expressed disbelief.
“Also have a little business, need your help; I’ll come find you tonight.”
“I knew you had something; say it.” Yue Jinping asked nonchalantly.
“Lend a car.”
“No problem. Wait a sec.”
Yue Jinping went back, and after a while, drove out a Studebaker, directly handing the key to Fang Wen.
“Borrowed directly from the society; hearing it was you, the team leader agreed without asking.”
Fang Wen got in the car, waved goodbye to Yue Jinping: “See you tonight.”
Then drove away.
Shunzi in the car held back for a long time before speaking: “Young Master, rest assured, I absolutely won’t tell anyone.”
Fang Wen sighed: “Shunzi, you’ve grown up.”
The car drove from Jinling Road onto Zhongshan South Road, north to the intersection, turned onto Zhongshan East Road, crossed the Ming Palace ruins, and arrived at Zhongshan Mountain.
Zhongshan Mountain is the local name; it also has the name Purple Mountain.
The car turned onto the road to Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum, arriving at a grand stone hall.
Shunzi couldn’t help saying: “Young Master, this is better preserved than the Ming Imperial Palace.”
Fang Wen thought: “Probably related to the person buried inside.”
“Who is buried inside?”
“Ming Dynasty founding emperor Zhu Yuanzhang, and his wife Empress Ma.”
“Then how big is this place?” Shunzi’s curiosity rose; turns out he was on the dragon vein the storyteller mentioned.
“Why so many words, how would I know?” Fang Wen parked the car, got out to find someone.
As previously agreed, Mr. Lin was studying Ming Dynasty architectural style in Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum.
He and Fang Wen walked inside; the wide stone path flanked by huge stone figures and animals.
A sense of majestic momentum suddenly arose.
Shunzi felt a bit fearful; Fang Wen comforted: “No worry; if your dad came, he definitely wouldn’t dare enter.”
Shunzi agreed: “My dad believes this; he says the National Government is the new dynasty, and once the world is settled, that one has to become emperor.”
“Impossible.” Fang Wen retorted, but stopped; in the distance, a stone figure had scaffolding, with people working on it.
He called out: “Excuse me, is Mr. Lin here?”
The man on the scaffolding and the woman below turned back simultaneously:
“She’s the one.”
“Are you looking for me?”
Fang Wen was surprised; the man before him was elegant and poised, the woman beautiful and spirited.
But Mr. Lin turned out to be a woman.
