Chapter 308: Willing To Risk Life But Not Money
Hearing Su Yaoyang’s merciless words, Yang Aiyuan first flew into a rage, then revealed a trace of helplessness.
He had originally thought that, relying on Yan Xishan’s reputation and the status of the Jin-Sui Army, even if it was somewhat untimely, he could smoothly take over Taiyuan, this strategic stronghold.
He hadn’t expected that this Su Yaoyang would be so disrespectful, directly pushing him to the forefront of the storm.
But he also knew that now was not the time for a head-on clash; he must lower his stance and play the emotional card.
“Brother Bai, Regiment Commander Su, I know this matter has taken advantage of the Jin-Sui Army, but you must also understand Commander Yan’s difficulties.”
Yang Aiyuan’s voice softened considerably, and on that weathered face, he now appeared somewhat fatigued, with the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes seeming to deepen.
He picked up the teacup on the table and took a gentle sip, as if trying to calm the turbulence in his heart with this opportunity.
“Since the 28th year of the Republic, after Taiyuan fell, Commander Yan led the remnants of the Jin-Sui Army to retreat and hold Kunnan Slope.”
He spoke slowly, his tone carrying reminiscence of the past and lament for Yan Xishan’s hardships, “Although he has been working diligently these three years, in the end, one tree cannot support the forest.”
Yang Aiyuan’s gaze swept over everyone present, still complaining bitterly.
“A few days ago, Commander Yan saw you fighting so splendidly, and in his relief, he also had the idea to send troops to join you in recapturing Taiyuan.”
He said the word “splendidly” with considerable sincerity, as if he truly admired the Shanxi Militia’s battle achievements from the bottom of his heart.
At this point, Yang Aiyuan leaned forward again, lowering his voice slightly, with a tone of negotiation.
“Moreover, Commander Yan also said that he won’t let you help for nothing; whatever conditions you have, just state them, and as long as it can be done, Commander Yan will absolutely not refuse.”
When Yang Aiyuan said “as long as it can be done, Commander Yan will absolutely not refuse,” his tone was resolute and decisive, carrying the unique decisiveness of a soldier.
However, what kind of people were sitting there?
Bai Chongxi was one of the heads of the Gui Clique, renowned for his intellect and tactics; how could he be fooled by such somewhat naive words?
As for Su Yaoyang, there was even less need to mention; this kind of pie-in-the-sky tactic, in the information-explosion era of the 21st century, young people had long grown tired of hearing it, so how could he, Su Yaoyang, possibly fall for it?
He smiled faintly, his body still comfortably leaning against the chair back, his eyes calmly meeting Yang Aiyuan’s. That composure made it seem as if he were not sitting at a negotiation table deciding Shanxi’s future ownership, but enjoying a leisurely afternoon.
“In that case, I’ll make just one demand.”
As Su Yaoyang spoke, he cast a slightly teasing glance over Yang Aiyuan, the faint smile at the corner of his mouth inscrutable.
“That is, after recapturing Taiyuan, I don’t want a single brick, tile, blade of grass, or tree from Taiyuan City.” He paused, then changed tack, his tone carrying a casual indifference, “Commander Yan only needs to pay me two million silver dollars, and half must be paid in advance.”
As soon as these words were out, the air in the conference room instantly froze.
“Two million?!”
Yang Aiyuan almost sprang up from his seat, the bitterness and helplessness he had deliberately feigned earlier vanishing in an instant, replaced by incredulous shock; his eyes bulged round, as if he had heard some tall tale.
Even his rough voice became somewhat shrill from the shock.
“Do you think Commander Yan has a gold mountain at home?”
He glared angrily at Su Yaoyang, his voice trembling slightly, his right hand waving in the air, trying to express his inner disbelief, “Do you know how many trucks it would take to haul two million silver dollars?”
Su Yaoyang’s smile showed no change; he didn’t even adjust his posture, still lazily leaning against the chair back. He glanced faintly at the emotional Yang Aiyuan, his tone carrying undisguised indifference.
“I don’t know.”
He responded lightly to Yang Aiyuan’s question about “how many trucks,” as if it were not something he needed to care about at all.
“I only know we’re worth that price.”
Su Yaoyang’s voice was not loud, but every word was filled with confidence and assurance.
He raised a finger and lightly tapped the table, staring at Yang Aiyuan’s face as he said: “Commander Yang may not know, but just the shells we’ve fired these past few days and the bombs dropped by our planes are worth about that much.”
This statement was like a blow to the head; every word hammered at Yang Aiyuan’s eardrums, leaving him unable to retort.
Yang Aiyuan’s body stiffened; he wanted to refute, to loudly denounce the other’s greed and unreasonableness, but the words stuck in his throat.
He opened his mouth but found himself speechless.
If someone else had said this, Yang Aiyuan would have slapped them twice without a word, hard enough to shatter their teeth.
But coming from Su Yaoyang’s mouth, it was irrefutable.
After all, Su Yaoyang’s reputation as a “local rich man” had spread not only throughout Shanxi but even made the newspapers in Chongqing these years.
Just last year at year’s end, this guy had sold fifty P-40 Tomahawk fighters to the Chongqing side at cost price, and the central air force had relied on those fighters.
To form an air defense line and damage or shoot down dozens of Japanese planes.
It was said that this young man dropped bombs on Japanese heads as if it were child’s play; every air raid was throwing real gold and silver downward.
Thinking of this, the corners of Yang Aiyuan’s mouth twitched involuntarily, a sense of powerlessness surging in his heart.
The brigade commander continued: “Our Eighth Route Army doesn’t want much; we just want the machine equipment and worker masters from the Taiyuan Arsenal.”
“No… absolutely not!”
Yang Aiyuan slammed the table with a crisp “snap” sound, causing the teacups on the table to jump.
He abruptly stood up, his burly frame instantly full of oppressive presence, his eyes bulging round, staring deathly at the brigade commander as if he wanted to swallow him alive.
If Su Yaoyang’s demand for two million silver dollars had merely poked Yang Aiyuan’s lungs, causing waves of pain and stuffiness, then the brigade commander’s current condition was like cutting his flesh.
His emotions, which had just calmed a bit, instantly exploded like a lit powder keg.
The Taiyuan Arsenal—what an important existence that was!
It was not just a factory; it was the lifeblood of the entire Jin-Sui Army, the jewel of Shanxi’s industry, and the crystallization of Yan Xishan’s decades of effort!
Before the War of Resistance broke out, this military production base, known as the Taiyuan Arsenal or Northwest Manufacturing Plant, had a scale and production capacity that was second to none in the entire North China region.
At its peak, it had under its command a full eighteen branch factories, with over fifteen thousand skilled workers, making it the largest arms complex in North China.
It could produce a wide variety of weapons, from common rifles and light and heavy machine guns to powerful mortars（ including 75mm and 82mm calibers）, mountain guns, field guns, and even the daily-consumed hand grenades and shells—nothing it couldn’t make. It was precisely because of the support from this arsenal that the Jin-Sui Army’s equipment was even superior to the central army on the eve of the War of Resistance, which was undoubtedly a “strange phenomenon” in the Chinese army at the time.
However, since Taiyuan fell, this arsenal carrying countless hopes and dreams was forced to change face, becoming a bloody machine for the Japanese to produce weapons and ammunition, a blade in the invaders’ hands to slaughter Chinese troops and civilians.
Now, with Taiyuan on the verge of recapture, the arsenal naturally became a juicy morsel everyone coveted, and yet the brigade commander wanted to snatch the peach—how could Yang Aiyuan endure it?
Looking at the furious Yang Aiyuan, the brigade commander remained unusually calm, even with a hint of cold sneer.
He neither stood up nor raised his voice, just sitting there staring at Yang Aiyuan as if watching a farce.
“I know the Taiyuan Arsenal is Commander Yan’s heartblood, but let’s not beat around the bush.”
The brigade commander sneered: “Even before Taiyuan fell, you had already moved most of the Taiyuan Arsenal’s machine equipment and workers to the interior and other places, leaving only some old machines and a few workers.”
As soon as he said this, Yang Aiyuan’s expression changed, a faint blush appearing on his old face, as if his secrets had been exposed.
Ignoring Yang Aiyuan’s reaction, the brigade commander continued unhurriedly: “After the Japanese occupied Taiyuan, they even shipped in a batch of equipment from their homeland just to barely keep the arsenal running.”
As he spoke, a mocking expression appeared on his face, as if to say that what you were now fighting over was just an empty shell, one that the Japanese had kept alive for you.
“So there’s no need for you to put on this show for us; we’re all sensible people, so no need to keep acting.”
Yang Aiyuan’s old face flushed slightly, rendered speechless by the brigade commander.
Of course he knew what the brigade commander said was true, but he definitely couldn’t admit it on the surface.
Struggling to hold on, he stubbornly retorted: “Even if what you say is all true, those old machines are still machines; they can continue producing weapons and ammunition. You can’t just think of taking them away like that.”
But as he said this, the confidence in his tone was clearly lacking.
Seeing that even at this point Yang Aiyuan still had that “spare no expense but no money” attitude, the brigade commander’s originally calm face gradually darkened, a flash of impatience and anger in his eyes.
He sneered, the laugh carrying a bone-chilling coldness, making the temperature in the conference room seem to drop a few degrees.
“Since Commander Yang is so reluctant to part with even a little thing, then we have nothing more to talk about.” The brigade commander suddenly stood up.
“In that case, our 386th Brigade is done with this battle. Since the Jin-Sui Army won’t even spare a single copper coin, you can keep this Taiyuan City and gnaw on it slowly yourselves.”
“Brigade Commander, please wait!”
Seeing the brigade commander really stand up and strike a pose to flip faces and leave, Yang Aiyuan panicked instantly. He almost reflexively shouted this, his voice even carrying a faint tremble and urgency.
How could he not panic?
Since that brutal great battle in the 26th year of the Republic, the originally strong and majestic Jin-Sui Army had been badly wounded, with elite troops suffering heavy losses, and total strength reduced from a peak of 200,000 to a mere 100,000.
Although it had recuperated these past few years, it was still a case of broken bones and tendons, not fully recovered even now.
What’s more, what kind of person was Commander Yan?
He was the notorious “King of Shanxi,” a master calculator who would deliberate half a day even over a sip of vinegar.
Having him lead the Jin-Sui Army to follow behind the Shanxi Militia and Eighth Route Army, beating the underdog and picking up ready bargains—that was absolutely no problem.
But to make them the main force, to go toe-to-toe in a bloody fight with the fully armed Japanese—that, Yan Xishan would absolutely not do.
He calculated this account clearer than anyone.
Once the Eighth Route Army threw down the pick and quit, Su Yaoyang’s Shanxi Militia might just pat their butts and leave too.
Then it would be just the Jin-Sui Army fighting alone—what the hell could they do? Forget recapturing Taiyuan; they’d probably get surrounded and annihilated by the Japanese themselves.
“Brigade Commander… let’s talk it out, talk it out.
In his panic, Yang Aiyuan took three steps at once, rushing in front of the brigade commander, extending both hands in a virtual block, his face piled with an almost fawning smile; the dignity of a lieutenant general and his earlier fury had long vanished.
His tone also did a complete 180-degree turn, becoming unusually soft and earnest.
“Brigade Commander, which battle stops halfway with a kick?”
“If word gets out, it would be a huge joke, and it would be a great loss to your unit’s reputation.” In his urgency, he tried to bind the brigade commander with reputation, but these words sounded so ridiculous at this moment.
“No choice.”
The brigade commander halted his movement to stand, but still maintained the posture of preparing to leave.
He spread his hands in a helpless gesture, his sharp eyes staring straight at Yang Aiyuan, his tone showing no compromise.
“Commander Yang, let me be frank with you: we’re fighting for Taiyuan for that arsenal.
If even this most basic demand can’t be met, then what’s the point of us continuing to fight?”
He paused, then countered, “Tell me, doesn’t that make sense?”
These words were like an ultimatum, blunt and cruel, pushing Yang Aiyuan to the edge of the cliff with no room left for maneuver.
“This…”
Yang Aiyuan’s throat felt stuffed with a lump of cotton; he opened his mouth but couldn’t utter a word.
In his heart, a fierce internal struggle raged, and finally, all the resistance turned into a long sigh filled with helplessness and bitterness.
“In that case, then… alright…” He forced these words out through gritted teeth, “This condition, I… I agree to it.”
“Really?”
“Really!”
“No takebacks?”
“Absolutely no takebacks!”
“If that’s the case, then there’s still room to talk. May I ask how many troops Commander Yan plans to deploy this time?”
“This…”
