Chapter 139: The Darkest Hour
Shanghai, Fukaisen Road, Lin Mansion.
It was already late at night, but Chen Yang was still writing furiously in the study room.
Finally, after writing the last word, Chen Yang looked at the dense handwriting on the draft paper and checked it once more.
This proposal was specifically designed for the transportation routes of the First Section.
He used the AI algorithm in his mind combined with the power of the explosives currently in use to design a reasonable plan to sabotage transportation.
Sabotage the railway at key nodes of the First Section’s transportation and at certain important locations to slow down the First Section’s transportation.
The destructive power produced by these explosives was extremely limited, enough to slow down the speed without making the materials unable to move.
Chen Yang could then reasonably arrange his own transportation time based on the time for sabotage and repair.
By Chen Yang’s calculations, within a month, the transportation efficiency between the First Section and the Third Section would be clearly distinguished.
This was a plan specially designed for him to secure transportation authority from the Southern Transportation Department.
He didn’t have certain big shots backing him up, and his current relationship with Suzuhara Shingo and others was just a simple cooperative relationship, not yet at the level of deep entanglement.
So, he needed the Japanese to see his ability.
Putting away the proposal, Chen Yang stood up and took a bottle of red wine from the wine cabinet on the right side of the study room, pouring himself a glass.
Shaking the wine cup in his hand, Chen Yang looked through the study room window at the scenery outside.
If he hadn’t come to this era, he would never have been able to experience the confusion and despair of the Chinese people in this era toward the future.
This despair was the 700,000 against 300,000 on the Songhu Battlefield, but it ended in a disastrous defeat.
This despair was the fifteen divisions of the Xiang Army rushing to aid Shanghai, only to have their designations wiped out in just one month, with no trace of the Xiang Army on the Chinese battlefield ever since.
This despair was the 60,000 Guangxi wolf soldiers trekking over mountains and rivers for months to reach the Songhu Battlefield, only to be left with the elderly, weak, wounded, and disabled in the end.
This despair was in just a few short months, Shanghai, Nanjing, Beiping, Tianjin, Shijiazhuang, Jin-Ji-Lu-Yu-Su-Hu-Wan—more than half of China’s territory successively falling into the enemy’s hands.
This despair was a million Blue Army guarding China, everyone giving their all, even trading life for life, yet still unable to stop the small Japanese dwarfs, who advanced wherever their spear pointed.
This despair was like two martial arts masters meeting on a narrow path, one having unleashed their lifelong ultimate technique, only to find they couldn’t even break the opponent’s defense.
Hesitation, confusion, helplessness, loss, up to despair.
No one knew if China had a future; some had even pessimistically begun drafting 《National History Outline》, in hopes that even if China perished, future generations would remember that this country once existed.
Outside the window, the night was thick as ink, with street lamps emitting dim yellow light..
Those faint lights were like the fearless spirit of the Chinese people, holding on to the last hope in the darkness.
Chen Yang silently drank the red wine in his cup; he didn’t know how far he could go in the future.
But he always firmly believed that heaven brought him to this world not just to be a witness, but also to do what he could.
Even if these things caused misunderstandings and incomprehension from everyone, that didn’t matter.
What mattered was that he did them.
Year 27 of the Republic, July 16th, clear.
Jiangxi, Jiujiang, Tongfu Ji teahouse……
The Tongfu Ji shopfront was not large, but it was exceptionally neat and tidy.
Various tea leaf jars were arranged meticulously, the air filled with the fresh aroma of Longjing tea, the aged flavor of Pu’er tea, and a hint of watery fishiness drifting from the river.
It was the afternoon, the slowest time for business, with only the fan overhead turning feebly, stirring the stagnant air.
Shopkeeper Old Wu sat in the old elmwood armchair behind the counter, seemingly flipping through a yellowed account book, but his peripheral vision was constantly watching the light and shadows at the door.
His ears keenly filtered through the noisy sounds on the street……
Peddlers’ shouts, rickshaw bells, distant faint sounds of military drills—these everyday noises concealed dangerous undercurrents.
Over Jiujiang, Japanese Army airplanes occasionally flew over the city for reconnaissance, military supplies piled up like mountains at the wharf, and checks by military police and secret agents grew increasingly strict.
Looking up at the Western clock hanging opposite, a flash of anxiety appeared in Old Wu’s eyes.
The appointed time had arrived, but the intelligence officer coming to connect had not appeared—had something happened?
If something had happened, it would be trouble; this intelligence came from No. 50 Zengjiayan.
It even bore the director’s handwritten signature, proving the intelligence was extremely important and needed to be carried out by the guerrilla team in the Jiujiang area.
If something went wrong, how was he supposed to explain?
Tap tap tap, a series of light footsteps sounded, and Old Wu looked up to see a slender figure carrying a simple cloth bag walking in……
“Shopkeeper, do you… do you have this year’s pre-Qingming ‘Lushan Cloud Mist’? My mom asked me to bring some back; she loves this taste.”
Old Wu’s gaze calmly swept over the girl’s face, willow-leaf eyebrows, almond eyes, clear gaze with a hint of imperceptible vigilance, and what she said was exactly the agreed contact code.
“Miss, you’ve come at a bad time,” Old Wu slowly put down the account book, his voice low and deep yet steady, carrying a businessman’s amiability,
“Authentic ‘Lushan Cloud Mist’ is scarce this year and was all pre-ordered by old customers. But I do have some top-quality ‘Ninghong’ from Xiushui, with a rich aroma, very durable for brewing. Care to take a look?”
As he spoke, he stood up, gesturing for the girl to go to the inner hall to inspect closely—this was the second code to confirm identity.
A flash of imperceptible light passed through Liu Ying’s eyes, and she obediently followed Old Wu around the counter into the inner hall piled with tea baskets and account books.
The door curtain fell, blocking out the outside clamor.
“Comrade, you’ve had a hard journey.” The amiability on Old Wu’s face instantly faded, replaced by the seriousness and gravity unique to underground workers, his voice pressed extremely low. “How’s the situation in the mountains? Was the road safe?”
Liu Ying also dropped her disguised innocence, speaking quickly and clearly with a capable tone. “The Japanese devils around Jiujiang are mobilizing frequently; the mountains have been encircled and suppressed several times, but fortunately, we reacted quickly with minimal losses.”
“By the way, on my way here, I saw several more warships on the river surface; it looks like they’re preparing to cross or land.”
Old Wu nodded. “Correct, the Japanese devils have decided on a large-scale reinforcement to attack the Mount Lu defense line.”
“Superior received top secret intelligence about the Japanese devils’ material distribution.”
“We’ve already planted a nail inside, probing the Japanese devils’ troop deployments at Kuitong Wharf in Jiujiang, as well as specific patrol times of the garrison troops.”
“This contains the detailed intelligence. Take it back to Captain Tian, have him gather manpower as soon as possible. The Japanese devils want to clear the Jiujiang waterway within seven days; your time is limited—act quickly.”
“Remember,” Old Wu emphasized again, his tone carrying an unquestionable sternness,
“This intelligence concerns the situation in Jiujiang and even the early stages of the Wuhan Battle!”
“The Japanese devils have set up heavy checkpoints at the wharf, station, and ferry crossings; secret agents are sniffing around like hunting dogs.”
“Going by water route is too risky; I suggest you take the land route, avoiding main roads and towns.”
“Take the old road along the west bank of Poyang Lake, go through the mountain paths near Ruichang and Dean, even if it takes an extra day—absolutely no mistakes!”
“Understood, take the west lake mountain path, avoid main roads and towns.” Liu Ying repeated it once.
Old Wu nodded and walked to the window, extremely cautiously parting a tiny gap in the curtain to observe the outside.
At the street corner, there seemed to be two men in black clothes and felt hats strolling idly, their gazes occasionally sweeping the street.
Seeing this, his brows furrowed imperceptibly.
“There are ‘dogs’ outside.” Old Wu let the curtain fall. “You can’t leave through the front door; follow me.”
He quickly moved a large tea jar filled with aged Pu’er tea from the corner of the inner hall, revealing a narrow wooden door behind it that was extremely concealed, almost blended into the wall.
Behind the door was a dark narrow passage barely wide enough for one person to pass sideways.
The passage emitted a musty and dusty smell, but it was the only exit leading to the back alley of the abandoned warehouse next door.
“Go out from here, turn left at the third alley, there’s an old lady selling cool tea—buy a bowl, rest your feet, observe that no one’s paying attention, then go.” Old Wu quickly explained the escape route, then said gravely, “Take care, Comrade ‘Yellow Oriole’.”
Liu Ying nodded. “You be careful too; I’m off…”
Shanghai, Southern Transportation Department, Minister’s Office.
“Baka yaro.” Oshima Kenjiro’s face was flushed red as he angrily said to Matsushima Jun in front of him, “Section Chief Matsushima, Headquarters just commended you not long ago.”
“And in just a few days, you’ve made such a huge mistake.”
“Goods originally arriving in Jiujiang are delayed by a day—do you know how much can happen in one day?”
Matsushima Jun’s face flushed red as he defended, “Minister Oshima, this isn’t my fault.”
“The train transporting the materials received an emergency message before reaching Jiujiang: the railway ahead was sabotaged by the Communist Party’s Railway Guerrilla Squad.”
“The train had no choice but to stop midway and wait.”
“Stop midway and wait?” Oshima Kenjiro gasped roughly. “But why did Section Chief Chen’s train arrive on time?”
“Your materials departed in the morning; Section Chief Chen’s departed after 9 p.m., a difference of nearly ten hours.”
“In the end, the train under Section Chief Chen’s responsibility arrived in Jiujiang first.”
“What’s your explanation for this?”
Matsushima Jun pondered for a moment before saying, “I can only describe it as a coincidence.”
“Our train was waiting for news. When Section Chief Chen’s train passed that section, the General Affairs Section had already completed the repairs.”
“They just hadn’t notified us immediately.”
“So it caused our materials to arrive late.”
“Coincidence? Do you think I can accept that reason?” Oshima Kenjiro’s face was full of disbelief.
“Whether you believe it or not,” Matsushima Jun said gravely, “that’s the fact.”
Hah, you’re in the right? Oshima Kenjiro forcibly suppressed his anger. “Matsushima-kun, I hope such coincidences don’t happen again in the future. Do you think that’s possible?”
