Chapter 241: Switching The Dragon For A Phoenix
“Hai, I will follow the Minister’s instructions and do a good job with materials procurement.” Yasuda solemnly bowed, turned around, and walked out of the office.
It looks like he needs to consult with South Manchuria Railway Headquarters on how to carry out materials collection work.
Oshima Kenjiro watched Yasuda’s departing back and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He sat back in his chair, looked at Chen Yang, and his tone softened considerably: “Mr. Chen, Yasuda’s side… has too many variables. Relying on him is still somewhat unreliable.”
“This Kwantung Army battle is of great importance. Materials preparation cannot have any oversights. You still need to keep a close eye. Your those ‘special channels’ must also be on standby at any time for emergencies.”
Chen Yang raised his head, a perfectly appropriate look of deference on his face: “Your Excellency the Minister, rest assured. Minister Yasuda is exceptionally capable and is sure to live up to the heavy responsibility. Your subordinate will also keep a close watch to ensure everything is foolproof.”
“Live up to the heavy responsibility,” Oshima Kenjiro silently repeated the phrase. His reaction to the words was an almost inaudible scoff.
Showa 14（1939） late April, Xinjing（Changchun）
The telegram sent by Yasuda from Shanghai was quickly presented to the desk of South Manchuria Railway Director Nakajima Yasuo.
South Manchuria Railway Co., Ltd. Xinjing Branch.
Third Floor Office. In this spacious office decorated with luxurious rosewood and a Manchuria map, smoke curled thickly.
South Manchuria Railway Xinjing Department Director Nakajima Yasuo sat in a high-backed chair, his fingers lightly tapping the thin telegram paper, his brows slightly furrowed.
Sitting opposite him was South Manchuria Railway Transportation Department’s Kazami Shunsuke.
“Kazami-kun, what do you think?” Nakajima pushed the telegram across the desk.
Kazami Shunsuke quickly scanned it, a barely perceptible complex expression appearing on his face.
He adjusted his glasses and cautiously said: “Director Nakajima, this is against the rules. Materials procurement should be assigned through the normal processes of the South Manchuria Railway business departments.”
“Having business department people handle procurement—Yasuda-kun is responsible for transportation routes. How can he do procurement work? Wouldn’t that be chaos?”
Nakajima snorted coldly, picked up the ivory cigarette holder from the desk, and took a deep drag. “Headquarters sent Yasuda to Shanghai hoping he could seize the opportunity and demonstrate the powerful capabilities of Northern Transportation. This is very important for whether we can control China transportation routes.”
“As for these rules you’re concerned about right now? In my personal view, in the face of the Imperial Holy War, all rules must take a backseat.”
“‘Zero’ Plan is promoted by the Army Department and has the highest priority.”
“If the Army cannot achieve corresponding results in the Northward Advance Plan, you should understand the consequences—the Empire’s future dominance in launching external wars will be firmly controlled by the Navy.”
“At that time, if we still want to acquire resources on a large scale, we’ll have to look at the Navy’s face.”
“President Omura and Minister Matsuoka are both staunch supporters of the Army. If the Army’s offensive is frustrated, our expansion plans will also have to be urgently halted.”
“Therefore, we must handle this matter well without any oversights.”
“But we also cannot let the Military Department think that South Manchuria Railway is a porter the Army can drive at will.”
“When doing things, there must be a sense of proportion.”
“Hai.” Minister Kazami bowed in acknowledgment. “I understand. It’s just that… medical supplies, especially alcohol and gauze, are under very strict market controls right now. Large-scale procurement is likely to attract attention and may alert the intelligence departments.”
Director Nakajima nodded slightly. “That’s what I’m considering too. So, for Yasuda Nobuo, you must grant him temporary highest authority to mobilize all mobilizable resources to meet his requirements.”
“Convey headquarters’ intentions to Aoki-kun and require the Shanghai South Manchuria Railway Investigation Bureau to fully assist Yasuda-kun in completing the materials collection mission.”
“But at the same time, also make Yasuda clear that he is working for the Military Department. If it’s done well, the merit is everyone’s, and it also demonstrates our South Manchuria Railway’s strong coordination. If it’s messed up, then he will need to…”
“I understand. Responsibility needs someone to bear it.” Kazami Shunsuke got the point.
“Exactly.” Nakajima gently flicked ash into the crystal ashtray. “You go arrange it. Get Yasuda Nobuo moving immediately.”
“Tell him this is the Empire’s trust in him and also South Manchuria Railway’s test of him. All links will have a green light, but it must be low-key and swift.”
“Hai! I’ll go do it right now.” Kazami Shunsuke stood up, bowed deeply, turned, and quickly left the office.
After the door closed, Director Nakajima sat alone in the office, his gaze falling once more on that telegram.
“Khalkhin Gol River, are we going to declare war on the Sand Russians again like decades ago?”
“The Empire is really too arrogant. The current Soviet Union is not the previous Sand Russia. Wanting to provoke the Soviet steel torrent with just over 200,000 Kwantung Army…”
Nakajima sighed softly, the sigh carrying a hint of dissatisfaction with the Kwantung Army’s radical style.
But more so, it was a helplessness and submission that could not escape being swept up in it.
On this land, South Manchuria Railway, this massive colonial machine, was ultimately a gear rotating around the Military Department’s blade.
Shanghai, South Manchuria Railway Investigation Bureau.
After receiving headquarters’ receipt, Yasuda Nobuo immediately rushed to the South Manchuria Railway Investigation Bureau to meet Aoki Tomonari.
The smile on Aoki Tomoshige’s face gradually faded. He walked to the window, looking at the small boats shuttling back and forth on the Suzhou River outside, and pondered for a moment.
“Yasuda-kun, aren’t you putting me in a difficult position?” Aoki turned around, brows slightly furrowed. “Right now, the places with the most materials are the Osaka Chamber of Commerce and Mitsui & Co. You’re asking me to bypass them and source from others?”
Yasuda lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled a ring of white smoke.
“Aoki-kun, Chen Yang and Oshima suddenly specified that we collect medical supplies. There’s already something unusual about this.”
“If we still transact with Mr. Nishiyama of Mitsui & Co. or Mr. Tanaka of the Osaka Chamber of Commerce, it’s easy for them to set us up.”
“Don’t forget how we treated them.”
“You should know that under our guidance, Mitsui & Co. raised materials prices by 60%, which is why Chen Yang couldn’t complete the acquisition task.”
“At this time, if we can purchase the corresponding materials at normal prices, I’m afraid as soon as we turn around, Chen Yang will have an excuse to target Mitsui & Co.”
“This person is much more ruthless than we imagined. From how he was able to raise so many materials in a short time, he has a thorough grasp of materials distribution in the Shanghai Market.”
“Our materials report is submitted one second, and the next second he will use the Ume Agency to arrest Mr. Nishiyama, and likely pin on him a charge of sabotaging Imperial military actions.”
“Once all matters involve the two words ‘Holy War,’ even if Mitsui & Co.’s director steps in, it’s probably unsolvable.”
“So, for this materials procurement matter, we cannot involve Mitsui & Co.”
Aoki Tomonari said slowly: “The stuff is available, but you want it so urgently, and in such large quantities—the price won’t be settled by Xinjing-side rates. Moreover, ‘those people’ are watching these things very closely.”
“Price is not an issue. South Manchuria Railway Headquarters is willing to pay the necessary cost,” Yasuda said gravely. “The key is time and secrecy. Aoki-kun, with your connections in Shanghai, I believe there must be a way.”
Aoki paced back behind the desk, tapping the desktop lightly with his fingers. “Alcohol… high-purity medical alcohol, most production capacity is controlled by the military or major hospitals.”
“Scattered purchases are a drop in the bucket. I do know a few places…”
“In Hongkou, there are a few chemical workshops controlled by ‘special background’ individuals that can privately refine alcohol, but quality may not be fully guaranteed. There’s also a Swiss businessman in the French Concession who might have some stock, but the price will likely be very high.”
“Quality must be guaranteed! This is for treating the wounded!” Yasuda emphasized, but in his heart he knew that under such irregular channels, how effective the so-called “guarantee” could be was doubtful even to him.
“I’ll try to control it,” Aoki thought. “As for gauze, it’s a bit easier. Several Chinese-owned cotton mills in Pudong can privately release some unregistered finished products.”
“Or, we can go through a Portuguese trading firm to urgently transport a batch from Macau side via waterway, which is easy to inspect, but if we borrow Imperial Marine Corps transport ships for cover, it might work.”
“Navy?” Yasuda frowned. “Aoki-kun, are you confident?”
Aoki hesitated somewhat: “Hard to say. I can only try my best.”
“I will immediately mobilize all connections and proceed from several directions at once.”
“But you also need to be mentally prepared. In such a short time, such a large quantity, I cannot guarantee every batch is flawless. There will always be some…”
Yasuda was silent for a moment. Time was pressing, no room for demanding perfection. “I understand. As long as it generally meets requirements, seals intact, and can be shipped out on time, it’s success. Everything entrusted to you, Aoki-kun!”
In the following days and nights of rushing negotiations, Yasuda barely closed his eyes.
Fortunately, Aoki Tomonari had operated in Shanghai for many years and indeed had some channels.
It was not until the afternoon of the fourth day, when he watched box after box of wooden boxes sealed with “Military Medicine” seals being transported into the Mai Gen Road Material Warehouse, that he slightly relaxed.
The alcohol in these boxes was something he had personally inspected samples of—clear and pungent, top quality; the gauze was snow-white and soft, with excellent absorbency and breathability.
“Mr. Yasuda, all materials have been fully warehoused. The list is here, please review.” A steady voice sounded behind him.
Yasuda turned around. It was the warehouse dispatch director Kitaoka Yuichi.
“You’ve worked hard, Kitaoka-kun.” Yasuda took the list, carefully checked the numbers on it, nodded after confirming no errors. “This batch of materials is of great importance. They’re urging urgently from Hailar side. Tomorrow morning, must load and ship out.”
“Please rest assured, Mr. Yasuda. Upon warehousing, I recounted them again and arranged dedicated personnel to guard the warehouse district.” Kitaoka’s voice was calm and steady. “Do you need me to arrange manpower now for the final outbound check?”
“No,” Yasuda waved his hand, fatigue from days of toil on his face. “Everyone’s worked hard. Tomorrow at five a.m., start loading on time. Let the materials rest in the warehouse tonight. You rest early too. Tomorrow we’ll still rely on you to coordinate.”
“Understood.” Kitaoka bowed slightly. “Then I’ll patrol the warehouse district once more to ensure foolproof.”
Yasuda watched Kitaoka’s departing back with satisfaction, rubbed his throbbing temples, and decided to go back for a short rest to gather energy for tomorrow’s shipment.
Midnight, deep in the warehouse
Moonlight was blocked by thick clouds. Only a few dim yellow permanent lights in the warehouse cast swaying light spots in the vast, towering storage space, illuminating the outlines of piled-up cargo boxes like mountains.
The daytime clamor had long subsided, leaving only occasional dripping sounds from somewhere, adding to the eerie quiet.
Deputy Lu Jian of the Mai Gen Road Warehouse Materials Management Office walked through the warehouse aisles, his footsteps so light they were almost inaudible.
He confirmed again the storage location of that batch of medical supplies with special marks: the innermost corner of Warehouse District No. 3.
Lu Jian glanced at his luminous watch; the hands were about to overlap at twelve.
At that moment, an inconspicuous small door on the warehouse side was silently pushed open, and several black shadows slipped in one after another.
They all wore coarse cloth clothes like warehouse laborers, but their movements were exceptionally agile and swift, without any extra noise. The leader walked up to Chen Yang and nodded slightly.
“All prepared?” Lu Jian’s voice was very low.
“Prepared. Alcohol swapped for watered industrial alcohol, concentration under 50%, with impurities.”
“Gauze is reused old gauze, bleached to look new, but poor absorbency and likely carrying previous bacteria.”
“The Minister’s orders were clear,” the leader said rapidly in a hoarse voice. “Guaranteed the box sealing traces are seamless. Unless specifically checked, absolutely undetectable as having been opened.”
Lu Jian nodded, his face expressionless, only the gaze behind his lenses sharp as a knife. “Move fast. Must complete replacement before dawn, restore to original state.”
The black shadows said no more and immediately got to work.
They were clearly extremely practiced: some stood guard on the perimeter, others used special tools to silently pry open the wooden box seals. Inside were neatly stacked glass bottles and bundled gauze packs.
Others took out nearly identical substitutes from the boxes they brought, carefully placed them in, removed the original goods from the boxes, and loaded them into empty boxes to take away.
The entire process was orderly and highly efficient, with only faint friction sounds echoing in the silence.
Lu Jian quietly watched their deft movements. He clearly knew what it meant for these inferior alcohol and gauze to be shipped to the front lines.
Time passed minute by minute. The replacement work was nearing completion.
The black shadows began handling the last few boxes.
Lu Jian stepped forward, casually picked up a pack of replacement gauze, squeezed it hard—the texture was indeed much coarser, the surface snow-white unable to mask the inner inferiority.
He picked up a small bottle again, held it up to the dim light to look at the liquid inside—much more turbid than the genuine article.
“Good enough.” Lu Jian said lowly.
“Alright, then we’re withdrawing.” The black shadow leader made a hand signal. Everyone swiftly restored the box lids, using brought materials and heating tools to perfectly replicate the original wax seals and binding method.
Having done all this, they retreated out the small door as silently as they came, vanishing into the night.
The warehouse seemed as if nothing had happened. That batch of “life-saving materials” about to be shipped to Hailar had its core turned into a deadly poison.
Lu Jian stood alone in front of the cargo boxes, taking a deep breath. The air still lingered with a mix of inferior alcohol and bleaching powder smell.
He walked out of the warehouse district, locked the gate, looked up—the eastern horizon was already showing a faint whitish tint.
Morning loading site
Five a.m., dawn just breaking. The transport team’s trucks had already rumbled onto the warehouse district platform.
Soldiers in khaki military uniforms and South Manchuria Railway loading workers mixed together. Voices, engine noise, and whistle blasts shattered the dawn quiet.
Yasuda Nobuo arrived on time. He had changed into a more formal Transportation Department Minister uniform, his gaze sweeping over the loading site.
Materials Warehouse Supervisor Miyajima Masanobu was directing steadily, holding the list, loudly instructing workers to load those wooden boxes onto designated trucks.
“Handle with care! These are important medical supplies!”
“Boxes from Warehouse District No. 3—yes, those ones—all to this truck!”
Machida Koshiro, responsible for warehouse materials verification, held the documents, checking item by item the materials about to ship north.
Thud thud thud thud—a rapid burst of footsteps. A group of Southern Transportation Department uniformed staff escorted Minister Oshima Kenjiro and Land Transport Section Chief Chen Yang into Yasuda’s view.
“Minister Oshima, Section Chief Chen.” Yasuda bowed slightly to the two, his tone carrying a hint of unfriendliness: “You two coming so early—don’t trust my work?”
Chen Yang smiled: “Minister Yasuda, what are you saying? This batch of materials is for supplying the front lines northward.”
“It’s of great importance. We don’t want any issues, or else everyone’s heads are at risk.”
“Minister Oshima is here for caution’s sake, specially bringing people to take a look.”
“Take a look, heh, open-box inspection.” Yasuda didn’t mince words, turned to instruct the warehouse quality inspector, a confident smile at the corner of his mouth.
When the first wooden box was pried open, the quality inspector let out a light gasp. The neatly stacked gauze inside had an unnatural yellow tinge and tore into fluff with a gentle pull.
“What’s going on? Keep opening boxes!” Yasuda’s face changed abruptly.
The second, the third… successively opened wooden boxes had gauze either moldy or mixed with inferior cotton wadding.
When the alcohol barrels were opened, a pungent sour smell assaulted the face—this was clearly watered industrial alcohol!
“Open all boxes!” Yasuda’s voice was already distorted.
The inspection results were suffocating: 85% of gauze did not meet military standards, 60% of alcohol concentration fell short.
More fatally, at the bottom of a certain box was found a tattered label from “Manchukuo Fengtian Cotton Mill”—a inferior supplier explicitly banned by the Kwantung Army.
“Impossible…” Yasuda staggered back, rain wetting his epaulets. “I personally supervised the procurement process…”
Oshima Kenjiro’s gaze fixed deadly on Yasuda, as if about to spew fire: “Yasuda-kun, what explanation do you have now?”
“The Empire entrusted you with acquiring medical supplies, and you turn in this stuff?”
“Do you know what it means if these things appear on the battlefield?”
“Aren’t you afraid frontline soldiers will come reason with you samurai sword in hand?”
Yasuda’s expression changed drastically. He spun around abruptly, staring deadly at the faint smile on Chen Yang’s face.
“It’s you…” Yasuda squeezed out two words through gritted teeth.
Chen Yang walked forward slowly, casually took a roll of gauze from the box, rubbed it gently—cotton wadding crumbled down: “Minister Yasuda, you can eat carelessly, but words cannot be spoken carelessly.”
“At least over a hundred people saw me arrive at the materials warehouse only this morning.”
“What you’re saying now is that you procured inferior materials and passed them off as good ones—so it’s still my responsibility?”
“Do I look that much like someone to take the fall?”
Yasuda’s pupils contracted sharply. He turned to Oshima Kenjiro: “Minister Oshima, hear me out. The materials I procured from outside channels were indeed fully up to standard.”
“Yesterday when warehousing, Kitaoka-kun personally delivered the materials into the warehouse.”
Oshima Kenjiro’s gaze turned to Kitaoka Yuichi standing beside Miyajima Masanobu.
“Kitaoka-kun, is what Yasuda-kun said true? I ask you—where are the originally qualified medical supplies now?”
Kitaoka Yuichi hurriedly said: “Minister Oshima, I don’t know. These are exactly the batch Minister Yasuda had me warehouse yesterday.”
“After warehousing, I even specifically asked Minister Yasuda if a final check was needed.”
“Minister Yasuda’s reply was that everyone was tired, no need…”
“Lying, Kitaoka Yuichi, you’re lying.” Yasuda became hysterical.
“I never said no check. What I said was everyone was tired, so put the final check at loading time.”
“How dare you slander me?”
Chen Yang said indifferently: “Is that so? Then may I ask Minister Yasuda, what are you doing now? Isn’t it loading?”
“So, have you checked?”
“If not for Minister Oshima insisting on coming to the warehouse for final confirmation, wouldn’t these inferior medical alcohol and gauze have boarded the northbound train to Hailar garrison?”
“Minister Yasuda, what more do you have to say now?” Oshima Kenjiro asked, his face ashen.
“No, no, it’s not like this.” Yasuda struggled: “I’m very certain the materials entering the warehouse were absolutely not like this.”
“All materials went through my personal inspection. I can guarantee no mistakes.”
“It must be, must be someone tampered inside the warehouse and swapped my originally procured materials.”
“Chen Yang, it must be you. You’re gambling with the lives of the Empire’s hundreds of thousands of soldiers.”
“You, you deserve ten thousand deaths.”
“Tsk tsk tsk,” Chen Yang’s tone was frivolous. “All evidence points to Minister Yasuda’s problem, yet you blame everything on me.”
“No matter. Minister Yasuda’s memory seems poor, but I still have ways to make Minister Yasuda recall all the details.”
“Men, take him down.”
As Chen Yang’s words fell, a group of plainclothes agents rushed out from behind—clearly Ume Agency people.
Several quickly subdued Yasuda Nobuo.
Chen Yang stepped forward slowly, raised his hand, and lightly patted Yasuda Nobuo’s cheek.
“Minister Yasuda, believe the Ume Agency’s great memory restoration technique will surely let you fully recall everything you’ve done.”
“Take him away.”
