Chapter 262: The Inertia Of History
She paused, afraid that Song Mei would misunderstand, and quickly added: “Of course! This time we’re not here to beg for alms! We’ll buy from you at market price!”
“I see.”
Song Mei nodded slowly, understanding in her heart.
She had thought so—a batch of medicine shouldn’t be used up so quickly.
Then she calmly asked: “Director Yang, how much do you plan to buy this time?”
“Of course, the more the better!” The young man who had been silent beside her blurted it out without thinking.
As soon as the words were out, he was glared at fiercely by Yang Lanjuan, and he immediately realized he had said the wrong thing, closing his mouth awkwardly.
“Oh…”
Song Mei glanced at the young man with a half-smile, and he blushed under her gaze, lowering his head.
Song Mei pondered for a moment, seemingly weighing the pros and cons, and the atmosphere in the reception room became somewhat heavy.
Just as Yang Lanjuan’s heart began to drum with anxiety, Song Mei suddenly smiled, brightening the entire reception room.
“Fellow countrymen fighting the Japanese devils together—talking about money is too vulgar.”
Her tone became straightforward and generous. “If I really took your department’s money, Yaoyang would scold me for being petty when he returns.”
She stood up and said in an unquestionable tone: “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll decide to donate one hundred boxes of penicillin to your department in the name of the hospital! Plus some accompanying gauze, alcohol, sulfa powder, and other medicines. You three can take them with you when you leave.”
“Ah? This… how could we accept this!”
Yang Lanjuan was both shocked and delighted, never expecting such generosity from the other side. One hundred boxes of penicillin! It was practically life-saving rain!
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Song Mei waved her hand, then stood up: “Strictly speaking, since you’ve come from afar, I should host a banquet for you.
But with Mingxi away, it’s not proper for me, a mere woman, to overstep.
Here’s what we’ll do: when Mingxi returns, he’ll make up that drink for you. I have things to do at the hospital, so I won’t keep you.”
After seeing Yang Lanjuan and the other two off, Song Mei thought for a moment before calling Pi Ruoyu, telling him what had just happened, asking him to send a telegram about it to Su Yaoyang far away in Yichang, then returning to the hospital to continue working…
This great battle under the walls of Yichang City was like a giant stone thrown into a lake—the ripples it stirred spread not only across all of China but also across thousands of mountains and rivers, reaching the headquarters of the Japanese First Army in Taiyuan, Shanxi.
First Army Commander Shimozuka Yoshio was now deep in thought.
For two consecutive days, he had hardly left his office, with meals delivered to his door by the orderly.
He stared unceasingly at the sand table in the office and the huge map of Shanxi on the wall, as if engraving every mountain range and river into his brain.
The heavy wooden door of the office was gently pushed open, and Chief of Staff Major General Kusayama Hideyoshi walked in carrying a cup of hot tea.
As soon as he entered, he saw his commander standing like a statue in front of the huge map, hands behind his back, gaze sharp as a knife, fixed on a certain area of the map.
Hearing the footsteps behind him, Shimozuka Yoshio slowly turned his head. His eyes were bloodshot, but his spirit was unusually excited.
Seeing it was Kusayama Hideyoshi, he skipped the pleasantries and suddenly posed a question that made the chief of staff’s heart skip a beat.
“Kusayama-kun, tell me: if we now launch a large-scale sweep against the Chinese armed bases in Shanxi, should our main attack direction be the Eighth Route Army’s Jin-Cha-Ji base area, or… on that Shanxi Militia around Mount Wutai?”
Hearing this, Kusayama Hideyoshi nearly dropped the teacup in his hand, his heart sinking.
My God! It’s only been a few months of peace, and now the commander wants to stir up trouble again?
Ever since the First Army was humiliated by that Shanxi Militia outside Taiyuan last time, morale had been low. They’d only just regained some face through clearing operations and sweeps elsewhere, and things had finally settled—why provoke that tough nut again?
He quickly set the teacup on the table and cautiously asked: “Commander, what is this about…? Has the Army Group headquarters issued a new combat mission?”
In his view, only an order from higher up could make their usually steady commander have such aggressive ideas.
Especially that Shanxi Militia—the painful lesson from their last encounter was still fresh; it wasn’t an ordinary Chinese force but a tiger armed to the teeth.
Shimozuka Yoshio shook his head, walked to the sand table, picked up a pointer, and indicated the position of the middle Yangtze River.
“No, the order isn’t from the Army Group, but from here.”
His voice was low and forceful. “Have you seen the battle report from Yichang? That Su Yaoyang actually dared to pull his main force to Yichang for a decisive battle with the 6th Division! What does that mean?”
Without waiting for Kusayama Hideyoshi to answer, he answered himself: “It means his lair now—the Wutai Mountain area—is unprecedentedly vulnerable! This is our best chance to smash his base, pull out this nail in the heart of our army! A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”
His eyes gleamed with a gambler’s near-mad light. To him, the Yichang battle wasn’t a threat but a heaven-sent opportunity!
As long as they seized this chance to launch a proactive offensive, the situation in Shanxi would surely change dramatically.
Facing the frenzied commander, cold sweat beaded on Kusayama Hideyoshi’s forehead. He knew that once the commander entered this “gambler state,” any rational advice would be futile.
“Commander! Please think twice!”
Kusayama Hideyoshi pleaded bitterly, his voice hoarse.
“Attacking the Shanxi Militia’s lair in Wutai County is too risky! Wasn’t our last lesson profound enough?
Their defensive works, their firepower—far beyond our estimates. Even with their main force in Yichang, the garrison isn’t pushovers.
If our offensive stalls and turns into a protracted war, it would be a devastating blow to the First Army’s morale!”
But Shimozuka Yoshio merely gave him a cold glance, unmoved.
“Kusayama-kun, I understand your caution.
But a soldier cannot abandon a victory within reach just because of fear of failure!”
Shimozuka Yoshio’s tone was resolute. “My mind is made up—this sweep must happen! The only question is whose throat this blade should pierce!”
He drew three circles on the map with the pointer: the Shanxi Militia at Mount Wutai, the Eighth Route Army in Jin-Cha-Ji, and the wavering Jin-Sui Army between them.
Seeing Shimozuka Yoshio’s determination was unshakeable, Kusayama Hideyoshi could only settle for the next best thing.
Since he couldn’t stop the offensive, he could at least make the target more “reasonable” and the risk more controllable.
He took a deep breath and suggested: “Commander, since you’ve decided, could we… ask Colonel Yamamoto Kazuki to come over and hear the special operations expert’s opinion? Perhaps he can provide a more efficient plan.”
“Yamamoto-kun?”
Shimozuka Yoshio pondered, then nodded.
Yamamoto Kazuki—his sharpest dagger. In this situation, it was indeed time to hear his views.
Soon, a lean, hawk-eyed man with steady steps entered the office. He was Yamamoto Kazuki, a war maniac who revered special operations as gospel.
After hearing Shimozuka Yoshio’s briefing and dilemma, Yamamoto Kazuki walked straight to the map without hesitation, extended his white-gloved finger, and heavily tapped the area representing the Eighth Route Army headquarters.
“Commander, my choice is here.” His voice was cold and confident.
“Oh… why?” Shimozuka Yoshio asked with interest.
A cruel smile tugged at Yamamoto Kazuki’s lips as he began expounding his “decapitation theory”:
“Attacking the Shanxi Militia’s fortress is a siege battle—a war of attrition only fools would choose.
The Eighth Route Army is like a slippery loach darting everywhere—knock out one regiment, and they’ll soon pop up a brigade. But whether it’s a fortress tiger or a watery loach, they share one weakness—the brain!”
He emphasized, eyes gleaming with excitement: “Destroy their brain—their command center—and the tiger becomes a trapped beast, the loach flips belly-up! The entire North China’s resistance will collapse! This is the shortcut for the Empire’s holy war to win maximum victory at minimum cost!”
Seeing Shimozuka Yoshio’s eyes light up, Yamamoto Kazuki played his final, deadliest card.
“Moreover, Commander.” He turned, bowed slightly, tone brimming with unshakeable confidence. “I’ve locked onto the Eighth Route Army headquarters location. My special agent team has already infiltrated right beside their brain.”
He drew a blood-red X with a red pencil on a point on the map.
“Right here… Daxia Bay.”
History’s trajectory, at certain moments, shows a terrifying inertia.
Even with Su Yaoyang this giant butterfly flapping its wings, changing countless details, the main current stubbornly returned to its predetermined course.
Yamamoto’s special agent team, like ghosts in the night, silently tore open the seemingly tight defenses of the Independent Regiment.
Kong Jie, this regiment commander adequate at holding ground but lacking in adaptability, never dreamed that the Japanese elite special forces would strike at the Eighth Route Army’s heart… Daxia Bay headquarters, from his direction.
When the first explosion rang out at the Independent Regiment headquarters, it was already too late.
The Yamamoto special agents were well-equipped, well-trained, with clear tactics.
They avoided entanglement with outer sentries, like a red-hot knife through butter, precisely slicing into the Independent Regiment’s command system.
Regiment headquarters was raided, communications cut, troops thrown into chaos.
By the time Kong Jie rallied the guard company for counterattack, the Yamamoto agents had already wrought massive destruction and vanished into the vast night.
The Independent Regiment suffered heavy losses, its headquarters nearly reduced to rubble.
More fatally, they failed to warn headquarters in time.
When headquarters received news of the Independent Regiment’s attack, it was half an hour later.
“Kong Jie… how the hell is he running that Independent Regiment?”
At Eighth Route Army headquarters, the deputy commander roared, nearly lifting the roof. He kicked over a chair, eyes bloodshot, pointing at the Independent Regiment’s sector on the map, face flushed with rage.
“Letting a small Japanese special agent team swagger right under his nose and take out his regiment HQ! Useless! Utterly useless! He’s lost all our army’s face!”
The deputy chief of staff and others looked grim as well.
Just days ago rejoicing over Song Mei’s donated medicines, now this major security lapse—utter humiliation.
“Order!”
The deputy commander’s roar echoed in the command post. “Immediately relieve Kong Jie of his Independent Regiment commander duties! Send him to the clothing factory to reflect!”
He paused, as if thinking of something, eyes flashing with resolve.
“Go! Get Li Yunlong back from the clothing factory! Have him replace Kong Jie as Independent Regiment commander! I want to see if that wolf Li Yunlong can avenge this!”
The order reached the clothing factory at top speed.
Li Yunlong was squatting bored on the ground, watching female workers sew uniforms, grass stem in mouth, face full of world-weariness.
When the messenger galloped in dusty on horseback and handed him the telegram, he thought the brigade commander had some new torment in mind.
But unfolding the telegram and reading it, he froze.
The next second, he leaped up, spat out the grass stem, the month’s pent-up frustration gone, replaced by a hungry wolf’s savage joy at fresh meat!
“Damn it!” Li Yunlong laughed skyward, voice booming, shaking the factory windows. “Finally remembered your Grandpa Li! Kong the fool, wait for me—I’ll avenge this for you!”
He snatched the messenger’s whip, mounted, and charged out of the factory without looking back, leaving dust and stunned female workers.
Li Yunlong rushed to the Independent Regiment at top speed. His first act was to beg Chen the brigade commander for mercy, asking him to ask the deputy commander to spare Kong Jie and let him stay to redeem himself.
Chen the brigade commander agreed, but warned that if he couldn’t shape up the Independent Regiment, the punishments would stack.
