Chapter 272: Astonishing Remarks
Su Yaoyang’s resounding eight words—”China will surely win, Japan will surely lose!”—were like a giant stone smashing into a calm lake, instantly stirring up waves upon waves in the noisy banquet hall.
The generals who had been warmly conversing and toasting just a second ago had their actions frozen as if a pause button had been pressed. Chopsticks hung in mid-air, wine cups stopped at their lips, and everyone’s faces were fixed with an expression mixing shock, astonishment, and disbelief. The entire hall fell into an eerie silence, where one could hear a pin drop.
Everyone’s gazes, like searchlights, all focused squarely on Su Yaoyang.
One must know, what time was it now?
It was the 29th year of the Republic of China, 1940 in the Gregorian calendar.
This was the darkest and most difficult period in the entire War of Resistance Against Japan.
Every general present felt the current situation like a knife cutting into their flesh.
The wealthiest coastal regions had all fallen, the National Government was forced to move its capital to Chongqing, cowering in a corner of the southwest, relying on the natural defenses of the Three Gorges and Qinling Mountains to barely hold a shaky defensive line.
International aid channels had been almost completely cut off with France’s surrender and the Japanese army’s occupation of French Indochina.
The domestic economy had long collapsed, and starting this year, the depreciation of the fabi was like an avalanche, with the price of rice in Chongqing having skyrocketed over fifty times compared to pre-war!
The people in the rear were struggling bitterly in famine and the day-after-day Chongqing bombings, with exhaustion and despair spreading like a plague.
Just a short while ago, General Zhang Zizhong, commander of the 33rd Army Group, had heroically sacrificed himself in the Battle of Zaoyi, casting a thick shadow over the morale of the nation’s anti-Japanese fighters.
Meanwhile, Wang Jingwei and his ilk had made a grand appearance in Nanjing, establishing the puppet National Government and vigorously promoting their traitorous “curved path to save the nation” rhetoric, intensifying the already pervasive atmosphere of surrender.
Failure, sacrifice, collapse, betrayal… this was the reality they faced every day upon opening their eyes.
In such a fog of gloom and misery, Su Yaoyang, this young militia officer, had shockingly shouted “China will surely win”?
The group of generals exchanged glances, their eyes filled with doubt.
Where did this confidence come from? Was it the arrogance of a newborn calf unafraid of tigers? Or complacency after a few victories?
Even Li Zongren, who admired him the most, had slightly furrowed his brows.
Of course he hoped China could win, but the heavy pressure of reality made him dare not be optimistic in the slightest.
Su Yaoyang’s words sounded more like an empty slogan to boost morale than a calm judgment based on reality.
Sun Lianzhong, who spoke first, even shook his head with a bitter smile, thinking Su Yaoyang was drunk and talking nonsense.
Su Yaoyang naturally took in the complex gazes from the generals’ eyes, containing pessimism, hesitation, confusion, and even a hint of pity.
But he wasn’t angry; instead, he fully understood their thoughts.
He knew how shocking and… untimely his words sounded to them.
Those who hadn’t personally experienced this era could never understand how difficult and despairing China was in 1940.
Just a few months ago, General Yang Jingyu, commander of the Northeast Anti-Japanese United Army, had heroically sacrificed himself.
Su Yaoyang had pieced together that tragic final chapter from scattered intelligence.
Starting from the end of last year, the general’s troops had sharply reduced from over a thousand to just dozens, and in the final stage, only a few fighters remained by his side.
His most trusted guard platoon leader had defected, taking secret documents and the last funds to join the Japanese, completely exposing the general’s whereabouts.
In his final days of encirclement, he had even encountered a fellow villager chopping wood on the mountain, who advised him to surrender, and the general’s response was: “Fellow villager, if all us Chinese surrender, is there still a China?”
But that villager went down the mountain and immediately reported him to the Japanese.
In the end, that iron-blooded man, starving, freezing, and gravely ill, fought alone in the ice and snow with two pistols until his last breath.
It was said that the cruel Japanese army dissected his body and found that in his stomach, besides undigested tree bark and grass roots, there were only clumps of cotton wadding.
Even the bravest warriors could be betrayed by their own people, even the most steadfast generals could only sustain themselves by swallowing cotton wadding—this was the reality now.
The enemy pressed forward step by step, territory continuously fell, hope gradually faded in the day-after-day bombings and sacrifices.
In such circumstances, despair spread like a contagious plague: ordinary people were infected, soldiers were infected, and even these senior generals present could not escape.
Having figured this out, the last ripple in Su Yaoyang’s heart calmed.
Facing the room full of skepticism, Su Yaoyang’s expression showed no change.
He cleared his throat, and his steady voice rang out again, breaking the awkward silence in the banquet hall.
“Gentlemen…” He scanned the crowd with sincere eyes, “Don’t think I’m just bragging; what I said earlier is fully substantiated.”
He paused, giving them time to digest, then began his argument with a vivid metaphor.
“In my view, Japan is just like Cheng Yaojin from the storytelling books: seemingly fierce, but really only knowing those three axes.
Once those three axes are swung, it has no other cards to play!”
This simple and relatable metaphor slightly eased the furrowed brows of many generals.
Su Yaoyang didn’t give them much time to think and immediately dropped his first bombshell.
“Not to mention anything else, let’s talk about Japan’s domestic economic situation.
Starting last year, Japan experienced a once-in-a-century rare drought, with widespread crop failures.
To sustain the war, the Japanese government has begun implementing strict grain rationing on the home front, with limited purchases.
At the same time, they are using precious foreign exchange on the international market to urgently purchase hundreds of thousands of tons of flour to make up for the severe shortages at home.”
At these words, the faces of the generals present slightly changed. They were all battlefield commanders who deeply understood the principle that “before the troops and horses move, grain and fodder go first.”
What a grain problem meant for a country, especially one engaged in total war, was crystal clear in their hearts.
Seeing their reactions, Su Yaoyang knew his words had worked, so he pressed his advantage and threw out an even more devastating second piece of data.
“Now, about their moneybags. Before the full-scale war broke out in 1937, Japan had about 3.8 billion US dollars in foreign exchange reserves, including around 400 tons of gold. That’s a considerable amount.”
He held up three fingers, then abruptly folded two back.
“But by this year, in just three short years, Japan’s domestic gold reserves have dropped to less than 100 million US dollars!”
“Boom!”
This number exploded in everyone’s minds like a real bomb.
Less than 100 million US dollars!
The entire banquet hall instantly erupted, with buzzing discussions rising and falling, no longer able to stay quiet.
“What? Less than 100 million already?”
“This… how is this possible? Burned through so much money in three years?”
“If this is true… then those little Japs…”
No one present was a fool.
What does modern warfare fight for?
It fights for logistics, for industry, and ultimately, for money.
For a resource-poor country like Japan that relies on buying everything, without money, without gold and foreign exchange, it can’t buy oil, steel, or rubber—then its frontline planes, tanks, and artillery all become scrap metal!
After only three years of total war, Japan’s economic situation had deteriorated to this extent?
If what Su Yaoyang said was true, even a fool would know the Japanese couldn’t hold out much longer!
Looking at the crowd’s shocked expressions, Su Yaoyang made a concluding statement, his voice not loud but every word weighty:
“I’d like to ask everyone, under these circumstances, how much longer can the Japanese government hold on?
As long as we hold out for a few more years, Japan’s collapse is just around the corner!”
As his words fell, the whole room fell silent.
After the shock, an even greater doubt loomed over everyone’s hearts like dark clouds.
Li Zongren, Bai Chongxi, and others exchanged glances, seeing the same question in each other’s eyes.
Japan’s grain reserves, foreign exchange reserves… these were absolute top-secret intelligence of the Japanese government, known only to Emperor Hirohito and a very few core ministers around him—no outsider could possibly know.
How did he, Su Yaoyang, a militia leader in remote Shanxi, know this?
The way the crowd now looked at Su Yaoyang had completely changed.
From initial gratitude, to later appreciation, to recent skepticism, and now to a gaze mixing awe, shock, and deep wariness.
Seeing Su Yaoyang’s confident and sincere demeanor, waves of shock surged in their hearts.
Could it be… that he had such divine abilities to obtain even this level of top-secret intelligence? What terrifying strength and background was this young man hiding behind him?
In an instant, Su Yaoyang became even more enigmatic and unfathomable in everyone’s eyes.
After a long time, Bai Chongxi, who hadn’t spoken, said solemnly, “Mingxi… you are also a soldier and should know that soldiers do not speak falsely.
If you cannot take responsibility for what you just said, I can treat it as drunken nonsense. As long as you apologize to everyone present, I can pretend I didn’t hear it. But if you affirm what you said earlier, especially the authenticity of those figures, and if it turns out later that the data has major errors, you will be held responsible!”
Seeing Bai Chongxi’s stern expression, Su Yaoyang scanned the crowd, then suddenly smiled: “Commander Bai, you’re taking this too seriously. If you think my words are unreliable, then just treat it as me talking nonsense.
After all, I just had too much to drink and might have said some drunken words.”
“Hey… you kid…”
Bai Chongxi was almost amused and angered by his words, pointing at him and momentarily speechless.
Meanwhile, Li Zongren, Sun Lianzhong, and others’ gazes toward Su Yaoyang now carried a hint of appreciation—this kid knew when to advance and retreat, wouldn’t stubbornly hold on for face, and was already far better than many just for that.
