Chapter 20

Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned.

Early the next morning, he was pulled out of bed by Zhao Zhensheng, who had suddenly come to visit.

After a quick wash and dressing, he went downstairs still half asleep: "Good morning, Brother Zhensheng."

Zhao Zhensheng chuckled: "Brother, I've disturbed your sweet dreams today. It was my oversight. I'm used to getting up early, so when something comes up, I rush over without checking the time. I'm sorry."

Rongxiang took the coffee from Xiaomeng and took a sip: "Oh? What is it that requires Brother Zhensheng to make this trip in person?"

Zhao Zhensheng lowered his voice: "Do you know about Fu Yangshan's crushing defeat at Bashang?"

"Bashang" is a piece of land that Fu Yangshan and the Hui army are fighting over. Hearing this, Rong Xiang shook his head: "I don't know." Actually, he did know; being in a foreign land, one must always try to be as observant as possible. But in front of Zhao Zhensheng, he often had to pretend to be ignorant.

"The news was just suppressed. He's probably suffered a major blow this time!"

"Oh, really?"

Seeing that Rong Xiang only gave a perfunctory response and was unwilling to discuss the substantive issues, Zhao Zhensheng decided to speak frankly. Upon hearing this, Rong Xiang's expression underwent a series of changes.

Zhao Zhensheng came to recruit him, hoping to take this opportunity to wipe out the Fu family's forces in one fell swoop. Then, by reconciling with the Hui army, the position of the Northwest King would undoubtedly be Zhao Zhensheng's. As for the benefits Rong Xiang would receive, the promises were naturally extravagant and tempting.

Zhao Zhensheng was quite eloquent, but after hearing Nakajima Hideo's speeches and persuasion efforts several times, Rong Xiang had developed an immunity to such incitement. At this moment, he simply smiled and looked at the coffee cup in his hand: "Brother Zhensheng, you need to let me think about it. You know, I'm an outsider, and my concerns are much greater than yours. I hope you can understand."

"Of course, of course. I'll be waiting for your decision, brother." Zhao Zhensheng agreed readily.

After seeing Zhao Zhensheng off, Rong Xiang felt his heart sink so heavily it was almost unable to beat. He knew that his leisurely days were coming to an end once again.

Whether he helped Zhao Zhensheng fight Fu Yangshan, or helped Fu Yangshan fight Zhao Zhensheng, it made little difference to him. He didn't want to fight, never had. But fate pushed him, stumbling along the way, forcing him to choose a path. The Japanese had forced him like this back then, and now the Chinese were forcing him too. He was almost indignant, but he also knew he couldn't escape it. This fate had been sealed when he and Yi Zhongming conspired to inherit the family business, but at that time, he didn't know that power could make a person so powerless.

If I had known that earlier, would I still have gone to such lengths to fight for it?

He hesitated for a moment, then looked at his chest and nodded: It still will. Why? He didn't know.

When Fu Jingyuan arrived, Rong Xiang was having a private conversation with his officers.

There are huge deficits in military spending and weapons expenditures. Now, most soldiers are carrying their guns and trying to make a living on their own, mainly through robbery and theft. Autumn has arrived, and there's still no sign of winter clothing. It's a real headache.

I can't think about it; if I think about it too much, there's simply no way out.

So when he faced Fu Jingyuan, his expression was extremely unpleasant: "You've arrived? Sit down."

Fu Jingyuan never knew how to read other people's minds. He assumed that Rong Xiang was putting on such a sour face because he had a problem with him, which made him almost furious: "Hey, I have something to ask you!"

"Speak." Rong Xiang took a cigarette from the silver cigarette case on the coffee table and put it in his mouth. Xiao Meng immediately appeared from behind the stairs like a ghost and lit it for him.

"You..." Fu Jingyuan wanted to ask, "What exactly is your relationship with Yan Guanglin?", but the words changed as if by magic: "How come you've developed a smoking habit?"

Rongxiang's smoking posture was very unrefined and completely out of character for him—he was puffing smoke out of his nose and mouth at the same time, looking like he was wolfing down the cigarette as if he wanted to chew it up in one gulp.

"Just for fun," he replied, his voice shrouded in smoke.

"You have such a good interest in committing suicide little by little."

Rong Xiang, hiding behind the smoke, smiled calmly: "Thank you for your concern."

Fu Jingyuan twirled his fingers, suppressing the urge to snatch the cigarette from Yan Guanglin's mouth, and instead brought up the serious matter: "Tell me, what exactly is your relationship with Yan Guanglin?"

His question stirred a wave of emotion in Rongxiang: they were about the same age—Fu Jingyuan was even two years older than him—while he was struggling with life-or-death situations and utterly exhausted, Fu Jingyuan was solely focused on how to woo a girl. People are indeed very different. "The foolish are blessed," he thought, feeling that Fu Jingyuan was somewhat foolish.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, with a hint of jealousy.

"It's best if you have nothing to do with her. She's still young, so don't provoke her. She's not like Wen Tingxiang or Xiao Yuerong, so don't hurt her!"

Rongxiang felt a little awkward after hearing this: "What do you mean by that?"

"Stop asking questions you already know the answer to. Don't you know how outrageous you've been?

What's wrong with me?

"What's wrong with you? You're always either patronizing dancers or idolizing young actresses, and now you're bothering Guanglin. What's wrong with you?"

Rong Xiang, cigarette between his fingers, was so angry he was speechless, only glaring at Fu Jingyuan. It wasn't until the cigarette burned his fingers that he jerked as if startled, the cigarette butt falling onto the carpet and immediately burning a small, round hole.

“I don’t understand,” he replied, trying to sound calm. “From what you’re saying, it’s as if putting Yan Guanglin and me together would be an insult to her.”

Fu Jingyuan nodded and sneered: "And what do you think?"

He'd gained a little weight recently due to his comfortable lifestyle, his face was rounder, and coupled with that disdainful sneer, he looked every bit the smiling tiger. Rong Xiang glanced at him and suddenly felt an unbearable urge to look at him.

"Fu Jingyuan, don't push your luck."

"I'm going too far?" Upon hearing this, Fu Jingyuan was at a loss for words to express his astonishment and disdain: "What else do you want me to do to you? Yes, we've argued a few times, but every time wasn't I doing it for your own good? And when have you ever understood my good intentions? Look at you now, you're utterly disappointing!"

"Stop lecturing me! It's annoying! How come I never realized you had such a silver tongue!"

"I never expected you to stoop to this level!"

Rongxiang's lips twitched: "You don't know anything!"

"You know so much, but didn't you still get utterly defeated by the Japanese and end up fleeing to Xi'an in disarray? You and your men are like a plague, all of you are so repulsive!"

Upon hearing this, Rong Xiang abruptly stood up. Before Fu Jingyuan could react, he had already stepped over the coffee table and was in front of him, bending down to grab Fu Jingyuan's suit collar and pulling him up: "Get out of here!"

Fu Jingyuan's emotions jumped from surprise to retaliation. He stood up, grabbed Rong Xiang's arm, and twisted his body to throw him over his shoulder. With a thud, Rong Xiang first fell solidly into the sofa, then rolled to the floor, knocking the coffee table over. A teacup on the table fell down and hit Rong Xiang's face.

Instantly, everyone in the room was stunned.

Fu Jingyuan was also a little stunned. He never knew that his kung fu was so good that he could defeat Rong Xiang in one fell swoop. But this was not his intention.

She carefully bent down and looked at Rongxiang lying on the ground: "Hey... are you alright?"

Rong Xiang groaned in pain, wiped the tea off his face, and sat up.

Fu Jingyuan noticed something was off about his expression and wondered if he had been subdued by the beating or if he was preparing a new attack. He noticed a faint red mark on his cheekbone, presumably from where the teacup had struck him.

This immediately filled him with guilt. After hesitating for a moment, he decided to abandon his self-preservation and squatted down next to Rongxiang, saying, "I didn't mean to."

Rongxiang glanced around furtively and said, "Oh."

Fu Jingyuan raised his hand and gently touched his cheek: "Does it hurt?"

Rongxiang suddenly lowered his head to avoid his hand: "You're something else!"

"Don't be angry, I really didn't mean it. Or, why don't you hit me?"

Rongxiang got up and walked straight towards the stairs: "Don't try that on me, if you're smart you'll get out of here!"

Fu Jingyuan is certainly a smart man.

Rong Xiang was never one to suffer a loss, and after taking such a heavy blow today, he was probably so angry he wanted to draw his gun. Of course, he didn't dare to, because this was Xi'an, and he was Fu Yangshan's younger brother.

Nevertheless, he sensed danger. He sped home, and the more he thought about it, the more frightened he became.

This lingering fear wasn't just for himself, but also for Rongxiang. He knew that people weren't always careful when they attacked; what if Rongxiang had been seriously injured?

He was so preoccupied with this that he forgot to eat dinner.

Zhao Zhensheng stood on the high platform, where the soldiers below had been arranged into three huge square formations. Officers patrolled back and forth between the formations to maintain the silence and order of the troops.

A grand military parade was about to be held here. To demonstrate his army's might to Rong Xiang, Zhao Zhensheng had new uniforms hastily made for the soldiers. The new uniforms were a grayish-green color, originally a product of a dyeing error at a local large cloth factory, which Zhao Zhensheng had bought at a ridiculously low price. Although the color looked somewhat unclean, they were brand new and much better than the old, tattered yellow ones.

The reviewing stand was made of uniform yellow earth, which had been leveled beforehand. The troops were lined up on it in neat, square blocks, and at first glance, it looked quite acceptable. Zhao Zhensheng walked to the edge of the platform, looked at it from a different angle, and was still quite satisfied.

Rong Xiang stood in the center of the platform, also in full military uniform. The brim of his military cap pulled down, partially obscuring his eyes. He seemed to have lost a little weight, appearing even more upright and tall. Behind him, Xiao Meng had also changed into an adjutant's uniform. Xiao Meng, following Rong Xiang, was like a chameleon. At home, he was a servant and doctor; when out, he was a driver and bodyguard, perhaps even serving as an interpreter. Once in the military camp, he became an adjutant and orderly. Rong Xiang didn't know why he couldn't do without him; perhaps it was because he had been trained since childhood, making him exceptionally easy to manage.

It was a cloudy day. Although it wasn't raining, the air was damp and slightly chilly, seeping into his clothes little by little until it chilled him to the bone. Rongxiang dreaded this kind of weather the most because the gunshot wound on his leg would throb with pain—he didn't feel it much in the morning, but by noon, the intense pain and itching spread, making him wish he could take a knife and dig the pinkish round scar out by the roots.

For this reason, he had to increase his morphine dosage today to temporarily avoid the pain. Before going on stage to watch the parade, he and Zhao Zhensheng went to the shooting range next door to try out some of the newly arrived German rifles. He seemed to have a natural talent for shooting, and with the morphine he had just taken, his hand was exceptionally steady, so he hit the bullseye three times in a row, prompting Zhao Zhensheng to lead the applause. Soon, a crowd surrounded him, showering him with compliments and making him beam with joy.

The soldiers finally assembled, and to show his respect and importance to Rong Xiang, Zhao Zhensheng specifically asked him to give the command. Rong Xiang, though reluctant, couldn't bring himself to shout, as he had never done so before. When he said "Go!", most of the soldiers didn't hear him at all, and the remaining few looked over blankly, unsure of his intention. This made Rong Xiang quite embarrassed. He turned to Zhao Zhensheng, shrugged, and gave a wry smile.

Zhao Zhensheng had originally intended to show off his military bearing to Rong Xiang, but to his dismay, the three men below him all froze at this crucial moment. This infuriated him. He strode to the edge of the platform and jumped down. Standing in front of the troops, one hand on his hip and the other pulling down his hat, he pointed at the crowd and yelled, "You bastards, get moving already!"

This shout was deafening, and the team immediately began to move.

Seeing Zhao Zhensheng jump down, Rong Xiang had no choice but to descend the steps and walk to Zhao Zhensheng's side. The numerous soldiers marched together, kicking up clouds of dust like yellow smoke. Rong Xiang choked on the dust and coughed, turning away. Zhao Zhensheng also turned around, seemingly about to say something, but before he could speak, he suddenly noticed Rong Xiang's adjutant running towards him, shouting something. Turning his head, he was furious, almost going berserk again.

The soldiers, who had been marching in step, hadn't received the command to turn and were pressing forward like an ancient Roman phalanx. He quickly ordered them to stand at attention, but just then, the entire army began shouting slogans—this was part of the parade, and the shouts of tens of thousands of people became a cacophony, turning Zhao Zhensheng's hoarse cries into a laughable silent film. Rong Xiang grabbed Zhao Zhensheng's arm, trying to run, but it was too late. The soldiers had already reached them, disappearing like two drops of water merging into a river.

Because Zhao Zhensheng had previously emphasized the discipline expected of soldiers, the soldiers and officers, though seeing Zhao Zhensheng and Rong Xiang being swept away by the crowd, had no choice but to sidestep and make way without orders. The first contingent passed, and the second marched in without hesitation. This time, Zhao Zhensheng seized the opportunity, turned, grabbed Rong Xiang, and charged forward, carving a path through the crowd and finally breaking through. By this time, the troops ahead had reached the wall of the reviewing stand, with nowhere to go, and could only stand still.

Rong Xiang and Zhao Zhensheng's hats were knocked off, and their clothes were no longer as crisp and neat as before. Zhao Zhensheng didn't know whether to explain or make fun of himself for a moment, so he laughed and said, "My team has very good discipline."

Rong Xiang was somewhat dissatisfied, but still maintained a gentle tone: "That's true. The army needs discipline."

"Yes, yes, yes," Zhao Zhensheng replied. Although his face remained unchanged, he felt quite uncomfortable inside, as if he had made a fool of himself.

Although the military parade went poorly, the evening banquet still had to proceed as planned. Rong Xiang knew that Zhao Zhensheng was first revealing his resources to him, then trying to get closer and win him over, with the ultimate goal of getting him to help him fight Fu Yangshan. He already had his own ideas about this, so seeing Zhao Zhensheng trying so hard to please him, he couldn't help but feel secretly amused and a mischievous pleasure.