allonlinenovel Chapter 1050 I knew it!
Chapter 1050 I knew it!
“Of course it’s for protection,” Prince Jingren affirmed, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve crippled more than one elite division of the Central China Expeditionary Army this time, with heavy losses among its mid-level officers. This is extremely rare in the history of the Imperial Army.”
This isn't battlefield attrition; it's internal fighting, it's a scandal!
The military has lost face and suffered serious damage to its internal structure.
Their anger was real, and so was their panic.
If you don't give them a clear explanation and don't let them back down temporarily, this anger will get out of control and eventually burn you, and may even affect the balance that the Emperor is trying to maintain.
He pointed to the telegram on the coffee table: "Restrain your behavior and stabilize North and Central China. These words are the clear path that the Emperor has pointed out for you, and it is also the only path for now."
North China is your base, the lifeline connecting the empire to Manchuria; its strategic importance is no less than that of Central China, and perhaps even more fundamental.
"As for Central China," Prince Jingren paused, a complex glint in his eyes, "let it go for now. Let Prince Jiuyan clean up that mess."
He needs this "credit" to regain his footing, and the military also needs someone they can accept more to stabilize the situation.
If you interfere further, you'll only add fuel to the fire and cause the conflict to explode completely.
Some contests don't necessarily have to be made public, and they certainly don't have to be decided on the battlefield.
"Be patient and restrained, conceal your sharpness and accumulate strength to await the opportune moment"—this last sentence from the Emperor is truly the golden advice.
Too much sharpness is easily broken. Knowing how to conceal one's edge is the key to longevity.
Zhou Zhengqing listened quietly, his gaze lowered to the crystal wine glass in front of him. The amber liquid reflected the flickering firelight and his deep eyes.
Prince Kagehito's words clearly dissected the complex situation behind the telegram, the calculations of all parties, the Emperor's true intentions, and even his future path.
This "protection" is a strategy of retreating to advance, and also a reality that must be accepted.
The Emperor needs this sword, but at this moment, the sword needs to be sheathed and cooled down.
The military's counterattack must be appeased. Prince Jiuyan needs a stage, and he himself needs time to digest the gains in Central China, consolidate his foundation in North China, and think about how to make his next move in this complex game.
"I understand." Zhou Zhengqing finally slowly raised his head.
"Your Majesty's good intentions and Your Highness's guidance are deeply appreciated. I know what I'm doing regarding North China. As for Central China... let's leave it to them for now."
He picked up his wine glass, gestured to Prince Jingren, and then slowly drank it all.
The liquor enters the throat with a burning warmth, followed by a slightly bitter aftertaste.
Jingren also raised his cup and drank it all in one gulp.
"It's best that you see it that way." He put down his cup, his tone becoming more relaxed.
Zhou Zhengqing's lips twitched slightly, and he smiled, "Jingren, it seems that His Majesty the Emperor and you exchange telegrams frequently. You've done a very good job as a 'megaphone'."
Upon hearing this, Jingren awkwardly scratched the back of his head: "Hey, Takuto, don't look down on me. Although the Emperor asked me to analyze and explain this to you, not everything I say is what the Emperor taught me!"
Zhou Zhengqing looked at Jing Ren with amusement, his eyes seeming to say, "I knew it!"
. . . . . . . . . . . .
The entrance to the military police headquarters was brightly lit, with dozens of military searchlights illuminating the reinforced concrete building from different angles, making it as bright as day.
The snow reflected a cold white under the bright light, creating a stark contrast with the deep blue night sky.
The sentry post extended to the street corner, where two rows of heavily armed Japanese military police, dressed in heavy Japanese military overcoats and with their leather boots deeply embedded in the snow, stood like iron sculptures in the -8 degree Celsius wind.
Their breath condensed into a fine mist under the lamplight, only to be instantly torn apart by the north wind. These soldiers had been standing for nearly two hours, their eyebrows and temples covered in frost, yet none of them moved an inch.
The houses on both sides of the street had long since turned off their lights and closed their doors, except for the main building of the military police headquarters, where light shone through the windows, like the half-open eyes of a lurking beast.
At exactly 8 p.m., the low hum of an engine could be heard in the distance.
Three black sedans, escorted by six Type 97 three-wheeled motorcycles, silently rolled across the icy street like black phantoms.
The machine gun on the motorcycle sidecar was covered with a snowproof canvas, and the driver and gunner stood as straight as pine trees.
The convoy was almost silent as it drove, with only the low rustling of tires crunching through the snow and the deliberately suppressed sound of the engines.
The convoy slowed down 30 meters in front of the headquarters, with the lead and tail vehicles turning to the sides to form a protective formation.
The middle car was longer, and its windows were covered by dark curtains.
After the car came to a complete stop, the passenger side doors of both the front and rear vehicles opened simultaneously, and Kotobuki Saburo and Ogura Daichi, who were in charge of the pick-up and escort, got out of the car one after the other.
Military Police Commander Masaki Yamauchiya had already walked out of the door, strode over to the main car, and opened the rear door of the middle sedan.
A gleaming military boot stepped onto the snow-sweeped stone path.
The iron nails on the soles of the boots struck the stone surface, producing a crisp "click" sound.
Prince Asaka Yasuhiko bowed as he stepped out of the carriage, his movements slightly hesitant.
He was dressed in a crisp army lieutenant general's uniform, the gold stars on his collar insignia dim under the light, and a heavy officer's wool overcoat, the dark blue fabric of which had turned somewhat white, with slight wear visible at the cuffs.
He staggered slightly as he got out of the car, holding onto the door frame with his left hand, and paused for half a second before regaining his balance.
A cold wind swept over him, and he subconsciously squinted and pulled his coat collar up higher.
With his lips tightly pursed and the corners of his mouth naturally drooping, forming a stubborn arc, even when expressionless, he exuded an inescapable gloom. After taking off his military cap, he revealed his graying but meticulously combed hair, each strand so neatly combed that it seemed as if it had been measured with a ruler.
He looked up at the main building of the headquarters.
This is a three-story Western-style building. Military flags hang under the portico supported by Roman columns, and shadowy figures can be vaguely seen moving around in the second-floor windows.
His gaze moved slowly, sweeping across the porch, over the guards standing at attention with their guns, and finally landing on the two people standing side by side on the steps of the main building.
In that instant, a complex expression flashed in his eyes: scrutiny, displeasure, helplessness, and a hint of almost imperceptible weariness.
Zhou Zhengqing was still wearing a dark green silk kimono, with a navy blue haori over it. The kimono fabric shimmered with a flowing, dark sheen under the light, and the hem was embroidered with very faint eagle feather patterns in silver thread, which were almost imperceptible unless viewed from a specific angle.
He stood relaxed, his hands hanging naturally at his sides, his expression calm and serene, with even a perfectly appropriate, polite smile on his lips.
Only a pair of deep eyes concealed an imperceptible scrutiny beneath the calm surface, as if assessing an antique that had long been known but was being seen for the first time.
Prince Jingren, standing beside him, wore a well-tailored dark gray British-style suit with a camel hair coat over it, and a pearl gray silk bow tie was visible at the collar.
He was slightly taller than Zhou Zhengqing by half a head, stood more upright, and had the impeccable gentle smile unique to members of the royal family on his face. The smile was so perfect that it seemed as if the curve of the corners of his mouth had been measured with a ruler.
He placed his hands together in front of him, the gold chrysanthemum ring on his index finger reflecting slightly under the light.