Beiyang Dream

Chapter 2 Li Zhongtang, the standard answer is here, can you copy it?

At 3:45 AM, the sun had climbed even higher.

In the examination hall of the West Wing of the Beiyang Military Academy, Chang Desheng sat by the window, holding a calligraphy brush in his hand, but for a long time, he couldn't write a single word.

Policy essays, how do you start with this stuff again?

He went through the original owner's memories in his mind—last month, he had taken the policy essay exam and received a "very poor" grade. The topic was "On the Advantages and Disadvantages of the Xiang and Huai Army Systems." He struggled for half an hour and finally wrote less than a hundred words. The gist was: the Xiang Army was good at fighting, and the Huai Army was rich; both were quite good.

The instructor grading the papers wrote four words: "Nothing to say."

Chang Desheng inwardly scoffed: The correct answer should be that they're both useless, so why even bother comparing them!

He scratched the back of his head again. That damn braid was so heavy, it made his neck ache and was affecting his thinking!

In his past life, he was a science and engineering guy who drew blueprints and hated writing documents. When the client asked for a design specification, he could procrastinate until the last night before the deadline, staring blankly at a Word document.

The same is true now.

Duan Qirui in the front row had already filled half a page, rambling on about who-knows-what. Feng Guozhang, the second son of the direct line, was biting his pen as he wrote, his brows furrowed into a deep frown, making him look even more like Feng Gong. Cao Kun secretly kicked his chair from behind, his voice low: "Zhenbang, write! What are you daydreaming about!"

Chang Desheng took a deep breath.

To hell with classical Chinese.

He picked up his pen, dipped it in ink, and wrote "Respectfully submitted by student Chang Desheng" at the beginning of the scroll in neat and orderly strokes—this was the only format he remembered from the original owner's memories.

Then, with a sudden shift in style, plain language came into play.

"Students are categorized into three strategies: best, middle, and worst, based on how much money they spend. Spending very little is the best strategy, spending a moderate amount is the middle strategy, and spending a huge amount is the worst strategy."

He was an engineering designer in his past life... spending a lot of money definitely means it's not a good plan! The Beiyang defense strategy is probably similar, right?

He paused to look at his writing. The characters were a bit ugly, with uneven horizontal and vertical strokes, but at least they were legible.

The proctor, Hannagan, strolled over and stood behind him. This German instructor didn't understand Chinese very well, and seeing him struggling to utter a single sentence for so long, he was a little anxious for him! So good at science, why so bad at humanities?

Chang Desheng didn't realize that the foreigner was "concerned" about him, and just continued writing.

"The best strategy: strike first!"

The pen paused on the paper for a moment, then continued writing:

"Since we know that Japan is up to no good and is spending all its time training its troops and buying ships, why are we waiting? Are we waiting for them to be ready and come knocking on our door? The Beiyang Fleet currently has two 7,000-ton ironclad warships, the Dingyuan and Zhenyuan, while Japan's most advanced warships, the Naniwa and Takachie, are only a little over 3,000 tons. The others are not even worth mentioning—on paper, we have the advantage."

"Why not take advantage of Japan's lack of preparation and the fact that our navy still has a significant advantage, and strike first? At most, we can use the Zhiyuan and Jingyuan fast ships to take out Naniwa and Takachie, but we'll also have to feed the remaining slow Japanese ships to the Zhen and Ding. As long as we destroy the main force of the Japanese navy, we can guarantee they won't dare to move for thirty years. That would be a worthwhile deal."

As he wrote this, Chang Desheng's lips twitched slightly.

He muttered to himself: "Old Li, I know you wouldn't dare. Those conservative, pro-war factions in the court will criticize you for being too hawkish; the newly enthroned Emperor Guangxu will suspect you of being too domineering; the Empress Dowager… the Empress Dowager will worry about the Summer Palace project being left unfinished. You're caught in the middle, only able to defend, not attack. Of course, even without those constraints, you still don't have the guts! If you had the guts, you should lead the Huai Army into Beijing, kill the old hag and Emperor Guangxu, seize his damn throne, and who would dare say a word then?"

But I still want to bring this idea to your attention.

Five years from now, when the Japanese have wiped out your Beiyang Fleet in the Yellow Sea, and you're squatting in the backyard of the Zhili Governor's Office in Tianjin, shedding tears, don't blame me for not telling you the standard answer.

He licked the tip of the brush and continued writing.

"Middle-of-the-road strategy: A moderately expensive option. It consists of two projects."

"First, train a new-style army. If Japan wants to fight, it must first take Korea—this is the old path of the Japanese pirates during the Wanli era, so we must have a real battle with them on the Korean Peninsula. For this purpose, we need to train three divisions of new army, each with 12,500 men, all trained according to German military manuals, equipped with Krupp field artillery and Mauser rifles. One division will be stationed in Korea, and the other two will be stationed in Liaonan, supporting each other."

Chang Desheng paused, mentally calculating something.

The newly formed army in the three towns, including personnel and equipment, cost at least several million taels of silver. How much was the imperial court's annual revenue? Over 80 million taels, but the Ministry of Revenue certainly had less than 10 million taels in readily available cash. Where would this money come from? Customs? Likin (a tax on goods sold at customs)? Or foreign loans?

He shook his head, deciding not to think about it anymore.

In any case, Li Hongzhang probably wouldn't use all of this middle-ground strategy—but as long as he could train a whole garrison, no, a whole brigade of the new army, and have me command one regiment within it, the Sino-Japanese War wouldn't have been so disastrous. Moreover, a modern army is great; officers need to learn new ideas, and soldiers need to know who they're fighting for…

He grinned and then wrote the second one.

"Second, adjust the defense plans for each port. Don't spend so much money building coastal artillery batteries; a few are enough. I've calculated it carefully: a single Krupp 210mm coastal gun, including the gun and the fort, costs over 100,000 taels of silver. The plan is to build forty such guns at Lushun, Weihai, and Dagu—that's three to four million taels of silver."

"But the fort is an inanimate object; it can't be moved. On the Japanese side, human lives are cheap, but warships are expensive. They can't possibly use warships to exchange for our forts. They will definitely send small boats to find beaches nearby to land first, and then send the army to circle around to the rear of the fort, attacking from both sides."

"So this money should be spent on 'rear defense.' Dig four or five trenches behind each fort, put up barbed wire, build the fortifications solidly, and equip them with a battalion of infantry, equipped with some rapid-fire rifles and cannons—this is more effective than building ten more forts."

As he wrote this, Chang Desheng suddenly recalled a documentary he had watched in his previous life.

Lushun Fortress, known as the best in the Far East, was equipped with 240mm heavy artillery and had permanent cement fortifications. However, the Japanese army outflanked it from the rear and breached it in just half a day.

Four million taels of silver, gone down the drain, what a damn waste!

He sighed, and the pen continued to move.

"The worst option: the one that costs the most money."

"Order a 10,000-ton ironclad warship from the German Vulcan shipyard. I've heard that the German Navy is currently designing a new 10,000-ton ironclad warship, which is more powerful than the Ding and Zhen warships. If we can purchase it, it will be enough to temporarily deter Japan."

"But even if this money is spent, it won't guarantee peace for a few years. Once the Japanese have saved enough money to buy a 10,000-ton warship—they definitely can do it. To fight us, they're willing to tighten their belts nationwide—then the paper strength of both sides will be equal again, and Japan might have to take the risk again."

The pen tip hovered on the paper for a long time before finally falling.

"But there's one condition: as long as the Beiyang Fleet's paper strength surpasses Japan's, Japan will have to continue saving money to buy ships. And to buy ships from foreigners, they'll have to pay real money, and Japan's domestic silver reserves are nowhere near those of the Qing Dynasty. Naval shipbuilding is a bottomless pit; as long as they keep throwing money into it, there won't be money to train the army, no money to expand the military industry..."

"So this worst-case scenario is a strategy of 'delay.' Use one ship to hold Japan off for five years. After five years, we can buy it and enjoy another five years of peace..."

Chang Desheng quickly finished writing his policy essay.

He put down his brush and shook his wrist. His fingers were stiff and aching from writing calligraphy for so long. He looked at his handwriting—crooked, uneven in size, with ink stains of varying shades, somewhat like a dog's scrawle.

Chang Desheng frowned, inwardly grumbling: "You, if you're going to transmigrate, why didn't you at least pick someone with nice handwriting? Now look what's happened! No matter how logical my essay is, with such ugly handwriting, the examiners will be giving me a headache just by looking at it, and might even throw it into the third tier. How am I supposed to go to Germany for my studies now?"

However, the characters are rather ugly, and the language is very plain, without any allusions or classical Chinese phrases. It's just a straightforward narrative, with numbers one, two, three, and four.

But each of these is something that Li Zhongtang should be doing right now.

If we had struck first, trained a new army, adjusted our defense strategy, or even just spent money buying ships to buy time—if we had done any one of these things, we wouldn't have lost the First Sino-Japanese War so badly.

Chang Desheng read the exam paper again from beginning to end, and suddenly felt a little uneasy.

He knew none of this would help.

Li Hongzhang dared not make the first move; the court was reluctant to train a new army, and as for buying a 10,000-ton warship—two or three million taels of silver, enough to renovate half of the Summer Palace. Would the Empress Dowager agree to that?

He folded the paper and placed it under the math and drawing papers.

The sound of a bell came from outside the window—clang, clang, clang.

Time to hand in the paper.

Duan Qirui, sitting in the front row, was the first to stand up, holding his test paper with both hands and presenting it to the podium. He stood up straight, clearly a runner-up—the first place must belong to Chang Desheng! Feng Guozhang followed behind him, a smile on his face, but his eyes kept glancing at Duan Qirui's test paper out of the corner of his eye—it seemed there was some competition between them.

Chang Desheng slowly stood up, picked up the stack of papers, and walked forward. As he passed Cao Kun's seat, Cao Kun winked at him and whispered, "I copied three of your math problems—thanks!"

"Don't mention it." Chang Desheng waved his hand. "Just treat me to jianbing guozi later."

He placed the test paper on the podium. Yin Chang sat there, his chubby hands taking the paper, glancing at the name on the cover—"Chang Desheng".

Yin Chang looked up at him.

Chang Desheng knew that look all too well. It was the same look clients gave their new interns when they submitted their first draft proposals in his past life: "Kid, are you any good?"

Chang Desheng lowered his head and said, "Students, hand in your papers."

But in his mind, he added: What are you looking at? I wrote the standard answer, would you copy it? You wouldn't!

Yin Chang didn't say anything, but waved him out.

Chang Desheng turned and walked out. Instructor Hannah, standing by the door, suddenly called out to him in broken Chinese: "Chang."

Chang Desheng stopped and looked back; it was Hannagan.

The foreign instructor stared at him, his blue eyes appearing pale in the sunlight: "Your drawing of the fort is very good. The proportions are accurate, the lines are clean—unlike last time."

Chang Desheng's heart skipped a beat.

Oh no, it's drawn too well.

There's no way around it, the skill level is just too high, even a casual sketch turns out like this.

He quickly adopted a simple and honest demeanor, scratching his head: "Instructor, you flatter me. I've been working hard this month!"

Hannagan nodded and said nothing more.

Chang Desheng walked out of the examination hall. The midday sun in April on the lunar calendar was a bit dazzling. He squinted, calculating in his mind: Duan Qirui will definitely get one of the spots for studying in Germany, and Feng Guozhang and Wang Shizhen will probably get one too. Cao San is a fool; his grades are too poor.

And me?

He definitely got full marks in mathematics, and he should also get full marks in drawing. Hannagan just praised him—although he deliberately overestimated the level of the Beiyang warlords.

As for the policy essay, the handwriting is ugly, but the content... if Yin Chang has a discerning eye, he should be able to see something in it.

If I could go to Germany...

He started to think: Once I get to Germany, I wonder if I can meet some future big shots? Little Mustache probably isn't even born yet; Ludendorff might be in military school...

"Zhenbang!"

Cao Kun caught up from behind, put his arm around his shoulder, and grinned from ear to ear: "The exam's over! Let's go out to eat! It's on me—all you can eat in jianbing guozi!"

Chang Desheng stumbled from the embrace, laughing and cursing, "Hey, you fucking easy on me! My body can't take this kind of roughhousing!"

The two walked out of the school with their arms around each other's shoulders.

On the playground, Duan Qirui was talking with several high-achieving students. Upon seeing Chang Desheng and Cao Kun, Duan Qirui curled his lip and looked away.

Feng Guozhang smiled and nodded at them.

Chang Desheng nodded, thinking to himself: These people will all be big shots in twenty years. Cao Kun, Feng Guozhang, Duan Qirui, Wang Shizhen, and me... the entire Beiyang warlord group is complete.

He suddenly felt a little dazed.

How did I, a mere draftsman, end up in the preparatory class for the Beiyang President?

Being a warlord or president is better than being a draftsman, right? After all, we were one of the top clients in the Republic of China!

"Come on!" Cao Kun pulled him. "What are you standing there for? Are you starving?"

Chang Desheng snapped out of his daze and grinned, "Let's go! Let's get some jianbing guozi—with two extra eggs!"

The two walked out of the school gate. The April wind in Tianjin carried a hint of the Haihe River's fishy smell, and it felt damp on their faces.

Chang Desheng glanced back at the plaque above the school gate—"Beiyang Military Academy".

The fifteenth year of the Guangxu Emperor's reign.

There are still five years until the year of Jiawu (1894).

There were still 22 years until the Qing Dynasty collapsed.

Wait, why are there still 22 years left?

I have twenty-two years without even time-traveling. If I did time-travel, and it's still twenty-two years, then I've wasted my time-traveling experience.

As he pondered this, he followed Cao Kun toward the pancake stall at the street corner. He was still thinking: First, try to stay in Germany; second, get a good position after returning; third, figure out how to save money for the Sino-Japanese War; fourth…

Just then, the aroma of pancakes wafted over from the stall. Cao Kun had already pulled out a few coins: "Boss, two, please! Two eggs on each!"

Chang Desheng stood in front of the stall, watching the owner scoop a spoonful of batter, swirl it on the griddle to form a circle, and then crack an egg on top...

Looking at the round egg pancake, Chang Desheng suddenly thought of a name: Yuan Shikai! If he wanted to make a name for himself in the year of Jiawu, he would probably have to deal with this guy. Now, he should be the "Retired King" of Korea, right?

"Your pancakes are ready!"

The shopkeeper then handed over the jianbing guozi (Chinese crepe). Chang Desheng took it and took a bite.

It smells amazing.

As he chewed, he mentally calculated: If he could stay in Germany this time, that would be wonderful. If there was some cheating in the exam and he couldn't go to Germany, he would go to North Korea in advance... Even if he could go to Germany, he would have to find a way to arrange for Cao Kun to work under Yuan Shikai.

Yes, that's the plan!