Beiyang Dream

Chapter 25 The Most Real Lie

September 12, 1889, 10:15 AM, Hunter Street, Berlin.

The carriage wheels came to a stop with a clatter, coming to a perfect halt in front of the building numbered 42-44.

Chang Desheng crawled out of the carriage, his feet barely touching the stone pavement, and before he could even steady himself, his professional instincts kicked in. He craned his neck, squinted, and gave a quick, upward glance...

Good heavens, it's got the style of the Italian Renaissance. It's three stories high, and the sandstone exterior is carved with such fancy designs, with human figures, flowers, and some kind of deities that I don't even know what they are, all densely covering the wall.

If this were in later generations, it would surely be considered a municipal-level cultural relic protection unit, right?

Then look at the entrance—two armed German soldiers stood there, motionless. There were also roadblocks along the sidewalk, made of wood and painted with black and white stripes.

"Is this a telegraph office?" Chang Desheng thought to himself. This was clearly a small military fortress.

The mental calculations immediately came to him: the sandstone exterior walls cost at least three hundred marks per square meter. The building looked to be fifty meters wide and thirty meters deep, three stories totaling four thousand five hundred square meters. The construction cost alone would easily exceed one million three hundred and fifty thousand marks. Converted to silver…

Four hundred thousand taels!

"Well," he muttered to himself, "no wonder sending a telegram to Tianjin is so expensive...it seems like all the money is just going to be spent on this."

Guo Shigui followed him out of the car. Hearing this, he quickly tugged at his sleeve and lowered his voice: "Zhenbang, please say less. This is the Royal Telegraph Office, representing the face of His Majesty Emperor Wilhelm of Germany."

Chang Desheng grunted in acknowledgment and strode towards the two imposing bronze doors. As he walked, his eyes kept glancing behind him out of the corner of his eye.

The streets were bustling with people, mostly foreigners. There were German gentlemen in top hats carrying leather briefcases, foreign women hurrying by with shopping baskets, and a newsboy selling newspapers from a satchel. It was a lively and bustling scene.

But which one is the spy that old bastard Fukushima Yasumasa hired to keep watch?

I can't tell!

Chang Desheng sighed inwardly. Well, whatever. The bait's ready for today; whether the fish bite or not is up to fate. If all else fails, he'll find a chance to give Tojo Hideyoshi and his gang a "precision feed" once the War Academy starts—as long as the bait's flavorful enough, those greedy fish won't refuse to bite.

As he pondered this, he followed Guo Shigui into the hall.

Upon entering, my eyes were immediately drawn to the bright and cheerful atmosphere.

The hall had an incredibly high ceiling, supported by massive, dark green cast-iron beams that looked almost like an inverted railway bridge frame. Sunlight streamed unobstructed through the enormous glass dome overhead, casting long shadows on the marble floor. A faint smell lingered in the air—a mix of secondhand smoke, the scent of ink, and... the smell of money burning.

A row of solid wood wooden tables lined both sides of the hall, paired with high-backed, upholstered chairs—they looked no less luxurious than the chairs reserved for VIP clients in modern banks. Many people sat there, heads down, writing furiously.

Chang Desheng glanced around and his gaze landed on an empty table by the window facing the street. It was a good spot, directly facing the street, with plenty of light and a wide view. Unless the spy had eyesight, he would definitely be able to spot him.

"Jichuan," he gestured with his chin toward Guo Shigui, "you go over there and line up first, I'll smooth out the telegram draft again."

Upon hearing this, Guo Shigui turned around, his eyes widening in surprise: "You...you're writing this right here?"

Chang Desheng winked at him, his expression incredibly sincere: "I was so busy with other things yesterday that I forgot."

Guo Shigui opened his mouth, looked at Chang Desheng, then turned to look at the long queue that had already formed in front of the counter not far away. Finally, he stamped his foot and said in a low voice, "Then you... better be careful!" After saying that, he turned around and went to the end of the queue with his head down.

Chang Desheng walked unhurriedly to the table by the window, pulled out a chair, and sat down. The chair was solid wood, heavy, and quite comfortable. He took out the blue cloth-covered codebook from his pocket, then pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper and a fountain pen, and finally took a blank telegram from the communal wicker paper basket on the table.

He unfolded the small piece of paper and laid it on the smooth table. The words on the paper were written with a fountain pen, each stroke neat and orderly. This was the fake telegram draft he had "drafted" in his spare time last night.

To Li Hongzhang: The German Emperor has granted permission to send a military advisory group to assist us in defending against Russia. We are currently in discussions with Krupp regarding the custom-made of a new, ultra-lightweight artillery piece, suitable for both mountain and field use. Respectfully yours.

Chang Desheng stared at these lines of text, his mind racing with calculations on the abacus.

In those days, sending a telegram from Berlin to Tianjin cost a fortune, paid by the word, in real silver. Each word was worth about seven qian (a unit of weight). If this telegram were sent verbatim, with fifty or so words, that would cost over thirty taels of silver!

He pretended to count the words with his finger, clicked his tongue, and muttered to himself, "Too many. We should cut back where we can."

The pen nib hovered in mid-air for a moment before falling back down.

He first crossed out the initial "致" and the final "钧鑒," and directly wrote "中堂" at the top. Next, he crossed out "已允准派军事" and changed it to "已允遣." He then removed "以" and "我" from "以助我防俄," turning it into "助防俄." Looking at the sentence "现正与克鲁伯公司商聊定制一个超轻便之新式火炮," he frowned and pondered for two seconds before changing it to: "现与克鲁伯商制超轻便炮，山野宜."

Finally, even the signature "Chang Kou" was crossed out. Since it was a coded telegram anyway, a code name had to be sent in the end, so it didn't cost more than 1.4 taels to send a signature.

After all that scribbling and alteration, the note was completely unrecognizable, covered in circles and lines.

Chang Desheng read aloud in a low voice: "Your Excellency: The German Emperor has agreed to send an advisory group to assist in the defense against Russia. We are now discussing with Krupp the production of ultra-lightweight artillery, suitable for both mountain and field use."

It contains a total of twenty-seven characters, which is less than half the original.

He nodded, fairly satisfied with his actions. He pushed the fancy piece of paper to the side of the table, opened his codebook, took out the blank telegram, and began to refer to the codebook, pretending to turn the simplified text he had just prepared into strings of numbers.

He would write down a few numbers, then look up at the codebook as if to look at it intently, before burying his head back down.

He had no idea that, right across the hall, behind a marble pillar as thick as two people could hug, a pair of bright blue eyes were staring intently at him.

"Zhenbang! Hurry up! It's almost our turn!"

Guo Shigui's authentic Tianjin accent suddenly burst forth, sounding a bit harsh on the ears.

Chang Desheng's hand trembled slightly in perfect unison, the pen nib drawing a diagonal line on the paper. He let out a soft "Ouch!" and hurriedly stuffed the digital telegram he had just "translated," the blue-covered codebook, and the pen into his old briefcase. In his hasty and flustered movements, he swept several sheets of paper spread out on the table onto the floor with a "whoosh."

He glanced down quickly—three pieces of paper lay on the floor. One was a German newspaper, one was a blank telegram, and the other… was that Chinese draft covered in scribbles and corrections.

He pretended not to see it and jogged towards Guo Shigui's counter. The lid of his briefcase wasn't even properly closed, and it kept lifting as he ran.

The few sheets of paper on the ground lay there quietly.

After a few breaths, a German man calmly put down his newspaper, stood up, walked to the table where Chang Desheng had just been sitting, and naturally bent down to tie his shoelaces, which were actually tied neatly...

......

At 10:45 a.m., in the carriage heading to the zoo train station.

Chang Desheng leaned against the side of the carriage, his eyes gazing at the Berlin street scene rushing past the window, his right hand unconsciously tapping lightly on his knee—his old habit of estimating the amount of work done.

He was already hatching a plan to distribute a fake telegram draft.

The cost of this project was almost zero (a blank sheet of paper, a little ink, plus a bit of my own performing talent).

The expected returns were quite high—to convince the Japanese intelligence agencies that the Beiyang Army's current strategic focus was "to guard against the Russian bear to the north." Moreover, with German assistance, the Beiyang Army was building a new army specifically suited for field battles in icy wilderness and deep forests.

The potential risk... at most, the bait might not be spotted by the fish. That's unlikely; a place like the Royal Telegraph Office is definitely under close surveillance by spies. And he's wearing the "skin" of the Prussian War Academy—too conspicuous.

Or the fish might have taken the bait but not believe it. That's possible; after all, the Japanese weren't stupid. They needed to be fed more substantial meals.

So we have to keep fooling people.

The upcoming meeting with Mr. Schneider from Krupp will be a real "main course." I need to find a way to ensure that anyone eavesdropping in the shadows overhears as many words as possible—"Russia," "Old Russians," "winter," "snow crust," "forest and snowfields," "Cossacks"...

"We have to turn this hoax into the 'truth' that they piece together, ponder, and finally believe in without a doubt, after they've figured it out themselves."

"Zhenbang," Guo Shigui's voice pulled him out of his scheming. The chubby man held a drawing in his hand, the very same "mortar" concept sketch that Chang Desheng had previously drawn. Guo Shigui pointed to the strange-looking short cannon barrel and the round, finned shell on the drawing: "Your drawing is really good, straight lines, quite realistic. But this cannon... and this shell, why do they look so weird? Can it really work?"

Chang Desheng withdrew his gaze, glanced at the blueprint sideways, and said casually, "Whether it works or not isn't up to us; we have to listen to Mr. Schneider. No matter how beautiful our blueprints are, they're just pieces of paper. Only if they can be made, make a loud noise, and be broken open, will they truly be successful." He paused, then added an explanation, "Today's meeting with Schneider is about this; we need to make Krupp realize this thing is profitable!"

Guo Shigui only half understood, nodded, carefully folded the blueprint, and handed it back to Chang Desheng. The horse-drawn carriage wheels rumbled on the cobblestone streets of Berlin, heading towards the zoo train station.

.......

Evening, in a secluded Japanese-style room inside the Japanese Embassy in Germany.

Fukushima Yasumasa was not wearing his crisp military uniform, but only a dark blue kimono, and he knelt on the tatami mat. On the low table in front of him, two sheets of paper were laid out, one on each side.

The sheet on the left is ordinary writing paper, with Chinese characters written in pen, showing many corrections and erasures. The content reads: "Your Excellency: The German Emperor has agreed to send an advisory group to assist in the defense against Russia. We are currently discussing with Krupp the production of ultra-lightweight artillery, suitable for both mountain and field use."

The one on the right is a German report typed out on a typewriter, with clear letters. The heading reads: "Target C, Today's Action Briefing".

Fukushima Yasumasa first held the Chinese slip of paper on the left up to the lamplight, his gaze slowly sweeping over every word and every scribbled mark. Then, he picked up the German report on the right.

The report was concise and to the point: At 10:20 AM, Target C and his companion G entered the Royal Telegraph Office. Target C wrote a document by the window for approximately fifteen minutes, during which he made several corrections. He then hurriedly left, leaving behind a piece of paper (which has been recovered by our personnel).

At 10:40, Target C and his companion G took a horse-drawn carriage towards the zoo train station.

According to reports from informants within the station, the two met with a man resembling a senior representative of Krupp (likely Carl von Schneider) in the VIP waiting room, and the conversation lasted approximately one hour. Due to the distance and noisy environment, only fragments of words were captured during the conversation, including but not limited to: 'Russia,' 'cold regions,' 'forests,' 'mobility,' 'Cossack cavalry,' 'new artillery,' and 'possibility of cooperation.' After the meeting, the two sides had lunch together. Targets C and G returned to the embassy around 2 PM.

Fukushima Yasumasa slowly put down the report and took off his glasses.

The office was extremely quiet, with only the ticking of the clock.

He sat there quietly for a full two or three minutes. Then, he put his glasses back on and his gaze returned to the Chinese note. He read it aloud in Japanese again, as if savoring every word:

"...to assist in the defense against Russia...Yamano Yoshimi..."

His finger unconsciously tapped the three characters "Yamano-sensei". Yamano-sensei? What does it mean? Does it mean it's suitable for that kind of "ultra-lightweight artillery"? Or... is it suitable for a certain combat environment?

He recalled the words he had gleaned from the report: "forest" and "Cossack."

The Cossacks were Russian.

Forests... Northeast China and northern Korea are mostly forests.

The Qing dynasty was in discussions with the Germans to manufacture an ultra-lightweight cannon suitable for use in the mountains and forests, in order to help "defend against Russia".

The logical chain appears to be complete.

It's just a little too complete, so complete that it looks like a trap deliberately set up!

Was it an oversight by Chang Desheng?

Or is this... a trap all along?

But if it's a trap, what's the purpose? To make them believe that the Qing Dynasty's primary concern is defending against Russia? What benefit would that bring? To provide cover for possible Qing Dynasty actions in Korea?

Or perhaps... this is actually true? Were the Qing Dynasty and Germany really secretly colluding to contain Russia? Was Chang Desheng truly handling these matters for Li Hongzhang?

That's so hard to guess!

Fukushima Yasumasa pondered for a long time, but still couldn't quite figure it out.

He raised his head and looked at Hideki Tojo, who was kneeling beside him.

"Tojo-kun," Fukushima Yasumasa finally spoke, "do you believe what's written here?"

Hideaki Tojo shifted his knees closer to Fukushima, lowered his head, and carefully replied, "Colonel, the veracity of the intelligence itself is difficult to ascertain. However, it is a fact that Chang Desheng met with the Krupp representative and discussed Russia, cold regions, and new artillery. Combined, these two points at least indicate that the lines of 'against Russia' and 'new equipment' exist and are being advanced."

"Yes..." Fukushima Yasumasa sighed softly, tapping the German report with his fingers. "Once is a coincidence, twice... that's a trend."

He was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Can our people manage to get in touch with that Krupp representative, Schneider? We don't need to ask directly; we can probe indirectly and verify the inclinations of their conversation."

Hideaki Tojo: "We can try, but it will take time, and success cannot be guaranteed."

"That's worth doing!" Fukushima Yasumasa paused, then added, "Starting today, strengthen surveillance on Chang Desheng, especially what he says in the War Academy, in front of those Turks, Russians, and even German classmates."

"Yes, sir!" Hideaki Tojo bowed and accepted the order.