The Capital

Inside an office at the far end of the second-floor hallway of the General Staff Headquarters in Nanjing, Ming Quan, Director of the Political Training Section of the First Department, stood by the window gazing out at the streets in the distance. Just yesterday, another title had been added to his name: Chief of the First Section of the First Department of the Nationalist Government Army General Staff Headquarters. The First Section oversaw national defense operational mobilization planning, fortress pacification, and related affairs. Shortly after, a secret order reached the German-equipped 36th Division garrisoned in Xi'an. The directive received by Division Commander Song Xilian was clear: under radio silence, make all haste for Shanghai by night. *** That afternoon, Beiping, Guang'anmen Avenue. Zhu Shiqing had entered this centuries-old "imperial city" after all. Fang Wenjian had claimed that stepping into the imperial city would allow them to bask in the aura of emperors and achieve great things in the future. Zhu Shiqing had merely shaken his head at that. Nanjing was also an imperial city, yet he considered himself to have had rather poor luck over the years. After observing the area in person, they saw no Japanese troops outside Guang'anmen; the vicinity was utterly peaceful. Heaven only knew why that old man back at the crossroads had insisted on spreading such rumors out of thin air. Even more absurd, on the way to Guang'anmen, several bands of refugees had been spouting even wilder claims, saying the Japanese had already fought their way into Beiping. One had even asserted: "Song Zheyuan has already defected to the enemy, and the Chinese troops in Beiping have been disarmed." Some might have believed it, but Zhu Shiqing was no fool. After smiling and parting ways with those hurried, simple-faced locals, Zhu Shiqing turned to Fang Wenjian and said, "Army Commander Song is in Shandong building ancestral tombs. He isn't even in a position to surrender." Fang Wenjian found it hilarious and replied, "What's so strange about that? Back in Hubei, if upstream Yichang were to flood one day and breach an earthen levee, by the time the news reached Hankou, it'd turn into half of Yichang being drowned." Zhu Shiqing could only smile. In his relatively short life, he had gained a profound understanding. The Chinese people had a knack for whipping up excitement, turning everything into high-minded rhetoric, and slapping labels on people. Most preferred to blow small matters up rather than tone big matters down. Yet there was one thing they were undeniably right about: Beiping was far from peaceful. That was true enough. Before and behind the arched gateway of Guang'anmen, the Beiping municipal government had ordered the police bureau to post sentries, guards, and patrol officers. As a gate relatively removed from the front lines, entry and exit restrictions were comparatively lax. Chinese soldiers guarded the silver-gray city wall, and atop the gate tower fluttered a Blue Sky with a White Sun flag. Past the gateway and farther along Guang'anmen Avenue, the splendor of this ancient capital unfolded before their eyes. Bunting hung outside shops flanking both sides, while horse carriages flowed ceaselessly alongside rickshaws. Not far ahead at an intersection stood a towering archway. To the right of Guang'anmen Avenue came the chugging rumble of heavy machinery. A signboard on a factory-like building stationed there revealed its identity: the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. "As expected of a capital of several centuries. It's completely different from Wuhan." Fang Wenjian's eyes drifted across every corner of the city as images flashed through his mind of the mountains of massive cargo crates piled on the Hankou docks and the booming voices of the dockhands. In his mind, Beiping was filled with cultured folk whose speech was full of courtesy and sounded exceedingly polite, constantly sprinkling their conversation with phrases like "Right you are," "Consider it done," and "Just you watch." Zhu Shiqing, on the other hand, was reminded of Nanjing. It had to be said that although both had served as capitals, if Beiping felt majestic, Nanjing's hills, lakes, waterways, birds, and beasts possessed an exquisite, refined grace. The starting point of the Ping-Han Railway was Zhengyangmen West Station, also known as Beiping West Station. The two strolled all the way to Zhengyangmen West Station. Shaded by the gate towers of Beiping's inner city, a two-story wooden structure stood along Zhengyangmen Avenue. The moment they rounded the corner, a dense swarm of people appeared along the street. Horse carriages, ox carts, and automobiles crowded together alongside fashionable women in opulent dress, rickshaw pullers in battered hats, rough-and-ready underworld figures in black bowler hats, and numerous government clerks clad in Zhongshan suits. They besieged the perimeter of the West Station, held back by a line of station police. Each officer gripped a half-meter-long black-and-white baton, standing shoulder to shoulder as they struggled to keep the citizens of Beiping out. "Why aren't the trains running?!" "You took our money for tickets, so why aren't you keeping your word?!" "Let me tell you, my husband holds an official post in Nanjing!" "Please, brother, let me in! I'll give you whatever you want..." *** Beneath the Zhengyang Gate tower, the cacophony echoed down the entire street. Spending a whole day here would leave one's ears ringing no less than from the blast waves of Japanese artillery shells. War had clearly begun, and anyone with the slightest means wanted to flee this epicenter of trouble. But getting out of Beiping was easier said than done. Aside from chartered flights in the sky, the only option was trains on the ground. After listening for a while, Fang Wenjian muttered to himself, "Everyone wants to run. I doubt we'll be able to leave today." "Let's find the stationmaster and ask." Zhu Shiqing led Fang Wenjian around the exterior of the station, yet failed to locate any office for the person in charge. "This doesn't make sense. Does a train station not have a stationmaster's office?" Under the Nationalist government, there was an unofficial policy of wearing the public down. In short, related administrative agencies were dispersed across different corners of the city, or subordinate offices were placed as far as possible from their governing departments. For instance, in Jiangning County, the county's largest school was on the western edge, while the education department was on the eastern edge. Even when procedures were entirely legal and proper, handling official business meant running oneself ragged. Over time, as long as one party grew too exhausted to bother, the trouble simply vanished. Sure enough, the stationmaster's office was not located on Zhengyangmen Avenue, but tucked away on the other side, in an alley off South Xinhua Street. An unassuming old wooden door was pushed open by Zhu Shiqing and Fang Wenjian. "Who is it?" The room was small. A square wooden table sat against the base of the left wall, piled with a stack of yellow coarse paper and a small lamp with a green shade. A chair stood on either side of the table. A round-faced, middle-aged man sat in the inner chair flipping through a notebook. Hearing the door open, he shut the notebook, stood up, and called out his question. Zhu Shiqing approached with a warm smile, pulled out a chair, and sat down, leaving Fang Wenjian standing by the doorway. "I am Zhu Shiqing. May I ask if you are the stationmaster of Beiping West Station?" "That's right. I'm the stationmaster here, Lin Hongwen." Resting both hands on the table, the man frowned involuntarily, his eyes fixed on Zhu Shiqing. *Here? The stationmaster's office is nearly three li away from the station!* Still, Zhu Shiqing gave a slight nod and continued, "I'd like to ask you, Stationmaster: are trains departing Beiping still running at the moment?" Lin Hongwen breathed a sigh of relief. A muscle twitched in his face, and a trace of disdain crept into his smile. "Ah, I see what you're here for. Little brother, you've seen it yourself—the outside of the West Station is completely packed. Leaving right now is truly out of the question. Heavy fighting is raging out there. Today, just a moment ago, word came that the Japanese are attacking Beiyuan again. The government's orders to our West Station are to prioritize cargo transport and suspend passenger service." "Here's the situation, Stationmaster Lin," Zhu Shiqing said politely, his smile unwavering. "My brother here and I are subordinates of Division Commander Feng of the 37th Division. We're on an urgent mission and need to head south. Could you arrange a spot for us in one of the freight cars? Whether the train is carrying cargo or passengers, bringing along two extra people shouldn't be an issue." "Division Commander Feng's subordinates?" Lin Hongwen narrowed his eyes. "Division Commander Feng is defending Wanping right now. How can you prove it?" Zhu Shiqing fished a cloth chest badge marked with the 37th Division's designation from his pocket, laid it on the table, and slid it toward Lin Hongwen. "Take a look, please," he murmured. Lin Hongwen picked it up and inspected it closely. It was indeed in the style of the 29th Army's insignia, yet he pushed it back untouched and replied, "My apologies, little brother, but I don't recognize this." The smile vanished from Zhu Shiqing's face. He reached back into his pocket and produced something else! The trainee identification that let him walk tall anywhere in Nanjing! A small booklet with a dark-green cover appeared before Lin Hongwen. Embossed on the cover were the three characters for "Trainee Certificate." Turning to the title page... The text was arranged in two lines. The header read: "Nanjing General Staff Corps." Beneath it was: "Trainee Zhu Shiqing."