Beiyang Dream

Chapter 76 Chaos

March 8, 1891, morning. Pontianak, Yoshiwara Japanese Street.

Duan Qirui sat in the lobby on the first floor of Songyelou, legs crossed, straw hat on his knees, pondering to himself.

Today he wore a gray cloth robe, and a Colt 1873 revolver was tucked into his belt—a gift from Chang Desheng, who said it was for "self-defense." For whom? For this Japanese girl? For the brothel madam? Or for you, Chang Desheng?

Duan Qirui felt that the more he thought about it, the more something seemed wrong.

Behind him stood three men, all of whom had come early that morning from the Chinatown of Pontianak. One was named Chen Atai, a burly man with a scar on his face, looking quite imposing. Another was named Lin Yongfu, lean and wiry, but with bright eyes and long, thin fingers; he was said to be a master knife wielder. The third was Zheng Ayong, of average height and build, the kind of man you'd easily lose in a crowd.

But these three have a common identity: they are all members of the "Jinlanshan, Fangyitang, Luojiangshui, and Fuhanxiang" gang.

Duan Qirui cursed under his breath.

He was a prospective officer at the Beiyang Military Academy, a genuine loyalist of the Qing Dynasty, accompanied by three members of the Hongmen (Triads) who were "anti-Qing and restoring Han rule," and a young lady from a Japanese zaibatsu family, waiting for someone in a Japanese brothel in Pontianak.

What the hell is going on?

Duan Qirui regretted it more and more. How could he have agreed to that brat Chang Desheng yesterday? He said something like, "Brother Zhiquan, do me a favor and accompany Miss Qingzi to Songye Tower to redeem someone. It'll only take half a day, but it won't be a waste of time. I'll treat you to wine later."

Drinking wine? Duan Qirui just wanted to grab a wine bottle and slap Chang Desheng on the head.

"Duan Jun, they're here."

Haruko's voice was soft and sweet.

Duan Qirui looked up and saw the Japanese madam leading a young girl downstairs. The girl bowed ninety degrees to him and Haruko, bowing like a shrimp. The girl knelt down in front of Haruko with a thud and introduced herself: "This servant is Akiku, from Kumamoto Prefecture..."

Duan Qirui couldn't understand Japanese, but seeing that the little girl was only eleven or twelve years old, as thin as a stick, he felt a pang of sadness. He thought of the daughters of tenant farmers back in his hometown of Anhui, who were the same age and looked the same.

Haruko took a Java Bank note from her handbag and handed it to the madam. The madam presented her with a contract of servitude with both hands and bowed deeply at a ninety-degree angle. The transaction was completed without the slightest delay.

Duan Qirui breathed a sigh of relief and got up to walk outside. Chen Atai and the other two followed behind, their eight-bladed swords wrapped in cloth and carried on their backs, ready to be drawn and used at any moment.

Outside the Songye Tower, Yoshiwara Street was deserted. It wasn't even noon yet, and the brothels weren't open. There were only a few pimps sweeping the streets, heads down, not even glancing at them.

Duan Qirui thought to himself: Well, this trip has passed peacefully. It seems I misjudged that man surnamed Chang...

"Mr. Duan," Qingzi caught up, standing very close. The sweet scent of her perfume wafted into Duan Qirui's nose, making him feel a ticklish sensation. "Thank you so much for today, and thank you to these three gentlemen as well. I'd like to invite you all to a simple meal, it's just up ahead..."

Before he could finish speaking...

Suddenly, four dark figures darted out from the street corner, howling as they pounced. They were all dressed in indigenous attire, with black turbans and clutching machetes.

Duan Qirui was completely stunned. What was going on? Why was he about to kill someone?

He instinctively reached for the revolver at his waist, but something on it caught on his belt, preventing him from pulling it out. The knife was about to strike his face. Thud! Thud! Thud!

Three gunshots rang out, exploding right next to my ears.

The leader, a native, slumped to the side, a blossom of blood erupting from his chest, and fell straight to the ground. The remaining three hesitated for a moment, then pounced again. Duan Qirui turned his head and saw Qingzi clutching a small pistol, its muzzle still smoking. Her face was deathly pale, but her eyes were wide open, and her voice trembled as if she were terrified: "Duan...Duan-jun, run!"

Before Duan Qirui could react, Qingzi grabbed his hand. Her small hand was icy cold, but surprisingly strong, pulling him forward.

"Damn it, that guy surnamed Chang..." Duan Qirui cursed inwardly, finally pulling out his revolver. As he ran, he looked back and saw Chen Atai and the other two had already drawn their eight-bladed swords and were locked in combat with the three locals. The blades clashed together, making a clanging sound.

Then came the sound of gunfire.

This time it came from above. The bullet whizzed past Duan Qirui's ear, burning his earlobe until it tingled and hurt a little. Had he been shot? He instinctively tried to retaliate, but Qingzi pulled him forward, and the two rolled behind a pile of wooden crates on the side of the street.

"Don't look up!" Haruko pressed him down firmly. "There are spears on the roof!"

Duan Qirui lay prone behind the box, his heart pounding like a drum. His mind raced: four local swordsmen, and riflemen on the roof... that was double insurance!

Someone is trying to harm me!

Who is so wicked?

Could it be Chang Desheng?

Then he heard gunfire erupting overhead.

It wasn't just one gun, but several. The guns crackled and popped like firecrackers, interspersed with muffled groans and screams. Duan Qirui peered through the crack in the box and saw two groups of people seemingly exchanging fire on the rooftop diagonally opposite!

"What the hell is going on?" Duan Qirui was completely bewildered.

Then he saw a large group of men rush out of a teahouse on the street, each carrying weapons—pistols, eight-section swords, and short axes. The leader shouted, "Take them alive! Don't let a single one escape!"

The group rushed towards a two-story building on the side of the street, burst through the door, and went inside.

Duan Qirui finally understood.

It seems he was used as bait.

That little bastard Chang Desheng had been lying in wait here all along. His talk of "accompanying Miss Qingzi to redeem her" was all a ruse. He was using him as bait to lure out the bigger fish. Who knows who he's hooked? Was Miss Qingzi also being used by him?

Duan Qirui was so angry he wanted to curse, but then he heard a soft "hmm" from beside him.

He turned his head and saw Qingzi leaning against the box, her face as white as paper, her forehead covered in sweat, her eyes half-open, and her body swaying. "Miss Qingzi?" Duan Qirui quickly helped her up.

Haruko rolled her eyes and went limp in his arms.

"Hey! Hey!" Duan Qirui shook her, but there was no response. Upon closer inspection, he saw a bump on Qingzi's forehead. He didn't know if she had bumped into something while running away or if she had been hit by something.

Across the street, on the second floor of the restaurant.

Luo Xinglan stood behind the window, his gaze fixed on the small building that was surrounded. Behind him stood seven or eight men, all with buzz cuts, dressed in short clothes, and with weapons bulging at their waists.

"Young Master," a man whispered, "they're completely surrounded. There are at least eight people inside."

Luo Xinglan hummed in agreement but didn't say anything.

He and his men were already lying in ambush here before dawn. Chang Desheng came to him last night and said, "Brother, tomorrow Duan Qirui is accompanying Qingzi to ransom her. I'm worried something might happen; someone might try to assassinate her. Take more men and lie in ambush, preferably capturing some alive..."

Luo Xinglan didn't quite believe it at the time. What kind of place was the Pontianak Chinese Quarter? It was the territory of the Hongmen Jinlanshan, Fangyitang, and Luo Jiangshui! And the head of Jinlanshan was his father, Luo Zhenxing!

Without the Luo family's approval, who would dare to carry out an assassination in the Chinese community of Pontianak?

As soon as those four indigenous knife-wielders showed their faces, Luo Xinglan knew that her brother-in-law was incredibly shrewd!

"Have those four on the roof been dealt with?" Luo Xinglan asked the person behind her.

"Three were taken care of, one escaped," the man replied. "The one who escaped was quite agile; he jumped off the roof and disappeared into the alley. A-Qiang led his men to chase after him."

Luo Xinglan frowned.

If one escapes, the matter becomes unsettling. He was about to order more men to be sent when he heard footsteps coming from downstairs, followed by a series of loud thuds as someone rushed upstairs. It was Zheng Ayong. His left arm was bruised, blood dripping from his sleeve, but he was still energetic. He immediately shouted, "Young Master! Lord Duan is alright! Miss Qingzi bumped her head and passed out!"

Luo Xinglan's heart sank.

"Take them to the incense hall," Luo Xinglan ordered. "Find a doctor, and be quick."

"yes!"

Zheng Ayong turned around and rushed downstairs.

Luo Xinglan turned his gaze back to the small building. The gunfire inside had stopped, and his men were dragging bodies out—one, two, three… a total of eight, all dressed as Chinese and still wearing queues.

"Young Master," a man with a buzz cut reported, "they're all here, four of them, none alive."

Luo Xinglan quickly went downstairs, walked over, squatted down, and checked them one by one.

The first one was shot three times in the chest, covered in blood. The second one had a bullet pierce his neck, but his eyes were still open. The third one was shot in the abdomen, his intestines spilling out. The fourth one…

Luo Xinglan frowned.

The man had no wounds, but a trickle of black blood seeped from the corner of his mouth; he was already dead. Luo Xinglan pried open his mouth and smelled it; it had a bitter almond odor. "Cyanide," Luo Xinglan stood up, clapped his hands, "He took poison."

Suicide squad.

Which gang could afford to keep these assassins? Besides, this is Southeast Asia; there's no real need for anti-Qing restoration, so what's the point of keeping assassins? Unless…

A thought flashed through Luo Xinglan's mind, but she couldn't quite grasp it.

Just then, there was another thumping sound on the stairs. A young man stumbled up, panting and pale: "Young Master! Something terrible has happened! Sultan La-La has been assassinated!"

Luo Xinglan turned around abruptly: "Assassinated? Dead?"

"I'm not... I'm not dead!" the young man gasped. "I escaped! The assassin threw a bomb that blew up the carriage. The Sultan was frightened, but he wasn't hurt!"

"Who did it?"

"N-I don't know!" The young man swallowed hard. "But...but before the assassin threw the bomb, he shouted something..."

"What are you shouting for?"

"Long live the Lanfang Republic!"

Luo Xinglan's mind went blank.

He stood there, stunned for a good three or four breaths, before finally squeezing out three words through clenched teeth:

"Fuck your mother."

At the same time, in the Pontianak Aboriginal area, outside the Royal Palace.

Ryohei Uchida mingled in the crowd, a slight smile playing on his lips as he looked at the overturned carriage.

The plan is going smoothly.

On Chang Desheng's side, Yamazaki should have succeeded. On the Sudanese side, with the bombs going off and the slogans being shouted, the framing will be done. Next, all that's left is for the Sudanese to send troops, for the Chinese and the natives to fight, for the Dutch to get involved, and for Pontianak to descend into chaos. Even if Chang Desheng escapes unscathed, there's still the Sudanese army! And after all the fighting, there will be no evidence left, and the Genyosha will be impossible to trace... It's just too perfect!

He pulled down the brim of his hat and turned to leave.

"Mr. Uchida," a bodyguard whispered, "there's still no news from Yamazaki."

"No need to wait," Ryohei Uchida said without turning his head. "If we succeed, we'll contact you. If we don't... waiting won't help."

He carried the wicker trunk and hurried into a nearby alley. At the end of the alley was a carriage, and the driver, an old man dressed in rustic clothes, nodded when he saw him and lifted the curtain.

Uchida climbed into the carriage, then took out his pocket watch and checked the time.

10:47 AM.

He knocked on the side of the carriage: "To the dock."

The carriage slowly began to move.

The carriage emerged from the alley and turned onto the main street. Chaos had broken out; indigenous guards were arresting people everywhere, pinning down anyone who looked Chinese. Cries, shouts, and the clatter of hooves mingled together in a cacophony of noise.

Ryohei Uchida drew the carriage curtain and stopped looking.

He needed to catch the midday ferry to leave this troublesome place.

In Luo Jiangshui's incense hall in Pontianak, Duan Qirui sat by the bed, watching the doctor treat the wound on Qingzi's forehead.

"This young lady is alright," the doctor, who was Chinese, first examined the bump on her forehead, then took her pulse, and even pried open Haruko's eyelids to look at her. "The injury isn't serious; she's probably just a little frightened. She'll wake up soon."

Duan Qirui grunted in response but didn't say anything.

He still held Haruko's pistol in his hand, its ivory grip engraved with the letters "CJ," and his mind was still replaying the scene from just moments ago: Haruko drawing her gun, firing, pulling him along, and then collapsing...

Duan Qirui cursed inwardly, thinking to himself that this woman truly owed him a life.

"Lord Duan," Chen Atai said, pushing open the door and lowering his voice, "Young Master Luo has arrived."

Duan Qirui stood up and went to the outer room. Luo Xinglan was standing there, his face ashen. When he saw him come out, he nodded: "Brother Duan, are you alright?" "I'm fine," Duan Qirui waved his hand. "Miss Qingzi was slightly injured, but the doctor said it's nothing serious."

Luo Xinglan nodded: "It's good that you're alright, let's set off immediately!"

"Set off? Where to?" Duan Qirui was taken aback.

Luo Xinglan said with a gloomy face, "Reporting to Xiao Lanfang."

Duan Qirui noticed something was wrong again and quickly asked, "What is it now?"

Luo Xinglan said, "Someone impersonated Lanfang to assassinate the Sultan of Pontianak... but failed. The Sultan is now gathering his forces!" He paused, "Now, it really is going to be war!"

Duan Qirui stood there, his mind a complete mess.

Assassination, ambush, framing, war... it all happened at once!

Wait a minute, this is all connected to Chang Desheng... Could it be that he's the mastermind behind this, aiming to instigate a war with Sudan? Something doesn't seem right. What was the purpose of the assassination? And what does it have to do with Qingzi? Isn't she Luo Jingrou's best friend?

The more I think about it, the more confused I get. I'm not going to think about it anymore, let's just go!

War is about to break out!