Chapter Thirty: The Navy with Money

September 21, 1938, Office of the Provisional Second Division, Jiangcheng.

"Young Master, the Navy has agreed to the deal. They’ve also accepted the terms of cash before delivery. We can haul away the supplies they’re using for trade first, and then hand over the torpedo boats. Shouldn't we be making our exit now?" Alexei had believed all along that Wang Yue was setting them up; honest business was simply not the style of his Young Master, a man who would haggle over every ounce of pork when buying meat.

"A bunch of spineless wretches. They only start to panic once they’ve lost all face," Wang Yue sneered. The more he learned about them, the more he despised them. They spoke with such sanctimonious righteousness, yet behind the scenes, they were engaged in petty, sordid dealings that disgraced the very uniform they wore. They were supposed to be the Navy, yet while others were fighting warships with hand grenades and using torpedo boats to take on anything that moved, these men went soft before the battle even began. No amount of nutrition could fix that level of cowardice.

"The torpedo boat squadron has appeared in the Third War Zone. Their first sortie captured several thousand tons of Japanese cargo ships, which has greatly shaken the Japanese. If the Navy doesn't act now, no one will even remember they exist," Alexei reported with a smile. What he didn't mention was that in just over half a month, more than a thousand elite naval officers and soldiers had applied to join the torpedo boat fleet, and over three hundred had gone AWOL to join directly. At this rate, the official Navy would soon be nothing but an empty shell.

"What kind of supplies are they offering? And what exactly are they? Surely not warships?" Wang Yue asked. If the timing hadn't been so delicate, he would have loved to keep a few torpedo boats for himself to harass the Japanese. Two of those boats slipping into Lake Tai had forced the Japanese to commit dozens of warships and thousands of troops to a blockade; the daily cost of that operation alone was worth more than one of his torpedo boats—and even the Japanese had to import their fuel.

"5,000 VZ24 rifles, 400 Hotchkiss M1931 light machine guns, 30 ZB37 heavy machine guns, 12 M1928 75mm infantry guns with 2,000 rounds of ammunition, 8 Brandt 120mm mortars with 1,000 high-explosive shells, five million rounds of 7.9mm pointed ammunition, plus 10,000 sets of imported wool sailor uniforms and 8,000 M35 helmets. It’s enough to arm an entire division. At market price, it’s worth nearly 1.5 million silver dollars," Alexei reported, listing the items as if he were counting his own treasures.

"Didn't the Military Commission cut the Navy's budget? How do they have so many weapons to spare?" Wang Yue was puzzled. The Navy's inaction and lack of cooperation had thoroughly disappointed the Military Commission. After scaling back their operations, the Commission had kept a tight grip on naval funding. It made little sense that they would supply such high-quality army weapons to a branch that refused to fight. After the Battle of Nanjing, even many of the central government’s own elite units were being issued domestic weapons; how could they justify giving these to a useless Navy?

"The Navy has been responsible for escorting supplies westward. They’ve suffered heavy losses during these missions, and often, it’s impossible to track how much the Japanese destroyed or how much they actually recovered. Plus, there are many 'ownerless' supplies that reached the deep rear without proper documentation. To be honest, they have a lot of high-quality goods on hand that they don't dare sell openly. They even asked if the Umbrella Company would be interested in buying them at a very favorable price," Alexei said with a smirk. He wasn't particularly surprised; he had heard of such things in his youth, and the stories his foster father told were even more outlandish.

"Then tell them to prepare three million silver dollars' worth of supplies. We’ll sell them the first batch of thirty torpedo boats, and another thirty by October 20th," Wang Yue decided. He had to sell while the opportunity was ripe; once the Military Commission got cozy with the Americans, they wouldn't care for his "junk" anymore.

"Young Master, tell me the truth—how much of a foundation did the Old Master really leave behind?" Alexei asked cautiously. In his mind, his godfather had always been quite incorruptible, never using his position as Finance Minister and intelligence chief to line his own pockets. The Wang family’s wealth had supposedly been limited to ancestral property, but it didn't seem that way anymore.

"The old man didn't leave behind a damn thing. This is all stuff the Sixth Brother left behind. He bought it all as scrap back in the day, stored it in Shanghai after the Central Plains War, and later moved it to Jiangcheng under the care of a trusted team. I don't have much left to give," Wang Yue lied glibly. A spendthrift son wouldn't have anything of value; if there was anything left, it was likely hidden away by his subordinates. If he had relied on his father’s resources, the Northeast Army would have disbanded years ago.

"Some people are worried that you might try to rescue him. Rumor has it that Li Wula, Milong, and the others have started calling you 'Marshal Yue' in private," Alexei whispered.

"Don't worry about them trying to force a 'yellow robe' upon me. They’re just looking for a glimmer of hope, a place to pin their aspirations. They need to believe that going home is still possible," Wang Yue chuckled. He couldn't hide the small movements of those men from his perception, but he knew his own worth. He didn't have the capability to replace the Young Marshal and lead the Northeast Army. None of those warlords feared him; he could only bully someone like Division Commander Meng, but anyone else was out of the question. If he truly had that kind of power, the Bureau of Investigation and Statistics would have put a bullet in his back long ago.

"There are over a million displaced people, mostly young and able-bodied. Even without touching the core of the old Northeast Army, you could raise hundreds of thousands of troops. Don't you think—" Alexei trailed off. Some thought troops were the most important asset, but he disagreed. To him, the million-plus families and refugees who had followed them were the true foundation of the Northeast Army. After all these years, the children were old enough to carry rifles, and the weak and elderly had been culled by circumstance. It was the perfect time for recruitment; if these people were in Europe, they would constitute the population of a small nation.

"They're too scattered, and the morale is broken. It’s not easy," Wang Yue said with a gentle shake of his head. He wanted to look after these refugees, but they were spread across North, East, Central, Northwest, and Southwest China. They couldn't be gathered, and with the ongoing loss of territory, they would only become more dispersed.

"Young Master, why don't we buy a county magistrate position in the deep rear?" Alexei suggested. No matter what, they needed a place to stand; drifting like duckweed in a chaotic era would never lead to success.

"Slowly. Don't rush. We’ve already made ourselves enough of a nuisance in the last few months. If we act again, the Military Commission might actually believe I’m trying to rescue the Sixth Brother." Wang Yue shook his head. With his current strength, he couldn't survive the wrath of the Military Commission. The best strategy was to keep a low profile.

"Understood. My primary task for now remains securing this deal with the Navy," Alexei said, nodding. He wouldn't press the issue further; as long as Wang Yue had a plan, that was enough.

"People. Your primary task is still people. We aren't recruiting old veterans, but that doesn't mean we aren't recruiting at all. There are many displaced students from the Northeast in Jiangcheng. For those without clear political leanings but who are firm in their support for the resistance, try to bring them into our fold. It’s a way to protect them, or at least keep them from being used as cannon fodder." Wang Yue had been observing the recruitment stations in the city and had noticed many young men with Northeastern accents, many of them intellectuals. Sending them to the frontlines so easily would be highly irresponsible.

"Understood, Young Master."