Chapter 2

When the boys of this age first gather, they do the same old thing.

"Hey! You're from the Dongyi tribe, right?"

A big guy tapped my shoulder.

I hadn't even opened my mouth since getting on the ship.

Why does this kind of information spread so quickly, as if it were in a group chat?

"What do you mean by 'official scholarship' when you're not even a citizen of the Qing Dynasty?"

"If you're upset, complain to the Governor of Hong Kong."

"Are you from Hong Kong? The Governor of Hong Kong is probably a Yangi. What does he know to interfere with the Qing's internal affairs?"

"Internal affairs, my ass."

"What?"

"Is the Governor of Hong Kong, who, out of compassion for the pitiful Korean boy, consulted with the Governor of Guangdong and sent a promising young man to study abroad for the sake of China, interfering with internal affairs?"

Other students, hearing the argument, slowly gathered around.

They all stood on the side of the troublemaker, showing that they were all acquaintances.

It seemed that sides had already been taken.

At such times, you can't let them look down on you.

I asked in a deliberately arrogant voice,

"Where are you from?"

"Beijing."

"Han Chinese?"

"Of course."

I saw his long braid swaying behind him.

A Han Chinese with a braid.

It's not hard to tease him.

"You're a descendant of the great Ming Empire, huh?"

"Yeah, I am. This Gao Li Fang Zi."

"But what's with that ugly braid? Tsk. Emperor Yongle would weep in his grave."

"What? The pigtail is a proper national law. How dare you, a Dongyi, insult the law?"

"Stupid kid. Don't you know that the Manchus you serve are also Dongyi? Oh, Your Majesty. A proud descendant of the great Ming boasts of a pigtail. Please understand."

His eyes turned fierce.

"You brat!"

I saw his clenched fist.

A familiar situation for me, who had been fighting in the back alleys of Hong Kong since I could walk.

From those days, I learned the absolute rule of fighting.

First strike, guaranteed win.

I swung first before he could throw a punch.

"Ugh!"

The guy, hit squarely in the jaw, fell forward with a scream.

This was a skill I had honed.

If he fell backward and hit his head, it would be a headache.

"What?"

"Has this bun gone mad?"

"Look at this kid's punches."

The Han Chinese surrounded me threateningly.

One, two, three, four... nine, I think.

From a young age, I learned that you must never show weakness.

If I got beaten up by nine, it would hurt like hell, but I could beat them up even more.

Then they wouldn't dare to mess with me again.

I clenched my fists and prepared for the fight.

"No. The guy who fell down swung first. The Korean was acting in self-defense."

Some guy came up and took my side.

He looked like a thug, wiping phlegm on the deck and swallowing snot.

"What the hell are you saying? I saw the bun hit him."

"What the hell are you saying? The law that forces you to cut your hair like a pigtail is the real hell. Hey, you're all from North China, right? Damn. Don't you have any pride? Why do you, Han Chinese, boast of a pigtail?"

Oh...

I don't know many people by face.

I immediately recognized the new thug.

His Western-style haircut and good looks were immediately noticeable.

A hero who later became the leader of the Nationalist government, ending the warlord era and unifying the country.

Chiang Kai-shek.

"You're not a citizen of the Qing Dynasty? How can you criticize those who follow the national law?"

"If I'm not a citizen of the Qing Dynasty?"

"What?"

"The Qing is damn. I've never liked the Manchu nobles since I was born."

"Such treasonous words! I'll report you to the instructor!"

"Idiot. Are you going to report me at your age? If you're upset, come at me."

It's either brave or reckless to provoke nine people alone.

Chiang Kai-shek's spirit was indeed that of Chiang Kai-shek.

The North China-born Han Chinese, with their braids, exchanged glances and then shouted,

"Hey! Beat him up!"

Several braids flew as they rushed at the average-sized Chiang Kai-shek.

Chiang Kai-shek, instead of dodging, shouted boldly,

"At least you're not cowards. Come on, Korean! Let's go!"

Are we on the same side?

The braid gang also swung at me, who had naturally sided with Chiang Kai-shek.

I'll show you.

The fighting skills of a Hong Kong triad member.

***

"That's unfair! Our fight was self-defense!"

Even in solitary confinement, Chiang Kai-shek's tension didn't wane.

He kept shouting at the door without tiring.

"Those North China guys were the ones who cowardly ganged up on us!"

After a while, with no response, Chiang Kai-shek walked over and sat next to me.

Then he smiled.

"You can throw a punch. What's your name?"

"Han Shin."

"A name of a military strategist! Did you immigrate from Korea to Hong Kong?"

"My parents did. I was born in Hong Kong."

"Ah, you must have a story. I'm Chiang Zhongzheng. I'm from Zhejiang Province."

The well-known name Chiang Kai-shek is his courtesy name.

His real name is Chiang Zhongzheng.

"Hey, nice to meet you."

"You really helped me out earlier. There's no need to follow the customs of the Manchus."

"Of course not."

If the Manchu custom had been circumcision, I might have followed it with a squint.

But a braid? No way.

"This country is messed up. The officials are corrupt, and the people are steeped in slave mentality."

"Still, you and I are trying to do something by studying abroad, right?"

"Hah! Those North China brats probably don't have any such awareness. The Qing court is currently establishing a new army. They just want to play around abroad and then return to flatter the Manchu court to get a position in the new army."

If I could get a position, that would be great.

I'm confident in my flattery.

Chiang Kai-shek glanced at the door.

After confirming that it was quiet outside, he looked at me with gleaming eyes.

"Alright. You seem trustworthy, so I can tell you. Don't reveal what I'm about to say to anyone."

"What are you going to say?"

"A matter concerning China's future."

"Go on."

"The Qing Dynasty is precarious, but its roots are still strong, and the imperial army, though a toothless tiger, is not to be underestimated. On the other hand, the sporadic rebellions of the suffering people are quickly suppressed."

"Why such a gloomy introduction?"

"But what if there's a secret force directly aiming to overthrow the Qing? Their goal isn't to rob granaries or assassinate officials. They are an armed revolutionary force with the power to systematically plan and realize the downfall of the Qing!"

What?

I thought he was going to say something long-winded.

"Headquarters of this secret society is in Tokyo, where we're headed. Its name is..."

"The Chinese Alliance."

"Huh?"

Chiang Kai-shek looked bewildered.

"You knew?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

"I'm a member."

Chiang Kai-shek's eyes widened.

"You're a member of the Alliance?"

"Yeah. Hong Kong is less monitored by the Qing, so the Alliance's activities are relatively free. I even stamped my seal in front of Mr. Liao Zhongkai."

"To meet a revolutionary martyr in person!"

Chiang Kai-shek trembled with excitement.

"Have you met the famous Mr. Sun Yat-sen?"

"No. He hasn't been to Hong Kong."

Chiang Kai-shek, three years older than me, grilled me about the Alliance until we arrived in Japan.

I was just a new member, but I explained the various uprisings the Alliance had carried out.

Chiang Kai-shek's eyes sparkled like a child's.

While we were chatting in the solitary confinement of the passenger ship.

I also thought about how to deal with this Chiang Kai-shek.

Should I make him an ally?

He was impulsive and ambitious.

A man ready to endure any cruel process for the sake of his country.

Depending on the era, he could be a beacon of freedom or a butcher who worships iron and blood.

Should I make him an enemy?

If an enemy, it's simple.

Eliminate him before he grows.

Watching the passionate twenty-one-year-old Chiang Kai-shek debate China's future.

I was lost in thought until we arrived.

***

After Japan's victory in the Russo-Japanese War, which made it a beacon of hope in Asia.

The number of Qing officials studying in Japan increased significantly.

However, even if they were selected through rigorous exams, it was impossible for them to keep up with the curriculum at the Japanese Military Academy.

Preparatory education was essential.

The Tokyo Jinwu School was established to accommodate the influx of Qing students.

It was a school where students learned a curriculum equivalent to the Japanese Army Cadet School.

A graduation certificate from Jinwu was required to enter the Military Academy.

The Tokyo Jinwu School in Shinjuku.

When I stepped into the Jinwu building after a simple enrollment ceremony, I felt a sense of real beginning, but that expectation was shattered within a few days.

Jinwu was worse than a cesspool.

The British-style middle school in Hong Kong was already suffocating, but Jinwu was even worse.

The only difference was that it was located in Japan and had a patchwork curriculum of Western subjects.

The school's basic structure was no different from a traditional Chinese school.

The Japanese principal was a figurehead, and a Chinese student supervisor ran all school events, which were quite arbitrary.

It was natural to have different classes based on the enrollment date, but it was incomprehensible to have different ranks even in the same class.

They claimed it was for level-based learning, but the system was a miniature version of the Chinese bureaucratic society.

"Your name is Han Shin? You're in the 3rd-grade class."

"Why the 3rd-grade class? I was in the top tier in the selection exam in Liangguang."

"The classes aren't divided by the selection exam results."

"Then what are they divided by?"

"Are you talking back! If you're in the 3rd-grade class, accept it!"

Chiang Kai-shek, who ranked 15th in Zhejiang, was also placed in the 3rd-grade class.

In contrast, the Han Chinese who had picked a fight with me on the ship were assigned to the 1st or 2nd-grade classes.

When the class assignments for the Qing students were completed, the criteria became clear.

Most of the 1st-grade class students were Manchus from the Eight Banners Army.

The Eight Banners Army was a direct military organization of the Manchus, loyal to the Qing court even as it wavered.

The 2nd-grade class had many students from North China, mostly Han Chinese from the new-style army, the Beiyang Army.

Since the Beiyang Army was backed by Yuan Shikai, who held military power in the Qing, it was natural for the 2nd-grade class students to be arrogant.

The 3rd-grade class, including me and Chiang Kai-shek, was mostly from South China, but it was more like a dumping ground for those who didn't make it into the 1st or 2nd-grade classes.

Without significant wealth or influential backers, the 3rd-grade class was treated like leftovers at Jinwu.

The class hierarchy was the basis for all discrimination.

Even the amount of pocket money, after deducting tuition, differed.

The number of desks and chairs in the dormitory, the width of the beds, nothing was equal.

After the morning roll call, the 1st-grade class was served first, and by the time it was the 3rd-grade class's turn, all the good side dishes were gone, and we had to fight over the meager meat scraps.

The Chinese students seemed to have a weak sense of ownership; the side dishes on the serving plates didn't belong to anyone.

If you were distracted for a moment, chopsticks would come over and snatch your meat.

Naturally, this made everyone more alert and prioritized survival in the group.

Public discrimination.

Naturally, factions formed.

The Manchus, centered around the Eight Banners, held the school's dominance, and the Beiyang faction checked them.

In contrast, the 3rd-grade class, a mix of rejects, was disorganized and barely qualified as a faction. It was a relief if they didn't fight among themselves.

The chaotic early days of Jinwu passed quickly.

During this time, I remained quiet and didn't cause any trouble.

But I was starting to think it was time to stand out in this cesspool of Jinwu.

___________________________________________

The Prophet of Jinwu

The classes at Jinwu were not much different from those at other old-style middle schools in Japan.

We mainly studied Chinese, Classical Chinese, science, mathematics, history, and geography.

However, the military education, despite being a preparatory school for the Military Academy, was minimal.

At best, a Japanese military instructor would come in and recite the Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors, trying to indoctrinate us ideologically.

Since it was a school for Qing students, the most prominent subject was Japanese language.

The students, who had no interest in learning a foreign language from another country, suffered.

However, having grown up in the free port of British Hong Kong, interacting with merchants from all over the world, I had no trouble.

For Hong Kong residents, standard Chinese, Cantonese, and English were basic.

Korean was a given, and I had studied Japanese diligently with the goal of entering the Military Academy.

I could also hold basic conversations in French, German, and Spanish.

Of course, Japanese was the first hurdle for the students, but the real challenge was elsewhere.

Natural sciences, geometry, and algebra were so alien that even Chiang Kai-shek lamented that the instructor was speaking gibberish.

For students who had only studied classical texts and poetry in the academies, rational thinking based on experience and proof was unfamiliar.

The only subject that the struggling students found manageable was Classical Chinese.

A Chinese teacher came in to teach ancient texts in a very traditional way.

Although Jinwu was in Japan, it couldn't completely escape the influence of the Qing government.

Thanks to this, Qing scholars came to Japan to teach, repeating the old school education.

The students who had studied in the academies were happy to have a subject they were good at, but I found it boring.

In Classical Chinese class, we always had to write essays on bizarre topics.

For example, "On Clouds Following Dragons and Winds Following Tigers" or "On Reciting Poetry on a Donkey Crossing the Ba Bridge."

When the teacher assigned an essay topic and left the room, Chiang Kai-shek, as usual, complained.

"Damn it. How long do we have to keep clinging to these old fables? What profound truth is there in reciting poetry on a donkey, and why do we attach 'Lun' (論) to everything?"

"Chiang Zhongzheng, that guy is complaining again."

"Is he not justified? It would be better to study Western sciences even a little during this time."

"Shut up. That guy spends his breaks playing mahjong and talking about women all day."

"Hey, what's wrong with taking a break during breaks?"

The Beijing-born braid gang, who had fought with Chiang Kai-shek on the ship, picked a fight again.

Since it was a class shared by the 1st and 3rd-grade classes, they often belittled the 3rd-grade class.

"Ha, you used to talk about China's future, but you've been quiet lately. Just be honest. Your writing skills are poor, and you can't keep up with the class, so you just complain all day, right?"

"What? You want to fight?"

"Go ahead. Do you know what will happen if you use violence at school? Can a 3rd-grade class student handle the consequences of hitting a 1st-grade class student?"

"Y-You..."

Chiang Kai-shek clenched his fists, ready to pounce, but he couldn't.

The opponent was an upperclassman and a member of the Eight Banners faction, protected by the school.

He couldn't just throw punches like on the ship