Chapter 10

Guang Zhuofan was nervously thinking, not understanding what had aroused the officer's suspicion. Modern English, of course, was slightly different from that of the 19th century, but he did not think this officer could find fault with it—unless he was also a time traveler.

"Yes, I am a Christian."

"Can you write?"

"Yes..." Guang Zhuofan thought, do you think I spent seventeen years studying for nothing?

"What is your surname...?"

"Guang."

"Oh, Gan, very good. In fact, we have a favor to ask of you," the British officer said politely.

Gan? Gan your sister. "It's Guang... Please, if I can do it." Guang Zhuofan had no idea what game he was playing.

"We are relying on a group of Russian Orthodox priests for guidance and intelligence on this trip to the capital," the officer shrugged. "Gan, you know, we don't really trust them. First, they are Russians, second, they are heretics, and third, they are Russian heretics..."

Although his English was excellent, Guang Zhuofan still found the words confusing. He did not dare to interrupt and could only patiently listen to the British officer's incessant talk.

"We are in dire need of someone who knows both English and Chinese. We only have one or two... maybe three Chinese translators. If you are willing..."

Guang Zhuofan was stunned and then cursed inwardly: Damn, you're trying to ruin my ace in the hole! When he had just returned home from the camp and was thinking about his future after time travel, he had almost ruled out all possibilities but kept this skill. His confidence in supporting his family came from this skill—his English. He knew that after 1860, the Qing Dynasty would soon launch the "Self-Strengthening Movement." With his fluent English and knowledge of world history, finding a well-paid position, whether in the Zongli Yamen or under a wealthy merchant dealing with foreigners, would be very easy.

However, now, this British devil was actually asking him to be an interpreter, or a "translator." He thought of the images of interpreters he had seen in movies and their eventual fates, and shuddered. If he were to serve as an interpreter for the British, regardless of the enmity and whether he could emotionally accept it, if anyone recognized him, he would have no place to hide in the capital, no matter how good his English was.

"Sir, it is my honor, but..." He had already prepared N reasons to refuse the British devil's request.

The officer raised his hand to stop him and continued, "If you are willing, we will pay you a high salary, two pounds a day, or fifteen ounces of silver." He smiled at him.

"But, I..."

"Gan, I think you will be willing. If there are no problems, let's go now. You don't need to bring anything."

Gan your sister. Guang Zhuofan understood that this was not a request but an order.

"Alright, as I said, it is my honor." He nodded. Since there was no way to avoid it, he would have to act according to the situation. He certainly would not go back inside to get anything—he must not give the British any chance to enter.

"Tu Bo," he said calmly, "get me a few plasters."

*

*

That night, he spent the night in the British camp in the southern part of the city. The next day, Guang Zhuofan was taken to the British headquarters on Gulou Street.

The headquarters had requisitioned a huge mansion, and the security outside was very tight. Armed British soldiers had sealed off both ends of Gulou Street and set up barriers at the entrance, even mounting two cannons. Guang Zhuofan shook his head inwardly; the officials and the tens of thousands of troops in Beijing had long fled, and no one would dare to attack their headquarters.

Soon, he was led by the officer to meet the British commander.

"Major General Grant, this is Mr. Gan, a friendly Christian who can write. He is absolutely capable of serving as a translator," the officer reported, standing at attention and saluting the commander with red curly hair.

So, this was General Grant, the commander-in-chief of the British forces in the Second Opium War. Guang Zhuofan looked at Grant, and Grant looked back at him.

"Actually, my surname is Guang..." He was tired of the word "Gan" and carefully corrected it.

"Gan! Very good!" The portly Grant patted Guang Zhuofan on the shoulder encouragingly. "I think Major Richard did the right thing. I need someone like you. My secretary will arrange for you to wait in the adjacent hall. I will call you if needed."

The common people were right; the foreigners' tongues were indeed blunt. Every time he heard "Gan," Guang Zhuofan would inwardly say "Gan your sister" to feel a bit more balanced.

"Yes, sir." Gan your sister, sir.

"What happened to your face? Are you injured?" Grant asked, looking at Guang Zhuofan.

Guang Zhuofan's face was covered with two crooked plasters.

"There are rioters everywhere in the city..." Guang Zhuofan explained frankly, "I did this to ensure my family's safety in the future." This reason was very noble and straightforward, and there was nothing wrong with saying it.

Grant looked at the comical Chinese man and burst out laughing.

That day, he had nothing to do, only seeing a Chinese man in a white suit, with his braid coiled on his head and wearing a Western hat, coming in and out, looking very out of place, but the foreigners seemed to respect him greatly, always politely escorting him to the door.

The next morning, Guang Zhuofan was called into the hall by Grant's secretary, where a debate seemed to have just ended.

"I still believe that the original targets we agreed upon are appropriate. But if you insist on your view..." A gray-haired man in a French military uniform spread his hands and said to Grant, "The French army will, of course, cooperate with your actions."

"General Montauban, for the barbaric and inhumane acts of the Qing government, I insist that a heavier punishment is necessary!" Grant said, pointing to the side.

Only then did Guang Zhuofan notice a tall, thin foreigner lying on a soft chair, looking very weak and being attended to by a doctor.

"I deeply regret what happened to Mr. Parkes," the French general shrugged.

Parkes. When Guang Zhuofan heard this name, he knew that history was unfolding as recorded, and it was inevitable.

Parkes was the British envoy to China. After the Anglo-French forces landed, the Qing army suffered consecutive defeats, and Zaiyuan and Muyin were designated to negotiate with the British and French at Zhangjiawan. The negotiations failed, and Zaiyuan and Senggelinqin actually captured the negotiator Parkes and thirty-eight of his followers, sending them to the Summer Palace for interrogation and torture. When the Anglo-French forces reached Beijing, the court hastily released these "prisoners," but only eighteen survived. The British responded by deciding to burn the Summer Palace as punishment.

However, who ever asked you to come? When bandits break into the owner's house and demand to punish the owner to uphold their "human rights," there is no true justice or righteousness left in the world, only iron and blood.

"Gan, come here." Grant's face was ashen. "The other translators have gone to negotiate with your government. Write a letter to your emperor's brother."

The emperor's brother, of course, referred to Prince Gong. After Emperor Xianfeng went to Rehe, his younger brother, the 28-year-old Prince Gong, took charge of the affairs in Beijing and the negotiations with the foreigners.

Guang Zhuofan sat silently at the table, spreading out paper and pen, feeling like crying: He never imagined he would participate in history in such a way. He knew that this letter was Grant's ultimatum to Prince Gong, about the burning of the Summer Palace.

An ultimatum is just a notification.

"Anyone on earth, including the emperor..." Grant dictated word by word.

Anyone in the universe, no matter how noble, like an emperor... Grant's English was transformed into semi-classical Chinese under Guang Zhuofan's pen.

"If they commit acts of dishonesty and deceit, they will inevitably face punishment..."

If they commit acts of deceit, they cannot escape their due responsibility and punishment...

"The Qing emperor not only failed to abide by the previously agreed treaty but also violated it..."

The Qing emperor did not keep the previous agreement and instead violated the treaty...

"On September 5th, we will destroy and burn the Forbidden City in your capital as punishment!" Grant concluded.

We will destroy and burn... on the fifth day of the ninth month... Guang Zhuofan's hand trembled, and a large drop of ink fell on the paper.

The Forbidden City?