LRAB Chapter 72 The Dimensional Reduction Attack of the Financial and Commercial Empire
Chapter 72 The Dimensional Reduction Attack of the Financial and Commercial Empire
Two days later.
Conference room on the third floor of the Garrison Command Headquarters.
This room is only used during major battles. The four walls are covered with military maps of the four provinces of Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Shanghai and Anhui, and a map of Nanjing city is covered with red and blue pencil markings on the table.
However, no military commanders attended today's meeting.
The person sitting on the left side of the table is Moranzhi.
The person on the right is Su Guiying.
Directly opposite is Mo Huixin.
Three women, one table.
Chen Zijun leaned against the window, twirling a pen in his hand, without sitting down.
"Speak," he said. "What did Night Owl find out?"
Su Guiying pushed a stack of handwritten reports to the middle of the table.
"Four flour mills. Two in Xiaguan, one in Pukou, and one in Liuhe. On the surface, they were run by locals, but the funds behind them all came from the Shanghai branch of Mitsui & Co. It changed hands three times, using a comprador of the trading company surnamed Xu as a shell company."
She turned to the second page.
"Three people from the chambers of commerce. One is Zheng Yuanhe, the vice president of the Jiangsu and Zhejiang Grain and Oil Chamber of Commerce. Another is Fan Debiao, a director of the Cotton Cloth Chamber of Commerce. And the third is Zhou Youcai, the owner of the largest warehouse at Xiaguan Wharf."
"Starting last winter, these three individuals successively purchased large quantities of rice and cotton from grain-producing areas in northern Jiangsu and northern Anhui. They operated through private grain merchants, breaking it down into dozens of small orders to avoid attracting attention."
Her finger pointed to the Xiaguan area on the map.
"But everything they bought was stored in the back warehouses of these four flour mills. Thirty thousand shi of rice, two thousand bolts of cotton cloth, six hundred barrels of tung oil, and a batch of medicine. All of it was sealed in wooden crates with labels that read 'Raw Materials for Flour Mills'."
Chen Zijun gave a cold laugh.
"Raw materials. Thirty thousand shi of rice as raw materials for a flour mill? Do you think I'm blind?"
"Young Master," Mo Lanzhi continued. "These three people are not simple. Zheng Yuanhe has a personal relationship with Wei Lide in the French Concession, Fan Debiao's cotton cloth shop is a downstream agent of Jardine Matheson, and Zhou Youcai's warehouse directly serves as a transshipment station for Nippon Yusen Kaisha."
She pushed back three photos.
"My people got the photos. Two days ago, Zheng Yuanhe met with a Japanese man in a teahouse in the French Concession. We checked the Japanese man; he is the deputy director of Mitsui & Co.'s Shanghai branch office and also a liaison officer for the Special Higher Police."
"Fan Debiao is even more interesting. At the beginning of each month, he would send a sum of money to a pharmacy called 'Hepingtang' in Nanjing. The backyard of this pharmacy was a liaison point for the Nanjing station of the Special Higher Police."
The room was silent for a few seconds.
Chen Zijun turned around and looked at Mo Huixin.
"Huixin, have you figured out the financial situation of these three families?"
Mo Huixin opened a brown envelope and pulled out several copies of bank statements.
"I've figured it out." Her voice was soft, but every word seemed to be carved with a knife.
"Zheng Yuanhe's main account is with HSBC, with a current account balance of £78,000. He also has a secret account with Citibank, holding over £30,000. He also has four banker's acceptances under the name of his grain and oil merchants' association, totaling approximately £120,000."
"Fan Debiao's money was spread out even further. Three banks, five accounts, totaling less than 60,000 pounds. But he owed Jardine Matheson a sum of 150,000 pounds for goods, due at the end of the month."
"Zhou Youcai is the poorest. He has less than 20,000 yuan in cash, but his dock warehouse is valuable, estimated at around 80,000 yuan."
After listening, Chen Zijun threw his pen on the table.
"Alright. Since their money is all in foreign banks, let's let their money die first."
He looked at Mo Huixin.
"Huixin, how much speculative capital can you currently control?"
"Not counting the system's funds, just from the retained profits from sulfonamides and the funds deposited with foreign firms after the betting recouped profits, I currently have over eight million pounds in cash on hand." Mo Huixin blinked. "Young Master, how do you plan to spend it?"
"It won't cost much." Chen Zijun snapped his fingers. "Tomorrow morning, in the name of the Chen Family Army's Industrial Movement Bureau, notify HSBC and Citibank: immediately freeze all accounts that have dealings with Zheng Yuanhe, Fan Debiao, and Zhou Youcai. The reason is 'suspected of transferring strategic materials to enemy countries; the Chen Family Army reserves the right to pursue the matter.'"
Mo Huixin pursed her lips. "Will the bank comply?"
"Yes," Chen Zijun said coldly. "HSBC owes me a huge favor. During the last bank run, I piled up 500,000 pounds in cash in their vault, and that money is still there. Not to mention Citibank, they're begging me for the exclusive Southeast Asian distribution rights for sulfonamides."
He paused.
"Inform Jardine Matheson again: you will settle the £150,000 payment for Fan Debiao's goods on his behalf. But on the condition that all the cotton cloth inventory and shop ownership under Fan Debiao's name be immediately transferred to the shell company I designate."
Mo Huixin's lips curled up slightly.
"Does the young master mean to first cut off their financial support through the banks, and then exploit them with debt?"
"Almost." Chen Zijun looked at Su Guiying. "Sister Gui, it's your turn next."
Su Guiying's eyes turned cold.
"What are your orders, young marshal?"
"These three people will definitely panic after their bank accounts are frozen. If they panic, they'll run away."
He held up one finger.
"Zheng Yuanhe has personal connections with the French Concession, so he will most likely go there. Fan Debiao will hide in the Jardine Matheson & Co. in the British Concession. Zhou Youcai doesn't have any powerful backers, so he will go directly to the Japanese Concession in Hongkou."
"No matter where they run to." Chen Zijun's voice suddenly dropped half an octave.
"I don't want them to come."
Su Guiying stood up.
"clear."
She didn't say a word more.
……
The next morning.
The sky over Shanghai was still not fully bright.
The HSBC tycoon received an official letter bearing the seal of the Chen Family Army Garrison Command.
Along with the official letter, Mo Huixin also sent a note written by hand.
The note contained only one line of text:
"Please ensure the safekeeping of your £5.37 million deposit with us. Furthermore, the three clients listed in the attachment are suspected of treason; please freeze all their accounts immediately. If this is inconvenient, I can dispatch the Tax Police Corps to assist you."
After reading the note, HSBC's CEO signed the freeze order within ten minutes without saying a word.
Citibank reacted even faster.
They're negotiating the distribution rights for sulfonamides with Chen Jiajun, but the contract hasn't been signed yet. It's just a Chinese businessman's account; if it's frozen, so be it.
Nine o'clock in the morning.
Zheng Yuanhe discovered that his bank account had been frozen.
He made three calls, but no one answered.
10:00 AM.
Fan Debiao received a demand letter from Jardine Matheson. However, the wording of this demand letter had changed, stating in black and white: "If your firm fails to settle the debt within thirty-six hours, Jardine Matheson will enforce compulsory repayment in accordance with Article 7 of the contract."
He made five more phone calls.
The person who answered the phone told him: Your goods have already been bought.
11:00 AM.
Zhou Youcai ran to the HSBC bank counter and slammed his fist on the table.
An Indian Sikh gatekeeper wearing a bowler hat kicked him out.
Noon.
The three of them realized something almost simultaneously.
It’s over.
It's completely over.
The money supply dried up, the goods were stolen, the shops were forcibly bought, and even the downstream customers they dealt with regularly received anonymous phone calls—"Anyone who dares to do business with Zheng Yuanhe, Fan Debiao, and Zhou Youcai will have their goods unable to leave the dock tomorrow."
It is not a threat of force.
It was not political pressure.
It was an invisible hand that, within half a day, uprooted their financial lifeline like weeds.
……
That evening.
As dusk fell, Zheng Yuanhe hailed a rickshaw and ran towards the French Concession carrying two suitcases.
As the rickshaw turned onto Avenue Joffre, two people in short jackets suddenly darted out from the roadside.
A man grabbed Zheng Yuanhe by the neck.
Another person put a burlap sack over his head.
The rickshaw driver never stopped walking from beginning to end.
At the same time.
Fan Debiao drove his own car to the British concession.
As soon as the car drove out of the alley, a coal cart was parked across the middle of the road.
The driver had just honked the horn twice when the car door was pulled open from the outside.
Fan Debiao was dragged out of the back seat, a rag stuffed in his mouth, and his hands and feet were tightly bound with hemp rope. The man who dragged him was wearing a straw hat and silently shoved him into a military truck that was already waiting at the other end of the alley.
As for Zhou Youcai...
He didn't even have time to run.
Su Guiying's people went directly to his house.
Knock on the door.
Open the door.
A revolver was pressed against his forehead.
"Boss Zhou, someone's invited you for tea."
……
Late at night. The Huangpu River.
There was no moon on the river.
Only the sound of water.
Third tone.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Then there was no sound at all.
……
Early the next morning.
Chen Zijun was drinking hot tea in his study, flipping through the report that Su Guiying had sent overnight.
The report was brief.
"The three individuals have been dealt with. The complete inventory of supplies has been handed over to Mo Huixin for management. The warehouses of the four flour mills have been sealed off in total: 31,200 shi of rice, 2,300 bolts of cotton cloth, 627 barrels of tung oil, and a batch of Western medicine. In addition, 47 boxes of Japanese-made military compressed rations and three Japanese-made military maps were also found."
Chen Zijun closed the report.
Those three military maps were all marked with key facilities inside and outside Nanjing.
Ports, railways, bridges, and water sources.
This is hardly hoarding food.
This is preparing for aggression.
He handed the report to Moranzhi, who was standing next to him.
"Half of this batch of grain will be allocated to the workers at the Jiangnan Shipyard as food. The other half will be transported to the Ma'anshan Iron and Steel Plant."
"What about the tung oil and cotton cloth?"
"Keep the tung oil. Send the cotton cloth to Cao Qingdi so her pharmaceutical factory can make bandages."
He picked up his teacup and took a sip.
"Oh, right, those forty-seven boxes of Japanese compressed rations."
"What should we do?"
Chen Zijun smiled faintly.
"Send it to the Wusongkou Fortress. Let our artillerymen have a taste, see what the Japanese eat. Know your enemy, after all."
Mo Lanzhi's lips twitched slightly.
"Yes."
As she turned to leave, she suddenly heard hurried footsteps outside the door.
A communications soldier ran in, holding a newly translated telegram.
"Reporting to the young marshal! Our spies in Nanjing have intercepted an urgent telegram!"
Chen Zijun took the telegram and glanced at it.
The telegram was sent from Shanghai to the front line at Guanyinmen in Nanjing.
The sender used the name of a business that Su Guiying had marked as "annihilated".
The recipient was the frontline command of Sun Yuanfeng, the military governor of Fujian.
The telegram contained only twelve characters:
"Our foundation in Shanghai is completely destroyed, our food supplies are exhausted, and our aid is cut off. We must retreat immediately."
Chen Zijun placed the telegram on the table.
The smile on his lips deepened.
"Okay," he said. "It's time to close the net."
He turned around and looked out the window.
In the direction of Nanjing, a plume of black smoke could be faintly seen rising on the horizon.
That was the embers of artillery fire from two nearly destroyed warlord armies outside Guanyin Gate.
"Notify Shen Li." His voice suddenly turned cold.
"Let him take the newly formed 2nd Division's armored company and set off this afternoon. I want to block the door for him before he escapes Nanjing."