LRAB Chapter 52 Bloodshed on Nanjing Road! A Cruel and Cold Observation
Chapter 52 Bloodshed on Nanjing Road! A Cruel and Cold Observation
The terrace on the third floor of the Chen Mansion.
Chen Zijun held a cup of cold coffee, his eyes narrowed as he watched a plume of black smoke slowly rise on the northern horizon.
As consciousness slightly subsided, the system panel automatically popped up.
£50 million...
That's enough for him to buy up all of Shanghai three times over.
Unfortunately, some things cannot be bought with money.
For example, the blood that will flow on this street today.
"Young Marshal!"
Shen Li rushed upstairs, his military boots clattering on the stairs. His face was flushed, and he clutched an urgent telegram he had just copied from the radio.
"Something's happened in the International Settlement! Over 30,000 people have stormed the intersection of Nanjing Road and Henan Road. British police have all fixed bayonets, and Sikh police are armed with rifles! That bastard McGowan has given the order to open fire!"
Chen Zijun did not move.
The liquid in the coffee cup swayed slightly, then settled down.
Are any of Laneige's people present?
"Present! All three plainclothes teams are in position, providing real-time intelligence updates!"
"it is good."
"Young Marshal!" Shen Li's voice was almost a roar. "Let me lead the troops! One company is enough! Those Sikh bastards can be wiped out in ten seconds with an MG34!"
Chen Zijun finally turned his head.
His eyes were calm. So calm that it sent a chill down Shen Li's spine.
"You led your troops in, killed the police, and rescued the people. And then what?"
Shen Li opened his mouth.
"The British would then have an excuse to say that I, Chen Zijun, have violated the International Settlement with armed force, and I would become a warlord and thug who disrupts peace in the International Court of Justice. Those short guys in Tokyo are just hoping I'll do something stupid."
Chen Zijun downed the cold coffee in one gulp.
"Do you know why I didn't stop those students?"
Shen Li gritted his teeth and remained silent.
"Because only when enough blood is shed will the whole world see clearly what these foreigners really are."
He placed the cup on the railing.
"Let the whole world watch. Let every Chinese person remember. And then..."
There was fire burning in his eyes.
"It's my turn to make a move."
The International Settlement. Nanjing Road. Entrance to the old Zha Police Station.
2:13 PM.
More than 30,000 people crowded the entire Nanjing Road, from Henan Road to Zhejiang Road.
The students held up white banners with slogans written in calligraphy: "Give us back our workers! Punish the perpetrators!" "Abolish all unequal treaties!" "Chinese people rule in Chinese areas!"
The shouts were deafening.
At the forefront were students from Fudan University, Tongji University, and Shanghai Jiao Tong University. They were wearing blue student uniforms with white flowers pinned to their chests, walking hand in hand, step by step.
Some of the female students were crying.
Some male students are singing.
They were singing "Man Jiang Hong".
Walking at the front was a young man with a buzz cut, holding up a work uniform cloth stained with Gu Changqing's blood. His voice was hoarse, but every word was like a nail driven into the air.
"Fellow countrymen! Our fellow worker Gu Changqing was shot dead in the street by the Japanese! We demand justice!"
"Justice! Justice! Justice!"
The voices of 30,000 people merged into a mighty torrent.
Then the torrent crashed into a wall.
A wall consisting of barbed wire, barricades, and more than a hundred armed Sikh police officers.
Their rifles were already loaded. The bayonets reflected a blinding, cold light in the afternoon sun.
The window on the second floor of the old Zha Police Station was open.
McGowan leaned half his body out.
He glanced at the dense crowd below, his expression as if he were looking at a swarm of ants.
"Final warning!" he shouted in broken Chinese. "Disperse immediately! Or face the consequences!"
No one moved.
No one left.
The student with the buzz cut took another step forward.
"We are Chinese! This is Chinese soil! What right do you have to fire on Chinese people on Chinese soil?!"
McGowan pulled his head back.
He picked up a brass whistle from the windowsill and put it to his lips.
Three seconds later.
"beep……"
The whistle was sharp and piercing, like a knife slicing through glass.
boom!
Bang bang bang bang!
The sound of rifles firing in unison echoed along Nanjing Road.
The student with the buzz cut at the front had three bloody holes punched in his chest, and his body flew backward, crashing into the arms of the student behind him.
Blood splattered all over that classmate's face.
Then the second row. The third row. The fourth row.
The Sikh policeman, expressionless, pulled the bolt, cocked the gun, and fired.
It's as mechanical as practicing at a shooting range.
Screams, cries, and gunshots mingled together, turning the entire Nanjing Road into a scene of carnage.
Some people ran back, only to be trampled by the crowd that surged forward from behind.
Someone lay on the ground, using their body to shield their classmate who had already been shot.
Some people were still rushing forward, bare-handed, facing the muzzle of a gun.
A full four minutes.
Four minutes later, McGowan blew the second whistle.
The gunfire stopped.
Nanjing Road quieted down.
A deathly silence.
More than sixty corpses lay on the ground. Blood gushed from the bullet holes, flowing down the curb and into the roadside ditch.
Someone is still convulsing.
Some people are already completely still.
The steps of Sincere Department Store were covered in blood. The windows of Wing On Company were shattered by stray bullets, and the broken glass and the displayed fabrics fell into the blood.
In the distance, a female student knelt beside a corpse, repeatedly muttering a name.
Her voice grew softer and softer.
Getting smaller and smaller.
Finally, it turned into a silent mouth shape.
One hour later. French Concession. Japanese Consulate in Shanghai.
Yada Shichitaro held a cup of sake, a slight smile playing on his lips.
"Lord Baldon, please."
He handed another glass of sake to the British Consul General sitting opposite him.
Baldon took the glass, his fingers trembling slightly. But he still took a sip.
"Sixty-seven people," Yada Shichitaro said softly. "Sixty-seven are dead. It's said that more than two hundred people are injured."
His tone was as if he were reciting numbers from a weather forecast.
"The whole of Shanghai was in an uproar. Newspapers were already issuing special editions. Students from all over the country started marching and protesting."
Baldon put down his glass and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.
"So what?" His voice was a little hoarse. "The order of the concession cannot be challenged; that's the bottom line."
"Well said." Yada Shichitaro smiled. "You're right. A concession is a concession. Our rights cannot be trampled on by anyone."
He paused for a moment.
"As for that guy surnamed Chen..."
"He wouldn't dare," Bardon interrupted him. "He just fought off 100,000 Fengtian troops, and his troops are exhausted and have used up a lot of ammunition. The fortress cannons at Wusongkou have fired so many rounds that at least half of the barrels need to be replaced. All he can do now is send a telegram of protest, curse us a few times, and then continue licking his wounds."
Yata Nanitaro raised his glass.
"Then we shall respect Commander Chen's...restraint."
The two clinked glasses.
A few drops of sake spilled onto the white tablecloth-covered table.
It's red, like blood.
Longhua Road, Shanghai Garrison Command Headquarters, underground operations room.
Chen Zijun sat in front of the sand table.
Three reports were spread out on the table.
First report: Moranch's on-site intelligence: 67 dead and over 200 injured.
The second report: Mo Huixin's financial report, the first batch of equipment for the three newly formed divisions has been distributed to Zang Keping in Changzhou.
Third report: System detection update, the Japanese expeditionary force is assembling at an accelerated pace and is expected to arrive within 22 days.
He stacked the three reports together and placed his palm on top of them.
"Huixin" (慧心).
"exist."
"The progress of the three newly recruited division commanders changing their uniforms."
"The first batch of 12,000 Mauser rifles and helmet ammunition has arrived. MG34s and mortars are still on their way and will arrive in Changzhou by tomorrow morning at the latest."
"not enough."
Chen Zijun tapped his fingers twice on the sand table.
"Pull out the contingency plan for the Hongkou area."
Mo Huixin took a brown paper envelope from the filing cabinet and handed it to him.
Chen Zijun opened the envelope, inside was a hand-drawn map of the entire area from Hongkou to the International Settlement. It was covered with arrows and circles densely marked in red and blue pencil.
"Shen Li."
"arrive!"
"The entire army is on high alert. The 1st and 2nd Tax Police Regiments have entered a state of first-level assembly. The armored battalion has been transferred from Longhua to the North Station to stand by, and all tanks have been fully fueled and loaded with ammunition."
"yes!"
"Four 88mm guns were transferred from Wusongkou to the north and deployed on the south bank of the Suzhou Creek."
"yes!"
"Tell Zang Keping that even if the three newly formed divisions haven't finished changing their uniforms, they should still assemble on the southern flank. Those who have already received their rifles and helmets should be brought out first."
Shen Li's blood rushed to his face.
"Young Marshal! What are we going to do..."
Chen Zijun raised his head.
There was no anger on his face.
More terrifying than anger.
It was a cold, meticulously calculated killing intent.
"I will keep a record of every drop of blood shed in the foreign concessions today."
He stood up and laid the map flat on the sand table.
"The British fired the first shot, so I'll fire the last one for them."
"Order the entire army: Kill anyone who crosses the border. Kill them until they recognize their ancestors and return to their ancestral home."
night.
The boundary between the International Settlement and the Chinese-controlled area. Outside the barbed wire fence.
A British constable leaned against a barricade, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His rifle was slung across his shoulder, the bayonet still stained with dried blood.
He was boasting to the Sikh police officer beside him about his afternoon's success.
"Those yellow-skinned monkeys run as fast as rabbits..."
He hadn't finished speaking.
The ground beneath my feet suddenly shook.
He looked down.
It shook again.
Then came the third. The fourth. It grew increasingly violent.
It wasn't an earthquake.
It's a rhythmic, dull, metallic sound of the earth being crushed.
Rumble rumble rumble...
He threw away his cigarette butt and turned around.
In the darkness, a row of dazzling white lights illuminated the direction from which Huajie connects to Fahua Road.
One vehicle. Two vehicles. Five vehicles. Ten vehicles.
Tank No. 1 and armored personnel carrier.
The tracks rolled over the asphalt road, making a grating, teeth-grinding creaking sound.
Behind the tank was an endless expanse of gray-green.
Tens of thousands of soldiers, wearing German-style steel helmets and carrying Mauser rifles, emerged from the darkness in orderly steps.
They wore steel helmets on their faces and submachine guns hanging from their chests.
Each person had four grenades hanging from their waist.
Behind the infantry formation were 88mm anti-aircraft guns towed by trucks.
The long cannon barrel pointed to the sky, then slowly lowered back down.
It was aimed at the barbed wire fence.
The British policeman dropped his cigarette.
His mouth was open, unable to close.
He saw a person standing on the tank turret.
The man was wearing a black officer's overcoat, his hands behind his back, staring expressionlessly at the police station across the barbed wire fence.
The night wind lifted the hem of his coat.
The person spoke. The voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly throughout the entire street.
"Pass down the order."
"Give them one hour. Hand over McGowan within one hour."
"otherwise……"
The barrels of all four 88mm anti-aircraft guns simultaneously dropped three degrees.
"I'm cleaning house for them..."