Chapter 40: Teaching (Part 2)

“At the very center of the bridge, amidst a hail of bullets, one of their officers stood at the front on horseback; he waved a yellow flag to challenge them. Despite the deafening noise of artillery, he continued to shout loudly. Around this brave officer, the marble blocks of the bridge railing flew everywhere, and our shells caused massive casualties…”
“At the head of the bridge stood a towering Tartar, who seemed to be the commander’s standard-bearer. He held a large yellow flag with black letters on it and pointed it in various directions from time to time. This was the flag of the monk-king; all the officers watched it closely, for it was issuing orders to the entire Chinese army.”
“At this moment, the enemy had completely retreated, and the bridge, defended by the elite troops, was covered with corpses. Yet this Tartar, though alone, still stood firm, probably delivering the monk-king’s final orders…”
“Bullets and shells whizzed around him, but he remained calm and motionless. General Montauban couldn’t help but say, ‘In my opinion, this man truly possesses extraordinary courage.’ A few soldiers rushed forward, trying to capture him alive. At that moment, as if to give us time to remember this heroic figure, the shells stopped hitting him for half an hour before finally striking him and knocking him to the ground…”
“And so the flag fell to the side, along with the hand that had clutched its pole tightly…”
Without needing to rely on his own handwritten manuscript, Liu Yu seemed to recite this bloody history with his very soul.
It was the Battle of Bali Bridge.
Ever since he first read these words, he had remembered that fallen flag and that hand tightly gripping the pole.
Everyone remembered this history.
“Remember, in the Battle of Bali Bridge, our country gathered 30,000 of the finest soldiers in the land, including nearly 10,000 cavalry, to fight against 6,000 British and French troops. Yet it remains one of the most shameful battles in modern Chinese military history.”
“We bring up this old history today so that we may take it as a lesson and ensure such history never repeats itself.”
“The French boasted that only twelve of their soldiers died in this battle. Our army and the French will surely fight again; we won’t be satisfied with killing just twelve Frenchmen—120 or even 1,200 won’t be enough. The debt of Bali Bridge must be repaid by Xili Camp on behalf of the people.”
Liu Yongfu’s understanding of the French was not as profound as Liu Yu’s.
Having lost his parents in his youth and living in extreme poverty, he wandered between the two rivers regions in search of a living. He joined the volunteer forces merely to fill his stomach. He only had superficial knowledge of foreigners. Later, when he controlled the upper reaches of the Red River, the French officer Dubois led an expedition there, and Liu Yongfu provided them with assistance.
To his surprise, the French immediately turned on him, sending An Ye to capture Hanoi and four provinces in an attempt to drive the Black Flag Army out of Tonkin. This forced Liu Yongfu to execute An Ye at Paper Bridge. After that, the French saw Liu Yongfu as a thorn in their side for occupying Annam and pressed hard, constantly trying to drive the Black Flag Army out of the Red River.

For the Black Flag Army, the Red River was vital to their survival. They collected 50,000 taels in taxes from this river each year to support their troops. Losing the Red River meant losing everything—face death, and they had no choice but to prepare for battle against the French.

But today, as Liu Yu recounted the stories of Zhangjiawan, Baliqiao, and the Old Summer Palace, telling this bloody history with the soul of a Chinese man, his own blood also boiled with passion. He clenched his fists, as if back on that battlefield filled with the whizz of bullets, longing to shout his fervent emotions into the sky.

Yang Zhenen, Wu Fengdian, and Liu Chengliang shared the same thoughts, yet the open square was eerily silent. Everyone remained quiet, their eyes filled with murderous intent. His soul trembled, but aside from the rustling sound of pen on paper, all were silent. They waited in silence for an outbreak that would rewrite this humiliating history.

Liu Yu didn’t know that Liu Yongfu was also listening to his narration. He merely wanted to pass on what he knew. He had always excelled in his courses on Chinese revolutionary history, and later, by studying military history, he incorporated many of his own ideas. Compared to sharp foreign guns, it was the person pulling the trigger who mattered most—he wanted those holding guns to understand why they fired.

In this era, if he succeeded, he could seize power and live in luxury among beauties; if he failed, he was willing to die holding the battle flag until the last bullet, just like that unknown standard-bearer, but at least leave something behind.

The Chinese people of this era had not yet awakened from their slumber, utterly numb. A year after the defeat in the Sino-Japanese War, the Japanese came to Shashi to establish a concession, only to find that the local officials knew nothing about the battles of a year earlier. In their eyes, the world remained as it had always been.

Descendants of China, you must have the power to rage! You must fight for your country. There will come a moment of fury at Xiliu Camp. A desperate army shall surely prevail!

He continued to tell this history. Unaware of it, *The History of China’s Decline* had come to an end. After discussing one unequal treaty after another, what remained was a reality that could be changed: “The soldiers of Xiliu Camp—Vietnam has long been a vassal state of ours. Under the guise of protecting French citizens, they actually seek to annex territory, aiming to take over Guangdong, Guangxi, Sichuan, and Yunnan. But I believe my Xiliu Camp will not agree to this.”

“The Black Flag Army will not agree either!” Liu Yongfu now resembled a true tiger. “Our army is united as one—we will never let the French succeed.”

Only then did Liu Yu see Liu Yongfu and his officers among the audience. He put down his manuscript. “I think, if we unite, we can change this history.”

“No! We must change this reality. We will reclaim the debts of Zhangjiawan, Baliqiao, and the Old Summer Palace for everyone.”

Though Liu Yongfu usually didn’t appear striking, Liu Yu now realized he was indeed a leader with great charisma. “Our Black Flag Army has 3,000 brave soldiers and 400 skilled marksmen. With Captain Liu at our head, as long as we stay united, we can thrive—so why fear the French or foreigners?”

He glanced symbolically at Liu Chengliang and Wu Fengdian and said, “You and Jin Chen will surely serve under Captain Liu in the future.”