Chapter Twenty: The Declining Empire

After forty-two days of arduous voyage, the ocean liner finally arrived at Ningbo Port on the morning of February 21st.

As the ship entered the harbor, Feng Chengqian stepped onto the deck, gazing out at the port city built along mountains and sea. At this time, Ningbo stood as the foremost harbor of the Qing Empire.

“Count, what are you looking at?”

Feng Chengqian turned around and saw Tirpitz had already come up behind him.

“Do you not feel that this ancient nation bears a striking resemblance to our Empire?”

“Resemblance?” Tirpitz paused, then replied, “I don’t see it that way. Though the Qing Empire is vast and abundant, it has little in common with the Empire.”

“Wasn’t our Empire much the same fifty years ago?”

“Well…”

“Of course, it’s merely a resemblance. Though fifty years ago the Empire was fragmented, Prussia remained strong; otherwise, unification would never have been possible.”

“It seems the Count has much on his mind.”

Feng Chengqian smiled. “It’s a matter of perspective. With India, Britain became the empire upon which the sun never sets. For our Empire, what we lack is a colonial possession akin to India.”

“You mean…”

“If our Empire could establish a colony in the Qing lands and monopolize its benefits, do you think we’d need to keep currying favor with Britain at every turn?”

Tirpitz’s brow twitched, as if struck by a sudden thought.

“This is no simple matter—easy to say, difficult to do.”

“If we truly intend to act, the first step is to secure a foothold—ideally, a fine port like Ningbo.”

“And it must be far from the vital interests of other powers.”

Tirpitz paused, then said to Feng Chengqian, “Count, you’ve already considered all this?”

Feng Chengqian laughed softly. “Idle minds need occupation. I’ve discussed this with Chen Jitong several times. The Shandong region of Qing is rich in resources and, for now, untouched by foreign powers. If we could monopolize Shandong, it would be of great benefit to the Empire.”

Tirpitz nodded thoughtfully, his interest in the Qing Empire apparent.

“When the Imperial Navy grows strong, I shall petition His Majesty to establish a Far East Fleet, appoint you as its commander, and entrust you with expanding our interests in Qing.”

“Count…”

“Our rivalry with Britain, France, and Russia isn’t confined to the European continent or the North Sea—it’s a global contest.” Feng Chengqian glanced at Tirpitz. “If we can secure a foothold in Qing, we could tie down the Royal Navy in times of war.”

“I understand your meaning, Count, only…”

“I know what you’re thinking. But have you noticed that the Far East is far from peaceful these days?”

Tirpitz frowned, unsure what Feng Chengqian meant.

“The Qing Empire is pursuing the Self-Strengthening Movement; Grand Secretary Li Hongzhang is vigorously advocating Western learning, investing heavily to build the Beiyang Fleet. Across the sea, Japan has completed the Meiji Restoration, its national strength rising rapidly—it is destined to become a major power in the East. As the saying goes, two tigers cannot share one mountain. Within ten years, the Far East is certain to witness a fierce struggle. Commodore, this will be the first naval battle of the steam and ironclad era.”

“You’re so certain, Count?”

Feng Chengqian smiled. “In the Far East, Qing is like Britain, and Japan is like us. Where there is profit, there will be conflict; where there is conflict, there will be war. Japan won’t resign itself to being a second-rate power—it will challenge Qing, and inevitably, war will come, ultimately evolving into open conflict.”

“I mean, will the naval battle between Qing and Japan truly be the first of the steam age?”

“Commodore, where else do you see a war likely to break out?”

Tirpitz paused, saying, “You’re right. We’re unlikely to fight Britain for now, and other regions hold no obvious disputes. If we look ten years ahead, the greatest likelihood of war is between Qing and Japan, and the decisive battle will be at sea.”

“Do you know how to fight such a naval battle?”

“Well…”

“The tactics of the age of sail are useless now, and in the steam era, we haven’t yet seen a true naval engagement.”

Tirpitz nodded thoughtfully, seeming to grasp Feng Chengqian’s point.

“If no one knows, then observing and understanding a naval battle of this era up close will be invaluable.”

“Count, your intentions are admirable. I must admit you’ve earned my respect.”

“As long as you understand, otherwise you’d blame me.”

“You’re too modest, Count.”

Just then, the liner docked.

Feng Chengqian was welcomed by court officials sent personally by Li Hongzhang, accompanied by local Ningbo officials. Sedan chairs had been prepared in advance.

Feng Chengqian declined the sedan chair, choosing instead to ride on horseback like a true soldier.

In the Second German Empire, even noblewomen rode horses, let alone a count.

Before coming to this era, Feng Chengqian had never ridden a horse—he hadn’t even seen a real one. So he spent several days practicing horsemanship before setting out.

From Ningbo to Nanjing, it took an entire day.

Dismounting after the journey, Feng Chengqian felt a surge of reflection. First, the Qing Empire was indeed backward; there was no railway between such crucial cities. In the Empire, a train journey would take only half a day. Second, since arriving in this era, he hadn’t exercised for a long time, and his physical condition was much diminished. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be sore all over, wobbling as he walked after getting off the horse.

He spent a night in Nanjing, declining banquets and sleeping soundly.

The next day, the party continued north, arriving in the imperial capital Beijing on the afternoon of the twenty-fourth.

Traveling with frequent stops, Feng Chengqian was left with a deep impression: the Qing Empire was an extremely closed society. Compared to the European powers, Qing lagged not only in industrial strength, but also in public values and consciousness.

What struck him most was the nature of relationships among the people of Qing.

For example, attendants referred to themselves as “slaves” when addressing him. In the Second German Empire, the Kaiser was a lofty monarch, yet there was no clear gulf between him and ministers, officers, attendants, or ordinary citizens. He didn’t call himself “I, the Emperor,” nor did he make others refer to themselves as “slaves.” In a sense, the Kaiser was simply the emperor of the Empire, and his relationship with subjects was that of leader and led, not master and slaves. Imperial subjects considered themselves free people living under Imperial rule, loyal to the Kaiser but not enslaved by him, and not inferior in status.

If servility penetrates the marrow of every citizen, the nation loses its spirit and becomes incurable.

With this realization, Feng Chengqian had to admit that without a major transformation, this ancient eastern land would never grow strong.

He also understood that extremes breed their opposites.

When disaster and suffering reach a certain threshold, seeds of change begin to sprout—a spark can ignite a prairie fire, inevitably evolving into a revolution.

The question is: who will lead and guide this revolution?

Feng Chengqian hoped it would not be someone else, because he did not want this ancient empire to take another wrong turn.

Compared to the decay of the interior, Beijing remained relatively prosperous, especially the majestic Forbidden City, which looked exactly as Feng Chengqian remembered. But now, it was the palace of the Qing Emperor; ordinary folk could not even approach, let alone buy a ticket to tour inside.

Feng Chengqian only glanced at it from afar, for his lodgings were far from the Forbidden City.

That night, Li Hongzhang did not host a banquet for Feng Chengqian. Word had it that something significant had happened in the south, and the Grand Secretary had spent the night discussing countermeasures with other ministers.

What had happened?

Feng Chengqian puzzled over it, unable to recall any major event at the dawn of 1889. The Sino-French War in Annam had ended four years earlier; the Sino-Japanese War was still five years away. This year ought to be peaceful, with nothing of historical consequence.

Could it be that Li Hongzhang was simply putting on airs?

Quite possible.

Feng Chengqian didn’t dwell on it. After days of travel, he needed rest.

That night, he slept soundly.

Early next morning, as dawn barely broke, Feng Chengqian rose from bed. Feeling the strain of recent days, he decided to increase his exercise.

After an hour of training, he was drenched in sweat.

After bathing, Li Hongzhang’s envoy arrived.

“Let him wait awhile longer—I haven’t had breakfast yet,” Feng Chengqian said to Schmidt, adopting a posture of authority. “Tell the kitchen to prepare more food; I have a good appetite today.”

Breakfast took him a full hour, when he usually finished in ten minutes.

By the time he arrived leisurely at the Grand Secretary’s residence, the sun was high in the sky.

As a result, his stomach was hardly hungry before lunch was served.

Staring at the sumptuous spread, Feng Chengqian had little appetite. His first meeting with Li Hongzhang was far from pleasant. Clearly, Li Hongzhang hadn’t spent the previous night in discussion—he was in excellent spirits. He had deliberately delayed, only inviting Feng Chengqian the next day.

Li Hongzhang’s airs were unmistakable—he looked down on Feng Chengqian.

If it had been someone else, say a British official, would Li Hongzhang dare act so arrogantly?

On second thought, Feng Chengqian realized the problem wasn’t with Li Hongzhang.

Although the Second German Empire was the leading power in Europe, its influence on the Qing was less than even a minor Portugal. The relationship between Empire and Qing was largely cooperative, not that of invader and victim. At least for now, the Empire had never participated in military actions against Qing, nor established treaty ports—let alone colonial concessions.

Besides, this diplomatic mission was mainly about selling arms to Qing.

Li Hongzhang’s lukewarm attitude was thus unsurprising.

Adjusting his mindset, Feng Chengqian began to treat the old man before him with greater seriousness, determined to extract as much silver as possible from his purse.