Chapter Fifty-Six: Opportunity and Risk

On June 24th, Feng Chengqian boarded the warship Crown Prince—previously named the Friedrich der Grosse—at the Wilhelmshaven Naval Base, embarking on his journey to Morocco. That very day, he sent a telegram to the gunboat Leopard, which was operating in the Mediterranean, ordering it to proceed at once to Agadir. Under the pretext of protecting the empire’s expatriates in Morocco, the ship was to seize control of that Atlantic port.

Accompanying Feng Chengqian was Admiral Tirpitz, who had returned to the empire in 1906. Thanks to his outstanding performance with the Far East Fleet and his use of the Russo-Japanese War to expand the empire’s influence in China, Tirpitz had been promoted to admiral upon his return. Although the Kaiser had not appointed him Chief of the Imperial Navy, it was only a matter of time before Tirpitz became the second most influential figure in the navy, subordinate only to Feng Chengqian, and his most capable aide.

After the warship left port, Feng Chengqian went up to the open deck. As was his custom, Tirpitz had arranged for breakfast to be served there instead of in the cramped officers’ mess.

“Has the Count ever considered…” Tirpitz began.

“Considered what?” Feng Chengqian set down his cutlery, sensing Tirpitz was hesitant to speak.

Tirpitz smiled. “I mean, have you ever thought about returning to China at the right moment, to carve out a new domain for yourself?”

“To return?” Feng Chengqian smiled as well. “For now, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Count, I don’t mean anything by it, only—”

“We hardly need to stand on ceremony with each other,” Feng Chengqian interrupted, taking a sip of water. “We’ve discussed this before. Though I have Eastern blood, as a subject of the empire, I have my duties. Until I fulfill my promise to His Majesty, I will not leave the empire.”

“And after that?”

Feng Chengqian exhaled slowly. “That depends on the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

“Why are you so full of questions today?” Feng Chengqian shook his head, smiling. “If the opportunity arises, I’ll go. If not, then a peaceful life isn’t so bad.”

“That opportunity is present now.”

“Is it?” Feng Chengqian’s brow twitched. Tirpitz’s remark brought to mind an issue that had troubled him for over a year: the Qing Dynasty had not fallen.

In the history Feng Chengqian knew, the Qing Dynasty was supposed to collapse in 1910, plunging the country into prolonged turmoil and warlord rule for over two decades. Yet the Qing had neither fallen nor had the Xinhai Revolution erupted. Clearly, history had changed—dramatically so.

Feng Chengqian had not ignored these shifts; on the contrary, he had always watched events closely, albeit discreetly, never voicing his doubts to anyone. What puzzled him even more was the absence of the historical figures he knew. Sun Wen, for example, had not gone to Japan, had not become the leader of the Revolutionary Alliance, nor had such an organization, dedicated to overthrowing the Qing, even appeared.

While this surprised him, Feng Chengqian did not find it strange. History had already diverged in 1888, and the resulting butterfly effect could easily render many once-prominent figures obscure. He realized that he could no longer accurately predict what was to come.

“Count…” Tirpitz’s voice cut through his reverie.

“Yes?” Feng Chengqian started, realizing he had been lost in thought.

“As far as I know, the Qing won’t last much longer.”

“And why is that?”

“Just a personal hunch.”

“General, you’re not the type to make judgments based on intuition.”

Tirpitz smiled. “Even before I returned, China’s situation was unstable. When Field Marshal von Waldersee led his troops into Beijing and the Qing royal family fled en masse, it signaled the dynasty’s doom. The Russo-Japanese War further exposed the regime’s nature to all patriotic Chinese. What I learned in my years there is that, though the rulers are rotten, the nation is never short of great men. Once the time is ripe, that ancient Eastern land will be reborn in fire.”

“A people who can sustain civilization for thousands of years will not perish easily.”

“Precisely my point,” Tirpitz replied.

Feng Chengqian was momentarily at a loss, not quite grasping Tirpitz’s meaning.

“I believe this is the moment for you to act,” Tirpitz continued after a pause. “With the right leadership and some support, you could found a new regime. And you are capable of both.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“It’s not flattery, but fact. You have the necessary leadership, and your ties to companies like Krupp are extraordinary.”

Feng Chengqian merely smiled, declining to respond.

“Of course, this would also greatly benefit the empire.”

“Would it?” Feng Chengqian replied. Tirpitz, undeterred, pressed on. “Though the Far East is half a world away, its affairs profoundly impact the global balance. Unfortunately, Japan, the only true power in the region, has aligned with Britain. However great its ambitions, Japan will not long remain a junior partner, nor willingly play a subservient role. Sooner or later, like us, they will challenge the established empires. But in the short term, especially before they grow strong, Japan will not confront Britain.”

“You’re right. Once Japan is powerful, Britain won’t be its only target.”

“That is secondary. The key is, we have no other options in the Far East.”

“So you mean…”

“If the Qing falls and a new regime arises, and we can win its allegiance, then we can rival Britain, Russia, France, and America in the region—perhaps even drive them out altogether. And as I see it, you’re the only one capable of achieving that.”

“General, you overestimate my abilities.”

“Count, Baron Richthofen tells me you’ve kept a close eye on the Far East, discreetly monitoring the Qing’s fate. If you wished, you could petition His Majesty. Given your relationship with him…”

“I’ll consider it,” Feng Chengqian replied, “but not now.”

“So you mean…”

“You see things quite clearly, General, so there’s no need to spell it out,” Feng Chengqian said, aware Tirpitz was impossible to deceive. “The Qing’s fall is indeed an opportunity, for both myself and the empire. But the most urgent matter now is the challenge and threat facing the empire in Europe. If we shift our focus east, unpredictable consequences will follow. As you know, Britain, France, and Russia are already allied; any move we make will trigger a chain reaction. For now, it’s best not to propose this to His Majesty. Once we’ve dealt with the Moroccan affair, it won’t be too late to raise the matter.”

Tirpitz nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right, Count. In fact, investing in China would yield immense returns.”

“Oh?”

“After the Qing falls, there will surely be chaos—lasting no short time. With minimal investment, we could support a powerful local force, which could then seize the central government, allowing us to control the entire Far East. All the empire need supply is arms and materiel.”

“That simple?”

“If necessary, we could bolster the Far East Fleet.”

Feng Chengqian laughed. “If it were truly that simple, we could sleep easy. The reality is, if we act, Britain, France, Russia, America, and Japan will all counter us. Even a proxy war would require considerable investment on our part.”

“Well…”

“Of course, it’s better than directly fighting the other great powers. The crux, though, is whether the regime we support would heed us.”

“That is crucial, but you needn’t worry, Count.”

“Oh?”

“Without munitions, how could they wage war?”

Feng Chengqian paused, then understood Tirpitz’s meaning.

“In any case, I see it as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Indeed. I promise I will give your suggestion serious thought.”

Feng Chengqian let the matter drop, knowing Tirpitz oversimplified the issue and overestimated the potential gains. In five or even ten years, a European war could break out. Even if the Qing fell this year, civil strife would last more than a decade. Thus, when the war in Europe erupted, that ancient land would still be far from reunified. Clearly, this would not help the empire win a European war, but instead would only drain its resources. If the German Empire lost the war, no matter who controlled China, Feng Chengqian’s ambitions would come to nothing.

This was, in fact, what worried him most. For that reason, he had never suggested intervention in China to the Kaiser, preferring to wait and watch.

As for when to act, Feng Chengqian had yet to decide.