Chen Ke supporting Yuan Shikai? Both Song Jiaoren and Kita Ikki were stunned by Hu Hanmin's assessment.

Rumors of private deals between the People's Party and Beiyang were circulating everywhere domestically, but until now, such news had mostly come from supporters of the Manchu Qing. The reports claimed that once the two sides reached a decision and Yuan Shikai overthrew the Manchu Qing, the People's Party would support Yuan Shikai as the Great President. Other revolutionary parties had previously dismissed this. After all, opposing the Qing was the current priority; whether Yuan Shikai or someone else became the Great President after the Qing were overthrown was something that could be discussed later.

The People's Party had fought a series of fierce battles with the Manchu Qing, even annihilating the Beiyang Third Division, which was sufficient proof of its firm anti-Qing stance. Furthermore, their relationship with Beiyang was by no means harmonious. Thus, Hu Hanmin’s claim that Chen Ke would support Yuan Shikai truly took both men by surprise.

"Hmph! Who benefits most from provincial autonomy?" Hu Hanmin asked.

"Yuan Shikai, naturally," Song Jiaoren replied.

"And who is second in line for those benefits?" Hu Hanmin continued.

Kita Ikki didn't grasp it immediately, but Song Jiaoren's expression darkened instantly. Under provincial autonomy, whoever had the largest territory and the firmest control over it would be the most advantaged. The one ranked second, beyond any doubt, was the People's Party, which currently sat upon four provinces.

Hu Hanmin’s face wore a sneer. "Dunchu, you and I pursue democracy by relying either on revolutionary youth or local gentry. In Chen Wenqing's eyes, only those *he* calls revolutionary youth actually are. As for the local gentry, Chen Wenqing intends to uproot them entirely. What kind of revolution is this? Leaving the Manchu Qing alone to go around seizing land locally and eliminating those who disagree. Who would believe Chen Wenqing hasn't cut a private deal with Yuan Shikai! There’s no smoke without fire; the rumors about Chen Wenqing and Yuan Shikai colluding must be true."

Song Jiaoren’s face was grim; Hu Hanmin had indeed moved him. Beyond the rumors of collusion, from a practical standpoint, there was a deep "blood relation" between the People's Party and Beiyang. Several prominent leaders within the People's Party were mostly of Beiyang origin. Yan Fu himself was a Beiyang general; Chen Ke himself, as a Henan native, was a fellow provincial of Yuan Shikai and a disciple of Yan Fu. Chen Ke's wife had been introduced through Yuan Shikai's matchmaking. As for the current leader of Huaihai Province, Shang Yuan, he was also of Beiyang origin. That such a group of people had raised the banner of rebellion was itself quite surprising.

Seeing that Song Jiaoren’s expression had completely changed, Hu Hanmin smiled. "Dunchu, you are a simple man and too trusting. Let's put aside whether the rumors are true or false for a moment. Chen Ke said with his own mouth that he plans to conscript 600,000 troops; Mr. Kita Ikki can testify to that. With an army of 600,000, it is absolutely enough to carry out the revolution. When we see Chen Ke this afternoon, we will present your proposal. If Chen Ke agrees, I won’t say another word—I’ll be the first to kowtow and apologize to him. Moreover, since the Tongmenghui has no military strength to speak of, we won’t ask for any official positions; we’ll just follow Chen Wenqing and fight to the death at his beck and call. What do you think, Dunchu?"

There was no need to explicitly state the assumption that Chen Ke would refuse. If Chen Ke refused, it would prove that the private agreement was real. Song Jiaoren fully understood what Hu Hanmin left unsaid. The People's Party, as a revolutionary party, revealed too many oddities; they emphasized practice over words, and their actions always preceded their external outreach. Furthermore, the firmness and decisiveness of the People's Party’s actions were unlike anything Song Jiaoren had ever seen.

It was normal for the countryside to remain unchanged for decades. Song Jiaoren often missed his mother; while campaigning in Hunan, he had returned home once, and his hometown was exactly as he remembered it. But Song Jiaoren had been to the base area, and compared to two years ago, the changes in the rural areas along the way were earth-shattering: vast groves of mulberry and bamboo, large tracts of newly leveled farmland, and irrigation canals crisscrossing between them. This far exceeded Song Jiaoren's imagination.

Revolutionaries who have never practiced believe that with a wave of the hand, the revolution will succeed, and once it does, China will undergo a massive transformation. Only revolutionaries who have personally practiced know how much arduous effort is required for such changes. Never mind such earth-shattering changes in the countryside; even collecting a single tax from a village can result in loss of life. In this regard, the Huaxing Society and its enemies both had blood on their hands. Despite shouting for revolution and opposing the old system, the Huaxing Society had no choice but to maintain the gentry system of the old era, even utilizing the same tax collectors.

Song Jiaoren, who had deeply experienced how difficult it was to govern a locality, could fully imagine the difficult situation the People's Party currently faced. Cooperation with Yuan Shikai was very possible.

However, Hu Hanmin had more than one accusation against the People's Party. "Brother Dunchu, have you considered another matter? If Chen Ke and Yuan Shikai have reached an agreement, who exactly does he intend to use those 600,000 troops against?"

This accusation was even more dangerous. This time, even Kita Ikki, who had been mostly silent, changed his expression. If the People's Party intended to fish in troubled waters, they would certainly intervene in regions still in chaos, and Hunan was undoubtedly the best choice. After seizing Hunan, the People's Party would likely not allow the Hunan Huaxing Society to remain as the leaders of the province.

"Brother Hanmin worries too much." Song Jiaoren’s expression returned to normal. "Since it is a revolution, why distinguish between us? If the People's Party can sweep away the warlords in Hunan, what does it matter if we let them take charge?"

"You..." Hu Hanmin never expected Song Jiaoren to display such a magnanimous spirit at this moment, which made it difficult to say anything else. Just as he was about to speak, Song Jiaoren waved his hand. "You and I are merely speculating. Perhaps Chen Ke will agree to the plan to unite all revolutionary parties."

Seeing Song Jiaoren’s attitude, Hu Hanmin chose to wait for the time being. As a Japanese revolutionary youth, Kita Ikki had seen such scenes many times. Passionate revolutionary discussions could turn into tense standoffs in an instant; people gathered for cooperation only to end in complete division. Japanese revolutionary youth were no different from Chinese revolutionary youth. Kita Ikki was twenty-eight this year; he knew very well that any revolutionary ideal would meet such a result once it encountered real interests.

While Hu Hanmin was out using the latrine, Kita Ikki took the opportunity to say, "Brother Dunchu, you cannot entirely believe Hu Hanmin's words."

The Tongmenghui led by Sun Yat-sen was now actually at a crisis point. Their sources of funding were cut off, and the Japanese government, which had once been quite polite to Sun Yat-sen, no longer supported him. As far as Kita Ikki knew, the Japanese government had signed several documents with Sun Yat-sen. At that time, there were people in Japan who hoped Sun Yat-sen could return to China to take charge amidst the chaos. But the situation did not evolve into a full-scale civil war, and Britain had clearly stated to Japan that it would not allow Japan to interfere in Chinese affairs—particularly emphasizing that it would not allow Japan to interfere in the affairs of the Yangtze River basin. Under these pressures, the Japanese government had to temporarily downgrade its relationship with Sun Yat-sen. At this time, Sun Yat-sen needed a massive amount of support, regardless of which side it came from.

Kita Ikki was about to explain in detail when he saw Song Jiaoren smile normally. "No need to say more; I can probably guess. There are some things Mr. Sun has no choice in."

Since Song Jiaoren was already so perceptive, Kita Ikki didn't need to say anything else useless. He produced Sun Yat-sen's manuscript of the *Three People's Principles* and handed it to Song Jiaoren. "This is the result of Mr. Sun's painstaking research."

When Hu Hanmin returned, he saw Song Jiaoren buried in the *Three People's Principles* manuscript, which made him feel much happier. Chen Ke's coldness and criticism toward the Three People's Principles had deeply wounded Hu Hanmin. This set of proposals was the true lifeblood of the Tongmenghui. Everyone had discussed, analyzed, and negotiated over every aspect repeatedly before this complete theory was formed. Yet Chen Ke had treated it like a worn-out shoe.

"Dunchu, what do you think?" Hu Hanmin asked quickly.

"I’ve just started; I haven't finished reading," Song Jiaoren replied.

Hearing that Song Jiaoren’s voice was not enthusiastic, Hu Hanmin immediately became unhappy. The split of the Tongmenghui was not solely due to Chen Ke's appearance; Hu Hanmin knew very well that even without the People's Party, the Tongmenghui would still have split. Or rather, the Tongmenghui had never been a united political organization.

Among the three major forces in the Tongmenghui, Sun Yat-sen's faction wanted to follow the route of a strong American president. Aside from being elected, the American president wielded power no less than that of a monarch in any monarchy. But this led to a problem: Sun Wen hoped he could sit in that position of great power, so he always, intentionally or unintentionally, avoided events that could lead to death. This naturally caused growing friction with practical workers like Tao Chengzhang of the Guangfu Society.

The Guangfu Society followed the route of independent farmers and the local gentry. Because the Manchu Qing lost every battle, they transferred their financial crisis directly onto taxes. Coupled with the darkness of officialdom, intellectuals from independent farmer and gentry backgrounds were the first to be unable to bear such great economic and political pressure and began to seek rebellion. This also led to the early divide between cultural celebrities like Cai Yuanpei and grassroots practical workers like Tao Chengzhang.

As for Song Jiaoren, he was quite different. Song Jiaoren hoped China would emulate France and take the path of parliamentary politics. Whether it was Yuan Shikai's bureaucratic "responsible cabinet" system, Sun Yat-sen's presidential system, or the anarchist-style feudal secret societies of the Guangfu Society from the perspective of independent farmers, they all gave Song Jiaoren some ideas. But he was also very different from them.

Song Jiaoren truly hoped to promote thorough party politics; it didn't matter who finally took office, as long as the power was in the hands of the parliament. It wouldn't matter to the country if a cat or a dog became president; Song Jiaoren didn't care. What he most desired was the "party-ization" of politics on a national scale.

These three forces, which were originally as different as a horse's head and a donkey's behind, could never have gotten along, but because they shared the common great enemy of the Manchu Qing, they were forced to huddle together for warmth.

The first to split off were the grassroots representatives of the Guangfu Society, led by Tao Chengzhang, who attributed the pressure borne by independent farmers and gentry to foreigners. Sun Yat-sen's cooperation with foreigners deeply provoked Tao Chengzhang and others. Furthermore, to launch a revolution, Tao Chengzhang needed money. The Sun Yat-sen faction within the Tongmenghui had a "Shanghai style"—boastful and getting money everywhere through bluffing. Yet this money was never used to support the grassroots rebellion. A split was unavoidable.

Ever since the Manchu Qing began to suffer heavy blows, Huang Xing of the Hunan Huaxing Society—a man of absolute action—saw an opportunity, and Song Jiaoren also lost faith in Sun Yat-sen. They chose to return to Hunan to develop.

With the Manchu Qing about to collapse, the divisions among the three forces were not closing but growing wider. From Song Jiaoren's reply just now, it was obvious he wasn't interested in Sun Yat-sen's Three People's Principles.

No matter how dissatisfied he was, Hu Hanmin would not express it directly. Sun Yat-sen might not say it, but the remnants of the Tongmenghui loyal to him all hated the People's Party to the bone. Without the People's Party, the Tongmenghui would undoubtedly be at the crest of the revolutionary wave right now. But with the rise of the People's Party, the possibility of the Tongmenghui achieving a parliamentary presidential system was becoming smaller and smaller.

Chen Ke absolutely refused to accept any of Sun Yat-sen's proposals and firmly drew a line between himself and Sun Yat-sen. Under the balance of power between the People's Party and Beiyang, the various provinces of China had actually maintained a basic stability. Coupled with the fact that the Manchu Qing was about to collapse and reform was imminent, the Tongmenghui branches everywhere were watching from the sidelines, and no one was willing to participate in armed actions to completely overthrow the existing system. This made Sun Yat-sen's hopes of taking office more and more remote.

Hu Hanmin sat back down on his stool, watching Song Jiaoren slowly flip through the work on the Three People's Principles. Hu Hanmin suddenly wished that Chen Ke and Song Jiaoren would both drop dead of a sudden illness. At this stage, only total chaos would give Sun Yat-sen an opportunity.

Perhaps Hu Hanmin's brainwave power was too low, as Chen Ke did not suffer a sudden illness. On the contrary, Chen Ke was in high spirits, focused on discussing conscription work with his People's Party comrades. After the first basic plan was sent to each province, they had all come up with their own versions. The Central Committee was now conducting a summary discussion.

"Messaging work is very important, but the treatment of military families must absolutely not be considered as an incentive for enlistment. Instead, we must make everyone understand that these benefits for military families are only to resolve everyone's worries about home, so that comrades can feel at ease when they come out to serve," Chen Ke lectured.

Military families referred to immediate family members. If married, it meant the soldier's wife; if unmarried, it referred to the soldier's parents. At this stage, the benefits for military families could not be considered low. First of all, the land of rural military families would not be taken back but would be temporarily managed by their immediate relatives. The government was obligated to help the families with farming. Furthermore, rural military families did not have to pay that thirty percent tax. The benefits for military families over three years were equivalent to a net gain of 3,000 jin of grain.

In 1911, human life was fundamentally worthless. Never mind 3,000 jin of grain; 1,000 jin was enough for several lives. Therefore, the local outreach departments all wanted to put these substantial benefits at the forefront.

Chen Ke firmly opposed this approach. "Serving is the duty of the people, and providing good treatment for military families is the duty of the state. These are two completely different things. We must absolutely not link the two. Once they are linked, our army will not be an army of the people, but an army of mercenaries. This is a fundamental issue of principle; we must not get it wrong."

"We don't think that way, but the people might not necessarily think the same," Zhang Yu said.

"That is exactly why we must emphasize the role of messaging! Messaging is about explaining things clearly, allowing the masses to understand these complex matters. Messaging work is not simply reading from a script; it is a task that requires genuine understanding and mastery," Chen Ke replied.

The comrades from the Party Central Committee and Anhui responsible for conscription work listened silently. Chen Ke's words were correct, but as for exactly how to do it, everyone felt a bit apprehensive.

"First, let our own comrades understand this matter. This is the most important task at hand. If our own comrades aren't clear, how can they possibly explain it to others?"

Many comrades breathed a sigh of relief. If they first explained it clearly to their own comrades, it would be much easier. Zhang Yu replied, "I will try to write an internal document first."

"Yes, you must explain the issue thoroughly. If we ourselves harbor the intention of 'buying lives,' then conscription work will never get on the right track. This major conscription drive is not just about raising an army; it is also a messaging campaign to make the broad masses accept the correct concept of the duties of the state and the people, and to establish the concept of immediate family members as we have defined it. Even if conscription is a bit slower, it doesn't matter. As long as the correct concepts can be properly promoted, we needn't fear anything else."

After discussion, many key messaging points were eventually established. The comrades responsible for conscription work discovered that, never mind the comrades at the local level or the broad masses, even among the comrades in the Central Committee and the Anhui Provincial Committee, there were plenty who held incorrect concepts. Fortunately, working under Chen Ke had this one benefit: Chen Ke was never afraid of comrades having wrong ideas, and even less afraid of comrades proposing their own views. Chen Ke only feared comrades not telling the truth or not saying what was in their hearts.

During the discussion, various conflicting ideas were listed one by one and discussed specifically. It took more than four hours before the first high-level conscription training outline was considered complete.

"Everyone go back and continue your work. We will continue the discussion tomorrow," Chen Ke said. This kind of work required extremely high standards for basic theory. If one could not correctly grasp concepts such as rights, power, and duty, once several different issues were unpacked, following several lines of thought to their extension, when those thoughts converged, one would see extremely clear conflicts in logic and theory.

At this stage, there were not many comrades in the Party who could follow the same theory across most issues. Therefore, Chen Ke had to personally oversee the process.

In truth, Chen Ke himself had not fully reached the state mentioned by Xunzi: "Under heaven there are no two ways; the sage has no two hearts." The complexity and cruelty of the revolutionary situation required more flexible means when facing various problems.

Take, for example, Song Jiaoren and Hu Hanmin, who were waiting outside to meet Chen Ke. Even if the two "did not hesitate to speculate about Chen Ke with the worst of intentions," they did not realize Chen Ke's true "wickedness."

Regarding these chaotic forces, Chen Ke neither wanted to eliminate them nor support them. In his view, these forces were nothing more than the best actors; they would demonstrate the errors of various paths to the fullest. The comrades of the People's Party had little experience, which was their greatest current flaw. Relying only on lectures was useless, and relying only on theoretical research was equally useless. Only after seeing the actual situation with their own eyes would the comrades believe that some paths are absolutely dead ends.

Ever since the Yuewang Society had staged those several farces, there was no longer any identification with secret societies within the People's Party. The impact on the Jiangsu silk industry had further allowed the People's Party comrades to understand the decisive role of large-scale, usable "land means of production" in large-scale industry and the production of bulk commodities. Every comparison reinforced the comrades' deeper understanding of the People's Party's policies. Simply knowing that Chairman Chen was correct was meaningless; knowing exactly *how* Chairman Chen was correct was the best way for comrades to continue moving forward.

Therefore, from a political perspective, Chen Ke did not even view Yuan Shikai, Sun Wen, Hu Hanmin, Song Jiaoren, and Kita Ikki as human beings, but rather as "lab rats" for political experiments. It was precisely by relying on these "sacrifices" offered upon the altar of history that the correct path for the future could be pointed out. In this regard, Chen Ke never had the slightest bit of pity.