The elder, dressed in fine traditional clothing, seemed quite satisfied with everyone’s attitude. He gave a slight smile and said slowly, “They were arrested during the protest. It is impossible to pull them out directly. When someone does something wrong, they have to pay the price. No matter the reason, anyone who participated in that protest openly opposed the diplomatic corps. There must be punishment. But not everyone will lose their head. Aside from the organizers and key individuals involved in the incident, the rest are merely accomplices and their crimes are not punishable by death. A lot of people are involved this time, and the international community is watching closely. The diplomatic corps will set up an international tribunal for the trial. Before the trial ends, the best we can do is make arrangements so that their days inside are less difficult. The only thing we can influence is the location of imprisonment after sentencing. The victims in the embassy incident were Russians, so the place of imprisonment will very likely be in the Far East or in Siberia. Those are freezing wastelands, places where people rarely return alive. What we can do is choose a better location for them. When the situation cools down, we will find a way to bring them out.” Everyone was stunned at this answer. They all knew that getting someone out before the trial and getting someone out after the trial were two completely different things. In the first case, it was as if nothing had happened. After lying low for a while, the matter would eventually fade away. In the second case, it became a permanent political stain. In the Qing Dynasty, where foreign powers were feared like tigers, the government would never dare appoint a young man who marched with the Japanese and openly defied the great powers. No matter how capable he might be, his political future would be completely ruined. A young man in a blue robe spoke with a trembling voice, “Chairman Liu, is there really no other way? Once Decheng goes through an international tribunal, his future will be destroyed!” He had no choice. They were of the same clan, and they had gone to the protest together. Now he was safe while his cousin was in prison. Wang Deran could not face his family at all. Worse, he might even be suspected of having ulterior motives, of deliberately harming his cousin to seize the family’s political resources. As he spoke, Wang Deran had already knelt down. From childhood until now, he had never bowed so low to anyone, but at this moment he had no other choice. That kneeling gesture was both a plea for his cousin’s political future and a plea for his own. A man’s knees are worth gold, yet scholarly fervor often overpowers restraint. When Wang Deran knelt, several close friends followed. The remaining students saw there was no way out and, despite their reluctance, steeled themselves and knelt as well. This time, it was the elder who could no longer remain seated. Although in their homeland it was normal for a senior to accept the bows of younger people as a matter of tradition, they were in Japan. Influenced by European ideas, the younger generation here was fiercely opposed to kneeling as a form of ceremony. Chairman Liu had invited them with the intention of making early political investments and building friendships, not creating resentment. He quickly helped up the nearest youth with both hands and said with feigned alarm, “Everyone, please rise at once.” Seeing that they remained kneeling, Chairman Liu’s expression changed instantly as he said, “You will shorten my lifespan if you continue like this.” With that, he even made a motion as if he were about to kneel in return. Everyone was startled and rushed to help him up. The rules of Confucian etiquette ran deep. No one had forgotten the status under which they had come. Younger men bowing to an elder was proper. But if an elder bowed to his juniors, none of them would dare show their faces again. After a round of polite, exaggerated compliments, they all returned to their seats. The conversation returned to the central issue: saving their friend. Chairman Liu sighed helplessly and said, “Gentlemen, it is not that I am unwilling to help. I simply lack the power to do so. The Russian embassy incident is far too serious. Anyone involved cannot be rescued. You may not know this, but several high-ranking officials, including Japan’s Minister of Police, the Tokyo Police Chief, and the head of security in the diplomatic district, have already committed seppuku in their homes. To lessen their own responsibility, the Japanese government is on the brink of madness. At a time like this, anyone who approaches them will meet only misfortune. The only way to get someone out is if the diplomatic corps intervenes. We may have cordial relations with the embassies of various countries, but not to the extent that we can ask their envoys to take action.” It was not that they could not be persuaded. The real issue was that they were not worth the heavy cost. If the forces behind these people were stronger, or if their families were willing to spend a great deal, then the matter could certainly be negotiated. Asking the diplomatic corps to step in did not require all of the envoys to act. One or two would be enough. Achieving this could be considered both difficult and simple. The most direct and effective method was to spend money. Among the dozen or so envoys in the diplomatic corps, there were always a few who were greedy. The Chinese Association had long understood their personalities and preferences. The channels for offering gifts were already well established. They had not used the method of spending money because Wang Decheng was far from the only innocent bystander affected. In recent weeks, Chairman Liu had already encountered more than a dozen similar cases. Many people were dragged down by pure misfortune. In comparison, Wang Decheng almost deserved his fate. The Japanese were protesting against the diplomatic corps for violating their sovereignty. As someone unrelated to the matter, why would he insert himself into the situation? If he dared to participate in the demonstration, he should have been prepared to face the consequences. If they rescued someone who had brought trouble upon himself, then the others who were wrongfully implicated could not be left inside. A civil organization like the Chinese Association survived in Japan because of the support of its many Chinese members. What it relied on was fairness in action and the ability to help people solve their problems at critical moments. Getting one person out and getting a group out were completely different matters. If they really did that, the network of connections the Chinese Association had built over the years would be exhausted in one stroke. Besides, this was only the beginning. As the investigation into the Russian embassy incident continued, no one knew how many more people would be caught up in the chaos. If they used up all their connections now, there would be nothing left for the future. They could not rely solely on throwing money at the problem, and the Chinese Association was not wealthy enough to burn cash endlessly. To become vice chairman of the Chinese Association, to handle daily affairs, and to earn broad recognition from the Chinese community, Chairman Liu was naturally no ordinary figure. He was willing to help, but always within his limits. The powerful needed to be looked after, yet ordinary people could not be ignored either. The former brought benefits, while the latter brought reputation. It was precisely because he understood this balance that Chairman Liu, despite his modest background and not being the wealthiest, had become the leader of the Chinese community in Japan. As for the chairman of the Association, he spent most of his time in Southeast Asia and seldom even came to Japan, let alone concerned himself with its affairs. His greatest contribution was establishing connections between the Association and the various embassies, thereby shielding them from pressure from the Japanese government. After a moment of silence, Li Bo’an spoke, “Chairman Liu, could you introduce us to Ambassador Jose?” Clearly, he had already understood Chairman Liu’s intention. It was the old way of Chinese communication: speak only three parts of a matter. Those who understood the remaining seven parts needed no explanation, and those who did not understand did not need to. Compared with others, Chairman Liu had already been generous. Fearing the younger men might not grasp the hint, he practically spelled it out by suggesting they “seek out members of the diplomatic corps.” Although the Chinese Association played a role of neutrality and balance among all sides, it truly had only one real backing force. The same applied to rescuing someone. It might seem that one could talk to any minister of any embassy, but only a few truly held weight. If one wished to send gifts and seek help through connections, they needed to find the right person. Envoys from small countries might be willing, but their influence might not be enough to make a difference. Speaking with intelligent people made everything easier. They understood immediately. Deep down, Chairman Liu had already begun assessing them. Political investment required careful selection. Not everyone was worth investing in. For most people, a mere nodding acquaintance and some shared goodwill were enough. Those truly worth cultivating were always the capable ones. Only these sharp individuals could climb higher and go farther in government service. “The introduction is not a big problem, but you must make preparations first. You may already know that the Holy Roman Empire governs its officialdom with strict discipline. Sending money directly will not only fail to help but may even offend them. This is also an opportunity for you. If you can use this chance to build ties with the Holy Roman Empire, it will greatly benefit your future careers.” These were sincere words. If Li Bo’an had not reacted quickly enough and shown his potential, Chairman Liu would never have offered so many hints. In the early twentieth century, East Asia was still a battleground for the great powers. Even the closed Qing Dynasty could not resist the tide of the times. To do well in officialdom, maintaining good relations with the great powers had become a required skill. But even among the great powers there were differences. Befriending aggressive countries like Japan and Russia often invited harsh criticism, while cultivating ties with the Holy Roman Empire, which was not expanding into East Asia, was much safer. The Chinese were not fools. Everyone knew clearly which nations were aggressors and which were not. As for why the Holy Roman Empire did not expand eastward, opinions varied. Some believed that it was out of consideration for the feelings of the people of the Lanfang Autonomous Province, which was a major taxpayer. Each year, the taxes paid by the province accounted for forty percent of all fiscal revenue from Austrian Southeast Asia, and the best part was that this was pure profit. There were no administrative expenses. Other regions appeared to generate more income, but after deducting administrative costs, little remained, and some islands even required subsidies. A steady stream of increasing revenue was a true blessing, far better than gaining wealth through violent plunder. Both sides benefited. For several decades, the Lanfang Autonomous Province had remained very stable. If any issues arose, they were resolved internally. Unless the matter involved foreign diplomacy that required central intervention, the province never caused trouble for the central government. The Holy Roman Empire was at its peak, not in decline. Naturally, the central government would not do anything foolish to harm its own treasury. Another explanation claimed that the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire was fascinated by Eastern culture and developed a special attachment to it, preventing his officials from expanding eastward. Anyone who had visited the Palace of Vienna knew this much. The architecture and collections were filled with Eastern influences. As for whether such preferences influenced national policy, no one could say for certain. But in a monarchy, a ruler’s personal tastes did indeed shape state decisions. Whatever the truth was, the fact that they never tried to invade was undoubtedly a blessing. Compared with those who constantly dreamed of conquering their country, a great power that never sought to invade them naturally appeared far more friendly. In this context, not only diplomatic relations improved, but public sentiment also softened. Although not everyone felt goodwill, at least there was no hatred. … The case involving the Russian embassy was still fermenting, and Prince Wilhelm, stationed in the Governor’s Office in Southeast Asia, found himself trapped in endless trouble. If Southeast Asia were treated simply as a colony that survived by relying on the Holy Roman Empire, then none of these issues would matter. Unfortunately, the situation had already changed. If it was to become an independent state, many problems now had to be resolved. In a sense, this was the father dividing his inheritance. The eldest son inherited the family business and took the largest share. As the second son, he also received a generous portion, but it still required careful development. Any enterprise needed talent to grow, and the one thing colonies lacked most was talent. Aside from military personnel who could fight, Austrian Southeast Asia lacked people in every field, including medicine, education, and industry. Although Prince Wilhelm had already recruited a large group of followers from the homeland before coming, they were still nothing more than a drop in the bucket for the vast Southeast Asia region. High-tech industries were out of the question. Simply improving fundamental industries and building basic infrastructure would be enough to occupy Wilhelm for the rest of his life. The region’s foundations were far too weak to take any shortcuts. Even Lanfang, the most developed area, happened to be an autonomous province. Issues involving autonomy were taken extremely seriously in the Holy Roman Empire. There were still many autonomous cities and states within the empire, and touching any of them would be a major political problem. Even though Wilhelm was a prince, if he interfered with such a sensitive issue, the only outcome would be to obediently return home and live as a useless noble with no future to speak of. Of course, Wilhelm himself had never thought about taking control of the Lanfang Autonomous Province. The reason was simple. Austrian Southeast Asia was far too vast. The central government would never agree to hand all of it over to him. Even the areas currently under the Governor’s direct administration might be divided again in the future. The central government would keep only a few major cities as strategic points, while the rest would all become autonomous states. Wilhelm did not feel dissatisfied with this arrangement. Even if the region was eventually divided, it would not matter. In the end, the benefits would never fall into the hands of outsiders. They would either go to his own sons or to his nephews. The reason it had not been divided yet was because the third generation of the Habsburg dynasty was still too young to handle such responsibilities. Rubbing his forehead, Governor Wilhelm ordered, “Send a telegram and ask how far the talent recruitment efforts back home have progressed.” At this point, Wilhelm finally understood why the noble lords back home were so eager to bring in people from the homeland. It was not because they had too much money to spend. Without people, nothing could get done. Take education as an example. The Holy Roman Empire had indeed implemented compulsory education for all citizens, but the word “all” applied only to its citizens. The homeland was fully covered under this system, but the colonies were not. Not even all white settlers had universal access to it. In the colonies, those who received compulsory education were local migrants from the homeland. Foreign migrants had to make certain contributions before they were eligible for those welfare benefits. As for the indigenous people, they were considered lucky simply not to have been wiped out. If they were still around, it was only because the lord in charge happened to have a conscience. This was also a distinctive feature of the Holy Roman Empire. Every colony had a group of minor lords who assisted the colonial administration in governing the local areas. In theory, if Wilhelm did not want to get involved, he could simply rule passively. Even without the Governor’s Office, the lower levels of government would continue functioning on their own. Of course, racial conflict in Southeast Asia was not particularly serious. Today, the largest portion of the population was already of mixed ancestry. People truly carried each other’s blood. Talking about strict racial categories at this point would be meaningless. With an orderly society and strong familial ties woven through generations, ethnic identity had already become much less pronounced. Of course, this was also because Austrian Southeast Asia did not have a large population to begin with. When colonization started, there were only about three to four million people living there. If it had been a densely populated place like the Philippines or the island of Java, it would not have been possible to handle things in this manner. In the original timeline, the Spaniards had spent more than a hundred years trying to absorb the Philippines, yet they never truly succeeded. The main reason was that the local population was too large while Spanish settlers were too few. The population in the districts directly administered by the Governor’s Office of Austrian Southeast Asia did not grow quickly, but neighboring Lanfang experienced an explosion. From an initial four to five hundred thousand people, the population swelled to nearly ten million today, a twentyfold increase in forty years. In fact, this was already the result of the Qing Dynasty intentionally placing limits on Lanfang’s growth, since they feared that a stronger Lanfang might develop ambitions toward the mainland. Otherwise, the population there might have grown even more dramatically. After personally witnessing the prosperity of Southeast Asia, Wilhelm became even more determined to develop the region. Lanfang was a ready-made example. Borneo (Kalimantan), where it stood, did not have particularly good natural conditions at first. In the region, it certainly would not have ranked among the best locations. With a tropical rainforest climate near the equator, the region was hot and humid. Aside from a few fertile locations, most areas had poor soil, and the mineral resources were nothing special. Yet a place that was practically equated with poor land ended up becoming the wealthiest region in Southeast Asia, even surpassing Java, which had the most fertile soil. The reason naturally lay in the people. Poor land is always a relative concept. Compared to much of the land in the northwestern regions of the Qing Dynasty, Borneo was still rich soil. If the land lacked natural fertility, fertilizer could make up for it. Conveniently, the Holy Roman Empire controlled several guano islands, which provided the foundation for the agricultural development of Borneo. Seasonal rainfall varied greatly, and water shortages during the dry season could be solved by building reservoirs. As long as there was determination, even without machinery, everything could still be dug out by hand. Through sheer hard work, Borneo was developed. With such a successful example in front of him, Wilhelm naturally had confidence in developing other regions as well. In agriculture, the Holy Roman Empire was the leader of the era. Not only was its agricultural technology the best in the world, its agricultural infrastructure was also unmatched. If all of the empire’s water projects and infrastructure were added together, their scale and number would surpass those of every other country combined. In truth, agriculture in Southeast Asia did not require much concern. As long as there was enough food to eat, nothing more was needed. There was no hope for exporting large volumes. In the Far East, Japan was the only real buyer, and it was a poor one. It was impossible to get rich through agriculture. To truly prosper, one had to rely on industry, especially light industry, which could produce results quickly. None of this was possible without talent. To be honest, Wilhelm did not have high expectations for domestic recruitment. Too many forces were trying to poach talent. The talent shortage in his governed domain was not a matter of a few hundred or a few thousand people. Recruitment alone would never solve it. To truly address the issue, the best solution was to cultivate talent locally. Primary and secondary schools were manageable. With some effort, they could always be established. The real challenge was higher education. Real experts and professors were never short on work. They already lived very comfortably in the homeland. Why would they endure hardship in a colonial territory?
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