In the autumn of the 13th year of the Republic of China, the wind in Tianjin Wei was filled with the sweet fragrance of locust flowers, and was also mixed with the soot and war atmosphere of Haihe Wharf. When Shen Jinghong opened his eyes, the world outside the carved curtain was no longer the military camp he was familiar with - this was an era when "the king's flag changed on the city wall". The warlord's horse hoofs crushed the farmers' chickens and dogs, and the ships of the great powers were showing off on the river. Even the title of "Guardian Envoy" was like a piece of water-soaked cake. It looked bright, but was full of chaff when pinched.
He became the Beiyang Marshal, and what he inherited was a mess: his father had just died, the morale of the army was slack, Li Mo and his ilk were secretly smearing foreign funds, and Wu Lei and his ilk were wavering; the Hanyang products in the armory were rusty, the deficit in the financial book was dazzlingly red, and the soldiers were owed two months of military pay, and their eyes had long lost their spirit. Others were waiting to see this "little boy" stumble, saying that this troubled world is like a quagmire, and anyone who comes in will fall into it.
But he didn't. The cold voice of the system is the spark in the dark night, and the modern military knowledge is the knife that cuts through the chaos. He wanted to improve military discipline and stop the evil trend of "oppressing the people"; he wanted to make up for the shortfall and let tax-evading merchants spit back the people's money; he wanted to make a living for Tianjin in the midst of the melee between Zhizhi and Fengcheng.
This is not a heroic legend, but a soldier with a modern soul. In the era when "you want to be a slave, but you can't", he insists on forging a sharp edge - starting from the bluestone road of Tianjin Wei, step by step, he wants to poke a light-transmitting hole in the broken mountains and rivers.
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