The battle, a brutal, one-sided slaughter, was over in less than an hour. The thunder of the great guns faded, replaced by an eerie, unsettling silence broken only by the crackle of flames and the distant, desperate cries of drowning men. The Yellow Sea, once a tranquil grey, was now a hellish tableau of devastation. Black smoke billowed from the burning hulks of several Japanese transports, while others had vanished completely, leaving behind only vast, iridescent oil slicks and fields of floating wreckage. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Japanese soldiers struggled in the cold water, clinging to shattered pieces of their ships.
The Beiyang Fleet, almost entirely unscathed, circled the grim scene. Their dragon flags snapped proudly in the wind, stark symbols of dominance against the smoky sky. On the bridge of the Dingyuan, a young lieutenant, his face pale and his eyes wide with horror, watched the struggling men in the water.
"Admiral…" he began, his voice trembling slightly. "Are we… are we not going to launch the boats? We could rescue hundreds…"
Admiral Ding Ruchang, who felt as though he had aged a decade in the last hour, turned a stony gaze upon the young officer. "Rescue them?" he said, his voice heavy and flat. "So they can be returned to Japan, re-armed, and sent back to kill our soldiers in Korea? No."
He swept his arm out, gesturing toward the burning sea. "We are not here to rescue our enemies. We are here to send a message. A message to Tokyo. A message to London, to Berlin, to Washington. A message to the entire world." He paused, his voice dropping to a grim whisper. "This is what happens when you mistake the Great Qing for a sleeping dog. This is the price for arrogance. Let them watch their soldiers drown. Let their surviving cruisers, who even now are fleeing back to their shores, carry this tale home."
He turned to his flag captain, his face a mask of grim duty. "Signal the fleet. Mission accomplished. Set course for Weihaiwei. We are going home." The great battleships and their escorts turned with ponderous grace, leaving the wreckage and the dying in their wake.
The news traveled faster than any ship, flying across the new telegraph wires that crisscrossed northern China. In his study in the Forbidden City, Qin Shi Huang stood before his great world map, calmly practicing calligraphy on a long scroll. Prince Gong stood nearby, pacing nervously, the tension radiating from him. An aide entered, his steps hurried, and presented a flimsy telegraph paper to the Emperor with a trembling hand.
QSH placed his brush down with deliberate care, showing no emotion. He took the paper and read the decoded message from Li Hongzhang, who had been monitoring events from the naval base at Weihaiwei.
His face remained impassive as he read aloud, his young voice calm and clear. "'Admiral Ding has engaged the Japanese transport fleet off Pungdo Island. Nine of twelve transports confirmed sunk. The remaining three are heavily damaged and presumed lost. An estimated six thousand enemy troops, including their command staff, are lost to the sea. The escorting Japanese cruisers arrived too late to engage and have retreated at high speed towards Japan. Our fleet suffered only minor damage to the cruisers Jiyuan and Guangyi. The invasion of Korea has been averted. The Beiyang Fleet returns victorious.'"
Prince Gong could not contain himself. A great, explosive sigh of relief and elation escaped him. "A complete victory!" he exclaimed, his face breaking into a wide grin. "An absolute, total triumph! Your Majesty, this is a miracle! Our navy has crushed them! This will silence all our critics!"
QSH carefully folded the telegraph paper. He was not celebrating. He was a master of a much larger game, and this battle, however decisive, was merely an opening move. The war was not over; it had just taken on a new shape.
"It is not a triumph until the world agrees that it is a triumph," he said coolly, turning from the map to face his overjoyed regent. "A battle is won with ships and guns, Prince Gong. A war is won with ink and words. The Japanese will scream to the world that we ambushed them, that we are pirates and savages. We must tell the story first, and we must tell it better."
He turned to a waiting scribe. "Take this down. An Imperial Edict, to be distributed immediately to every foreign legation in Beijing. It is also to be telegraphed to our embassies in London, Berlin, Paris, and Washington. They will ensure it is in the hands of the major newspapers by morning."
He began to dictate, his voice taking on a tone of profound, sorrowful gravitas. It was the voice of the Righteous Protector he had performed for the court.
"'To the nations of the world, greetings from the throne of the Great Qing Empire. It is with a heavy heart that we must report a tragic incident in the waters off our tributary state of Korea. Our fleet, engaged in a peaceful patrol to ensure the stability of the region at the request of its king, encountered a large, unannounced Japanese military fleet. This fleet was clearly engaged in an illegal and clandestine attempt to land an invasion force, in flagrant violation of the Treaty of Tianjin.'"
He paused, letting the scribe's brush catch up. "'In accordance with civilized norms, our admiral signaled the Japanese commander, offering them the chance to stand down and surrender their vessels to avoid bloodshed. To our profound regret, the Japanese fleet refused to reply and instead undertook hostile maneuvers, attempting to use their transports to screen an attack. Left with no other choice and with our own ships in peril, we were forced to defend the peace of the region. The ensuing battle was brief and tragic.'"
His voice was a masterpiece of feigned remorse. "'The Great Qing mourns the unnecessary loss of life, which is the direct and sole result of the Japanese government's reckless and dishonorable aggression. We pray that reason will prevail in Tokyo and that they will cease these hostile actions that threaten to plunge our peaceful region of the world into a needless war.'"
He finished dictating. Prince Gong stared at him, utterly dumbfounded by the sheer, brilliant mendacity of the statement. It was a perfect piece of propaganda, casting them as the victims and the Japanese as the aggressors, all while technically not lying about the sequence of events.
"Now," QSH said, his voice returning to its normal, sharp tone. "We press the advantage. Prince Gong, your government will immediately deliver a formal diplomatic protest to the Japanese ambassador. Demand a full apology for this blatant act of war. Demand they pay reparations for the cost of our naval mobilization and for their violation of our shared treaty. Demand they publicly punish the ministers in their cabinet who authorized this foolish escapade."
Prince Gong's mind was catching up. "They will refuse, of course. Their pride would never allow it."
"Of course they will refuse," QSH said, a cold smile touching his lips. "And their refusal is what I require."
He turned back to the great world map, his eyes glittering with an ancient, predatory light. "Their refusal will give me the final justification I need in the eyes of the world." He reached for a small, exquisitely carved box on his desk. He opened it and took out a miniature black dragon, carved from obsidian. "Then, Prince Gong," he said softly, "I will formally declare war. Not a defensive action to protect a tributary. A full, punitive war. To punish an aggressor who has broken a sacred treaty and threatened the peace of our realm. The first battle has been won. But the war… the war has only just begun."
He reached up and placed the small, black dragon marker on Pungdo Island, right in the middle of the Yellow Sea. It was the first piece he had placed on the board outside of China's traditional borders. It looked small and lonely on the vast map, but it signified a profound, world-altering shift. The dragon had left its lair.