In a quiet, heavily guarded medical tent pitched far from the noise of the main camp at Port Arthur, a secret reunion was taking place. Captain Jiang of the Imperial Guard, who had been officially listed as "missing, presumed dead" after the fall of Pyongyang, knelt before his Emperor. A team from Shen Ke's intelligence network, disguised as Korean fishermen, had made contact with sympathetic locals in Pyongyang, bribed a Japanese quartermaster, and smuggled the wounded but recovering captain out of the city in the bottom of a fish cart. The entire operation was a testament to the new, far-reaching efficiency of the Qing state.
Jiang's left arm was in a sling, his face was pale and thinner, but his eyes were clear and his bearing was as resolute as ever. He knelt on the canvas floor, his head bowed. Meng Tian was the only other person in the tent, standing guard by the entrance flap, his presence a silent assurance of security.
"Captain Jiang," Qin Shi Huang said, his voice calm and even. He sat not on a throne, but on a simple folding camp stool, studying the man before him. "Your coded report, delivered by courier bird, was concise and invaluable. Your actions in the defense of the northern wall were commendable. You have upheld the honor of my Guard when all others abandoned theirs." He paused. "Now, tell me everything else. The details. The things one cannot write in a report. I want to know what you saw, what you felt. I want to know the nature of the beast we are fighting."
Jiang looked up, his eyes meeting the Emperor's. "Your Majesty, their discipline is… perfect. It is not the discipline of fear, like the one we are now instilling in our own troops. It is the discipline of faith. Their soldiers are not mere conscripts; they are zealots. They truly believe their Emperor is a living god, and they seek a glorious death in his name. They do not fear death. They welcome it. It is… unsettling to fight an enemy who smiles as he dies."
"A useful fanaticism," QSH mused. "But one that can be turned against them. A man who does not fear death is a man who will charge recklessly into a machine gun's fire. We can accommodate his desire for a glorious end." He leaned forward. "Tell me of their commander. The one who captured you."
"General Oshima Yoshimasa," Jiang replied immediately. "He was not a brute, Majesty. He was intelligent, professional, and spoke some of our language. He interrogated me himself. He showed a professional curiosity, asking about my unit, our training, our black uniforms. He showed respect for our fighting spirit, even in defeat. He called it 'bushido'—the way of the warrior."
"So he sees this as a contest between professionals," QSH said, a flicker of insight in his eyes. "This is a weakness. He will expect us to behave according to some shared code of conduct. We will continue to behave like 'barbarians' whenever it suits our purpose. It will keep him off-balance."
"I believe so, Majesty," Jiang said. "But there was something else. Someone else." He hesitated, gathering his thoughts to ensure his report was precise. "During my interrogation, another officer was present. He was not a regular army man. His rank was unclear, but the other officers, even General Oshima, deferred to him in a strange way. His uniform was different—all black, like ours, but cut in a more traditional Japanese style. On his collar was a single, stark emblem embroidered in red thread: a chrysanthemum."
Meng Tian, who had been silent until now, shifted his weight. "The Chrysanthemum Seal is the personal crest of the Japanese Emperor."
"Exactly," Jiang confirmed. "This man… he was quiet. He stood in the shadows and just watched me, as if I were an insect under glass. His eyes, Majesty… they were like the eyes of a wolf. Cold, intelligent, and utterly without pity. When General Oshima, seeing my wound was festering, ordered a medic to treat me, this other man objected."
QSH's interest sharpened. "Objected? On what grounds?"
"He said," Jiang recalled, the memory clearly disturbing him, "that I was a valuable specimen. He said a soldier of my caliber, from a unit he did not recognize, should not be wasted on common medics. He spoke of taking me back to Japan for 'specialized interrogation techniques' to understand my training and my pain tolerance. The way he said it… it was not about gathering intelligence. It was about the pleasure of the process."
"A torturer," Meng Tian grunted in disgust.
"General Oshima overruled him," Jiang continued. "He said that a brave enemy deserved a warrior's respect, not a butcher's curiosity. The tension between them was palpable. The man in black bowed, but he did not look pleased. He looked like a predator that had just had its kill stolen."
QSH stood up and began to pace the confines of the small tent. "A Chrysanthemum…" he mused. "The personal symbol of their Emperor. This is not their regular military intelligence. This is not their kempeitai. This is something else. Something closer to the throne. The Emperor's personal blade, perhaps." A faint, intrigued smile touched his lips. He was not alarmed; he was fascinated. He had his Imperial Guard, his wolves. It seemed the Meiji Emperor had his own.
He stopped his pacing and looked down at Captain Jiang. "Captain, your ordeal is far from over. Your value to me now is no longer on the battlefield. You have a unique insight into our enemy's command structure, into their very soul. You will not be returning to a command position yet."
He motioned for Jiang to rise. "You will be attached to Master Shen Ke's intelligence network. I want you to lead a new section, dedicated to one thing: profiling this 'Chrysanthemum' unit. I want to know everything about them. Who they are, how they are recruited, who they answer to. I want to know the name of the man with the eyes of a wolf. An enemy's hidden blade is the one most likely to strike your heart, and I prefer to see the blade coming long before it is swung."
He placed a hand on Jiang's good shoulder, a rare gesture of personal approval. "You have served me well by fighting bravely. Now you will serve me by thinking ruthlessly. Go. A carriage will take you to Master Shen's temporary headquarters in Tianjin. Recover your strength. Your war has just entered a new, shadowed chapter."
After Captain Jiang had bowed and departed, QSH turned to Meng Tian, a look of genuine, predatory interest on his face.
"The Japanese Emperor has his own wolves," he said, a note of something almost like respect in his voice. "It seems this war will be more interesting than I first thought." He smiled. "It is good to have a worthy opponent. It sharpens the mind."
The focus of the war, for a moment, had shifted from the grand movements of fleets and armies to the far more personal, clandestine conflict that was beginning to unfold in the shadows.