Chapter One: Night Conversations at Huangpu

On a late autumn night in 1936, within the office of the Central Army Officer Academy in Nanjing—known in later years as the Whampoa Military Academy—two men were engaged in a low, earnest conversation.

"Zhiheng, I have thought long and hard about this. I am recommending you for the Military Intelligence Bureau, but the final decision must be yours. You should weigh this choice carefully," the middle-aged man seated behind the desk said, his expression stern but his voice gentle.

Standing across from him, the young man, Ning Zhiheng, replied respectfully yet warmly, "Sir, I've heard that this round of graduation assignments has already been decided."

"You get your news fast, don’t you! Indeed, it’s set. This year’s students are to graduate ahead of schedule and will all be dispatched to the front lines to suppress the Red Party. That’s one reason I’m giving you this recommendation,” He Feng nodded, confirming Ning Zhiheng’s suspicion. After all, it wasn’t a military secret; in a few days, everyone would be informed.

Did he even need to think about it? To be thrown onto the front lines, fighting the Red Party, risking his life amidst a hail of bullets—did bullets pick their targets? If unlucky, he’d lose his life in an instant! And besides, in his previous life, he had been a true member of the Red Party. No matter what, he could not turn his gun on his own comrades. That was a line he absolutely could not cross.

"I will follow whatever arrangement you see fit, sir," Ning Zhiheng replied, standing at attention with resolve. "I'm just concerned the other students might gossip, thinking I fear death and refuse to go to the front."

He Feng waved his hand dismissively. "Don’t trouble yourself over that. You’re not like the rest. They say all Whampoa graduates are the chosen sons of the nation, but in the eyes of the headmaster, how many does he truly remember?

"But you are the student I value most. I would not send you to the front to be cannon fodder in vain. This time, Deputy Director Huang Xiansheng of the Military Intelligence Bureau personally requested someone, and that is your opportunity—you must not miss it."

Ning Zhiheng knew of Deputy Director Huang Xiansheng; he was both a close friend and old classmate of his mentor, He Feng. Both were key figures in one of the most powerful factions in the army—the Baoding Clique.

The so-called Baoding Clique referred to the group of officers who graduated from the Baoding Army Officer Academy—the first modern military academy in China. Its graduates were scattered throughout the nation and held a significant place in modern Chinese military history, especially within the top ranks of the Nationalist army.

This was even truer at Whampoa, where half the instructors were Baoding graduates; He Feng was among them.

These Baoding instructors deliberately nurtured promising students, supporting them after graduation to inject fresh blood into the clique and maintain its influence in the military.

Because these students were also Whampoa graduates—direct protégés of the headmaster—they enjoyed favor from both sides. They were often called the "Baoding Faction within Whampoa." With influential patrons, their careers advanced smoothly, and they held considerable power within the military.

As He Feng’s favored protégé, Ning Zhiheng naturally belonged to this group.

"The Military Intelligence Bureau is expanding; Deputy Director Huang needs trustworthy people. But the headmaster has made it clear—he will only accept Whampoa graduates. So, he turned to us, his old comrades," He Feng explained.

The expansion of the Military Intelligence Bureau was a rare opportunity. As the army's most critical espionage unit, it was tightly controlled by the headmaster, forbidding any other faction’s interference. It was a privileged department, loyal only to the supreme leader, much like the Central Party Affairs Investigation Section formed years before. The difference was that the latter handled intelligence and security outside the military, targeting opposition parties—especially the Red Party—and monitoring society’s public opinion and ideology.

The Military Intelligence Bureau, however, oversaw intelligence and security within the army, gendarmerie, and police, as well as foreign intelligence—an area the Baoding Clique had long sought to infiltrate.

To plant their own people in such a critical department was immensely advantageous for future power struggles.

“How strong is our faction within the Intelligence Bureau?” Ning Zhiheng wanted to understand his future work environment.

“We’ve made some headway these past years. Huang Xiansheng is the highest-ranking among us, but even he is only one of several deputy directors. That’s as far as the headmaster will allow,” He Feng replied with some resignation.

In recent years, the headmaster’s grip on the military had grown ever tighter, and many old veterans had been sidelined. Only because the Baoding Clique’s influence was so deeply entrenched—and many of the headmaster’s trusted officers hailed from Baoding—did he tolerate their presence for old times’ sake.

“In the various departments, we’ve managed to place a few men, but they, like you, must be Whampoa graduates. That’s a hard rule—otherwise, the headmaster will not agree.”

Ning Zhiheng nodded, feeling relieved. Those with dual identities in both Whampoa and Baoding could serve the headmaster’s interests while also advancing their own faction’s cause, earning trust from both sides.

To be honest, he counted himself lucky. With an ordinary family background and average talent, he owed it all to his mentor’s support that he had access to resources others could only dream of. Otherwise, he’d be heading to the front lines with his classmates.

He Feng, then, was his only pillar and support in these turbulent times. Following his mentor was clearly the wisest choice.

“Sir, is it possible for Miao Yongyi to join the Intelligence Bureau as well? He’s a childhood friend and classmate of mine. If he could—”

“No,” He Feng interrupted before Ning Zhiheng could finish. “This is a rare opportunity with limited slots. Besides, you know your friend well; he wouldn’t appreciate it. And, more importantly, he’s not Baoding. We can’t waste our resources on someone like that.”

Ning Zhiheng understood. Moreover, Miao Yongyi, like most of their peers, longed for the heroic life at the front and would never accept being assigned to intelligence work.

Still, he wanted to do all he could. Being sent straight to the front was dangerous, especially for junior officers. He didn’t want any harm to come to Miao Yongyi.

“Perhaps he could be assigned to logistics? The front is too dangerous, especially fighting against the Reds.”

He Feng shook his head. “In past years, that might have been possible, but things are different now. The headmaster has just resolved the issues in the south and now has no distractions. He is determined to finish off the Red Party once and for all. The Northeast Army and Northwest Army are dragging their feet, and the headmaster is losing patience. He’s decided to strengthen the Central Army and end this matter swiftly.”

Ning Zhiheng smiled bitterly. “Do you think this campaign will succeed? The Red Party may be few in number, but they are fierce fighters. Our party has pursued them for years, yet here they still are.”

Inwardly, he scoffed. Would he tell his mentor that the Nationalists’ grand ambitions to crush the Reds were pure fantasy? The Red Party, after enduring the Long March, would be reborn from the ashes. Over the coming years, their strength would grow, step by step, until finally overthrowing the Nationalists and establishing a new and powerful China.

He Feng looked at Ning Zhiheng in surprise. "You seem to have great faith in the Red Party. They have only a few tens of thousands of men, while our Central Army numbers in the hundreds of thousands, not to mention the local forces—a million strong. No matter how skilled their leaders, how could they survive this onslaught?"

But He Feng soon dismissed the discussion, lowering his voice. “Let’s not talk about this. Whether or not the Red Party survives is not our concern. Frankly, I don’t wish for victory or defeat on either side.”

Ning Zhiheng was taken aback. Words like these were strictly forbidden within the Nationalist Party; He Feng had let something slip tonight.

“Sir, do you believe this civil war could be avoided? Truly, it is nothing but a waste of our own national strength. The Japanese are watching hungrily—war between China and Japan is inevitable. We Chinese should unite against the external enemy, not slaughter each other!” Sensing his mentor’s sympathy for the Red Party, Ning Zhiheng took the opportunity to express his own views; between teacher and student, there was no need for pretense.

“Lower your voice!” He Feng slapped the desk and strode to the window, listening intently for any sign of eavesdroppers before gently shutting the window. “Times are different now! At such a sensitive moment, who dares speak of these things?”

After a pause, he asked, “Have you said anything like this to anyone else?”

Ning Zhiheng stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Sir, I only dare speak this way with you. Never to anyone else.”

He Feng exhaled in relief. “Good. Be careful what you say and do. Otherwise, the Discipline Office will show up at your door, and you know what that means.”

In truth, He Feng felt the same way. Among his old comrades from the Northern Expedition, there had been Red Party members—men of iron. He had always respected them in his heart.

But since the April 12th Incident, the Nationalists had ruthlessly suppressed all pro-Red elements. No one dared voice such opinions anymore.

“Are you looking to be seduced by the Reds? Stop reading that nonsense. You never used to have such ideas. What’s gotten into you today?” He Feng scolded.

He found it strange; this student of his was normally quiet, reserved, and serious—very much as He Feng himself had been in his youth. That was one reason he favored him.

Ning Zhiheng felt aggrieved. Wasn’t it his mentor who had first hinted at pro-Red sentiments? He was just following his lead. So the magistrate could set fires, but the commoners couldn’t light their lamps?

He quickly replied, “I’m not foolish. I know what can and cannot be said. I would never speak out of turn. The nation’s affairs are for the leader to decide; I would never presume to comment.”

“You may go now. Not a word of tonight’s conversation to anyone else—not even your closest friends. Not that I distrust them; they’re fine young men, but they’re young and careless. If one word slips out, the consequences will be dire!” He Feng warned.

He knew Ning Zhiheng was honest and not sociable, but he was well-liked among his classmates, who were all at the age of speaking freely without guile.

Ning Zhiheng nodded quickly. “I understand, sir. Don’t worry!” No matter how close his friends, he would never risk his life on their silence.

Still, He Feng worried that Ning Zhiheng might be too young and incautious. He reminded him again, softly, “Be extra careful these next few days before graduation. Avoid gatherings, lest you say something dangerous. You’re not talkative by nature; no one will think it odd.”

Ning Zhiheng nodded in agreement and quietly left the office, closing the door softly behind him. He glanced around to ensure there was no one nearby, then walked quickly toward his dormitory.