"Fortunately, our rapid expansion of production facilities ensures there won't be any disruption in supply," Siu-rin explained. "But the executive board is deeply concerned."
Though no one voiced their concerns openly, the unease was palpable. The company's president had once again siphoned off nearly all available funds to fuel another ambitious promotional campaign—one that promised no imdiate returns. Worse, he intended to give everything away for free.
The boardroom had grown used to the pattern. Just as profits began accumulating, the president would drain the coffers for another grand sche. His unpredictability kept the upper managent perpetually anxious, their eyes glued to financial statents as though prayers alone could keep the company afloat.
Rumors circulated that employees at headquarters prayed monthly for the company's survival during financial reviews.
"But..."
"This ti, there was no other choice, was there?"
Siu-rin's tone was colder than usual as her gaze locked on the president. It wasn't the first ti she'd heard him utter this excuse.
"There really wasn't," he replied, eting her icy stare. "It had to be now, or never."
The words felt hollow, even to him, yet they were undeniably true.
"It's lucky the results have been favorable so far," Siu-rin muttered, half to herself. "It would be nice if you'd share what's driving this sense of urgency."
Without waiting for a reply, she left the room, leaving the president alone with his thoughts.
He had never told anyone—save his father—about the future he foresaw. And even his father seed to harbor doubts about his visions.
What was it that gnawed at him so relentlessly?
The answer was a maelstrom of fear: the growing strength of the great powers, the crumbling social fabric, the wars looming on the horizon, and his own inadequacy in the face of it all. He despised his impotence.
As a citizen of a nation weak enough to risk obliteration, his anger simred daily. He loathed the current state of things—his powerlessness, the necessity of hiding in the shadows.
He was haunted by what the future held. A ti when human lives would weigh as little as ants'. He had often toyed with the idea of fleeing to Arica, where the storm might rage less fiercely.
But even there, absolute safety was an illusion. The great powers were not above sacrificing their own citizens for power. He would likely be drafted or forced into a factory, regardless of where he went.
When he walked the streets and saw smiling faces, he couldn't help but wonder, How many of these people will survive what's coming?
The weight of that thought bore down on him, a silent storm gathering within. It was a burden he carried alone, a quiet dread that seed to erode his humanity with each passing day. He feared becoming the kind of man who could asure lives in re dollars.
Yet even that wasn't his greatest fear.
What if, despite everything he did, he still failed to protect his family?
"That would truly destroy ," he whispered to himself.
It was this fear that drove him. The fear that his ambitions—ant to shield his loved ones—might instead poison them.
"I need to grow stronger," he resolved.
The conclusion was always the sa. He needed to expand, to rise above everyone else. Only by building sothing so vast that no one could touch him or his loved ones could he find peace.
With that thought, he returned to signing docunts, his determination unwavering.
"What do they want?"
"Their primary grievance seems to be the unruly behavior of the foreign devils," the envoy replied.
Empress Dowager Cixi leaned back in contemplation, her fingers tapping the armrest of her chair.
Is there no way to appease them and bring them under my control?
When asked, the Yihetuan—or Boxers—always gave the sa response.
"The foreigners are to bla. We rose up in righteous anger. Join us, and together we shall cleanse this land!"
Their demands were simple: salvation and purification. They did not cry for independence or the occupation of Beijing. What was clear, however, was their unbridled hatred for the West.
"What of their military strength?"
"It is more formidable than we anticipated. Although their mbers range from the elderly to children, their elite ranks are composed solely of n, and their discipline rivals that of the Beiyang Army."
"Interesting..."
Their rigid hierarchy, their well-trained forces—all composed of Qing subjects. If only she could harness such power.
But age had made Cixi acutely aware of her vulnerabilities. The emperor was growing older, while she aged further into decline. Whispers among her officials grew louder each year, questioning the necessity of her regency.
"Surely the emperor is old enough now. Isn't it ti for the Empress Dowager to step aside?"
Yet relinquishing power was unthinkable. The relationship between her and the Guangxu Emperor had soured beyond repair, and even Li Hongzhang, once her staunchest ally, had begun to oppose her openly.
The world seed bent on her downfall.
Only I am capable, she told herself. Only I have the right to rule this empire.
Like all politicians, Cixi believed only she could save her nation. Her paranoia divided the world into allies and enemies, and for her, power had beco a ans of survival.
"Continue negotiations with the Boxer leaders. Promise them treatnt equal to that of foreign envoys. Lure them in."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Peaceful resolutions are always preferable, are they not?"
She was well aware of the anti-Christian sentint sweeping the nation, which had given rise to extremist groups like the Boxers. This movent had transford into a nationwide religion, drawing the people's hearts alongside it.
If the Boxers could be brought under her control, she would gain both the people's loyalty and a powerful military force.
How could this not be heaven-sent?
For Cixi, the Boxers were more than an opportunity—they were a divine gift. In her mind, only she could ta them and turn them into a tool for the Qing Dynasty.
It was a plan so audacious that Li Hongzhang would have coughed blood in protest had he heard it.
.....
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