Do You Have Evidence?

Fengtian, Marshal's Mansion.

"You damn brat!"

Zhang Yuting roared, slamming the fire poker in his hand onto the rosewood desk with a loud clang, making the feather duster in the pen holder jump.

He pointed at Zhang Xueming, who stood at attention before him, his chest heaving, the flesh on his face trembling.

"You really are something, kid!"

"Have your wings grown strong enough?"

"Who told you to stir up trouble in Wafangdian?! Huh?!"

"What do you take Japan for? A practice target for you to play with?!"

Zhang Yuting paced back and forth in the room, fuming. The fire poker in his hand pointed to the sky, then to the ground, spitting saliva far and wide.

But after holding the poker up for a long time, he ultimately couldn't bring himself to strike his beloved son.

"Father, please calm down first."

Zhang Xueming stood there, his expressionless face as placid as if he were commenting on the fine weather.

"Have some water, don't get yourself worked up."

"Water? I'll drink the northwest wind!"

Zhang Yuting's temper flared even more. He plopped back into his armchair, which groaned under the strain.

"Japan's consul general has been calling me non-stop!"

"They specifically named our Feng Army's aircraft, saying they bombed their factory and massacred their overseas citizens!"

"They want an explanation!"

"What explanation can I give? Should I offer your head as an explanation?!"

Zhang Xueming slowly walked over, personally poured Zhang Yuting a cup of tea, and gently placed it beside him.

"Father, they claim it was our aircraft. Do they have any proof?"

Zhang Yuting froze.

"What proof?"

"Photographs, wreckage, or... the pilot's body?"

A faint, almost imperceptible curve appeared at the corner of Zhang Xueming's mouth.

"Did our Jian-1 have any markings? Did it have 'Fengtian Aviation Corps' painted on it?"

Zhang Yuting's hand, which was lifting the teacup, stopped in mid-air. His mind raced.

Right.

The aircraft that kid had built was all silver-white, completely bare, with no markings at all.

"You mean... deny everything?"

"Why shouldn't we?"

Zhang Xueming retorted.

"They can say what they want, and we can say what we want."

"Just say it was a group of unidentified bandits, or perhaps some warlord from the south who took a dislike to them and framed us."

"This sort of thing isn't the first time it's happened."

Zhang Xueming wore an expression that clearly said, "You understand."

"In short, play dumb, pass the buck, and stall them."

Zhang Yuting's anger subsided by more than half.

He mulled over his son's words and found them quite reasonable.

"But... what if they get angry and decide to take direct action?"

This was his biggest worry.

"They won't dare."

Zhang Xueming's tone was filled with immense confidence.

"Father, why do you think I chose this particular time to act?"

"It's precisely because they don't know what cards we hold."

"The performance of the Jian-1 stunned Western observers like Montgomery, let alone those bumpkins in Japan who are still playing with biplanes."

"Before they figure out the full capabilities of this new type of aircraft, and before they find a force that can counter it, they absolutely won't dare to make a rash move."

"Right now, we're not the ones who are afraid; they are."

Zhang Xueming analyzed the situation clearly, word by word.

"The louder they shout, the more uncertain they are deep down."

Zhang Yuting fell completely silent.

He picked up his teacup, blew on the steam, and took a slow sip.

The fire in his heart was thoroughly extinguished by this cup of tea and his son's words.

He raised his eyelids and looked at Zhang Xueming before him again, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

There was relief, pride, and a hint of... unfamiliarity that he hadn't even noticed himself.

This kid, he didn't know when it started, but he was already capable of handling things independently, even seeing further and thinking deeper than his own father.

"Alright."

Zhang Yuting put down his teacup and let out a long sigh.

"I'll handle the diplomatic matters."

"You, boy, hurry up."

"Since you've already poked a hole in the sky, you better quickly build the tools to mend it!"

"I don't care how you do it, the Navy and the Air Force must form combat effectiveness as soon as possible!"

"Understood."

Zhang Xueming nodded.

"I've already handed over the Navy to Chen Houpu. The keel of the first batch of destroyers will be laid soon."

"The Air Force is in Feng Yong's hands. The production line for the Jian-1 is being debugged, and pilot training is proceeding concurrently."

"You can rest assured."

After speaking, he seemed to remember something.

"Dad, if there's nothing else, I'll get going. I still have some things to handle."

Zhang Yuting waved his hand, looking impatient.

"Get lost, get lost. You annoy me just looking at you."

Zhang Xueming smiled, turned, and left the government building.

Evening.

South of the provincial capital, an elegant residence.

Misty vapor filled the entire bathroom. Zhang Xueming, shirtless, leaned comfortably in the large ceramic bathtub, his eyes closed in repose.

A screen painted with a court lady painting cleverly separated the inside from the outside.

Behind the screen, a slender figure sat, holding a newspaper, making a faint rustling sound.

"Today's Shengjing Times still has the front-page headline criticizing the southern government for losing sovereignty and national humiliation."