The order to "never surrender" had been issued by King Leopold III of Belgium. On the morning of April 6, 1945, representatives from the three main political parties—the Socialists, the Liberals, and the Communists—arrived at the Palace to ask the King if he would reconsider.

It had to be said that Leopold III was a handsome man. But his handsome features were set in a mask of indifference, matched by the coldness of his tone: "This matter has already received the consensus of the Belgian people. As King, I must stand with them."

"Your Majesty, as Head of State, you have an obligation to make correct judgments," the Socialist leader replied, his face grim.

Leopold looked at the three party leaders, all of whom appeared quite threatening, and let out a short, sharp laugh. "Heh."

At the sound of the King’s sneer, his guards tightened their grip on their weapons. These men knew they were likely to die in the coming days, but as Leopold had said, the decision to resist to the end was currently the consensus of the Belgian people.

The fact that Belgian colonial policies had caused the deaths of twenty million Black Congolese was not Chinese propaganda; it was the conclusion of an international commission of inquiry conducted by Western powers in 1905. Even Belgium itself had been forced to admit the primary facts.

Even after Belgium had been stripped of the ability to engage in direct, bloody plunder, the period from 1905 to 1940 had seen a continued regime of murder, looting, and torture in the Congo, leading to the deaths of another 3.9 million locals over those thirty-five years.

These bloody crimes had enriched the Belgian elite, but the ordinary Belgian people had also reaped the rewards. The Belgian Royal Family had deliberately utilized a portion of these ill-gotten gains to fund social security and welfare for the populace, effectively making every Belgian citizen an accomplice to the crimes of the upper class.

At the very least, the Belgian government had succeeded in making the people *believe* they were accomplices.

Thus, to trial Belgium for colonial crimes was, in their eyes, to trial the entire Belgian people. When Leopold’s government offered this explanation to the public, it was met with widespread agreement.

Had only the Royal Family been facing destruction, the public might have remained indifferent. But once the Chinese-led anti-colonial war achieved victory, all Belgians would be branded criminals—a label the vast majority of them truly refused to accept.

Even the Belgian Communists were mocked for their anti-colonial rhetoric, branded as "hypocrites who drink the blood of colonial slaves with one hand and preach anti-colonialism with the other."

Gazing at the party leaders who were threatening their King, and thinking of how they hoped to trade the reputation and safety of the Belgian people for their own political gain and "innocence," the Royal Guards stood ready to kill them at the slightest sign of hostility toward the monarch. Some guards were already contemplating taking matters into their own hands to remove these traitors.

Leopold knew perfectly well that Belgium lacked the strength to fight China to the bitter end. He addressed the three leaders: "The government’s stance is clear. Since Belgium no longer possesses colonies, we shall no longer seek ownership of them. As for the events of the past, the government expresses its regret on humanitarian grounds. The tragedies were not Belgium’s objective; they were merely tragedies.

"The government and the people have reached a consensus on this. On this basis, we are willing to engage in any peace negotiations with China."

The three leaders were left speechless. Everything Leopold said was true; the Parliament and the national plebiscite had confirmed these views. Belgium was a small nation; even after losing the vast Congo, the people had no intention of retaking it. In the referendum, they had even agreed to abandon Belgian investments in the Congo and across Africa. For the people, this represented a significant loss, as a portion of those investments funded their basic social services.

But such a loss, combined with some humanitarian compensation, was something the Belgian public could accept. To admit to *crimes* on top of that, however, was beyond their threshold of endurance.

Ultimately, the three leaders were forced to abandon their effort and departed in frustration. Outside the palace, they held a brief conference. All three agreed that to reduce public casualties, the army had to surrender.

But their influence within the military was minimal. The Belgian soldiers had not been tricked into fighting; they knew exactly what they were defending, and they were truly willing to defend it. "Do these men truly not know they are going to die?" the Communist Chairman asked.

The other two looked at him as if he were a fool. Of course they knew. But they had accepted the call to arms because to refuse meant open betrayal of the nation. No one could bear to be branded a traitor.

The Communist Chairman did not bother to explain further. He told his colleagues solemnly, "We will have our party members seize command where possible and lead their units to surrender. Our party believes this is the only way to save the Belgian people."

"Does China truly intend to create a hatred that will last a hundred years?" the Liberal leader asked uncertainly.

There was a rumor currently circulating within Belgium—no one knew its source, but most were eager to believe it.

The rumor held that since China proclaimed communism as its ideal, and since communism held that all people were equal and worthy of care, then China could not possibly bring itself to strike a truly crushing blow against a Belgian army that was merely defending its homeland. Mass casualties among the Belgians would prove that Chinese propaganda was a fraud, and their claim to be a communist state would collapse.

As party leaders, even if only of a small nation, the Socialist and Liberal chiefs did not truly believe this. Yet they found themselves *wanting* to believe it, much like the majority of the public.

The Belgians knew they would be defeated; they harbored no illusions of a miraculous reversal. But they felt that since they had been humbled to the point of no longer seeking victory, while the other side claimed to be fighting for noble ideals, then the other side ought to respect the Belgian will.

Seeing the two men lost in their fantasies, the Communist Chairman felt the urge to scream, but he held it back. He knew that the Belgian people truly believed they had already sacrificed enough. What they sought now was their final honor, nothing more. To prove them guilty by slaughtering millions seemed, indeed, an excessive price.

But for the Belgian Communist Party, the question of colonial guilt was a matter of principle. The WPLA had already sacrificed millions in the war for global liberation; they weren't seeking revenge, they were seeking to prove their principles were correct.

If Belgium were spared, every other nation could rightfully claim that the WPLA’s core philosophy was flawed, or at least incomplete. Thus, the WPLA was destined to crush the final Belgian resistance, even at the cost of a million Belgian lives.

Ultimately, the other two leaders agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to mobilize their members to seize command where possible. The Communist Chairman, trusting neither of them, returned to his headquarters and convened a meeting.

"...The weakness of the bourgeoisie lies in this: when a thorough revolution is required, they will prevaricate the moment the result is not the deal they expected. We cannot treat them as partners. We seek to save the Belgian people, and for that end, we are willing to endure the slanders and misunderstandings that follow. This is our duty!"

His words stirred the cadres in the room; many were moved to tears.

To the Chinese Civilization Party or the Soviet Party, such a display of self-sentiment would be labeled a classic symptom of "petty-bourgeois infantilism." Survival is a serious matter. Both China and the USSR had endured the harshest tests of existence. Compared to what they had faced, Belgium's predicament was nothing. Their choices were seen as little more than a "groan without an illness."

But the Belgians had never had the chance or the necessity to endure the trials of China or Russia. If a true catastrophe fell upon them, the only result of a total Belgian effort would likely be the near-extinction of the nation.

From the perspective of "choosing a general from among the cripples," however, the Belgian Communists had at least learned some basic principles. Thinking on the basis of materialist dialectics allowed them to reach relatively sound decisions.

Belgium was small. By April 7th, the party members had received their instructions. A portion of the Belgian Communists began to act. Fortunately, they had maintained contact with Belgian members of the WPLA, and finally managed to coordinate with the high command.

By April 8th, the Belgian army was categorized once more. Any unit containing Belgian Communist Party members was removed from the list for "destructive strikes." This meant that at least a third of the Belgian army escaped the fate of total annihilation.

But the Communist influence was limited; the other two-thirds remained on the list. Before the final strike, the report reached Li Runshi.

Reading the report, Li found his emotions fluctuating far more than he had anticipated. After the "erasure" of the 3rd Legion—regarded as a stubborn fascist military organization—the rest of the Belgian army had not given up. Even when beaten into a pitiable state under absolute inferiority, they fought on with valor. "Human bomb" attacks on tanks were constant, causing the WPLA offensive significant losses.

The reports indicated that while the infantry could still execute orders, a clear "war-weariness" had set in. This wasn't a refusal to fight, but rather a refusal to use the traditional methods that required personal sacrifice. The troops were now universally leaning toward using long-range fire to eliminate the enemy.

Traditionally, the WPLA's will to fight had been reliable. In North Africa, they had been brave enough to "fix bayonets to their artillery," engaging in fierce close combat to crush the German and British Afrika Korps.

But after the brutal offensive and the news of He Rui’s death, their will had been shaken. This instability allowed the Belgians to hide in their fortifications and utilize desperate raids to inflict greater losses on the WPLA.

As for the cause, the report suggested that He Rui's death had hit the WPLA harder than estimated. Li Runshi, however, more calmly concluded that a large reason was his own lack of courage to employ a tactic of total destruction against the Belgians. Or rather, when the Belgians displayed their desperate madness, Li had failed to inject greater courage into the WPLA.

Courage, or morale, is a subtle thing in war. If a unit believes it *must* pay a high price to win, it will accept that price. In the Pacific, the Sino-Japanese forces had paid a staggering price to seize islands, eventually exhausting the Anglo-American long-range deployment capacity.

In North America and North Africa, China and the WPLA had similarly used massed conventional combat to drain the reach of the US, Germany, and Britain.

Courage is not born from nothing; it requires a return. After He Rui’s death, Li found his assessment of the late Chairman becoming more objective. He had once thought He Rui’s stance on many issues was flawed; now, standing in his place, he realized it was his own perspective that had been limited.

What the people needed from He Rui was not to learn from him, but for him to bring them victory. Human needs were diverse—security, politics, economics—and society was far larger than any government. People’s needs covered every aspect of life.

He Rui had satisfied those needs—not one or two, but all of them. Whether it was what they could articulate or what they couldn't, or even what they hadn't yet realized, He Rui had fulfilled them in the process of achieving his goals.

The problem Li faced now was that he hoped to reduce casualties, but he had failed to make his comrades accept what kind of return would justify the massive price they were paying.

He Rui had been ruthless in war. In the campaign against Japan, any unit or individual guilty of war crimes was, upon capture, trialed and summarily executed. In the short term, he satisfied the people’s desire for revenge. In the medium term, no Japanese soldier dared commit another crime. In the long term, under a Chinese-led Asia, Japan had truly reflected on its ideology, acknowledged its crimes, and purged its own militarism.

This was the difference between He Rui and Li Runshi. Li believed people could be saved from their errors; He Rui never considered saving those whose errors had turned them into enemies. As He Rui had put it: "The cost is too high."

Having realized this, Li did not waver. He too was a man of resolve. Since the conditions allowed the WPLA to proceed without the need to unite with reactionaries, he issued a definitive order: "Inquire with every surrounded enemy unit. If they do not surrender, annihilate them!"

Receiving the order, the frontline officers and men, who had felt restrained for so long, finally felt their hands and feet freed. Even if the order had come late, they were not a soft people.

Thermobaric weapons were quickly in position, and the campaign to eliminate the Belgian reactionaries began. Surrender or die. Though the soldiers might feel a trace of sorrow for the brutality, it would not shake their determination to destroy colonialism once and for all.