On September 21, 1945, the German entrepreneurs gathered in Bonn met Marshal Cheng Ruofan for the first time.

Prior to the meeting, many had expected to see an image from Nazi propaganda: a bloated Mongol lord. Instead, as Cheng ascended the rostrum, they saw a middle-aged officer of 178 centimeters, with a lean, straight posture and refined, handsome features.

His skin was healthy and smooth, and his every movement radiated both the severity of a career soldier and the grace of a scholar. Cheng’s appearance overlapped perfectly with the militarists’ ideal image of a Field Marshal. Had he grown the broad beard typical of European nobility, his portrait would have been one for the masses to worship.

Of course, a beard was not a necessity. Since the end of the first war, facial hair was no longer mandatory in Germany. The smooth-shaven cheeks and chins of the German high command were common sights.

As Cheng stood on the rostrum like a drawn blade, the entrepreneurs below felt a mix of tension and relief.

"Some Europeans look at the ruins of Germany today and lament that the nation is destined to sink into oblivion. I say that is nonsense!"

Cheng’s spoken German was mediocre, so he chose to speak in Chinese. His translators, adopting the vigorous style of the wartime German military, shouted his words. Cheng’s opening sentence sent a tremor down the spines of the assembly.

"The strength of any nation comes from within itself. The German people possess the capability to lead a better and happier life. Today, I am here to announce three immediate tasks: a comprehensive national census, a completely new urban planning and construction initiative, and the reopening of Germany’s factories. You have been summoned because I expect you to participate in these three projects based on your professional abilities and intentions."

The business leaders looked at one another. For a moment, they felt an illusion: that a German government still existed. Whether that feeling stemmed from memories of the Second Empire or the Third, the sense of a leadership truly intending to *do* things was palpable.

Though they did not yet realize it, the entrepreneurs had already subconsciously prepared themselves to work for this new administration.

"The Tendering Committee has begun its reorganization and will be fully operational shortly. You will soon be invited to participate in the bidding process—a system with which you are undoubtedly familiar.

"If there is anything unfamiliar to you, it will likely be the changes to Germany’s political system. The most immediate shift will be that German land and resources are now the property of the German state. The people possess rights of usage, not ownership."

At this, someone in the hall began to clap and cheer loudly. The policy of stripping the Junkers of their estates and distributing land to the common people had nearly passed the Reichstag before the Nazis took power. Like in any normal nation, such a policy enjoyed the fervent support of the German public.

Entrepreneurs made their profit from production; for them, having large amounts of land available for industrial use was a good thing. Furthermore, most acknowledged that universal land ownership for the commoners was a form of justice. Seeing "His Highness" prepared to push that justice with the point of a bayonet, a section of the German entrepreneurs felt a genuine sense of joy.

Cheng raised a hand to quiet the room and continued outlining the other policies of the German Administrative Committee.

Hearing the full scope of the proposals, the business leaders felt much more at ease. The core of these policies was the reconstruction of Germany, not its destruction or suppression. The plans were eminently practical. Most had been proposed and discussed at various times in German history, only to fail in the labyrinth of its governmental bodies.

Now, it was Cheng Ruofan who was pushing them—the supreme leader of the Chinese forces in Europe, wielding a military might unprecedented in German history. China had destroyed the Nazi regime by force; now, no one in Germany could resist Cheng’s orders by that same means. If these policies failed to materialize, it would only be because Cheng himself chose to abandon them.

Cheng's speech was brief. After he finished, administrative heads from both China and Germany stepped forward to detail the specific models and regulations. Germany had decades of experience as an industrial power; such details were nothing new to its business community.

By September 24th, the entrepreneurs departed Bonn for their respective headquarters. Upon their return, they found the Tendering Committee already in full operation.

Cheng, however, was no longer focused on the execution. His attention was captivated by news from America. The second federal expedition against the four northwestern states had failed. After their initial victory, the Black veterans were now filled with confidence and high morale.

The objective of the second federal strike had not been to retake the states, but to control the vital transport links in the Rockies and prevent the Black forces from expanding eastward. The Black veterans responded with all-out mountain guerrilla warfare, relentlessly harrying the federal columns. Ultimately, utilizing their air superiority, they annihilated two federal corps in the eastern Rockies.

Faced with such a defeat, the federal army was forced to withdraw from the mountains to the plains near the Mississippi River. Though they claimed to be preparing another offensive, it was clear to any observer that the federal military was incapable of further combat in the short term.

During these days, the Southern states, determined to seize their opportunity, had dispatched permanent representatives to Montgomery. The city was once again the political heart of the Confederacy.

News had reached them of another announcement from the Northwest: "We seek only equal rights for all American citizens; we do not seek to tear America apart. The threat to American unity does not come from the Northwest, but from certain factions in Washington."

Upon hearing this, the representative from Mississippi sneered, "Those Yankees in Washington can't even match the intellect of a Black man now."

The other Confederate representatives voiced their agreement. Eleanor Roosevelt’s cabinet continued to treat the Northwest as the enemy, labeling them with every possible slur. Logically, had the federal government accepted the Northwest’s demands for civil rights, the entire North would have turned against Eleanor. But politics requires "guts." The men in American politics were all local feudal lords; they kept a civil tongue in public, but they were well aware of the federal government’s true strength.

Based on her performance thus far, Eleanor had shown no guts—politically or personally. She was merely a woman who had inherited power and assumed order was a law of nature. But to men, order was something maintained through violence; there was no such thing as a "natural" order.

The reason for the two successive victories was not that the Black veterans were so strong, but that the Yankee federal government was so weak—weak enough that without Southern support, they could not even defeat a Black uprising.

The representative from Florida sighed. "Even that scoundrel Lincoln knew enough to unite with the Blacks at a time like this. Heh. A woman simply cannot get things done."

The Georgia delegate nodded heavily. "Exactly. After all, the Blacks were once the South’s slaves; at a moment like this, they prove themselves smarter than the Yankees."

The remark was delivered with absolute gravity. Yet to the ears of the assembled Confederates, it carried a bizarrely comic weight, and the entire hall erupted in laughter.

Jokes aside, once the laughter died down, the grandees discussed the recent developments. Since they had gathered, they had no other choice. With the federal government apparently at the end of its tether, the Confederacy had to act.

But mobilization had its own difficulties. The South had no shortage of manpower, but it lacked modern heavy weaponry. Southern industrial capacity was insufficient to arm a million-man regular army with planes and artillery. Even after taking over the equipment left behind by the federal government in the South after the global war, they had only managed to raise a force of 380,000 equipped with tanks and aircraft. Should the North manage to scrape together a million-man army at the final moment, the Confederacy would pay a horrific price.

While they hesitated over the timing of the strike, Major General Bourbon arrived with Lieutenant Colonel Dan and his other staff. The local lords’ eyes brightened at the sight of the Chief of Staff.

General Bourbon wasted no time. After a brief greeting, he spoke: "According to our surveys, the North has begun drafting unemployed veterans. Their strength will likely recover to 700,000 in short order. And a large portion of those troops will surely be used against us.

"We cannot wait any longer. Independence or a new Constitution—a decision must be made now!"

At the mention of a final decision, the murderous intent in the room faded, replaced by hesitation.

Watching their expressions, Bourbon glanced at Dan. Long ago, Dan had proposed two paths: independence or a new Constitution. Now, it was clear: the Confederates lacked the "ovaries" for independence and were leaning toward a constitutional convention.

The federal government lacked the strength to destroy the Northwest. Those four states held eight seats in the Senate and approximately fifty in the House. Currently, those seats sat empty, yet their vacancy did not affect the legality of the voting results. If the North was not prepared for another civil war, the internal weakness of the federal government made a new Constitution a strong possibility.

Seeing the feudal lords wavering, General Bourbon spoke up: "If you have not decided on war, then propose the bill in Congress!"

The US Constitution could be amended if a two-thirds majority in both houses passed an amendment, followed by approval from three-fourths of the state legislatures or conventions.

Yet to this day, American law contained no provision for the complete overthrow of the existing Constitution. In other words, such a proposal was illegal.

But hearing Bourbon’s words, the Confederate lords steeled their hearts and signaled their agreement. Southerners had guts. They feared death in battle, but proposing a new Constitution was a civil struggle, not a military one.

On September 29, 1945, the representatives of the Confederate states formally proposed a motion for a new Constitution. The news shattered the peace in Washington. The US media went into a frenzy of reporting, yet few of the major outlets dared to publish a commentary.

Many veteran Republican congressmen in the North felt the Southerners had gone mad. Initially, they had assumed the South merely refused to bear the burden of the war. A significant portion of the Northern Republicans also felt the federal defense plan was insane: it envisioned a permanent state of readiness for war with China in North America, with the objective of eliminating both the five indigenous nations and the Chinese presence.

The rational members of Congress believed America had to accept the Chinese presence in North America. But they were a minority; most could not stomach it. The US military had always been small because the nation had no powerful neighbors.

Now, with Canada replaced by five indigenous states, America shared thousands of kilometers of border with China. Chinese warships could be deployed in both the Pacific and the North Atlantic, ready to strike the Northern industrial zones at a moment's notice.

The Chinese mainland, meanwhile, was ten thousand miles away. Even if North America were turned into a bloodbath, China would remain unscathed. This reality left the Northern elite unable to sleep.

On October 2nd, as the session of Congress convened, the Southern representatives left their heavily guarded offices for Capitol Hill under massive protection.

At 9:43 AM, while the motorcade of Senator McCain of South Carolina was some three kilometers from the Hill, a man suddenly stepped from behind a tree. He dropped to one knee, aimed a Chinese-made RPG-7, and fired a single rocket at the Senator’s car.

The projectile struck the vehicle dead center, which instantly exploded into a fireball.

The man abandoned the launcher and vanished into the trees. The guards in the motorcade, seeing such a powerful military weapon in use, dared not pursue him. They could only shout frantically as they tried to extinguish the fire.

But Senator McCain was already dead, his body lying motionless in the backseat as the flames roared around him.

The United States was a feudal nation of sorts, with every state having its own power base and lords who competed through the parliamentary system. When the interests were aligned, they maintained a veneer of harmony. But when those interests clashed to the death, the assassination of a President or a batch of congressmen was a routine affair.

Even in the 1970s, a young man named Joseph Robinette Biden Jr. would topple an entrenched Senator to become the youngest in history at twenty-nine. Before he could even take office, his wife's car would be involved in an "accident," killing her and their one-year-old daughter and seriously injuring their two sons.

In America, when a power base's interests are harmed, they turn to assassination. Thus, when the news reached Montgomery, General Bourbon, though certain that war was now inevitable for independence, continued to encourage the Southern lords: "Tell the politicians not to fear! They must continue the struggle with the Yankees in the hall!"

In modern America, the local grandees rarely fought personally, preferring to secure their interests through the election of politicians. The Confederates in Washington were no different; the death of a few representatives did not threaten the lords' own lives.

If the politicians dared to disobey, they might escape the enemy’s fire, but their own backers had their own hit teams. In that case, it wouldn't just be the politicians who died, but their entire families.

The FBI handled domestic affairs, and this assassination was clearly an elite hit. The RPG-7 was a Chinese military weapon captured on the battlefield. Using it for a public execution made it impossible to trace the perpetrator through the weapon. If they pressed the investigation, someone would inevitably blame China. Given the public’s intellect at the time, they would likely believe Beijing had sent an agent to kill Senator McCain.

Recognizing it as a political hit, Director Hoover simply ordered that FBI protection be granted to any congressman who requested it. The investigation proceeded, but the leadership applied no pressure to the team.

After all, applying pressure now would only cause those who had ordered the hit to doubt the FBI’s neutrality. With the opposition utilizing military hardware for executions, Hoover had no reason to get involved, even if he didn't fear them.

Thus, when the members of Congress traveled, they were escorted not only by FBI agents but by entire teams of private bodyguards.

Before every session, the representatives arrived surrounded by retinues. Outside the Capitol, thousands of armed men with gun permits stood in dense ranks. They were divided into two factions according to their political stances, never mingling. In their isolated standoff, it looked as if war were about to break out in the heart of Washington.

At this time, the US media began to choose sides. In a pro-Confederacy outlet, an intensely moving article appeared: *Today, You Kill the Blacks. Tomorrow, is it our turn, the Rednecks?*

Had one not known the author’s background, they might have taken her for a leftist. In reality, the author was not even a man, but Margaret Mitchell, the author of *Gone with the Wind*.

The Southern propaganda effort was exceptionally well-prepared. Learning the lessons of the first Civil War, the South avoided an overt racist stance, opting instead for a "universalist" appeal.

This was the strategy formulated by their experts. Since the North would never accept equal civil rights for Black people, the South could launch a series of media strikes.

Initially, they hadn't been sure this approach would grant them an advantage. Now, they were certain: the North was in its worst-ever propaganda position. The Yankees had never truly intended to liberate the Blacks, and faced with a real challenge, their mask had slipped. They dared not promote equality and instead sought only to delay. The South’s explicit support for Black civil rights had turned the North into an object of contempt.

The news from America felt like a serial drama to Cheng Ruofan in Germany. What was happening there was reminiscent of the era of Yuan Shikai and the Beiyang faction in China.

Back then, Yuan Shikai had sought to become Emperor largely to re-centralize fiscal power. Now, American fiscal power had split completely between North and South. The Southern move for a new Constitution was an attempt by the states to reclaim that power. Once the states held the purse strings, the federal government would be a hollow shell.

Furthermore, the Confederacy sought to codify this fiscal power through a new Constitution, ensuring that even future amendments could not shake the states' control.

Cheng set the paper down, his heart racing. Years ago, the southern "rebels" in China had used the United States as an example for their "Federal Autonomy" movement. He had been young then, and though he felt they were trying to destroy the nation, he couldn't articulate why.

Now, watching the play of fiscal decentralization reach its climax in America, it certainly didn't look like a path to prosperity.

Calming his nerves, Cheng returned to the arrangements for West Germany. The performance of the Germans had earned his profound respect. Despite their defeat and the wreckage of their country, the German civil servants worked honestly under the military administration so long as they were paid—and they were very good at it.

Germany had been able to hammer its neighbors not merely through a militaristic tradition, but because its governmental operational capacity was one of the pillars of its strength.

Cheng did not know that the German officials were equally impressed by the capability of the Chinese administrators—particularly their application of computer systems.

The Germans were rigid and rule-bound, adequate at maintaining records, yet their efficiency had never been stellar; they were masters of "working to rule."

But the Chinese computer systems allowed for rapid data entry, storage, querying, summarization, and printing. Under Chinese management, the Germans' rigidity became an asset.

For instance, the national census began on September 25th. By October 6th, the survey and data entry were complete. It was established that West Germany had a population of 44 million.

Although the USSR occupied only a quarter of German land, Berlin was the center of German industry. Of the 66 million population at the war's end, 22 million lived in that quarter—a third of the total.

The German bureaucracy had little confidence in a rapid recovery given West Germany's population and economic base. Even setting aside the loss of life, many Germans looked at the piles of rubble and lamented: "Clearing this debris alone will take twenty years. Rebuilding a whole Germany is harder than reaching the heavens!"

Recalling the agonizing struggles after the first war, the Germans were truly in despair.

But Cheng had overseen the completion of the census in record time—an efficiency far exceeding that of Germany at its height. It gave the bureaucracy a sliver of hope. While the Germans always seemed to lead their nation into a ditch, the rulers this time were Chinese. Perhaps under them, Germany could truly solve the problems it had never been able to overcome.