"Poor Mexico, so far from God and so close to the United States."

This quote is generally attributed to former Mexican President Porfirio Díaz (1830–1915), but it was actually Nemesio García Naranjo of Monterrey who was the first to record it in writing. García Naranjo, a man of broad professional accomplishment—lawyer, journalist, author, historian, politician, professor, and scholar—mentioned in an article that he first heard the phrase in New York in 1926, spoken by Father Carlos Heredia.

Following the outbreak of the second American Civil War, Mexico erupted in celebration. Oppressed by the United States for decades, the Mexican people were convinced that a divided America was a boon for their nation. On March 18, 1946, when the government of the United States formally demanded that the Mexican government "honor its obligation to prevent the export of goods from the insurgent Southern forces through Mexico," the response from Mexico City was profoundly dismissive.

The Mexican President stated: "Mexico does not recognize the national status of the Confederate States of America." In Mexican eyes, this was a statement that granted the Americans significant face.

In the United States, however, the words were interpreted differently. In the context of traditional American foreign policy, such a statement carried a double meaning: the Mexican government acknowledged the existence of a political entity called the Confederate States, and it merely "currently" withheld recognition of its independence.

Such a perfunctory attitude was naturally unsatisfactory to the USA. After an intense internal debate, the American diplomatic mission forwarded its initial assessment back to Washington. The Secretary of State immediately instructed the delegation to find a way to persuade Mexico City to issue an explicit pledge forbidding any Southern exports through its territory.

During the first Civil War, the North had successfully blockaded the South’s Atlantic routes. But the world of 1946 was a different place. In 1860, Mexico had neither the interest nor the capacity to provide a transport corridor for the South. In 1946, however, the railways along the border were pouring a steady stream of Southern grain and cotton into Mexico, to be exported through its ports.

Before the split, the US Navy could have blockaded Mexican ports and seized their vessels at will. Even now, the USA possessed enough naval strength to do so, yet Mexico was no longer a state that could "call to the heavens and find no answer, cry to the earth and find no path."

If the Mexican government so desired, it could simply appeal to China to "uphold justice." In the American tradition, the one with the power to uphold justice was invariably the strongest, and the strongest always sought to maximize its own interests.

How to counter Chinese intervention in North America was a question that the US State Department simply could not resolve. Ultimately, the government ordered Ambassador John Leighton Stuart to find a way, by any means necessary, to gauge the true attitude of the Chinese government.

Upon receiving the order, Stuart immediately requested a visit with Zhao Tianlin. Zhao was at a sanitarium on the coast of Jiangsu when he received the telegram. He had collapsed earlier in the year, and many had feared he would not survive; Zhao himself had felt his end was near. Yet he had pulled through the most difficult stage and was now slowly recovering.

After reading the telegram, Zhao was reluctant to see Stuart. Domestic policy toward the United States was currently caught in a struggle between different interest groups.

During He Rui’s life, the Chinese economy had developed at a breakneck pace. At different stages, old interest groups had dissolved and reorganized into new ones as production and commercial models shifted.

With the victory in the Second World War and the emergence of a global market, these groups had undergone another round of fission and realignment. Broadly speaking, the two major factions were the "Financial Faction" and the "Industrial Faction."

The Financial Faction argued that Chinese finance must rapidly cover the globe, becoming the core through which global capital flowed, thereby establishing the Yuan as the primary global currency.

The Industrial Faction sought to have Chinese goods occupy every corner of the international market, using global orders to solve the problem of domestic unemployment.

While their goals appeared complementary on the surface, a fierce struggle for dominance had emerged. The core of the Financial Faction’s policy was that capital was supreme. China should cooperate with global capital. If a conflict arose between financial and industrial policy, the latter must yield.

The Industrial Faction took the opposite stance: financial policy must serve the needs of industry.

The struggle for dominance has always been the most intense in history—whether between powerful ministers or rival heirs. Whenever the question of policy dominance was raised, the result was almost always the liquidation of one faction, or a "strike at both sides" by the ruler, resulting in mass dismissals or even a river of blood.

Zhao Tianlin had been away from the center of power for some time. Looking at the current situation, he actually felt a degree of pity for Li Runshi.

With a sigh, Zhao felt that He Rui had died far too early. During his life, Zhao had always considered He Rui’s political and military genius to be matchless. Only after his death did Zhao have an epiphany: He Rui’s true, peerless talent had been in economics.

Under He Rui, the Chinese economy had indeed grown rapidly. But what had grown even faster was the central government’s fiscal operational capacity.

Before going to the Northeast, Zhao had been a Doctor of Laws from Harvard and President of the National Peiyang University, handling capital in the hundreds of thousands or millions of silver dollars. He was no stranger to high finance.

Yet within just three or four years in the Northeast, the annual budgets Zhao was responsible for had exceeded a hundred million dollars. By the time he was Vice Premier for education, science, culture, and health, the annual budgets were in the tens of billions.

This had been the reason for his resignation: the office of Vice Premier carried a responsibility so vast that Zhao felt he could not sustain it.

Zhao could not, yet He Rui could handle it with ease. Through policy formulation and the selection and training of talent, he had grown the Chinese economy into a trillion-dollar colossus. Managing an economy of that scale relied upon the formidable economic departments of the central government.

Interest groups were not merely cliques of "evil" industrialists or financiers colluding with corrupt officials in dark rooms, swearing blood oaths. Even in the agricultural era, no man of substance engaged in such nonsense. While such petty groups existed, they had long since been systematically uprooted.

Genuine interest groups were founded upon the development of industrial productivity—partnerships between upstream and downstream production units based on the specialization of every link in the chain.

For instance, the industrial groups had undergone repeated rounds of competition, fission, and reorganization under He Rui’s industrial policies. Currently, they consisted of thousands of large state-owned, joint-stock, and worker-cooperative enterprises, supported by hundreds of thousands—even millions—of small and medium firms providing components and services.

If the Financial Faction’s policies gained dominance, and foreign firms were allowed to open their equity to Chinese capital, then Chinese capital would naturally invest in the most efficient enterprises, regardless of whether they were Chinese or foreign. It would then use its influence to open markets for those firms to ensure they thrived and returned maximum profit to China.

In that process, certain domestic Chinese industries would inevitably be devastated, facing bankruptcy as they lost policy support to global capital realignment.

But was it wrong to oppose global capital layout for the sake of industrial interests? Zhao did not think so.

He Rui had said long ago: if you destroy the industrial capacity of every other nation, the global economy cannot develop, and the wealthy markets of the West will collapse. China would have won the war only to inherit a global depression... what would be the point?

Conversely, was it right to sacrifice domestic industry for the sake of global layout? Certainly not. If China developed the world but hollowed out its own industry, leaving its people to live on the "welfare" and scraps provided by finance?

That was exactly what Rome had looked like as it fell.

Both the financial and industrial groups knew that a healthy development required cooperation and healthy competition between the two sectors.

During He Rui’s life, all these groups believed he could grasp the direction and the critical points of development, ensuring that every sector thrived. Even when the process of "eliminating backward capacity" caused pain, that pain was eventually resolved through technical progress, new industries, adult re-education, and a nationwide social insurance system—solving the problems of productivity through the growth of productivity itself.

Zhao had known all this while He Rui was alive, yet it hadn't truly sunk in. He had assumed He Rui would live to eighty, not die at fifty-five. With his ability and prestige, He Rui could keep any debate within reasonable bounds. If the radicals in any group jumped too high, they would be suppressed by their own peers before he even had to act.

As for whether Li Runshi could match He Rui’s performance, Zhao hoped so—even hoped he might do better—but he lacked confidence. He did not see in Li Runshi the temperament of a "successor dictator."

Li was promoting "Democratic Centralism," where the members of the Standing Committee shared responsibility for their respective fields. This was a profound reform of the system He Rui had established.

Under He Rui, many matters were never even brought to a meeting for discussion. Things that weren't discussed were, by definition, less than four ounces.

With the United States as an example, it was indeed a Great Power, yet while He Rui was alive, a single order for war could result in casualties exceeding six percent of its total population. Conversely, since he judged strategically that China should not eliminate the US, its mainland was spared a total invasion.

Under the Li Runshi government, such matters were brought to the table. And to be brought to the table was to be "placed on the scale." Matters that seemed to weigh less than four ounces when handled individually could weigh over a thousand pounds once placed on the scale of collective debate. This meant that internal maneuvering within the new government would be far more intense than under He Rui.

Thus, Zhao was puzzled by Ambassador Stuart's approach. Stuart was a scholar born in China and steeped in its culture, though he had returned to the US for his higher education. Surely, Zhao thought, the man wasn't so simple as to miss the point.

After much deliberation, Zhao’s heart softened. Regardless of the conflict, neither side in the American Civil War intended to harm Chinese interests. Zhao had graduated from an American university; that "scent of incense" made it impossible for him to be indifferent to America's future.

He instructed his secretary to telegram Stuart with his address at the sanitarium. The telegram went out in the afternoon; by the following morning, a travel-worn Stuart appeared at his door with a bouquet of flowers.

After being invited in, Stuart could barely contain himself. Following a few polite greetings, he jumped straight to the question of how China would respond to the American request.

Zhao was prepared. He asked directly: "Mr. Stuart, do you recall the discussion during the 1937 academic exchange regarding whether Chairman He was a dictator?"

Stuart was momentarily taken aback. He remembered it well. Given his deep immersion in Chinese culture, he felt it was a topic best avoided in a Chinese setting.

After a moment’s hesitation, he answered frankly: "I believe that great debate and the subsequent cultural comparisons were of immense value."

Zhao nodded. "I agree."

During that 1937 exchange, the foreign scholars had reached a "blurred consensus" that He Rui was a dictator.

The moment the view was voiced, it met with fierce opposition from Chinese scholars. In the Chinese cultural context, "dictator" carried profound negative connotations—thoughts of "the lone man," "the tyrant," or "the usurper." To the Chinese, "dictating court affairs" implied a policy of pushing a line at the expense of others.

The Chinese scholars argued that since He Rui’s policies were universally beneficial and provided for the common good, he could never be called a "dictator."

The foreign scholars had been nonplussed. In Western culture, "dictatorship" was a management model, unrelated to the effects of policy. Based on their systems of thought, since He Rui was the core policy-maker, the direct author of many laws, and the final arbiter of almost every decision, he fit the definition of a "chairman" perfectly.

This unpleasant debate had triggered a massive discussion on political culture and morality, resulting in countless papers and keeping a generation of political commentators in business.

Zhao asked Stuart directly: "Mr. Stuart, do you believe Chairman Li is the same kind of 'Chairman' as He Rui?"

Stuart had thought long on this. Based on his team’s analysis of open intelligence, while Li Runshi had inherited the most absolute power, he was far more "democratic" than He Rui.

Shaking his head, Stuart sighed, "I believe Chairman Li is a genuine Chairman."

Zhao disliked this American way of looking at things and spoke plainly: "Since it is no longer the opinion of a single Chinese Chairman that decides America's fate, any proposal from the US government will, once it reaches the meeting table, become a trigger for struggle among China's various interest groups. These groups do not fight for the sake of fighting, but to implement the line they believe most effective for China's economic and national development. I fail to see, Mr. Stuart, how you intend to achieve your goal."

Sensing he might be being too alarmist, Zhao added in a gentler tone: "Of course, perhaps it is because I too have an affection for America. I assume you hope the Chinese government will stand firm in not recognizing 'two Americas' and not practically promoting such a policy. I wonder if I have understood your intent correctly?"

Stuart was touched. He had always felt that Zhao harbored an affection for the US, and these words confirmed it.

Stifling his emotions, he spoke as calmly as possible: "Mr. Zhao, I hope that China and America can move past the impact of the war and restore a friendly relationship. The United States is already prepared for full cooperation. I believe you can sense that we have truly acknowledged China as a great nation and the Chinese people as the equal of any other race.

"I have come... first, to visit you. But if you are willing, I would ask your guidance on how to conduct a beneficial discussion and cooperation with this current Chinese government from a position of peace and friendship."

Hearing Stuart’s humble tone, Zhao was satisfied that the man was indeed deeply influenced by Chinese culture. He felt much more at ease.

Since Stuart was someone he could communicate with, Zhao spoke: "My suggestion is this: you must demonstrate a genuine sincerity for strategic-level cooperation. Only then is it possible for the power of decision to shift toward Chairman Li."

Stuart knew he lacked the authorization for such a statement and could not answer. Finally, he asked: "Mr. Zhao, as a close comrade of Chairman He and a friend to Chairman Li, could I ask you to privately convey some of America's views to him?"

Zhao found the request desperate but also offensive. He replied: "Starting with Chairman He, China’s national policy has been entirely insulated from personal relationships. Even if the decision-making model appeared personal, the process was never influenced by emotion. I believe your understanding of China is still too colored by the 'Old China' mindset of the Qing and Beiyang eras. Let me emphasize one thing: this is New China. The entanglement between the public and private in politics has been fundamentally altered."

Stuart felt his heart skip a beat. He had lived in China through the Qing, the Beiyang, and the He Rui eras. From the start of the current regime, China had suddenly become something else entirely—a change so vast it was as if it were a different nation.

Mastering his sense of powerlessness, Stuart asked: "Mr. Zhao, may I assume then that certain interest groups in China believe a divided America is in China's interest?"

Zhao felt a wave of pity for the man. After a moment’s thought, he answered: "What follows is my personal opinion. Within the Chinese government, of all those who have seriously considered the American question, likely only Chairman He believed a unified America was more beneficial to China. I trust you can understand why.

"As for Chairman Li’s views, I do not know them, nor do I have any desire to.

"If there is anything that can move the Chinese government, it is Moral Integrity. Although the government of New China is fundamentally different from those of the past, it did not destroy Chinese civilization; it restored it to its greatest height and continues to advance it upon a foundation of industry never reached before.

"You must understand, Mr. Stuart, that in Chinese civilization, the highest value is not simple victory or defeat, but Morality!"

Zhao’s voice grew resonant. "In other words, even those who believe a divided America is a material benefit to China would be willing to forgo that short-term gain if they were convinced the United States represented the more advanced, more civilized side.

"Lincoln used every ounce of propaganda in the first Civil War to convince Europeans that the North was the more civilized side. But this time, America is facing China, and Chinese civilization is not European. If America cannot convince the Chinese people that the United States represents a more desirable civilization, they will default to economic interest.

"I know that the Chinese moral view appears 'abnormal' to American culture. But I believe you understand what I am saying."

Zhao fell silent, watching Stuart. He had expected a rapid response, yet Stuart remained silent for a long time.

Just as Zhao began to wonder if the man had missed the point, Stuart’s expression shifted into a smile of weary resignation. After a long period of reflection, he chuckled. "Heh. Mr. Zhao, China is currently trialing the old world of Europe. I had hoped America might avoid such a trial. Now I see that we too are destined to be judged, are we not?"

Zhao felt a great weight lift. He had been unable to bring himself to say that a Great Trial was coming for America. For the many Americans who believed in the End Times, such a judgment wasn't a problem.

But for a man like Stuart, so influenced by China, the prospect was difficult to stomach. Zhao hadn't wanted to provoke him. Hearing Stuart say it himself was an immense relief.

Stuart’s face moved from resignation to a tragic clarity, then back to resignation. It was clear he was undergoing a profound internal struggle.

Finally, he shook his head and regained his composure. Just as Zhao thought the meeting was over, Stuart spoke with a sentimental air: "Mr. Zhao, do you think Chairman He achieved the level of 'loving others'?"

Zhao had no intention of encouraging false hopes. "When I discussed the concept of 'loving others' with him, he told me quite seriously that he was an anti-social, anti-human madman. He said if there was one thing that could give him simple joy, it was likely the total destruction of humanity."

Stuart’s eyes lit up. "Mr. Zhao, are you certain he was not a believer?"

"Of course!" Zhao answered definitively. He was ten thousand percent certain that religion could never have been a spiritual crutch for He Rui.

Hearing such a certain answer, Stuart’s expression shifted to one of genuine joy. "If that is so, then his decisions are in perfect accord with the attitude of God. God loves humanity, and thus it is out of disappointment that He might seek its destruction. It is the Will of God."

The scene almost made Zhao laugh, but he held it back.

At the very least, Stuart had not only understood what had to be done, he had found a reason why it must be done. Having persuaded the US Ambassador, Zhao felt he could finally give himself an accounting. The anxiety born of his affection for America could finally be laid to rest.