If You Win, You're the Government Troops; If You Lose, You're the Enemy #4
The newly independent Zhonghua Republic had a rocky start from day one. It shouldered massive Qing reparations, trembled under Qing threats, and never had a day to stand tall amid legitimacy disputes. But that China began to raise its head. Sure, midway through, Britain and France carved off some land, but the nation's progress was so dazzling it was shrugged off. Railroads and roads appeared where none had been. Schools and hospitals sprang up from nothing. Above all, a nation was born where there'd been none. The Chinese, buoyed just by that, wanted to make something of themselves—and it propelled national development. Everything seemed to shine.
But a British colony letting that happen? Fat chance.
"Rice prices are way too cheap!!!"
"Salt costs what?!!"
"Pardon? All silk deliveries only here from now on?"
Sadly, the Zhonghua Republic was a capitalist democracy. Translation: extremely vulnerable to multinational corporations' market takeover. Why does "liberation" always spawn capitalism and democracy? Profit, plain and simple. Capitalism breeds luxury demand; democracy nixes local cartels. No cartels means multinationals can plunder resources and dump exports unchecked. The "masses" were the perfect antidote to those entrenched regional syndicates—disorganized rabble, fickle herd, fixated on the here and now.
In this gold-standard colonial world, a "liberated" China as capitalist democracy had its fate sealed. First came the investors. Like in India, they jacked rice yields sky-high, dooming every other rice farmer on the planet to oblivion. (Their "superior science" self-praise was just icing.) Then they erased the southern salt pans and salt merchants from the map—unproductive and unsanitary, they said. Absolutely not to hawk their Himalayan pink salt. And silk? They choked it: no high prices, no overproduction. Luxury fabrics' profits belonged to the luxury class—them.
Chinese workers scratched their heads: why was busting ass making life harder? At first, everyone toiled, output soared, living standards rose. Then it all reversed. Labor supply hit diminishing returns; sustained modernization's marginal utility tanked. Exploitation's minuses outpaced the pluses. Workers didn't know econ 101—they just saw skyrocketing prices and joblessness. The world was shit, plain and simple.
So they picked an easy target to lash out at.
"China invading Taiwan? Who invading whom?"
This wasn't the 21st century, was it? Foreign Minister Lee Wan-yong pressed on.
"Taiwan declared independence from Japan recently, right?"
"And?"
"They tossed Japan some scraps and called it quits, didn't they?"
"Yeah? Wait... no way?"
"Yep. To the Zhonghua Republic, Taiwan's core territory. They're using this 'independence' to reclaim it."
"Hold up—isn't that China?"
"Yes... no. Turns out they declared independence from China too."
The Supreme Leader hobnobbed with diplomats nonstop, but Korea had a proper Foreign Minister for that: the illustrious Lee Wan-yong. Red-alert powers like Britain, Japan, and America were one thing; yellow-alerts—China, Russia, Qing, Vietnam, Philippines, etc.—fell under his purview.
"Hmm... let's ignore it."
Headaches from Britain and Japan were bad enough. Why shove our head into the South China Sea where Britain's jaws were already gaping?
"Easier said than done, sir."
Lee Wan-yong briefed me: Japan's Taiwan assets had all been sold off to British firms mere months ago—ostensibly because Japan lacked reparations funds. And those assets now hugged the warzone.
"So the Chinese are torching British entrepreneurs' legitimate property?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
Hmm. How's this any different from the Boston Tea Party? Oh right—Chinese aren't even white.
"China's basically Britain's piggy bank."
"Spot on."
"That's why I laid track and sold them heavy stuff they won't touch."
"You did."
"...Looks like even the heavy stuff's off-limits now?"
"Er..."
"Worse: watch for Chinese infighting. Anti-Brit sentiment's gonna explode."
"Obviously. We inherited the Thousand Ming mandate—can't ignore protecting Chinese."
"But I deliberately split the emperor from the Chinese nation-state for times like this."
"Our Chinese under the emperor will sympathize with those Chinese."
"Enough to drag us onto the anti-Brit front?"
"Strong pressure at minimum."
"Can't stick our neck out. I intended to neglect it."
That neglect let Britain vivisect China alive while Korea grew in the shadows.
"So even minimal intervention needs caution, in your view?"
"Damn right. Especially with Britain eyeing us... differently lately."
Britain's brutal demands, high-handed bluster, shakedowns? Not scary—that's standard. No, this Britain unnerved me: silent when it should roar, all smiles and welcomes. Frankly, it spooked me. A lone battleship? I'd film Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion. But all Europe pooling fleets with escorts? That's the nightmare.
"Proof Korea's gotten strong."
"Whatever. China's a no-go. One missionary murder and it's Boxer Rebellion 2.0."
Touch it rashly, spread a rumor like "Koreans sparked the Boxers," and we're done. No more Boxers in my lifetime. Hell, no Xinhai Revolution if possible. Play neutral, play nice.
Korea opted for silence. As the dispute escalated, Ambassador MacDonald paid a call. If he just hawked Big Macs and left, perfect.
"Could you serve as a key witness?"
"Pardon?"
"The Taiwan Nationalist vs. China Nationalist spat. It's getting ugly."
"Tragic. But nothing to add."
"Korea's the sole neutral East Asian power with standing."
"Frankly, not keen. Unless Britain insists—non-interference holds."
"Even if we occupy Taiwan to mediate?"
"Yep. Modernization would suit Taiwan fine."
Seeing my stonewall, MacDonald dropped the act and pivoted.
"You've sunk serious private cash into Taiwan. Fine letting China gobble it?"
"Nationalize, you mean?"
"Who knows."
Hmm. Hands-off means China seizes my assets via proxy.
"If China takes Taiwan, I'll politely ask them not to."
"Wouldn't property-respecting Taiwan be preferable?"
"If you think so, why seek my input? Your London directives suffice."
"Hardly. Britain values Korea's East Asian stance. Skipping talks? Absurd."
Acknowledging our dominance... big play from Britain. But not mine to claim.
"We've always coordinated with Korea here in East Asia, haven't we?"
"Agreed. Korea wishes smooth sailing for British global trade."
"If no witness role, there's another path."
MacDonald whipped out papers from his coat with eerie naturalness. What Britain always craved, Korea stonewalled for lack of fleet: the Anglo-Korean Alliance.
Timing screamed intent. Like the Boxers, they wanted their Korean warrior to crush Chinese adventurism. Deeper still: "Who are you really?" Fellow imperialist carving up China? Or pan-Asian firebrand?
"Join the alliance, and we can finally vouch a reliable big brother for Taiwan."
MacDonald beamed sunnily. Britain slithered in like a viper, coiling tight around Korea.