Rise of the Arms Dealer in the World War-Chapter 5 - Dilemma

The night air hung heavy with the scent of rice wine as laughter spilled from the small, dimly lit room.

"Dislike drinking? Ha! When this old man starts drinking, the town's barrels run dry!" declared Father, his voice booming with exaggerated pride.

"Sure, sure," Yuna teased, her tone playfully sarcastic. "You must have enough money to buy the entire town's stock, then."

"Of course!" he bellowed, grinning as he reached for a small pouch on the table. The glint of coins spilled from its opening, more than usual—likely three weeks' wages.

"Your father is a master at earning money, you see! Just look at this!"

Fang Ming watched the exchange, his expression a mix of amusement and concern. "Yes, yes, Father. You're the best. But it seems like you've had enough to drink. Let's get you to bed."

"Enough? I'm not drunk at all! I'm perfectly fine!" Father protested, though the sway in his step betrayed his words.

Fang Ming gently guided him to his sleeping mat, his protests fading as exhaustion overtook him.

"Good night, Father! Sleep well and see you tomorrow!" Yuna chirped, her bright voice echoing in the quiet.

Their father mumbled a half-hearted reply before slipping into a deep slumber.

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A Morning of Reflection

The next day began early. As dawn painted the skies in hues of gold, Fang Ming was already awake, organizing his day with precision. By six o'clock, he was at the dining table, reviewing his plans.

When he entered the living area, he found his father sitting there, hands clasped on the table, his gaze distant. The usual warmth in his eyes was replaced by a quiet storm of contemplation.

"You're up early, Father," Fang Ming said, taking a seat across from him.

"Yes, I am," Father replied, his tone subdued.

The two sat in silence for a while, the weight of unspoken thoughts filling the air. Finally,Fang Ming broke the quiet.

"Father, are you thinking about leaving your job?"

Father's reaction was immediate—a startled glance and a nervous chuckle. "What? No, of course not!"

But his hesitation betrayed him. Fang Ming's steady gaze urged him to speak the truth. After a long pause, Father sighed, shoulders sagging as if under an invisible burden.

"Ah... yes. I've been thinking about it. Perhaps it's time I stop working."

The admission hung heavy in the room. The year was 1895. The Sino-Japanese War had ended, leaving Korea under Japan's growing shadow. Taiwan, too, had fallen to Japanese control.

Though they lived on an island in Qing territory, Father's pride as a Korean never wavered. He had raised his children with that same steadfast identity, teaching Yuna Korean before Manchu.

Taiwan's strategic value was undeniable—a hub for trade between Japan, Korea, Qing, and beyond.

Ships laden with resources from the Philippines and Vietnam often passed through its ports. Father worked aboard a mid-sized wooden cargo ship that sailed between Taiwan and Qing, but this work had become increasingly fraught.

Japan had begun asserting control over all ships in Taiwan, demanding trade be routed exclusively through their channels. For a man like Father, whose pride lay in his heritage, this was a bitter pill to swallow.

Fang Ming watched his father closely, understanding the internal war raging within him. A man of such integrity often brought hardship to those around him, but Fang Ming bore no resentment. He respected his father's convictions, even if they made life more difficult.

"Father," Fang Ming said gently, "you've made the right decision. It's an honorable choice."

Father looked up, surprised but comforted by Fang Ming's words. The burden of providing for his family weighed heavily on him, but as a Korean, working under Japanese control was an unbearable compromise.

"You've already done so much for us," Fang Ming continued. "You've worked hard, and we have savings. And besides, I have money now—plenty of it. You've done your duty as a father. You can rest knowing we're proud of you."

Father's eyes softened, and a faint smile crossed his lips. "Thank you, son. That means more than you know."

He seemed relieved, though he still didn't fully grasp the scope of Ming's success. How could he? His work often kept him away for weeks at a time. In the harsh realities of the 19th century, laborers were expected to endure long hours with little rest. That his son was quietly building an empire was beyond his imagination.

"Father," Fang Ming said, trying to bridge the gap, "you don't quite understand what I mean. I'm not just scraping by—I have real money."

Father chuckled, dismissing the statement. "Ah, I know, I know. You're working hard as a shoeshine boy. I've seen the tools you keep at home. Your dedication is admirable."

Fang Ming sighed, frustrated but patient. "It's more than that. I'm not just shining shoes, Father. What I've built is far beyond what you think."

Father tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. Fang Ming glanced at the clock—it was nearly seven. He had to leave soon for his Friday inspections and wouldn't have time to explain everything now.

"I'll tell you everything later. For now, I need to go. Take care, Father." Fang Ming stood, bowing briefly before heading for the door.

"Be safe, son," Father called after him, his voice tinged with both pride and confusion.

As Fang Ming walked the familiar streets, his mind turned to the challenges ahead. Though only fifteen, he bore responsibilities far beyond his years. In the rigid, hierarchical culture of the 19th century, he was still seen as a child—barely taken seriously, even when his accomplishments spoke volumes.

A businessman of his age was an anomaly. To many, his work seemed like a scam; to others, a joke. Employing adults was a near impossibility—how could they respect orders from someone so young?

Yet Fang Ming understood that as his ventures grew, he would need allies of greater age and experience. The thought lingered in his mind: could his father, a man of integrity and resilience, be the key to bridging that gap?

The answer seemed clear. If his father could lend his presence to Fang Ming's business, it would change everything.

A small smile played on Fang Ming's lips as the thought solidified. "This," he mused, "might just be the perfect solution."