Chen Jitong's figure appeared at the garden entrance:
"Lionel, Marquis Zeng wishes to speak with you privately. Is now a convenient time for you?"
Lionel was somewhat surprised but still nodded politely:
"Of course, it's convenient."
He turned to Sa Zhenbing and Yan Fu:
"Excuse me, I need to go meet Marquis Zeng. Please continue your conversation."
The two quickly returned the bow and bade farewell to Lionel.
Following Chen Jitong through the corridor, a hint of doubt arose in Lionel's mind.
Zeng Jize, as the Qing envoy, why would he suddenly want to have a private conversation with him, a French writer?
The two had no prior connection, and he was not a political figure.
As they spoke, the two ascended to the second floor of the embassy.
The living room here was elegantly and comfortably furnished, in a completely Western style, unlike the blend of Chinese and Western styles at the banquet just now.
Zeng Jize had changed out of his official attire and was wearing a dark long gown, standing by the window gazing at the Parisian nightscape.
Hearing footsteps, he turned around, a gentle smile on his face:
"Monsieur Sorel, thank you for taking the time to come. Please have a seat."
Zeng Jize's English was very fluent, posing no obstacle to their communication.
He gestured for Lionel to sit on a brocade-covered sofa; Chen Jitong quietly closed the door and stood guard outside.
Lionel maintained a polite smile:
"Your Excellency, Marquis, what may I do for you?"
Zeng Jize did not answer directly, but first poured a cup of tea for Lionel:
"This is Junshan Yinzhen from my hometown, Hunan, quite rare in Paris.
However, our way of enjoying tea is different from yours in Europe; you might want to try it."
Lionel raised the teacup, took a sip, and nodded:
"Actually, I prefer this type, but such good tea is unavailable in France.
Here, one can only buy Indian tea—which is only suitable for brewing with milk, then sprinkled with peppercorns and vanilla..."
Zeng Jize was somewhat surprised:
"Indian tea? It's certainly not high-grade—but it's very successful in the market, isn't it?"
Amidst the lingering tea aroma, he did not continue this topic but said:
"Tonight, I was very pleased to see your interaction with the two young men, Sa Zhenbing and Yan Fu.
They are the future hope of our country and need to interact more with knowledgeable French talents like yourself."
Lionel slightly smacked his lips, seemingly still savoring the aftertaste:
"Both of them are exceptionally talented. With such young people, China's future is promising."
Zeng Jize nodded,
"Precisely. That's why I brought them to Paris, hoping that cultural exchange and the clash of ideas will ignite brilliant sparks."
He paused, his tone turning grave:
"However, the bridge of friendship needs to be built on the soil of peace..."
Lionel sat up straight:
"Please continue."
Zeng Jize's gaze became solemn:
"Monsieur Sorel, what are your thoughts on the current Sino-French relations?
As a Frenchman, how do you view the... tense atmosphere between our two countries?"
A faint alarm bell rang in Lionel's heart.
He knew, of course, that Sino-French relations were outwardly friendly, but beneath the surface, strong undercurrents were already swirling regarding the Vietnam issue.
France was continuously pushing its colonial expansion in Vietnam, while China insisted on its suzerainty over Vietnam.
After a moment of consideration, Lionel cautiously replied:
"As a writer, I am more focused on culture than politics.
However, I believe that China and France share a long history of friendly exchanges.
Since the time of Louis XIV, the two countries have appreciated and learned from each other.
I believe that peace and friendship are the choices that align with the fundamental interests of both peoples."
Zeng Jize was taken aback.
How could this young French writer so skillfully utter such flowery and hollow diplomatic platitudes?
It would be impossible to speak like this without decades of experience.
Zeng Jize gently rubbed the rim of his teacup, lost in thought:
"You speak very well. Peace and friendship are indeed the common aspirations of both peoples. However..."
He sighed:
"In Paris, some voices are advocating for war. They believe that only through force can the Vietnam issue be resolved."
Lionel knew Zeng Jize was referring to the French colonialists and commercial interest groups, who had consistently pushed the government to adopt a stronger Asian policy.
Jules Ferry, who was vigorously promoting free primary education, was one of them.
He remained silent, waiting for the other to continue.
Zeng Jize's tone grew heavy:
"The last thing I wish to see is China and France clashing on the battlefield.
Maintaining peace requires not only political and diplomatic efforts but also cultural exchange and understanding.
If the French people could truly understand China, and realize that colonial expansion in Vietnam is unjust and unwise...
...then the pressure of public opinion might be able to influence government decisions..."
Lionel began to understand Zeng Jize's intention.
Zeng Jize leaned forward, lowering his voice:
"Monsieur Sorel, you are a writer with deep affection for China.
I hope you can write some articles to help the French people better understand China and foster goodwill between our two peoples..."
He paused, adding:
"The embassy will ensure your efforts are not in vain."
Lionel fell into contemplation.
He knew, of course, the outcome of the Sino-French War that occurred in Vietnam historically.
Although the conclusion that "China lost without being defeated, and France won without winning" is somewhat biased, it was indeed a rare victory for 19th-century Chinese forces against a Western army.
If he accepted Zeng Jize's request, he might be able to influence French public opinion to some extent, but could it truly change the course of history?
On one hand, Lionel was deeply skeptical; on the other hand, he was unwilling to deprive the Chinese people of this victory.
Moreover, he knew that this war objectively promoted China's awakening, sowing the seeds for later reforms.
This was a continuous process, and no one knew what might happen if one frame were removed from it.
Lionel finally spoke, his tone polite but firm:
"Your Excellency, Marquis, I appreciate your trust, but I cannot accept this request."
Disappointment flashed in Zeng Jize's eyes, but he remained very polite:
"Could you tell me why?"
Lionel did not answer the question directly, but instead spoke of history:
"Do you know that in the 18th century, there was a 'China craze' in Europe?
Voltaire once highly praised China's moral and political systems, royal palaces imitated Chinese gardens, and the wealthy took pride in collecting Chinese porcelain.
Even China's Qianlong Emperor and France's Louis XIV had frequent correspondence."
Zeng Jize was somewhat surprised:
"I know the former. The play performed at the embassy tonight was called 'The Orphan of Zhao,' which Voltaire adapted into 'The Chinese Orphan.'
It was said to be one of Europe's most popular plays at one point. But His Imperial Majesty's private letters..."
Only then did Lionel realize he had let slip something, and quickly added:
"After the Revolution, French libraries collected Emperor Qianlong's replies..."
Zeng Jize suddenly understood:
"Oh, so that's it..."
He then fell silent.
After all, the notion of common people beheading their ruler in the street—even with his excellent Western education, he couldn't quite process the complex emotional impact of such an event.
Lionel changed the subject:
"However, after those few wars, Europe's perception of China fundamentally changed.
What was once praised became ridiculed; what was admired became scorned.
Do you think this was because Europe didn't understand China?
No, it was precisely because Europeans believed they understood China too well—
a stagnant, weak, and easily bullied China."
Zeng Jize's expression grew serious.
Lionel did not stop:
"A few eloquent articles cannot change the disparity in national strength, nor can they alter the cruel reality of international politics.
China will win respect not through the pen of a French writer, but through its own transformation and strength.
When China appears on the world stage with a new countenance, it will not need anyone to speak for it; it will naturally command the respect it deserves."
A long silence fell over the living room.
Zeng Jize's gaze became profound, as if he were looking far into the distance.
After a long while, Zeng Jize finally spoke, his voice weary:
"What you said... makes a great deal of sense."
Lionel rose and bowed politely:
"Please forgive my frankness. But I hold the greatest goodwill and confidence towards China.
I believe that young people like Sa Zhenbing and Yan Fu will contribute their strength to building a powerful China.
And the best I can do is wish them all success!"
Zeng Jize also stood up, his expression complex:
"I respect your decision. Our conversation tonight has... greatly enlightened me."
He forced a smile:
"But in any case, I hope you will continue to maintain your friendship with China's young people; that is the most precious thing."
Lionel nodded:
"I will."
----
Stepping out of the embassy, the cool autumn night breeze of Paris swept over him.
Lionel took a deep breath, his heart filled with mixed emotions.
He knew he might have just missed an opportunity to make quick money, and perhaps also a small window to influence history.
But he had no regrets—if asked to praise the current China and the Qing court, all he could say was,
"This humble one cannot do it!"
Lionel tightened his collar and set off on his way back to 64 Rue Laffitte.
Tomorrow he had something important to do, more crucial than writing any article!
(End of Chapter)
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