Chen Jitong's figure appeared at the garden entrance: "Lionel, Marquis Zeng wishes to speak with you privately. Are you available now?"
Lionel was a little surprised but still nodded politely: "Of course, I am."
He turned to Sa Zhenbing and Yan Fu: "Excuse me, I need to go see Marquis Zeng. Please continue your conversation."
The two quickly returned his bow and bid Lionel farewell.
Following Chen Jitong through the corridor, a hint of doubt arose in Lionel's mind.
As the Qing Dynasty's envoy, why would Zeng Jize suddenly want to speak privately with him, a French writer? They had no previous interactions, 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 East-meets-West blend of the banquet hall.
Zeng Jize had changed out of his official attire and was wearing a dark long gown, standing by the window, gazing at the night view of Paris.
Hearing footsteps, he turned around, a gentle smile on his face: "Mr. Sorel, thank you for making time to come. Please be seated."
Zeng Jize's English was very fluent, allowing for seamless communication between the two.
He gestured for Lionel to sit on a brocade-covered sofa; Chen Jitong softly closed the door and stood guard outside.
Lionel maintained a polite smile: "Marquis, how may I be of assistance?"
Zeng Jize did not answer directly but first poured Lionel a cup of tea: "This is Junshan Yinzhen from my hometown, Hunan. It's quite rare in Paris.
However, our way of enjoying tea is different from yours in Europe. You can try it."
Lionel raised the teacup, took a sip, and nodded: "Actually, I prefer this. It's just that such good tea is not available 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 a little surprised: "Indian tea? It certainly isn't high-class—but it's very successful in the market, isn't it?"
Amidst the fragrant tea, 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 insightful French talents like you."
Lionel pursed his lips slightly, seemingly still savoring the aftertaste: "Both of them are excellent. With such youths, China has a promising future."
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 profound: "However, bridges of friendship need to be built on the soil of peace…"
Lionel sat up straight: "Please speak."
Zeng Jize's gaze became solemn: "Mr. Sorel, what are your thoughts on current Sino-French relations?
As a Frenchman, how do you view the… tense atmosphere between the two countries?"
A subtle alarm bell rang in Lionel's heart.
He, of course, knew that while Sino-French relations superficially remained friendly, undercurrents of tension had long been brewing over the Vietnam issue.
France continued to advance 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 focus more on culture than politics.
But I believe that China and France have a long history of friendly exchanges.
From 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 serve the fundamental interests of both peoples."
Zeng Jize was taken aback. How could this young French writer so skillfully utter such flowery, empty diplomatic rhetoric?
It would take decades of practice to speak like that offhand.
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, there are some voices advocating for war. They believe that only through force can the Vietnam issue be resolved."
Lionel knew that Zeng Jize was referring to the French colonialists and commercial interest groups, who had consistently pushed the government to adopt a more aggressive Asian policy.
Jules Ferry, who was actively promoting free primary education, was one of them.
He remained silent, waiting for the other party to continue.
Zeng Jize's tone grew heavy: "The last thing I want to see is China and France clashing in battle.
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 public opinion might be able to influence government decisions…"
Lionel began to understand Zeng Jize's intention.
Zeng Jize leaned forward, lowering his voice: "Mr. Sorel, you are a writer with a deep fondness for China.
I hope you can write some articles to help the French people better understand China and enhance goodwill between the two peoples…"
He paused, then added: "The embassy will not let you waste your ink."
Lionel fell into contemplation.
He, of course, knew the outcome of the historical Sino-French War in Vietnam. Although the conclusion that "China lost without being defeated, and France won without winning" was somewhat biased, it was indeed a rare victory for the Chinese army against a Western army in the 19th century.
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?
Lionel was deeply skeptical of this on one hand; on the other hand, he was unwilling to deprive the Chinese 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 would happen if a single frame was removed from it.
Lionel finally spoke, his tone tactful but firm: "Marquis, I thank you for your trust, but I cannot accept this request."
Disappointment flickered in Zeng Jize's eyes, but he remained very polite: "Can you tell me why?"
Lionel did not answer the question directly but 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 system, royal palaces imitated Chinese gardens, and the wealthy took pride in collecting Chinese porcelain.
China's Emperor Qianlong and France's Louis XIV even had frequent correspondence."
Zeng Jize was somewhat surprised: "I know the former. The play performed at the embassy today is called 'The Orphan of Zhao,' which Voltaire adapted into 'The Chinese Orphan.'
It was once said to be the most popular play in Europe. But His Majesty the Emperor's private letters…"
Lionel then realized he had let something slip and quickly added: "After the Great Revolution, French libraries collected Emperor Qianlong's replies…"
Zeng Jize suddenly understood: "Oh, so that's it…" He then fell silent.
After all, the common people beheading their ruler in the streets was something that, even with his good Western education, he couldn't process the complex emotional impact of.
Lionel changed the subject: "However, after those few wars, Europe's view of China underwent a fundamental change.
What was once praised became ridiculed, what was admired became scorned.
Do you think this is because Europe didn't understand China? No, it's precisely because Europeans thought they understood China too well—
A stagnant, weak, and easily bullied China."
Zeng Jize's expression became solemn.
Lionel did not stop: "A few beautiful articles cannot change the comparison of national strengths, nor can they change the cruel reality of international politics.
For China to earn respect, it will not rely on the pen of a French writer, but on its own transformation and strength.
When China appears on the world stage with a new face, it will not need anyone to speak for it; it will naturally earn the respect it deserves."
A long silence fell in the living room.
Zeng Jize's gaze became distant, as if he was looking far away.
After a long while, Zeng Jize finally spoke, his voice weary: "What you said… is very reasonable."
Lionel stood up and bowed politely: "Please forgive my directness. But I hold the greatest goodwill and confidence in China.
I believe that young people like Sa Zhenbing and Yan Fu will contribute to building a strong China.
And the best thing I can do is wish them all success!"
Zeng Jize also stood up, his expression complex: "I respect your decision. Our conversation tonight has… benefited me greatly."
He forced a smile: "But in any case, I hope you 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 air of Paris enveloped 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 a small window to influence history.
But he did not regret it—to praise the current China and the Qing court, he could only say, "I cannot do it!"
Lionel tightened his collar and set off on his way back to 64 Rue Laffitte.
Tomorrow, he had something big to do, more important than writing any article!