An Yi was very reluctant to take on this errand: "Principal, can students not attend?"
"No, who made you so famous? Ninety of a hundred reporters asked to interview you by name. Fortunately, you moved to the camp in time, otherwise I wouldn't know how worried I would be. You can fight and do business.
It's very good, but the political consciousness is still lacking, and it's obviously not a good thing to have too much love and hate. You should pay attention to this aspect."
Chiang Kai-shek stared into An Yi's eyes and warned patiently.
An Yi nodded frequently and accepted it humbly. After seeing that the time was almost up, he said goodbye.
The young marshal stopped An Yi and said that he would rush to Wuhan tomorrow to start fulfilling his duties as the commander-in-chief of suppressing bandits in the three provinces. He didn't know when the next meeting would be, so he might as well take this opportunity to get together and talk.
An Yi readily agreed, and with Chiang Kai-shek's consent, he called Chiang Dingwen and several senior brothers in the attendant's room who had not yet left, and quickly took a bus to the bar opened by the French in Old Nanchang. Only there were not harassed by so many reporters.
.
At nine o'clock in the morning, half an hour before the start of the press conference, the conference hall on the first floor of Nanchang Xingying was already crowded and lively. More than two hundred Chinese and foreign reporters gathered together, waiting for the press conference held by the Bandit Suppression Headquarters.
The venue was carefully arranged. A large portrait of Dr. Sun Yat-sen hung on the curtain wall behind the rostrum. Large party flags and national flags were decorated on both sides of the portrait. In front of the rostrum, which was covered with a white tablecloth, there was a row of green bonsais that were rare in winter. Three pots in the middle.
The Clivia is in bloom. A long banner with white letters on a blue background is hung high above the Clivia, with the words "Press Conference of the Suppression Headquarters" written on it. Staff members wearing military uniforms and white gloves stood solemnly on both sides of the venue.
The dozens of rows of seats neatly arranged with high chairs in the middle of the venue were filled with reporters from various countries. The entire venue was grand and solemn, much more formal than the previous press conferences held by the central government.
In the secretariat office at the back of the conference hall, An Yi read in detail the speaking requirements and regulations handed over by Deng Wenyi, but he was thinking that the young marshal might have flown to Wuhan by now. Everyone had a great time chatting at the gathering last night
, the young marshal, who had had a few more drinks, also told An Yi his depression and helplessness. It boiled down to the same meaning: unwilling to leave North China, unwilling to consume his own strength in the suppression of the Communist Party, today's Northeastern Army seems to have no roots.
The more duckweed you consume, the less it will be. If you want to recruit troops to replenish your strength, it will not be as easy as it was in the Northeast.
The proud Jiang Dingwen still looked like a cheerful profiteer. He laughed loudly and was high-spirited from beginning to end during last night's clubbing.