A Soldier’s Dilemma in Troubled Times

Liu Yongfu, the famed Black Flag Army commander, sat frozen over an unfinished letter in 1894. His brush hovered midway between inkstone and paper—how to convey the urgent warnings from his Vietnamese informant Ruan Ming to Tang Jingsong, Taiwan’s scholarly governor? The scene captures a pivotal moment where military valor collided with geopolitical complexity. A veteran of Vietnam’s resistance against French colonization, Liu now faced new threats: bubonic plague ravaging Hong Kong, Japanese expansion in Korea, and China’s crumbling regional dominance.

The Informant’s Chilling Report

Ruan Ming’s unexpected visit to Nan’ao Island brought disturbing intelligence. The wiry Vietnamese operative described Hong Kong’s plague outbreak with clinical precision—how unburied corpses piled up after the first May cases in Taipingshan, how makeshift coffins sold at exorbitant prices. More alarming were his accounts of Japan’s coordinated response: elite medical teams like Dr. Kitasato’s already en route from Tokyo, while Chinese officials banned pork consumption and prayed for rain.

Liu’s grudging admiration for Western plague containment methods revealed his internal conflict. The same man who once fought French colonizers now recognized their systematic approach to crisis management. “We Easterners resign ourselves to fate,” he muttered, to which Ruan countered: “Not all—the Japanese act.” This exchange foreshadowed the coming paradigm shift in East Asian power dynamics.

Korea: The Gathering Storm

The conversation turned northward. Ruan detailed Japan’s calculated maneuvers in Korea, where Yuan Shikai’s blundering diplomacy created openings for Japanese intervention. Liu’s visceral dislike for the upstart Yuan (“that milksop”) couldn’t obscure the strategic reality—Japan was baiting China into sending troops first, just as France had done in Vietnam. The parallels chilled Liu: “First we lost Vietnam to France, now Korea to Japan?”

Ruan’s prophecy carried particular weight. Having witnessed France’s colonial playbook in Vietnam, he recognized Japan’s replication of Western imperial tactics—using “civilized” interventions (plague doctors, military protection) as pretexts for expansion. His description of Japanese diplomats probing Yuan about Chinese troop deployments revealed Tokyo’s meticulous preparation, contrasting sharply with Qing officialdom’s complacency.

Taiwan’s Poetic Distraction

Liu’s unfinished letter to Tang Jingsong exposed another dimension of the crisis. While plague and war loomed, Taiwan’s leadership immersed itself in literary pursuits. The Peony Poetry Society flourished under Tang’s patronage, with celebrated scholars like Qiu Fengjia composing verses in the newly built Wanjuan Tang Library. This cultural renaissance, though commendable, reflected the Qing Empire’s dangerous disconnect—governing elites cultivating classical refinement while ignoring modern threats.

The irony wasn’t lost on Liu. Taiwan’s provincial status (established in 1885 after the Sino-French War) and modernizing projects like Liu Mingchuan’s railways should have strengthened defenses. Instead, the island’s leadership, like the crab-priests Ruan described in Guangdong, hoped divine intervention would spare them from gathering storms.

The Unheeded Warnings

Historical records confirm Ruan’s alarming accuracy. The Japanese medical mission departed Yokohama on June 5, 1894—precisely as described. Within weeks, Japan would invoke the Tonghak Rebellion to occupy Korea, triggering the First Sino-Japanese War. Liu’s delayed letter symbolized China’s sluggish response; by the time he mobilized to Taiwan as defense commander that autumn, Japan’s victory was inevitable.

The 1895 Treaty of Shimonoseki would force China to cede Taiwan, completing the domino collapse Liu and Ruan foresaw. Taiwan’s poets awoke too late—Qiu Fengjia’s impassioned resistance verses couldn’t stop Japanese battleships, just as plague prayers hadn’t stopped microbial devastation.

Legacy of a Reluctant Prophet

This episode reveals three enduring lessons:

1. The cost of dismissing systematic crisis response (plague containment vs. superstitious bans)
2. How imperial powers adopted colonial tactics against each other (Japan mirroring France in Vietnam)
3. The peril when cultural refinement replaces strategic vigilance

Liu Yongfu’s hesitation over that unfinished letter mirrors our own era’s tendency to delay confronting inconvenient truths. The brushstrokes he never completed serve as a metaphor for missed opportunities in the face of gathering storms—whether microbial, military, or geopolitical.