November 3, 1940. Pan Youxin’s view is correct: we too judge that Chiang Kai-shek remains at a three-way crossroads, and that negotiations with Germany and Japan are still stuck in a bargaining phase. However, the present situation is one thing; the future is another. Based on an objective assessment, it is more likely that Chiang will eventually align himself with Germany and Japan than with Britain and the United States. Both the pressure and the pull exerted by the Axis powers are formidable: the former consists of severing supply lines and bombing Chongqing, while the latter offers the return of lost territories, the prospect of profiting from the war, and joint efforts to suppress the Communists. By contrast, Britain and the United States will be unable to deliver meaningful assistance within two years, a timeframe Chiang simply cannot afford to wait out. Even beyond that period, they will lack any assured path to victory; there is a real possibility that the conflict will settle into a protracted stalemate lasting two or three years, with no decisive outcome until a revolutionary upheaval intervenes. Alternatively, the British Empire might be swiftly defeated, leaving the European continent entirely under Axis occupation, isolating the United States and leaving it to watch helplessly. In such a scenario, the U.S. could launch a military intervention in Europe and Asia under the banner of supporting the revolutionary movement. In short, within the next one to two years Chiang Kai-shek has no realistic chance of securing victory by relying on Britain and the United States. Only concerted pressure from the Communist Party, the Chinese people—including all intermediate forces as well as figures like Chen Cheng and Tang Enbo—and the Soviet Union can prevent the Chiang clique from capitulating. If these three sources of pressure are effectively coordinated, there remains both the possibility and the time for such a turnaround. What Chiang fears most is internal chaos—and the Soviet Union. We can exploit this vulnerability: since he is bent on annihilating the Communists, we must resolutely oppose his counter-encirclement campaigns. Under the slogan “Oppose Civil War,” if we show no fear of civil strife and, as his encirclement forces advance, deploy 150,000 elite troops (supported by a total of 300,000 men spread across our base areas) to strike deep behind enemy lines, score several major victories, and then demand the removal and punishment of He Yingqin (“clear the king’s entourage”), the withdrawal of the counter-encirclement armies, the continuation of the national policy of resistance, the restoration of domestic peace, the implementation of the Three Principles of the People, the reform of political institutions, the granting of anti-Japanese freedoms to the people, the release of anti-Japanese political prisoners, and the convening of a National Assembly—essentially echoing Zhang Xueliang and Yang Hucheng’s Eight Demands—if by then Japan has already shifted its focus southward, U.S.-Japanese relations have grown tense, and Japan finds itself too preoccupied to intervene; if, moreover, various intermediate factions within China and among the Nationalist ranks step forward to lend their support (by forming peace-mediating committees or establishing buffer zones along the front lines); if certain elements inside China and even within Chiang’s own camp seize the opportunity to rebel—activities that are hardly conducive to Chiang’s interests (these individuals are currently urging him to fight the Communists, but their true aim is to stir up turmoil, place him in a precarious position, and use the ensuing chaos to supplant him; figures like He Jifeng and Bai Chongxi fall into this category)—and if, at the same time, the Soviet Union intervenes once again to mediate and rebalance the situation, then a positive turn of events becomes feasible. Indeed, it may well be only at that juncture that China experiences genuine improvement—such is the nature of progress through painful labor. That said, there also exists the distinct possibility that Chiang will first emulate Pétain and ultimately become Wang Jingwei: a final, catastrophic rupture. The likelihood of this outcome may, in fact, be rather high. Nevertheless, since he has already assembled an army dedicated to crushing us, we cannot sit idly by. Nor can we allow him to complete the construction of ten or eight layers of overlapping, deeply echeloned defensive lines stretching from Ningxia to the coast—the new Great Wall—thereby trapping us between Japanese and Nationalist forces, poised to destroy us, without lifting a finger. Therefore, as his encirclement armies advance, we must strike back in order to alter the balance of power and steer the situation toward a favorable outcome. Should Chiang indeed follow Pétain’s example, it would only confirm that our course was the right one. In that event, we would simply change our banner from “Clear the King’s Entourage” (or “Military Remonstrance”) to “Fight the Traitors,” and press on to the very end. This would constitute a national revolutionary war waged in the form of civil war—a character shared by our past and present anti-friction campaigns. At the same time, we should exhaust every possible avenue short of armed conflict. For now, we should do everything in our power to delay the movements of Tang Enbo and Li Pinxian, agree to the northern relocation of the New Fourth Army, express our readiness for a peaceful settlement, and appeal for the avoidance of civil war, adopting a conciliatory stance—all of which are appropriate and necessary. Our current policy is dualistic: on the one hand, we strive vigorously to achieve a breakthrough and avert civil war; on the other, we prepare to confront either surrender or full-scale civil war, with the latter receiving primary emphasis. Only in this way can we avoid being taken advantage of or falling into Chiang’s trap. It is imperative that we immediately begin preparing for a dark scenario; this is the central task facing the entire Party. With such preparations in place, we can prevent a repeat of Chen Duxiu’s tragic mistake. However, the timing of both the Bomb Manifesto and the mobilization for military remonstrance must be meticulously calculated and executed with utmost precision. There is no room for recklessness or error. A single misstep at this critical juncture could sow seeds of endless calamity for generations to come. We are now standing at a historic turning point—an epochal moment in the Chinese revolution marked by profound transformation—a moment when the big bourgeoisie must decide whether to retain or relinquish its grip on power. Hence, we must respond with the utmost urgency. I offer these humble observations for your consideration. o().