1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 342 A Dinner Without Business

Night fell over Athens, and in a corner of the royal palace, the private banquet hall was brightly lit.

There are no long dining tables, no throngs of servants, and no suffocating court etiquette here. On a small, round table, covered with a clean white linen tablecloth, candlelight flickers, and silver cutlery reflects a soft light.

There were only four guests.

Crown Prince Constantine, Crown Princess Sofia, and Henry Ford and his wife, Clara Ford.

The atmosphere of this dinner was more like a regular family gathering.

Clara Ford, wearing her best navy blue gown, sat stiffly in a soft velvet chair. She glanced at Crown Princess Sofia across from her, the Prussian princess and future Queen of Greece, who possessed an elegance she had only ever seen in magazines.

Sofia sensed her awkwardness and poured her a cup of warm herbal tea.

"Mrs. Ford, I heard Mr. Henry mention that you have a very beautiful rose garden at your home in Detroit?" Sophia's voice was gentle and naturally friendly.

Clara was taken aback by the question. She paused for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, Your Highness. I enjoy tending to the flowers and plants myself."

"What a coincidence, I like them too." Sofia's eyes crinkled into a smile. "But I prefer the bougainvillea and olive trees here. You know, some of the olive trees are older than my family."

Sofia didn't talk about politics or flaunt her jewelry. She chatted with Clara about winter in Detroit, the children's funny stories, and how much cinnamon to put in an apple pie.

Two women from vastly different social classes found common ground in these mundane yet heartwarming daily routines.

Clara's tense shoulders relaxed unconsciously under Sofia's skillful guidance. She began to tell the amusing story of how Henry locked himself in the garage for three days and three nights to design a certain part, and finally came out covered in oil and announced his success.

Sofia listened attentively, letting out a light laugh.

On the other side of the table, the men's conversation took place in another world.

Constantine cut off a small piece of roasted lamb chop, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly. His eating movements were elegant and standard, but his words made Ford's hand holding the knife and fork freeze in mid-air.

Ford looked up, his blue eyes filled with astonishment. He had never expected that a crown prince would discuss such intricate mechanical principles with him.

"Your Highness—you understand this too?"

"I know a little about it." Constantine picked up his glass, gently swirling the red liquid inside. "I also admire the horizontal wedge-shaped breech of the Krupp cannons. Its locking mechanism is clean and efficient. The British split-thread breech, while safer, is too cumbersome, especially when rapid firing is required."

Ford has completely put down the knife and fork.

He looked at Constantine as if he were a monster. This knowledge was not something a pampered member of royalty could easily acquire from books. It required long-term observation, deep thinking, and a heartfelt love for mechanics.

"Mr. Ford, your four-wheeled vehicle," Constantine's gaze turned to Ford, his eyes bright, "what I admire most is not its speed, nor even its amazing reliability."

Constantine leaned forward slightly.

"It's its subtraction."

The moment the word left his mouth, Ford felt as if he had been struck by lightning.

"You've removed all the unnecessary, fancy, and complicated parts," Constantine's voice echoed clearly in the restaurant. "You didn't pursue more cylinders, nor did you pile on frivolous brass decorations. You only kept the most core, the most essential parts, making it simple, robust, and easy to maintain. This isn't just engineering; it's a philosophy of genius."

Henry Ford's breathing quickened, and his cheeks flushed with excitement. He leaned forward abruptly, nearly knocking over his glass. His voice also rose involuntarily.

"Your Highness! You—you are the first! The first person to understand it!" Ford's voice trembled with barely suppressed emotion. "Those bankers in Detroit, those engineers in Paris, they were all chasing addition! They mocked my car as a poor man's metal box! They just wanted to pile on more cylinders and shinier paint, then sell it to those rich people who only knew how to show off!"

"Only I know!" Ford slammed his fist heavily on the table. "Only I know that the future belongs to subtraction!"

Constantine did not speak, but simply raised his glass in a distant salute to him.

That look in his eyes was one of complete understanding and appreciation.

Throughout the entire evening, Constantine did not mention a single word about the factory construction plan, did not ask Ford how much salary he wanted, and did not discuss any terms of business cooperation.

He simply chatted with Ford about various machines. From the ignition method of internal combustion engines to the quenching processes of different steels; from the electromagnetic wave theory of radio to how to build the strongest bridge with the least amount of material.

Constantine, like a sponge, constantly absorbed valuable knowledge from the production line from Ford, this practical genius. Ford, in turn, experienced an unprecedented and immense spiritual satisfaction in the process.

He felt he was not being entertained by a crown prince.

He was having a thoroughly enjoyable conversation with a true confidant who understood him and even knew more about him in certain areas.

This spiritual resonance, this sense of recognition that his dream was fully understood, touched Henry Ford's heart far more than the 50,000 gold franc prize.

The banquet drew to a close in a very harmonious and warm atmosphere.

When the Fords were about to take their leave and return to their hotel by carriage, Constantine personally escorted them to the palace gates.

The night breeze was cool, and the starry sky was dazzling.

"Mr. Ford." Constantine stood on the steps, looking at the still somewhat excited American engineer.

"Please allow me to pick you up at six o'clock tomorrow morning."

His voice was exceptionally clear in the quiet courtyard.

"Let me show you a place."

A mysterious smile appeared on Constantine's face.

"A place where your dreams can truly take flight."

Henry Ford stood beside the carriage, looking at the Crown Prince's eyes, which were still remarkably bright in the night, and nodded vigorously.