You are ordered to support the War of Resistance against Japan; China enters Level 1 combat readines

"Please, everyone."

Shen Wang led everyone to the first booth.

The display stand was covered with a clean white tablecloth, on which were neatly stacked military rations in various packaging.

Instead of the uniform kraft paper bags used at the previous guesthouse, these were a series of products carefully categorized by country of origin and taste.

The packaging colors and designs vary, but without exception, they all feature simple logos and ingredient lists, arranged neatly.

"The first product is probably familiar to everyone: individual field rations."

Shen Wang reached out and tapped on the glass cabinet: "However, unlike the basic models that were supplied in bulk before, this time I made targeted adjustments based on the dietary habits of different countries."

He picked up the first package; the packaging bag had the outline of the Union Jack printed on it.

He looked at Sir George Lloyd, a slight smile playing on his lips, and said in a tone that was polite to the point of sincerity:

"For example, the English warriors, in the cold and damp trenches, what they needed most was a cup of hot black tea and a butter biscuit that reminded them of home."

"Therefore, we specially developed an afternoon tea set menu for your esteemed troops!"

"The main course is roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, the dessert is butter cookies with strawberry jam, and the drink is instant black tea powder. Just add hot water and you have a cup of authentic Assam black tea."

Sir George's cane tapped lightly on the ground.

His lips twitched, but he didn't say anything.

Yorkshire pudding, Assam tea... This Eastern merchant's understanding of the British army's tastes is probably even more accurate than that of the Imperial Army's Quartermaster Department.

He recalled the military tea he had drunk during his inspection tour in North Africa; it was tea dust mixed with hot water and tasted like dishwater.

The Eastern merchant in front of them stuffed the entire English afternoon tea set into the soldier's field backpack.

Shen Wang picked up the second package, the packaging of which had the outline of the Iron Cross printed on it.

He turned to von Speer, his tone carrying just the right amount of respect: "The conquerors of Germany, on their long marches, need high-calorie, high-protein food that can quickly replenish their strength."

"We have developed a roasted pork knuckle with sauerkraut flavor for your army, paired with whole wheat dark bread and instant coffee. Moreover, the coffee is dark roasted and much stronger than the substitute coffee currently provided to your army."

Von Speer's jaw muscles tensed up suddenly.

Roasted pork knuckle, sauerkraut, dark bread, dark roast coffee... this is the taste of home in Bavaria.

What did the Imperial Quartermaster Department issue to the soldiers?

Hard, brick-like dark bread, margarine, and coffee substitutes made from acorn flour and chicory root.

His adjutant had written back from the Eastern Front the last time, saying that the soldiers called that coffee substitute "the Führer's joke."

The Eastern merchant in front of them had quietly replicated the entire Bavarian style and compressed it into a bag of field rations.

Shen Wang picked up the third package, turned to the deputy chairman of the Soviet delegation, and his expression became serious: "The defenders of the Soviets need hot food that can warm them to the bone in the freezing cold."

"We developed a borscht flavor for your army. It contains beef, beetroot, cabbage, sour cream, and all the ingredients. Just boil it in hot water and you have a big pot of rich borscht."

"Paired with rye bread and butter, one serving is enough to keep a platoon of soldiers sweating in the trenches at minus thirty degrees Celsius."

The deputy committee member's eyes widened like saucers. Borscht, that's the soul of the Slavs.

He had spent three years in a concentration camp in Siberia and knew what a bowl of hot borscht meant to soldiers in the freezing cold.

"Of course, we did not neglect the delegation from the United States either."

Shen Wang picked up the fourth bag, turned to White and Morgan, and smiled again.

"American BBQ flavor! Slow-roasted brisket with cornbread, and chocolate brownies for dessert."

"I know that your army's Type C rations also contain chocolate, but to be honest, the taste of our brownie may be even better than the civilian chocolates on the market."

Morgan Jr. remained expressionless.

He had already eaten luncheon meat and had experienced firsthand the strange talent this Eastern businessman possessed in the food industry.

Upon hearing the words "chocolate brownie" again, his first reaction was not surprise, but wariness.

How much will this meal, no, this batch of rations cost?

Representatives from the four countries stood in a circle around the military rations display, each staring at their country's corresponding bag of rations, their expressions varied and fascinating.

Some people's mouths twitched, some remained silent, and some swallowed hard, their Adam's apple bobbing.

They weren't unsophisticated people, but to take soldiers' meals to this level of precision—measuring the dietary habits of different countries, refining the taste requirements of different battlefields, and considering nutritional balance in different climates—was truly remarkable.

Unheard of!

This is no longer just military rations; it's a morale booster on the battlefield!

After a tough battle, what the soldiers pulled out of their backpacks were not hard, compressed biscuits, but steaming roasted beef brisket, stewed pork knuckle, and borscht.

Before the battle even began, morale had already won half the battle.

The group exchanged glances, then quickly lowered their heads, each concealing the shock in their eyes.

However, Shen Wang did not give them much time to ponder in front of the military rations display.

He clapped his hands together lightly, making a crisp sound, and led the crowd forward with a beaming smile: "Come on, this is just the beginning, there are many more good things to come."

He led the crowd to the second booth, picked up a palm-sized, completely transparent object, and gently flicked the grinding wheel with his thumb. With a "click," a cluster of orange-yellow flames jumped out.

Disposable flint lighter.

Shen Wang held the lighter up in front of everyone; the flame danced on his fingertip, remaining perfectly still.

As he spoke, he handed lighters to several representatives.

Von Speer took the lighter and, imitating Shen Wang, flicked the flint wheel with his thumb. With a crisp "click," the flame leaped out, straight and steady.

He turned the lighter over to examine its bottom, then flicked it again, and the flame shot out once more.

His expression shifted from indifference to thoughtfulness, then to a subtle silence, as if he had been stung by something.

He recalled the Polish campaign, when his soldiers tried to light cigarettes in the snow, but after using up an entire box of matches, they couldn't light a single one, and in their anger, they threw the whole pack of cigarettes into the mud.

If every soldier had had such a small thing in their pocket back then… He stopped himself from thinking any further.

This thing can't be sold at too high a price, absolutely not.

But damn it, Germany needs it!