World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chen Feng nodded: "Cultural infiltration is more lasting than military infiltration. What about Penang?"

"Penang is easier," Wang Wenwu said. "The Chinese make up 60% of the population there, and British rule was relatively relaxed. We plan to open a 'Lanfang Bank Penang Branch' to provide low-interest loans to Chinese merchants. At the same time, we will build a 'Chinese Cultural Center' to organize book clubs, opera performances, and martial arts training."

"Budget?"

"Singapore invested £800,000 in the first year, Penang £500,000, and Batavia £300,000. The total was £1.6 million."

"Approved." Chen Feng signed the document. "But be careful how you do it—it can't look like an official action. It must all be done through a non-governmental organization."

"clear."

Chen Feng turned to Liu Yongfu: "Industrial deepening, what is the key point?"

Liu Yongfu adjusted his glasses: "Automobiles. Mercedes-Benz of Germany is willing to cooperate on technology. We will provide the capital and market access, while they will provide the technology and engineers. The plan is to build a car factory in Dubai with an annual production capacity of 5,000 vehicles. The first year will see the production of trucks and buses, and the second year will see the production of passenger cars."

"How long will complete autonomy last?"

"Three years," Liu Yongfu said. "The first year is assembly, the second year is production of some parts, and the third year is to achieve self-production of engines and transmissions. The blueprints you provided, Your Excellency... our engineers have studied them. The design concept is advanced, but the process requirements are too high, and it will take time to digest them."

The "blueprints" Chen Feng gave him were a simplified version of 1930s automobile technology—assembly line production, all-steel bodies, and six-cylinder engines. For 1910, this was a game-changer.

"Then proceed according to plan," Chen Feng said. "What about the agricultural machinery factory?"

"The site has been selected, and construction will begin next March." Liu Yongfu turned to the next page. "The main products will be small tractors, water pumps, and threshing machines. The goal is to achieve a 30% mechanization rate in the Persian Gulf agricultural reclamation area within three years."

"Home appliances?"

"The electric fan factory will start production next month, and electric irons and electric stoves are under development. But the biggest problem is—" Liu Yongfu paused, "ordinary people can't afford electricity. Our electricity bills are still too high."

Zhou Nian continued, "Electricity coverage takes time. Currently, only 35% of the city has electricity, and less than 5% in rural areas. To increase it to 50%, it will take at least two more years and an investment of three million pounds."

"Let's do it," Chen Feng said. "Electricity is not a luxury, it's a necessity. Without electricity, there would be no modern industry, no modern life."

He signed off on the electricity budget, then turned to Little: "What about the Navy?"

Li Te sat up straight: "The 'Guangfu' and 'Fuxing' are in good condition and ready to be deployed at any time. New ship plan: start construction on two 'Nanyang-class' battleships in 1911 and commission them at the end of 1913. In addition, we need at least six cruisers and twelve destroyers to control the South Pacific shipping lanes."

"Budget?"

"Two 'Nanyang-class' ships: £1200 million. Cruisers and destroyers: £800 million. Totaling £2000 million, to be invested over three years."

Chen Feng quickly calculated: "Isn't the military spending percentage too high?"

"It's a necessary investment," Litt said. "Without control of the sea, our merchant ships can't go out, our immigrant ships can't come in, and going home is just a pipe dream. The Dutch East India Fleet now has fifteen capital ships, which, although old, are seven times our number. Not to mention the British Far East Fleet."

"Then let's invest." Chen Feng signed, "But I want efficiency—every penny must be turned into fighting power."

"clear."

Finally, the anniversary message: "Infrastructure development: What are the key priorities for the next three years?"

"Three things: an airport, a deep-water port, and strategic highways." Anniversary marked several points on the map. "The airport should be built inland to prevent naval attacks. The deep-water port should be able to accommodate 100,000-ton fleets—preparing for their return home. Strategic highways connect all important facilities, allowing for rapid relocation in wartime."

"Budget?"

"Airport: £2 million. Deep-water port: £3 million. Strategic highway: £2.5 million. Total: £7.5 million."

After signing all the documents, Chen Feng leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. Three years, then another three years—a huge investment, a huge risk.

"Commander-in-Chief," Uncle Wang said softly, "you seem tired. Would you like to rest for a bit?"

"Not tired." Chen Feng waved his hand. "Uncle Wang, have you done the population forecast?"

Uncle Wang opened a notebook; the writing was in small regular script with a brush, so neat it looked like printed material.

「按照当前趋势，1911年底预计达到190万人，1912年底230万人，1913年底……可能突破280万人。」

"Source of immigrants?"

"The majority were from the coastal areas of Fujian and Guangdong, accounting for 70%. Overseas Chinese from Southeast Asia accounted for 20%, and the rest were from the north. The Arab population grew naturally and joined a small number of people, and it was estimated that by 1913, they would have reached about 50,000."

"Is housing adequate?"

"According to the plan, 10,000 new units will be built every year, which can meet basic needs. But to ensure that everyone has a good house... it will take at least five more years."

Chen Feng remained silent for a moment. 1.5 million people, 2.8 million in three years, and possibly 4 million in five years. So many people followed him, betting their lives, their families, and their futures on him.

The pressure is like a mountain.

"Uncle Wang," he suddenly asked, "tell me, are we on the right path?"

The old man put down his pen, thought carefully, and then said, "Young master, I don't understand those grand principles. But I do know that three years ago we only had 460,000 people, and now we have 1,520,000. Three years ago we only had eight small docks, and now we have ten large ones and fifteen medium ones. Three years ago, foreigners didn't even look at us properly, but now their generals have to negotiate with us."

He paused:

"Whether this path is right or wrong, I don't know. But this path has allowed us to survive, and to thrive. So, to me, it is the right path."

Chen Feng smiled, his eyes welling up with tears. He looked at the others: "How about you guys? Are you tired?"

"I'm exhausted," Liu Yongfu said honestly. "I haven't had a full day off in three years. But it's worth it. Seeing the ships I designed go to sea, seeing the guns I made go to target practice, that feeling... I wouldn't trade it for an emperor."

"I'm tired too." Zhou Nian patted his injured leg. "But when I think of the brothers who died on the construction site, what is my little bit of tiredness? I have to watch over everything we've built for them."

Li Te said, "Naval officers and soldiers are even more tired. But every time the 'Kuangfu' goes to sea, those foreign warships only dare to follow from a distance and dare not get close—that feeling makes it all worthwhile."

Wang Wenwu concluded, "I'm tired, but excited. Every negotiation, every contract signing, every time I see the money arrive in my account... that feeling of building a country from scratch is more addictive than anything else."

Chen Feng looked at them, these people who had followed him since the days of the thirty tents. Three years had passed; they were old and tired, but they had found light.

"Okay," he said. "Then let's work for another three years. After three years, we'll bring everyone home."

The clock on the wall struck.

"Clang—clang—clang—"

It's twelve o'clock.

1911 arrived.