World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

In the small conference room, Howard and DuPont had been waiting for ten minutes. Neither of them spoke, only occasionally exchanging glances; the atmosphere was subtle.

The door opened, and Chen Feng walked in, followed by Wang Wenwu.

"I apologize for keeping you both waiting." Chen Feng sat down at one end of the long table. "Communication is indeed inconvenient in the desert, which caused the delay."

Howard spoke first: "President, we understand you are busy with official duties. But the situation in Morocco has reached a critical juncture, and both London and Paris need clear answers."

DuPont chimed in: "The German battleship 'Panther' is still in Agadir, and intelligence indicates that the German battleship 'Westvale' has left Bora and may be heading to Morocco. If Lanfang sends another ship, the situation could get out of control."

Chen Feng nodded and poured himself a glass of water.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I have a question to ask first. If Lanfang remains neutral—not sending ships to the Mediterranean, not issuing any statements—what promises can Britain and France make?"

Howard and DuPont exchanged a glance. They had anticipated this problem.

"London can promise," Howard said, "that within the British sphere of influence, the safety of Lanfang merchant ships will be guaranteed, including the Strait of Malacca, the Indian Ocean, and the Red Sea routes."

"Paris can promise," DuPont said, "to support Lanfang's legitimate rights in Borneo. If a dispute arises between Lanfang and the Netherlands in the future, France will provide diplomatic support in international forums."

Chen Feng slowly drank his water, seemingly deep in thought.

"Is that all?"

Howard frowned: "What else does the President want?"

"Loans." Chen Feng put down his cup. "Large-scale, long-term, low-interest loans. For industrial construction and improvement of people's livelihoods."

DuPont's eyes lit up—problems that can be solved with money aren't problems at all.

"How many?"

"Fifty million pounds," Chen Feng said. "Fifty million from Britain and thirty million from France. The term is five years, with an annual interest rate not exceeding three percent."

Howard gasped: "Fifty million...that's equivalent to the Royal Navy's annual shipbuilding budget!"

"So it's a long-term loan that can be disbursed in installments," Chen Feng said. "I can accept collateral—if we can't repay after five years, we can use Hood-class battlecruisers and other advanced warships as collateral, or our oil revenues."

DuPont had already started doing the mental calculations. If Lanfang truly used its oil revenues to repay the loan, the risk wasn't significant. Moreover, lending money to Lanfang essentially tied it to the Anglo-French economic system. Most importantly, there was the look in the Royal Navy's eyes when they saw the HMS Guangfu…

"I need to consult Paris," he said.

"London also needs time," Howard said.

"I can wait," Chen Feng said, "but Lanfang will not send a single soldier to the Mediterranean before receiving a formal reply."

This was practically a definite commitment. Howard and DuPont both breathed a sigh of relief.

"There's one more thing," Chen Feng added. "I hope Britain and France will support Lanfang's accession to international organizations—such as the Universal Postal Union and the International Telecommunication Union. We need the international status of a normal nation."

"This... is negotiable," Howard said.

The meeting lasted another half hour, during which some details were discussed. As Chen Feng stood up to shake hands at the end, Howard couldn't help but ask:

"President, may I ask what conditions the Germans have offered?"

Chen Feng laughed: "Consul, do you think I would say that?"

Howard laughed and said, "I apologize for my intrusion."

After seeing off the British and French consuls, Chen Feng returned to his car. Wang Wenwu followed and closed the car door.

"President, are we really going to take out a loan from Britain and France?"

"Hmm." Chen Feng closed his eyes. "And the more the better."

"Why? We don't lack money right now."

Chen Feng opened his eyes, his gaze containing something that Wang Wenwu couldn't understand.

"Because in five years, the pound and the franc... may be worthless."

Wang Wenwu was taken aback, and before he could figure out the meaning of those words, Chen Feng had already changed the subject:

"Go to the German consulate. It's time to give Major General Müller an answer."

In the conference room of the German consulate, Major General Müller had been waiting for two hours. When Chen Feng finally appeared, his expression was not good.

"Commander-in-Chief, the week is up."

"Yes." Chen Feng sat down. "I apologize for keeping you waiting. I met with the British and French consuls this afternoon."

Muller's eyes sharpened: "What did you talk about?"

"They want Lanfang to remain neutral," Chen Feng stated bluntly. "In exchange, they are willing to provide loans and international support."

"You agreed?"

"I said I needed to consider it." Chen Feng looked at Müller. "Major Admiral, now it's Germany's turn. If I refuse to send ships to the Mediterranean, what compensation can Berlin offer?"

Müller took a deep breath. He opened his briefcase and took out a new document—it seemed Berlin had prepared a backup plan long ago.

"First, we will transfer the entire Krupp armor steel technology, including the latest surface carburizing and hardening process."

"Secondly, Siemens Electric Company is willing to form a joint venture with Lanfang to build a power equipment plant in Dubai."

"Third, the Imperial Bank can provide a low-interest loan of 30 million marks with a term of five years."

After listening, Chen Feng did not respond immediately. He got up and walked to the window, looking at the palm trees in the consulate garden outside.

"Major General, you're a soldier," Chen Feng said, his back to Müller. "In your opinion, if Britain and Germany really went to war over Morocco, who would win?"

Muller paused, then asked, "Why does the President ask that?"

"Just out of curiosity."

Müller paused for a few seconds, then said, "The Imperial Army is the best in the world. But the Navy... Britain has a numerical advantage."

"What if the war lasts for more than a year?"

"That depends on control of the sea. If our submarines can cut off Britain's maritime supply lines..." (U-boats were put into service in 1906)

"So submarines are key." Chen Feng turned around. "Major General, I won't send ships to the Mediterranean. But as compensation, I can do one thing."

Muller sat up straight: "Please speak."

Chen Feng continued, "If—I mean if—one day in the future, a conflict really breaks out between Britain and Germany, Lanfang can secretly sell submarines to Germany. Settlement will be in gold."

Müller's hands clenched under the table. Submarines! This was exactly what the German Navy needed!

"price?"

"£250,000 per ship. This includes training and a full set of ammunition."

"I need to consult Berlin..."

"Of course," Chen Feng said, "but please hurry. Because Britain and France are also making offers, and my patience is limited."

The talks lasted another hour. It ended at 9 PM. Muller saw Chen Feng to the door and suddenly said in German:

"President, do you think... a war will really break out? Between Britain and Germany?"

Chen Feng stopped and turned to look at the German rear admiral. In the moonlight, Müller's face looked serious, even somewhat tired.

"Major General, I'm a businessman," Chen Feng replied in German. "All I know is that when both sides believe they can win, war is hard to avoid."

Müller nodded and said nothing more.

On the way back, Chen Feng received an urgent telegram. It was from U-3, and contained only one short line:

"Artillery flashes observed, bearing 280, distance unknown. We have descended to our maximum depth. Further updates to follow."

Chen Feng handed the telegram to Wang Wenwu.

"They've started fighting?"

"I don't know." Chen Feng looked westward, "but the tension in the Mediterranean... is getting stronger and stronger."

The car drove into the night. In the distance, towards the port, the lights of the docks were still bright. Workers were still working overtime, hammering, welding, and assembling the steel behemoths that would soon change the world.