World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

In July, Dubai is enveloped in a thick, humid heat as heat waves rise from the Persian Gulf. Inside Conference Room 3 of the Administration Building.

Chen Feng sat at the head of the long table, his fingertips tapping lightly on the smooth surface. Today he wore a dark gray, stand-up collar Zhongshan suit, the collar buttoned up meticulously, a black fountain pen clipped to his left breast pocket. Outside the window, the cranes in the distant shipyard stood like a steel forest, and further away, the silhouettes of two giant ships under construction distorted slightly in the heat.

Those were the first two ships of the Bismarck class.

"Commander-in-Chief, they've arrived." Uncle Wang pushed open the door, his voice low.

Chen Feng nodded without getting up. When the door opened again, British Consul Howard and French Consul Dupont walked in one after the other, followed by their respective translators and recorders.

"Mr. Chen," Howard said in his perfect Oxford English, a diplomatic smile on his face, "I hope we haven't disturbed your important business."

"You're too kind, Consul." Chen Feng gestured for him to sit down. "Uncle Wang, bring some tea. It's Tieguanyin, which is produced in Fujian."

The aroma of tea quickly filled the conference room. Howard picked up his bone china teacup, gently blew on it to warm it, but didn't drink. DuPont, on the other hand, was much more direct; he took a sip and said something to the translator beside him in French.

"The DuPont Consul said this tea is very special." The translator was a young Frenchman whose Chinese had a noticeable accent.

"Tieguanyin tea from Anxi, Fujian, uses a semi-fermentation process," Chen Feng said calmly. "Just like our negotiations today—it requires the right amount of time and effort."

Howard put down his teacup and took a thick document from his briefcase. "Mr. Chen, after careful consideration in London and Paris, we can formally respond to your loan request."

Chen Feng leaned forward slightly: "Please speak."

"First, regarding the amount and term," Howard said, opening the document. "The British Empire is willing to provide a loan of fifty million pounds, and the French Republic is willing to provide thirty million pounds. The term for both is five years, calculated from the date of signing."

"What about the interest rate?"

"The UK portion, 3.2% annual interest." Howard paused, "The French portion, 3.5%."

A few seconds of silence filled the conference room. Chen Feng picked up his teacup, took a slow sip, and then looked at Wang Wenwu. The Minister of Commerce immediately responded:

"Mr. Howard, Mr. DuPont. This interest rate... is 0.5 percentage points higher than we expected. According to international market standards, such a large-scale long-term loan should have an annual interest rate between 2.5% and 3%."

DuPont responded directly in French, followed by the translator: "Minister Wang, this is not merely a commercial loan. It includes a political risk premium—after all, the Lanfang Republic has not yet gained widespread international recognition."

"But we have already signed a formal diplomatic agreement with your country," Wang Wenwu said firmly.

"An agreement is one thing, actual acceptance is another," Howard continued. "Mr. Chen, let's be frank. London and Paris are willing to provide this huge loan because they value Lanfang's industrial potential and strategic location. But we also need sufficient guarantees."

Chen Feng put down his teacup and placed his hands, crossed, on the table. "What kind of guarantee?"

Howard turned to the third page of the document and pushed it across the table. "If Lanfang is unable to repay the loan principal and interest in five years, she will need to repay in kind."

Chen Feng took the document, his gaze quickly sweeping over the neatly printed English clauses. Uncle Wang offered him his reading glasses, but Chen Feng waved them away and read them aloud:

"First, provide complete design drawings and construction authorization for the 'Hood-class battlecruiser'."

"Secondly, Britain and France were allowed to have priority in building this class of ships at the Lanfang Shipyard, with Lanfang receiving the cost price plus a 15% profit."

"Third, Britain and France have the right of first refusal to purchase Lanfang's newly designed warships within the next three years."

After reading it aloud, Chen Feng looked up, his face expressionless. "Hu De-ji...you've even come up with a name?"

"It's just a code name," Howard said. "It refers to a battlecruiser of the same class as the 'Kuangfu' class. We know that Lanfang is already designing the next generation of capital ships, whose performance will surpass the existing 'Kuangfu' class."

DuPont added, "Of course, these terms automatically expire if Lanfang makes timely payments. This is just a... insurance measure."

Chen Feng handed the document to Wang Wenwu, who quickly glanced at it before frowning. "Commander-in-Chief, this condition..."

"I need to consider it," Chen Feng interrupted him, turning to the two consuls. "But before that, I have a request."

"Speaking."

"The loan is denominated in pounds sterling, that's fine," Chen Feng said calmly. "But when it comes to repayment, we have the right to pay in gold based on the gold price on the loan date."

Howard and DuPont exchanged a glance. This request was unexpected.

"Why?" Howard asked.

"Currencies depreciate, but gold doesn't," Chen Feng stated simply. "If the purchasing power of the pound decreases in five years, and we still repay the original amount, our actual burden will increase. Is that fair?"

DuPont's translator explained a few words to him in a low voice. The French consul thought for a moment, then shook his head: "This is not in accordance with international practice. Loan contracts are denominated in currency, and fluctuations in currency value are a commercial risk."

"Then let's add a hedging clause," Chen Feng insisted. "Or, we can accept a lower interest rate—2.8% for the British portion and 3% for the French portion. In exchange, we'll waive our requirement for gold conversion."

Negotiations have stalled.

The long, muffled whistles of cargo ships echoed from outside the window. The air conditioning in the conference room was still humming, but the atmosphere had noticeably cooled.

"Mr. Chen," Howard finally spoke, "we need to consult with our superiors back home."

"Please go ahead." Chen Feng stood up. "But please tell London and Paris—we've also made the same loan request to Berlin. The Germans offered an interest rate of 2.8%, and without so many conditions."

This statement is like a pebble thrown into a calm pond.

DuPont's expression changed. "Germany? Mr. Chen, you're playing a dangerous game."

“No, Consul,” Chen Feng walked to the window, his back to them, “I’m fighting for the best possible conditions for my country. Three hundred thousand—no, now it’s one and a half million Lanfang people—they need schools, hospitals, factories, and railways. And all of these require money.”

He turned around, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the two consuls.

"I can give you a figure: over the past three years, Lanfang's industrial output has grown at an average annual rate of 42 percent. Our shipyard has delivered twelve main warships, steel production has increased sevenfold, and the number of immigrants has tripled. This loan is not begging; it is an investment—an investment in a rising market, an investment in trading partners for the next thirty years."

Howard silently took notes. DuPont stared at Chen Feng, seemingly assessing the weight of his words.