World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Secondly, we can provide design consultation for the 'Revival-class' battlecruiser." Chen Feng noticed Muller raise an eyebrow. "Not complete blueprints, but solutions for key technical nodes. For example, armor layout optimization, fire control system integration, engine room arrangement, and so on."

"That's...very generous," Muller said cautiously. "But what's the price?"

"The price is that Germany needs to provide a loan of £35 million, for a term of five years, with an annual interest rate of 2.8%."

Müller took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "I need to consult Berlin. But based on my understanding of His Majesty... he will agree. Especially regarding the submarines. Admiral Tirpitz has always believed that submarines are the best asymmetric weapon to challenge British naval power."

"What about a loan?" Chen Feng asked.

"Thirty million," Muller said. "His Majesty has a preference for numbers; thirty million sounds more precise than thirty-five million. Two point eight percent annual interest, that's acceptable. Repayment can be settled with military equipment—if war really breaks out, you provide the weapons, and we'll offset the debt."

Chen Feng held out his hand: "Deal."

Their hands were clasped together. Muller's palms were rough and strong, the marks left by years of holding the helm; Chen Feng's hands, on the other hand, were long and steady, more like those of an engineer or scholar.

"There's one more thing," Muller said after releasing his grip, "about Japan."

Chen Feng sat down again: "Please speak."

"Our intelligence agents in London report that Japanese Navy Minister Yamamoto Gonnohyōe is currently active in Britain. He spent a full week at the Barrow shipyard, inspecting the construction of the Kongo." Muller lit a cigar, the smoke slowly rising in the study. "The British may transfer some technology to Japan in exchange for Japan containing you in the Far East."

"I know," Chen Feng said calmly. "There are reports from Singapore."

Aren't you worried?

"What's the use of worrying?" Chen Feng retorted. "Japan is going to build four Kongo-class destroyers, and we're going to build four Bismarck-class destroyers (changing the name feels a bit confusing). This is an arms race, and we can't avoid it. All we can do is make the Bismarck-class stronger than the Kongo-class and put it into service sooner."

Muller smiled, a knowing smile shared only between soldiers. "You're very direct, Mr. Chen. I like that style. So…" he raised his glass, "for the Bismarck-class and Kongo-class competition?"

"For the competition," Chen Feng clinked glasses with him, "but more importantly, for our respective motherlands."

It was 11 p.m. when they finished their drinks. Chen Feng got up to say goodbye, and Muller saw him to the door.

"Mr. Chen, one last question," Müller suddenly said in the corridor, "Do you really believe that war will break out between Britain and Germany?"

Chen Feng stopped and looked at the German rear admiral. In the dim light, Müller's face looked older than his actual age, and there was a deep worry in his eyes.

"Major General, I am a businessman," Chen Feng said slowly, "but I have studied history. When two great powers both believe they must win, and both believe they can win, war becomes difficult to avoid."

"Which side are you on?"

"I stand with Lanfang," Chen Feng stated clearly. "We sell weapons, but we don't betray our principles. We make friends, but we don't form alliances. What we want is very simple—to go home, back to Borneo. Until then, whoever blocks our path is our enemy; whoever clears the way for us is our friend."

Müller nodded and said nothing more.

The black sedan drove out of the consulate and disappeared into the Dubai night. Chen Feng leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Uncle Wang, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced at him in the rearview mirror and asked softly:

"Young Master, has the deal been reached?"

"It's settled." Chen Feng didn't open his eyes. "A 30 million German loan at an annual interest rate of 2.8%. Adding the 80 million from Britain and France, the total is 110 million pounds sterling."

Uncle Wang gasped. "So much money..."

"Is that a lot?" Chen Feng opened his eyes and looked at the street scene flashing past the window. Under the streetlights, the newly built workers' housing area was neatly arranged, and some windows were still lit. "Four Bismarck-class ships will cost forty million, the shipyard expansion will cost twenty-five million, the steel mill upgrade will cost fifteen million, the army expansion will cost ten million... The rest is just enough for the resettlement of immigrants for the next three years."

He paused, then lowered his voice.

"Uncle Wang, what if, five years from now, we really can't repay the money and give the blueprints for the Hood-class destroyers to Britain and France? Would that be considered a breach of trust?"

Uncle Wang remained silent for a long time. "Young master, I don't understand these grand principles. But I do know that when the Dutch invaded thirty years ago, they didn't keep their word either."

Chen Feng smiled, a smile that held both weariness and determination.

"Yes. There are no fairy tales in international politics."

As the car entered the courtyard of the administration building, Chen Feng suddenly said, "Starting tomorrow, I will spend two hours at the shipyard every day. I need to personally oversee the progress of the Bismarck-class destroyers."

"Yes, young master."

"Also, send a telegram to Shanghai Station. Tell them to keep a close eye on the situation in Wuchang. I have a feeling... it's coming soon."

"What do you mean, 'soon'?"

"A storm that will change China's destiny." Chen Feng pushed open the car door, and the night wind rushed in, carrying the salty smell of the sea. "And we must build the ship before the storm arrives."

On July 25th, the temperature in Dubai reached 41 degrees Celsius. But inside the Renaissance Auditorium, the air conditioning system was running at full capacity, maintaining a comfortable temperature of 22 degrees Celsius. By 9:00 AM, the auditorium was already packed with people—journalists from various countries, diplomats, Lanfang government officials, and specially invited representatives from industry and commerce.

A huge yellow dragon flag hung above the dais, flanked by red banners with gold lettering that read: "Equality, mutual benefit, and common development." A dark green velvet tablecloth covered the long table, on which were displayed meeting cards in Chinese, English, and French.

Chen Feng sat in the main seat, with Wang Wenwu to his left and Consul Howard to his right. DuPont sat next to Howard, whispering something to the translator.

Below the stage, the sound of camera shutters filled the air. Reporters from London's The Times, Paris's Le Figaro, and Berlin's Berliner Zeitung held up old-fashioned cameras, their flashes occasionally going off and puffs of white smoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Li Mingyuan, the host, as he walked to the podium. He was a section chief from the Ministry of Commerce and spoke fluent English. "Today, we are here to witness the signing ceremony of a historic financial cooperation agreement between the Lanfang Republic and the British Empire and the French Republic."

The applause rang out, not enthusiastic, but formal enough.

Howard was the first to rise and give a speech. He was dressed in a formal black suit, with the Order of the Empire pinned to his chest, and his hair was neatly combed.

"I am honored to represent the Government of the British Empire in signing this landmark agreement with the Republic of Lanfang." His Oxford accent echoed in the hall. "The five thousand pounds loan not only reflects Britain's confidence in Lanfang's development, but also serves as solid proof of the friendly relations between our two countries..."

Chen Feng listened quietly, maintaining a polite smile. His gaze occasionally swept across the audience, spotting several familiar faces—Liu Yongfu sat in the third row, sketching something in his notebook, probably a technical draft; Zhou Nian leaned on a cane, his expression serious; Li Te, dressed in a naval rear admiral's uniform, stood ramrod straight.

"...We believe that this funding will help Lanfang's industrialization process and promote regional prosperity and stability." Howard concluded his remarks, and applause rang out again.

It was Chen Feng's turn. As he stood up, the sound of cameras clicking filled the air.

"Thank you, Consul Howard, thank you, Consul DuPont." Chen Feng began in Chinese, then switched to English. "Many years ago, when we set foot on this land, many people asked: Can you survive? Today, we can answer: We not only survived, but we also want to build and develop."

He paused for a moment, then asked the translator to catch up.

"This loan is of great significance to Lanfang. It will be used to build more schools so that our children can receive a better education; to build more hospitals so that patients can receive timely treatment; to expand ports and railways so that trade can be made smoother; and of course, to develop necessary defense industries to protect our hard-won peaceful environment for development."

There was a slight commotion in the audience. Several British journalists quickly jotted down the words "defense industry."