World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Although we may not speak the same language, goodwill is universal.

Khalid walked up to a Chinese shop. The shop owner, an elderly man in his sixties, was shakily tidying up the damaged counter—probably the work of retreating Dutch soldiers.

"Grandpa, do you need any help?" Khalid asked in broken Chinese—he had learned a little, but only knew a few simple phrases.

The old man looked up and saw a group of Arab soldiers, which startled him.

"Don't be afraid." Khalid gestured for the soldiers to step back, then crouched down himself. "We are the Lanfang army, here to help you."

"Lan...Lanfang?" The old man's eyes widened. "You are...Lanfang's army?"

"Yes." Khalid pointed to the badge on his chest. "Look, this is the flag of Lanfang."

The old man stared at the badge for a long time, then suddenly burst into tears.

"I'm back... I'm really back..." He grasped Khalid's hand, his hand trembling. "Forty-four years... We've waited for forty-four years..."

He turned and shouted into the house, "Old woman! Come out quickly! Lanfang's army is here! They're really here!"

An old woman came out, saw the scene, and also cried.

Soon, more Chinese residents gathered around. Their gazes shifted from initial wariness to curiosity, and then to gratitude, as they looked at the Arab soldiers.

A middle-aged man asked Khalid in Chinese, "You...aren't Chinese?"

"I am Arab," Khalid replied in English, then pointed to the soldiers behind him, "They are too. But we are all soldiers of Lanfang."

"Why are the Arabs helping us?"

Khalid thought for a moment and said in the simplest English, "Because Lanfang is our country. You are our compatriots."

This sentence was translated by a Chinese person who understood English. The crowd was silent for a moment, then erupted in cheers.

"Fellow countrymen! They say we are fellow countrymen!"

"Lanfang is a nation of all peoples!"

"Thank you! Thank you all!"

Some people brought food and water and insisted on giving them to the soldiers. Some people found overseas Chinese who understood Arabic—there were very few, but they really were. Most people just stood there, shedding tears and applauding.

Khalid returned to the soldiers.

"Did you see the answer?" he asked.

The soldiers nodded. Many of them had tears in their eyes.

"Remember this feeling," Khalid said. "That's what we fight for: not to conquer, but to protect. Not to plunder, but to go home—to our common home."

Just then, a communications soldier ran over: "Commander! Urgent notice from headquarters! Mr. Wang Bo is going to give a speech at the former site of the General Headquarters, and all troops are required to organize personnel to listen! The broadcast frequency is..."

The news spread quickly.

At 11 a.m., in many corners of Pontianak, soldiers and residents gathered around radios—the field broadcasting system brought by the Lanfang army.

After a hissing sound of electricity, an aged but resolute voice rang out:

"Fellow villagers of Pontianak, I am Wang Shunfa's son, Uncle Wang..."

The speech began.

Before the ruins of the main hall, on the military barracks parade ground, and in the streets and alleys, the voice that had been waiting for forty-four years finally spread to every corner of the city.

June 26, 1914, the office of the President of Dubai.

Outside the window, it was a typical summer afternoon in the Persian Gulf—the sky was a blinding blue, the sun baked the steel structures of the port until they were scorching hot, and the heatwave distorted the distant scenery slightly. But inside the office, the air conditioning system maintained a constant temperature of 22 degrees Celsius, and only the low hum of the exhaust fans proved that the machines were running.

Chen Feng sat behind a large oak desk, with three reports spread out in front of him.

The first progress report, written by Wang Wenwu himself, came from Borneo: "As of June 25, the Lanfang administrative body is fully operational in seven major towns, including Pontianak, Singkawang, and Sanfa. Household registration is 82% complete, and land surveying is 65% complete. The Fifth and Sixth Arab Divisions have completed their sweep of the inland areas, and the remaining Dutch resistance forces have been largely eliminated. The First and Second Divisions are currently training the newly formed Borneo militia division, which is expected to be combat-ready by August."

The report concluded with a photograph: the groundbreaking ceremony for the newly built Lanfang Main Hall. Uncle Wang stood in the front row, wearing his dark gray long gown, the badge on his chest gleaming. The old man looked tired, but his eyes were bright.

The second report is the Ministry of Petroleum Industry's semi-annual summary: "From January to June, the Borneo oilfield produced a total of 1.8 million barrels of oil, slightly lower than expected, mainly due to the need to transport some equipment from Dubai. However, the exploration team discovered a new oil reservoir in the Tarakan area, with preliminary estimates of reserves exceeding 500 million barrels. It is recommended to increase investment in the construction of a second refinery."

Chen Feng drew a line under "500 million barrels" with a red pen. Another strategic reserve.

The third and thickest document was a briefing on the European situation from the Security Bureau. It was personally written by Zhou Tieshan, the handwriting as neat as printed text: "On June 24th, Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary arrived in Serrajevo to begin his inspection of Bosnia. The Serbian nationalist organization 'The Black Hand' is active, and the Austro-Hungarian military has strengthened security… German Emperor Wilhelm II has recently convened a series of military meetings, and the General Staff has updated the 'Schlieffen Plan,' the operational plan against France… The French Parliament passed a new military bill extending the service period from two to three years… The British Admiralty secretly assessed the potential losses from going to war with the German Navy…"

The report's last page, in bold, stated: "Based on intelligence from various sources, major European powers have entered a quasi-wartime state. Any unexpected event could become the trigger."

Chen Feng closed the report, picked up the now-cold tea, and took a sip. The tea was Zhengshan Xiaozhong from Fujian, with a faint smoky flavor. Uncle Wang wasn't there, and the new waiter wasn't good at controlling the water temperature.

A knock came at the door.

"Enter."

Wang Wenwu pushed open the door and came in. He had been back from Borneo for a week; his skin was much tanned, and the wrinkles around his eyes were deeper, but he looked to be in good spirits.

"President, British Consul Howard and French Consul Dupont have requested an urgent meeting." Wang Wenwu's tone was somewhat helpless. "This is the third time this month."

"What's the reason this time?"

"They said it was 'the latest developments regarding the situation in Borneo,'" Wang Wenwu paused, "but I suspect they might have heard rumors."

"What's the rumor?"

"German Consul Müller went to Singapore yesterday and just returned today. Howard has informants at the airport; he must know about it."

Chen Feng put down his teacup and tapped his fingers lightly on the table. The oak tabletop emitted a dull thud.

"Looks like the Germans are getting restless too." He got up and walked to the window, looking towards the harbor. There, the Bismarck-class battleship lay quietly anchored, its dark gray hull resembling a steel mountain under the blazing sun. "Tell them to come over in half an hour. Inform Zhou Tieshan to come too, and have him sit in the scorer's box."