World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

After the signing ceremony, the Japanese delegation did not attend the scheduled luncheon and returned directly to their hotel. They needed to pack their luggage, as they would be leaving that afternoon aboard the Batavia—eager to return home, even though their homeland was no longer the same.

Inside the room, Yamamoto Gonnohyōe began removing his medals one by one from his chest. He carefully wiped each one before placing it back in the velvet box. He did it slowly and meticulously, as if performing some kind of farewell ceremony.

When he received the Order of the Golden Kite—the medal representing the highest military merit—his hand stopped. He stared at the golden medal for a long time, then suddenly laughed, a soft laugh filled with irony.

"I received it during the Russo-Japanese War," he said to Terauchi beside him. "It was to recognize my 'contribution' in the Battle of Tsushima. Looking back now, it's ironic. We defeated the Russians, thought we were a powerful nation, but in the end..."

He didn't say anything more, but simply placed the medal gently into the box and closed the lid.

With a loud "bang," it was as if an era had been shut down.

Inside the temple, documents were being organized. He placed the "Jade Hair" pen used at the signing ceremony back into its sandalwood box and locked it. He would never use that pen again. It would become a family heirloom, and also a testament to shame.

"After returning home," Terauchi suddenly said, "I will resign immediately. This treaty... needs a responsible person."

"Me too," Yamamoto said. "The position of Minister of the Navy should be changed. To someone... who won't be in so much pain."

Togo Heihachiro sat in a chair by the window, looking outside. On the river, a patrol boat of the Lanfang Navy was passing by, the Lanfang flag on the boat fluttering in the wind. That flag, which was unfamiliar to him two months ago, was now etched into his very bones.

"Marshal," Terauchi approached, "what are your plans after returning home?"

"Write a book," Togo said. "Write down the course of this war, the process of the negotiations, and everything about Lanfang. Not for publication, but to leave it for future generations. Let them know why we lost, and what kind of people we lost to."

He paused for a moment: "Perhaps...perhaps decades from now, someone will learn something from this book. If that happens, our failure won't be entirely in vain."

At 2 PM, the motorcade took the delegation from the Cherry Blossom Country to the pier. On the way, the temple staff asked the driver to take a slightly longer route, as he wanted to see the cityscape of Pontianak.

The car passed through the commercial street of the new town. The street was wide and clean, lined with shops on both sides, and bustling with pedestrians. Chinese, Malays, Indians... people of all skin colors mingled together, their expressions relaxed and their steps unhurried.

As I passed a school, it was dismissal time. Children poured out of the school gate, wearing matching school uniforms, carrying schoolbags, chatting and laughing. They spoke in Lanfang Mandarin, clear and resonant.

"Their children..." Yamamoto murmured, "are learning their own language, reading their own history, and being proud of their country."

And what about the children in Japan? They might be starving right now, fighting over a bite to eat, or asking their parents why there's no rice.

The car rounded a bend and passed through the port area. A dozen or so cargo ships were moored at the docks, and cranes were loading and unloading goods. Containers were piled high like small mountains, covered with various languages: Lanfang Shipping, Dubai Port Authority, Borneo Trade…

"This is sea power," Togo said softly. "Not warships, but merchant ships; not cannon fire, but trade; not conquest, but prosperity. The principle that we couldn't understand in forty years, Lanfang accomplished in ten."

The temple staff smiled bitterly: "I understand now, but it's too late."

"It's not too late." Togo shook his head. "As long as you're alive, it's not too late. It's just that this road... will be very long and very difficult."

The car arrived at the dock. The Batavia was already on fire and ready to depart, its smokestack billowing black smoke. The dilapidated Dutch merchant ship looked out of place in Pontianak's modern port, like a beggar who had wandered into a palace.

Before boarding the ship, the monk glanced back at Pontianak. The city shimmered in the afternoon sun, like a newly polished gem.

He will remember this image. He will remember what the country that defeated Japan looked like.

It wasn't out of hatred.

It's for...the future.

At the same time, in the conference room of the naval base's guesthouse, Chen Feng was holding an internal summary meeting.

"The treaty text has been encrypted and sent back to Dubai," Wang Wenwu reported. "According to procedure, the parliament will review and approve it within three days. As for Japan, the Terauchi Cabinet will expedite the ratification process, and the exchange of instruments of ratification is expected to be completed within a week."

Chen Feng nodded: "Has Zhang Zhen notified them?"

"Notification has been issued. The order has been given: immediately cease all attacks and lift the naval blockade. All ships are to withdraw to beyond the patrol line, and Japanese merchant ships are permitted free passage."

"Where's the submarine?"

"The U-series submarines are returning to port and are expected to be withdrawn to base within three days."

Chen Feng leaned back in his chair with satisfaction. This "slow-motion" battle, which had lasted for more than two months, was finally over. The result was even better than he had expected—Japan not only accepted all the core conditions but also made concessions on the additional clauses.

"What is the expected domestic reaction?" he asked.

Zhou Tieshan opened the document: "According to public opinion analysis, national sentiment will go through three stages: first, the jubilation of victory, lasting about a week; then, a period of calm reflection on the cost of the war; and finally, a pragmatic period focusing on the use of reparations and development opportunities. We have already prepared corresponding propaganda plans."

"What about Japan?"

"It will be terrible," Zhou Tieshan said bluntly. "The Terauchi cabinet will definitely collapse, probably in the next few days. The conflict between the army and the navy will intensify further, and social unrest will continue for some time. But because of the treaty, they dare not use force again and can only deal with it internally."

Chen Feng pondered for a few seconds: "We need a stable Japan, not a collapsing one. Minister Wang, prepare an aid plan—not free aid, but trade credit. Allow Japan to use future reparations revenue as collateral to purchase food and industrial raw materials from Lanfang."

The attendants were all stunned.

"Sir, this..." a young official hesitated, "We just won the battle, should we give them aid now?"

"It's not aid, it's investment," Chen Feng corrected. "A Japan where people are starving is no good for us. They'll riot, they'll revolt, they'll become a problem for the whole of East Asia. Only a Japan that can barely survive can slowly pay back our reparations and open its markets to our goods."

He stood up and walked to the map: "More importantly, we need Japan to become a... model. Let other Asian countries see what happens when they challenge Lanfang, and what the way out is for them to cooperate with Lanfang. Punish them severely and then give them a way out, so that next time someone wants to challenge us, they'll have to think twice."