World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Wang Wenwu was somewhat worried: "Wouldn't this be too risky? What if Britain thinks we're hedging our bets..."

"They knew all along," Chen Feng said calmly. "British intelligence isn't just for show. They knew we were helping Japan transport troops, they knew we were selling weapons to Germany. But they didn't take any action. Why?"

He asked himself and answered:

"Because Britain now needs to concentrate its efforts on dealing with Germany and does not want to open a second front in Asia. Moreover, our rubber, tin mines, and oil in Southeast Asia are equally important to Britain. They can tolerate us doing business with Germany as long as we don't cross the line."

"What is the bottom line?"

"Direct military aid, or a threat to Britain's core colonies," Chen Feng said. "So what we need to do tomorrow is to clearly tell the British: Lanfang's cooperation with Germany is a commercial matter and will not affect Lanfang's normal trade with Britain. We can even provide Britain with what they need."

As the car drove past the Berlin Cathedral, its massive dome appeared solemn and heavy in the twilight.

"War changed everyone," Chen Feng said in a low voice, more like talking to himself. "Germany was gambling, Japan was selling its blood, Britain was struggling, and we were... learning."

"What are you going to study?" Wang Wenwu asked.

"Learn how to grow in the shadow of giants, how to walk on the edge of a knife, and how to strengthen yourself by using the wars of others."

Chen Feng closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. The day's negotiations were tiring, but worthwhile.

The order for two thousand cannons was just the beginning.

The real gain comes from technology exchange.

With German optical technology, Lanfang's fire control system could be upgraded by a generation. With special steel technology, warship armor could be made more robust. With diesel engine technology, submarine range could be significantly increased. With radio miniaturization technology, command systems could be made more efficient.

These technologies cannot be bought with money or exchanged for resources.

It is only possible to obtain this in such special times and in such special transactions.

The car arrived at the hotel. When Chen Feng got out, he saw several reporters waiting at the hotel entrance. Upon seeing him, they immediately surrounded him.

"Commander Chen! There's news that Germany has ordered artillery from Lanfang. Is that true?"

Will Lanfang directly participate in the war?

What are your thoughts on the situation in Europe?

Chen Feng stopped, faced the camera, and gave a standard diplomatic smile.

"Lanfang is a peace-loving country, and our cooperation with other countries is aimed at promoting development and stability. As for specific business contracts, we cannot disclose details. Thank you."

He entered the hotel escorted by guards. Reporters were still pressing for answers, but were kept outside the door.

Upon entering the room, Chen Feng shed his diplomatic mask, revealing only exhaustion and deep thought on his face.

Wang Wenwu opened the folder: "President, key points of the meeting with the British consul..."

"Let's put that aside for now." Chen Feng walked to the window, looking at the Berlin night view. "Send a telegram back home. Two things."

"Speaking."

"First, notify the Ordnance Bureau to initiate the 'Harvest Plan.' Send back the list of technologies acquired today and instruct them to immediately organize an expert team to study them and develop a plan for assimilation and absorption."

"Second," Chen Feng turned around, "tell Zhang Zhen to strengthen patrols in the Strait of Malacca. Until our talks with Britain yield results, ensure the absolute safety of the shipping lanes."

"Are you worried that Britain might harm our fleet?"

"Just in case," Chen Feng said. "The British won't act rashly, but we must be prepared. In this game, strength is the bargaining chip."

As Wang Wenwu finished recording and was about to leave, Chen Feng called him back.

"There's one more thing."

"The President?"

Chen Feng paused for a few seconds, then said, "Send a private telegram to Saionji Kinmochi. Tell him that the first batch of improved weapons has been shipped with the second dispatched army, and hope that this time unnecessary casualties can be reduced."

This move surprised Wang Wenwu. He had assumed that Chen Feng only had cold calculations about Japan.

"You...sympathize with them?"

"It's not sympathy," Chen Feng shook his head. "It's an investment. If the Japanese soldiers die too quickly, the Germans will feel it's not worth it, and orders will decrease. We need them to live, or at least live a long time, so that this deal can last longer."

His tone remained calm, but Wang Wenwu detected a hint of complex emotion in his voice.

Perhaps it wasn't entirely a calculation.

Perhaps, in a tiny bit, there is a sense of respect for those young lives who went to foreign lands and fought valiantly?

Wang Wenwu was unsure. He was also unsure whether Chen Feng himself was aware of the situation.

"I'll take care of it right away." He bowed and left.

Chen Feng was left alone in the room. He walked to his desk, spread out a sheet of paper, and began to write in his diary—a habit he had always maintained, writing a few lines even when he was busy.

"April 7, 1915, Berlin. Today, a meeting was held with the Kaiser, and an agreement was reached on artillery trade and technology exchange. The German side's eagerness was palpable, demonstrating the immense pressure on the Eastern Front. Japan's manpower has become a significant resource, but its value diminishes over time; we must extract the maximum benefit as quickly as possible..."

He stopped writing at this point.

A faint chime drifted in from outside the window—the evening bells of the Berlin church. The long, drawn-out sound echoed through the night sky, as if praying for those who had died and those who were about to die.

Chen Feng put down his pen, walked to the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He didn't turn on the light, but slowly sipped it by the light of the city lights outside the window.

The liquor was strong, burning my throat and my conscience.

But he had to continue. For Lanfang, for those who believed in him and followed him, for this nation that was struggling to rise amidst the powerful nations.

Even if my hands are stained with blood, even if my soul has fallen into darkness.

Eastern Front, Poland, Neman River Front, November 1915.

Koji Matsumoto's boots sank into the mud, making a "plop" sound with each step. This wasn't snow, but a swamp formed by half-melted snowmelt mixed with mud, blood, excrement, and decaying matter. The wooden walls of the trench were seeping water, and the air was filled with an indescribable stench—a mixture of rotting corpses, cheap tobacco, sweat, and chemicals.

He returned to Europe, but not as a war hero. Although his left arm wound had healed, it left him with minor aftereffects, making it difficult for him to hold a gun steadily for extended periods. Therefore, he was transferred to a logistics unit, responsible for recruit training and equipment distribution.

He is now one of the instructors at the 13th Division's recruit training camp, responsible for teaching the use of the new "Lanfang-made" weapon.

"Look carefully!" Matsumoto stood on a relatively dry earthen platform, facing more than thirty new recruits. Most of these young men had just come from Japan, their faces still showing the fatigue of a long journey and the bewilderment of an unfamiliar environment.

He was holding an improved "Type 11 light machine gun". It looked similar to the old model, but there were changes in the details - the barrel was thicker, there were more heat sinks, and the stock was redesigned.