World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Then impose economic sanctions!" Kitchener turned to Gray. "Cut off their trade routes, freeze their assets in London, and ban British companies from doing business with them!"

Gray shook his head: "Lanfang's main trading partners are Germany and the United States, and they don't have many assets in London. Moreover, they control the rubber and tin mines in Malaya and the oil in Borneo, which are resources desperately needed for the war. If we impose sanctions, they can simply turn to Germany, or... raise their prices to our country."

"So we're just going to watch?" Kitchener's voice was filled with resentment. "Watch an Asian country ride roughshod over us?"

Colonel Hamilton, who had been silent until now, spoke up: "Sir, I served in Japan for three years and studied the rise of Lanfang. What makes this country so terrifying is not their military strength—though that is already quite formidable—but their strategic thinking."

Everyone looked at him.

Hamilton stood up and walked to the world map on the wall: "They stepped at the perfect moment every time. After the Russo-Japanese War in 1905, Japan expanded, and the West neglected Asia, so they established a nation in the Persian Gulf. In 1911, there was chaos at Tokyo University, and they took the opportunity to infiltrate Malaya. In 1914, when Europe went to war, they immediately seized the opportunity and became war brokers."

He pointed to Dubai on the map: "Now, they're making money off Germany, stealing German technology, and using Japan's resources. And they themselves are paying almost no price."

"What are they after?" Kitchener asked.

"He's planning for the future," Hamilton said. "Chen Feng sees further than anyone else. Everything he's doing now is laying the groundwork for the post-war era. Once we and Germany are both weakened, he will become the hegemon of Asia, and even... a new player on the world chess board."

Gray closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The firewood in the fireplace crackled.

"Camin," he opened his eyes, "do we have an informant within Lanfang's upper echelons?"

"There's one, not a high-ranking one, in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs," Kamin said. "But Chen Feng's inner circle is rock solid. Those people have followed him since the founding of the People's Republic of China, and their loyalty is extremely high."

"Jellicoe, if... I mean if, we had to take military action against Lanfang, how long would the Navy need to prepare?"

Jellicoe pondered for a full minute: "Four capital ships, along with accompanying cruisers and destroyers, will be drawn to form a task force. Preparation time will be at least three months. But this is contingent on the German High Seas Fleet not engaging in any major activity during this period—which is not guaranteed."

Gray nodded, then turned to Kitchener: "What about the army? What if we need to land in Borneo?"

Kitchener gave a wry smile: "We'll be drawing two divisions from India, plus one division from the ANZAC, for a total of 40,000 troops. But a landing operation requires complete naval control of the sea, and... we can't spare any more troops in Europe."

Silence descended once more.

Finally, Gray made the decision: "Send the strongest diplomatic protest to Lanfang. Send Major General Gerald to Dubai to confront Chen Feng in person. The wording should be strong, but... leave room for maneuver."

"Leave room for maneuver?" Kitchener asked, puzzled. "What does that mean?"

“It means,” Gray said, emphasizing each word, “that we need to let them know we’re angry, but not to push them completely toward Germany. Before we defeat the Germans, we need…stability in Asia.”

He looked out the window; the fog on the Thames was dissipating, but the London sky remained leaden gray.

"Tell Gerald to take a good look at what kind of person Chen Feng really is. We need a more accurate assessment before we can decide... how to treat this emerging nation after the war."

At the same time, in Dubai, on the rooftop balcony of the Presidential Palace.

Chen Feng was wearing a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, holding a freshly brewed cup of coffee. It was six in the morning, the sun had not yet fully risen, but the eastern horizon was already tinged with the pale light of dawn.

From his vantage point, he could overlook the entire Port of Dubai. The port area was brightly lit, with cranes loading and unloading cargo, and cargo ships coming and going—a bustling scene. Further away, construction sites in the new city area were dotted with tower cranes, and the sounds of pile drivers could be faintly heard.

Ten years. He has been in this world for more than ten years.

From initially declaring the establishment of a nation with just a few dozen comrades on this desert coast, to now controlling Borneo, Malaya, and Taiwan, influencing the fate of tens of millions of people, sometimes even he himself feels bewildered—is all of this real?

"Commander-in-Chief, up so early?"

Wang Wenwu's voice came from behind. The foreign minister had also gotten up early, holding a telegram in his hand.

"I can't sleep." Chen Feng didn't turn around. "There should be a reaction from London by now, right?"

"We just received a coded telegram." Wang Wenwu walked to his side. "MI6 has obtained the details of our technology exchange with Germany. An emergency meeting was held in Whitehall this morning, chaired by Foreign Secretary Grey."

"What was their attitude?"

"Angry, extremely angry," Wang Wenwu said, "but... there seems to be no intention to take immediate military action. Navy Minister Jellicoe believes the risks are too high."

Chen Feng took a sip of coffee, the bitterness spreading on his tongue: "What about Kitchener? That big-bearded guy should be advocating for war, right?"

"Yes, but Gray suppressed it." Wang Wenwu paused. "They decided to send Consul General Major General Gerald over to lodge a protest with you in person. The telegram says that Gerald departed from Singapore at noon today and is expected to arrive tomorrow afternoon."

"Gerald..." Chen Feng recalled the man's information, "He participated in the Boer War, served in India for ten years, and was transferred to the position of Consul General in Lanfang three years ago. He has a tough personality, a typical imperial soldier, but he's not stupid."

"How should we deal with this?"

Chen Feng turned and walked back inside, with Wang Wenwu following. The office was large, with bookshelves on three walls and a huge mahogany desk in the middle, on which sat a globe, a telephone, and a pile of documents.

"Call Zhou Tieshan here, and Zhang Zhen too—if he's at the port."

Ten minutes later, Zhou Tieshan and Rear Admiral Zhang Zhen arrived. Zhang Zhen had rushed back from Keelung a few days earlier, and his face still looked tired.

"You know the situation, right?" Chen Feng gestured for them to sit down.

"Understood." Zhou Tieshan nodded. "The British are coming to demand an explanation."

What do you think?

Zhou Tieshan pondered for a moment: "From a military perspective, we are not afraid. Four Bismarck-class destroyers have already achieved combat capability, and four new ones are under construction. Although our air force is not yet fully formed, our shore-based aviation can cover the entire Persian Gulf. If the British want to fight, they will have to move their fleet from the mainland, and the Germans will not let this opportunity pass them by."