World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Today, we reaffirmed our path: to deconstruct politics with business logic and to confront ideology with pragmatism. This path is difficult because we have to deal with everyone at the same time, but we cannot be bound to anyone."

"But this is the only way. Caught between the great powers, only absolute pragmatism can bring about absolute freedom."

"The price has already been paid, and more will be paid in the future. But it's worth it for the future of Lanfang."

"Tomorrow, we'll continue."

He closed his diary, turned off the light, and left the office.

The corridor was quiet, save for the echoing sound of his footsteps. Most of the people in the building had already gone home, but the city, the country, would never stop turning.

Just like this war, just like this era, just like the wheels of history, rolling forward, never turning back.

What he had to do was ensure that Lanfang was not crushed dust in this raging torrent, but rather a ship navigating the waves.

Outside the window, Dubai's myriad lights illuminated the desert night and also lit up the path forward for a newly emerging nation.

February 7, 1916, 7:00 AM.

Naval shipyard.

Thick sea fog shrouded the entire coastline, obscuring any human figure beyond ten meters. Yet, within this three-kilometer-long factory area, the workers had already begun their day's work. The deafening roar of steam hammers striking steel plates, the piercing whistle of rivet guns, and the rumble of cranes moving—these sounds pierced through the fog like the panting of an industrial behemoth.

Deep within the factory area, inside a massive dry dock 350 meters long, the outlines of two enormous structures are faintly visible in the mist.

Those were the pride of the Lanfang Navy—the Bismarck-class battleships "Donghai" and "Nanhai," the second ship. The two ships were being built side by side, their keels already laid, and the outlines of their hulls beginning to take shape. Hundreds of workers were busy on the crisscrossing scaffolding, and sparks from welding bloomed in the thick fog, like fireworks exploding during a festival.

Chen Feng stood on the observation platform at the edge of the dry dock, holding a pair of binoculars. Standing next to him was Liu Qinian, the Minister of Industry.

"President, look," Liu Qinian pointed to the shipyard, "according to the schedule, the 'Donghai' can be launched this October, and the 'Nanhai' will be launched two months later."

Chen Feng put down his binoculars: "What about quality? We can't sacrifice quality to meet deadlines."

"Quality is absolutely guaranteed." Liu Qinian opened the folder in his hand. "We have improved three weaknesses of the original design: the main turret rotation mechanism has been supplemented with a backup power system, the horizontal armor thickness has been increased by 20 millimeters, and the fireproof isolation of the engine room has been made more thorough."

Chen Feng nodded. A sea breeze blew by, carrying a strong smell of rust and paint. He liked this smell—it was the smell of industrialization, the smell of national strength.

"What about the preparations for the other two ships?" he asked.

"It's already underway." Liu Qinian turned to the next page. "'Bohai' is being built at Shipyard No. 8, and the foundation excavation will be completed next week. 'Huanghai' is at the new Shipyard No. 12, where the water depth is better and a larger dry dock can be built—we have reserved space for expansion, so that we can build giant ships of 55,000 tons or even 60,000 tons in the future."

Chen Feng turned around and looked at Liu Qinian: "Minister Liu, I'm not here today to see the two ships we already know about. I want you to launch a new plan—to build four more."

Liu Qinian's hand trembled, and the folder almost fell to the ground.

"Four more...four more?" His voice was dry. "Commander-in-Chief, we already have two under construction, plus two in the planning stages, making four in total. Four more would make eight Bismarck-class battleships. This..."

"What's wrong?" Chen Feng asked calmly.

"That's impossible." Liu Qinian took off his glasses and wiped them. "It's not that it's technically impossible, it's that it's resource-intensive. Building one Bismarck-class destroyer requires 40,000 tons of special steel, 8,000 tons of copper and aluminum, 200,000 man-hours of highly skilled workers, and a budget of 20 million dans. Four ships would cost 80 million, which is almost equivalent to our total military expenditure last year."

He put his glasses back on, his voice trembling with excitement: "Moreover, we need slipways, we need docks, we need the necessary port facilities. More importantly, we need people—skilled welders, riveters, plumbers, and electricians. These people can't be trained in a day!"

Chen Feng remained silent, simply watching him. Only after Liu Qinian finished speaking did he speak:

"Are you done talking?"

"That's all."

"Alright, listen to me now." Chen Feng walked to the edge of the observation deck, gripping the railing with both hands. "Minister Liu, you only see the costs, not the benefits. You only see the difficulties, not the opportunities."

He turned around: "We don't necessarily need to use all eight Bismarck-class ships ourselves."

Liu Qinian was stunned: "Not for your own use? Then what's the point of making it?"

"Sell."

The word was spoken softly, but it struck Liu Qinian's heart like a heavy hammer.

"Sell?" he repeated. "Sell to whom?"

"We'll sell to whoever needs it," Chen Feng said. "Germans need it, the British need it, the French, Americans, Russians... as long as they can afford the price, we'll sell to them."

Liu Qinian's eyes widened: "But this is the most advanced battleship! It's a strategic weapon of the nation! How can it..."

"Why not?" Chen Feng interrupted him. "Minister Liu, you're an engineer; you need to broaden your thinking. Let me ask you, what is the cost of building a Bismarck-class destroyer?"

"Twenty million Lanzhou dollars."

"How much can we ask for if we sell it to the Germans?"

Liu Qinian thought for a moment: "If it includes the complete weapon system and ammunition... thirty-five million? Forty million?"

"I'm planning to ask for fifty million," Chen Feng said. "And I only want gold, not paper money."

"Fifty million?!" Liu Qinian gasped. "Would the Germans buy it?"

"Not now, but soon." Chen Feng walked back, took the folder from Liu Qinian, flipped to a blank page, and took out a pen to start drawing.

He drew two simple bar charts.

"Look, this is the strength of the British Royal Navy, and this is the strength of the German High Seas Fleet. Right now, the British have a slight advantage, but the gap isn't large." He drew a line between the two pillars. "This year, a decisive naval battle will definitely break out between the two sides—unprecedented in scale, with enormous losses." (Jutland, the editor is preparing to make their battles even more brutal; who do you think will suffer more?)

He looked up: "What will happen to the side that loses its warships then? They will desperately need to replenish them. But warships aren't cars; they can't be built in a few months. From design to groundbreaking, from construction to commissioning, it takes at least two years. Two years is forever in war."

Liu Qinian began to understand: "That's why we need to manufacture the goods in advance..."

"That's right." Chen Feng nodded. "Once they've finished fighting and realize they don't have enough ships, we have ready-made, state-of-the-art battleships right here. Payment upon delivery. No need to wait, they can sail back and use them immediately."

He continued drawing: "Moreover, we won't just sell to one side. If Germany loses, we'll sell to Germany. If Britain loses, we'll sell to Britain. If both sides suffer heavy losses... then we can sell to both sides simultaneously."