World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Wang Wenwu carefully examined the list: "President, I've always had a question. Why are the Germans so generous? These are their top secrets."

"Because they need to survive," Chen Feng sneered. "War is the cruelest teacher; it forces you to make choices you would never make under normal circumstances. For Germany, exchanging some technologies that may be important in the future for weapons and supplies that are urgently needed now is a worthwhile deal."

He paused for a moment: "Moreover, they probably feel that even if they gave it to us, we still wouldn't be able to catch up. Europeans have a deep-seated sense of superiority, believing that Asians can only imitate, not innovate."

"Then we'll prove them wrong," Wang Wenwu said.

"Yes." Chen Feng nodded. "Being slapped in the face by facts is the most painful."

The third folder was the thinnest, with only one word on the cover: "Diplomacy - Postwar Planning".

Chen Feng didn't open it immediately. He walked to the map and traced his finger from Europe to Asia, and from Asia to the Americas.

"The war won't last forever. I estimate that in two years at most, all sides will be exhausted and sit down to negotiate." He turned to look at Wang Wenwu. "What will the world be like then?"

Wang Wenwu pondered: "Europe is in ruins, and the great powers are severely weakened. The United States..."

"So our opportunity lies here." Chen Feng's finger paused on Southeast Asia. "Britain, France, and the Netherlands—their colonial systems in Asia have already shown cracks. The wars have depleted their strength and awakened the self-esteem of the ruled peoples. After the wars, these colonies will demand more rights, even independence."

He opened the third folder, which contained several short memos:

"Contact Siam (Thailand) to provide military aid in exchange for preferential trade terms in rubber and rice."

"Support Vietnamese nationalists, but do not over-intervene; remain flexible."

"Established secret contacts with leaders of the national movement in the Dutch East Indies (Indonesia)."

"Explore direct trade with Australia and New Zealand, bypassing the UK."

Every single one is bold, and every single one is fraught with risk.

"Commander-in-Chief," Wang Wenwu carefully chose his words, "aren't these actions... a bit too radical? If the colonial power discovers this, we'll become the target of everyone's criticism."

Chen Feng laughed: "Minister Wang, there's no need to worry. As Jiu said before, we are just businessmen. As long as someone pays, we will sell. As for how the colonized people resist, that's their business."

He walked to the window, watching the sky gradually brighten outside: "Now we have a navy, we have industry, and we have the right to speak at the international negotiating table. In short, we'll sell them the weapons they dare to sell, and we'll sell them even more the weapons they dare not sell. This is Lanfang!!!"

He turned around, his eyes sharp: "The postwar reconstruction of order is a once-in-a-century opportunity to reshuffle the cards. If we just sit obediently on the sidelines waiting for others to deal our cards, we'll always only get the smallest share. But if we also get to the table, participate in the shuffling, participate in the dealing..."

He didn't finish speaking, but Wang Wenwu understood.

"I understand." Wang Wenwu stood up. "I will have the Ministry of Foreign Affairs begin secret contacts. We'll start with Siam; they've always wanted to break free from British and French influence, so they're a good starting point."

"Very good." Chen Feng nodded, "But be careful. All contact should be through commercial channels, under the name of a private company. Formal diplomatic relations can wait until the situation becomes clearer."

The clock on the wall struck five. It was five in the morning, and the sky was beginning to brighten.

Chen Feng stepped onto the balcony and took a deep breath of the morning air. The sound of ship horns drifted from the direction of Dubai Port; a new day had begun.

"Minister Wang," he suddenly said, "how do you think history will judge us?"

Wang Wenwu was taken aback: "This...isn't it too early to talk about this now?"

"It's getting late." Chen Feng looked into the distance. "Every decision we make is writing history. Today, in the North Sea, two fleets are deciding the fate of Europe. And in Dubai, the decisions we make will determine the future of Asia."

He turned around, his face displaying a complex expression that Wang Wenwu had never seen before—ambition, worry, determination, and also a hint of...weariness.

"Sometimes I wonder if we're moving too fast," Chen Feng said softly. "In just over a decade, we've gone from a desert to the strongest navy in Southeast Asia. What about in twenty or fifty years? Will we become a new superpower? Will we turn into the very thing we once hated?"

Wang Wenwu remained silent for a long time. Then he said, "General, I remember you once said—we founded our nation not to dominate, but to give the Chinese people a home where they are not bullied. As long as we remember this original intention, we will not lose our way."

Chen Feng looked at him and suddenly smiled: "You're right. Thank you for reminding me."

He went back to his room, picked up the three folders, and said, "Get to work. A storm is coming; we need to fortify the house."

"Yes."

After Wang Wenwu left, Chen Feng stood alone in front of the map. His fingers gently traced the Beihai area, as if he could feel the raging waves there.

Then he went to his desk, took out a sheet of paper, and began to write a letter.

The recipient was Saionji Kinmochi.

"Lord Saionji: I am delighted to hear of the great victory on the Eastern Front and extend my congratulations. The mobilization of the fourth batch of dispatched troops can proceed as planned. Payment can be made in three installments. Furthermore, I have heard that your Ministry of the Army intends to test new individual soldier tactics; we can provide tactical advisors and equipment support..."

He stopped writing at this point.

The new individual soldier tactic—actually, it's the prototype of the submachine gun. Based on the existing MP18 design concept, the Lanfang Arsenal developed a lighter, cheaper, and more trench warfare-suitable automatic weapon. Testing requires "volunteers," and Sakura has plenty of them. (Xiao Rizi doesn't use submachine guns because they consume too much ammunition, but now Chen Feng needs them to consume them to make money.)

Chen Feng knew what this meant. More efficient killing, more devastating casualties. And a much larger trade volume!

But he still finished writing that sentence.

Because he needs data, feedback from actual combat, and improvement suggestions obtained at the cost of the lives of Japanese soldiers.

This is war, this is politics, this is reality.

Cruel, but true.

Chen Feng signed his name, sealed the letter, and rang the bell to call his secretary.

"Send it out via diplomatic coded telegram. At the same time, send a copy to the Ordnance Bureau, instructing them to prepare five hundred prototype rifles and related ammunition to be sent along with the transport ships of the third expeditionary force."

"Yes, Commander-in-Chief."

After the secretary left, Chen Feng went to the balcony and looked at the sky, which had become completely bright.

a new day.

A new scheme.

A new life is about to end.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Then he opened his eyes and returned to his desk.

There is still a lot to do.

can't stop.