World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Wang Wenwu pondered for a few seconds: "This means... the war will continue. Neither side has been defeated, nor has either lost its will to fight."

"Yes." Chen Feng walked back to his desk, picked up another document, and said, "And this means that both sides will learn from their mistakes and make improvements. Britain will strengthen the protection of its battlecruisers and improve its shell fuses. Germany will... continue to look for ways to break the blockade."

He paused, a sharp glint in his eyes: "And for us, this means opportunity."

"Chance?"

"Various opportunities," Chen Feng said. "The Germans proved that their warships were more survivable—the Seydlitz was hit by nineteen shells and took on 5,000 tons of water, yet it still managed to return to port. The British would want to know why, and would want to acquire the relevant technology. And the Germans, in dire need of resources and foreign exchange, might be willing to make a deal."

He wrote down several keywords on the document: armor design, waterproof compartments, shell fuses, and fire control system.

"Have Liu Qinian's technical team prepare a detailed list of requirements," Chen Feng said. "Also, contact our channels in Berlin to sound out the German Naval Ministry's attitude. They need friends and support now—especially if Kaiser Wilhelm might request them to launch another attack."

After Chen Feng finished speaking, he looked out the window toward the shipyard, where four Bismarck-class battleships were still under urgent construction. Their "masters" should be arriving soon!

Wang Wenwu quickly took notes, then asked, "What about Japan? They're still waiting for the equipment from the third batch of dispatched troops."

"Supplies will continue as usual," Chen Feng said. "And we can add some new projects—the situation in Russia is very unstable, and I expect the Russians to withdraw from the war soon. The soldiers of Japan will still need to continue their labor, so we can send them to the Western Front and let them realize their value to Britain and France!!!"

Typical Chen Feng thinking: find business opportunities in every crisis and develop new products based on the lessons learned from every war.

"But Commander-in-Chief," Wang Wenwu hesitated for a moment, "wouldn't doing this... be too cold-blooded? So many people have died at sea, and we're here plotting how to make money..."

Chen Feng looked at him, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "Minister Wang, do you know why Lanfang was able to survive?"

Wang Wenwu shook his head.

"Because we are clear-headed," Chen Feng said in a low voice. "Because we know that in this world, sympathy and morality cannot save a country. Only strength, only interests, only calm calculations can allow us to survive in the cracks between the great powers."

He walked to the window and looked out at the bustling Dubai port: "I regret those who died in the North Sea. But my primary responsibility is to ensure that the people of Lanfang do not have to experience such deaths. To do that, I need resources, I need technology, and I need to make Lanfang so strong that no one dares to wage war against us."

He turned around, his gaze resolute: "So, yes, it's cold-blooded. But it's necessary cold-bloodedness. Because if we're not cold-blooded, if we don't calculate, if we don't seize every opportunity to strengthen ourselves, then one day, Lanfang's fleet will also sink in some sea, and Lanfang's young people will also die in the icy waters."

Wang Wenwu fell silent. He knew Chen Feng was right, but he still felt a certain unease.

"And also," Chen Feng continued, "send a private letter to Saionji Kinmochi. The content...expresses condolences for the fallen soldiers, but also points out that the 'wonderful' life currently enjoyed in Japan is all thanks to the hard work of their army generals!!!"

"You want them to promote the army in the media?" Wang Wenwu asked in surprise.

"No, I was just expressing 'concern'," Chen Feng smiled slightly. "How they interpret it is their business. But at least, this letter will spark some reflection in Tokyo—after all, to make a living, you have to wear a green hat (referring to the green helmet worn during wartime)."

Wang Wenwu understood. This wasn't moral persuasion; it was psychological warfare—planting a seed in the minds of Japan's high-ranking officials to influence their decisions.

"I understand," he said. "I'll take care of it."

"There's one more thing," Chen Feng called after him. "Have our intelligence agents in London and Berlin focus on one thing: the direction of public opinion after the war, and... the evaluation of the commanders."

Are you worried that Jellicoe or Scheer will be dismissed?

"What I'm worried about is that whoever is dismissed, the successor may be more radical and more eager to prove themselves," Chen Feng said. "And a more radical commander means more fighting, more attrition, and... more demands."

Demand. Demand for weapons, resources, and funds.

Lanfang can meet these needs.

After Wang Wenwu left, Chen Feng stood alone in front of the map, motionless for a long time.

His fingers gently brushed across the North Sea, as if he could feel the waves, the flames, and the death there.

Six thousand people. Seven thousand people. Cold numbers, but each one of them was once a living, breathing person.

He closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said in his heart, to those strange, distant souls lost at sea. "I'm sorry, the world is like this. I'm sorry, humanity is like this. I'm sorry, I have to be this way."

Then he opened his eyes, and his gaze returned to calm, sharp, and resolute.

Because he was the leader of Lanfang, his responsibility was to the Chinese, not Europeans, not Japanese, and not even Southeast Asians.

The future requires every calm, even ruthless, decision made now.

The naval battle in the North Sea has ended.

But on the chessboard of the world, the pieces are still moving.

Chen Feng, however, was determined to make Lan Fang the player, not the pawn.

No matter how much calmness, calculation, or walking on the edge of morality this requires.

He can do all of them.

Because this is the price of leadership.

Berlin, Sanssouci Palace, 11:00 AM, June 4th.

Sunlight streamed through the tall, arched windows into the audience hall, casting bright dappled patterns on the polished marble floor. The air was filled with the sweet scent of orange blossom and cedar, a fragrance wafting from the garden, mingled with the faint aroma of burning candles in the hall.

Wilhelm II stood in the center of the hall, dressed in the uniform of a Prussian Field Marshal, his chest adorned with medals. Hands behind his back, head held high, he gazed at the enormous oil painting on the wall—the painting of his grandfather, Wilhelm I, being crowned German Emperor in the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles in 1871. In the painting, Bismarck, Moltke, all the Prussian generals and princes stood solemnly, witnessing the birth of an empire.

Forty-five years have passed. Now, this empire is proving itself on the world stage.

"His Majesty."

A voice came from behind. Wilhelm II turned around and saw Field Marshal Alfred von Tirpitz standing in the doorway, bowing slightly.

The old marshal was wearing his formal naval admiral uniform today, a dark blue woolen fabric embroidered with gold thread, but the uniform seemed a bit looser than when we last met—Tirpitz had lost quite a bit of weight in the past few days. His face was somewhat pale, and he had deep bags under his eyes, but his posture remained upright, maintaining the proper bearing of a soldier.