World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Berlin, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Hotel.

Wang Wenwu sat on the sofa in his room, a glass of red wine in his hand, but he didn't drink it. Outside the window, the rain poured down like a waterfall, and the streetlights blurred into indistinct spots of light in the spray. It was already ten o'clock at night, seven hours since he had left Wusou Palace.

He is waiting.

We await Berlin's decision, the Emperor's reply, and the final outcome of this deal.

Before he left, Chen Feng told him, "Wilhelm II will hesitate and haggle, but he will eventually agree because he has no better option. The key is not whether he agrees, but how quickly he agrees. If he agrees within 48 hours, it means he has been pushed to the brink, and we can raise the price. If he delays, it means he has other options, and we need to adjust our strategy."

Now, half the time has passed.

A knock sounded at the door. It wasn't the waiter's rhythm.

Wang Wenwu put down his wine cup: "Please come in."

It was Schmidt who entered, the liaison officer from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He took off his raincoat; his hair was still dripping wet, and his face appeared somewhat pale in the dim light of the room.

"Mr. Wang, I apologize for disturbing you so late." Schmidt's voice was somewhat hurried. "His Majesty the Emperor... wishes to see you one more time. Now."

"Now?" Wang Wenwu glanced at the clock on the wall. "10:07."

"Yes. The car is already waiting downstairs." Schmidt paused, lowered his voice, and said, "His Majesty did not consult the Admiralty, but directly convened a meeting with the heads of the Treasury, the General Staff, and the Ordnance Bureau. The meeting lasted four hours and just ended."

Wang Wenwu's heart skipped a beat. Not consulting the Admiralty—this meant that Wilhelm II had anticipated Tirpitz's opposition and decided to bypass him.

"What were the results of the meeting?"

"I don't know the details," Schmidt shook his head. "But when His Majesty sent me to pick you up, he said, 'Tell Mr. Wang that we can talk, but the terms need to be adjusted.'"

We can talk. That's the most important signal.

Wang Wenwu stood up and straightened his suit: "Let's go."

The streets of Berlin were deserted on a rainy night. A Mercedes drove across the wet paving stones, its wheels splashing water, the wipers swishing rhythmically against the windshield. Wang Wenwu looked out the window and saw the occasional patrol of soldiers passing by, their helmets gleaming coldly under the streetlights.

Even in the dead of night, the capital city, under a state of war, is on edge.

The car entered Sanssouci Palace through a side gate, this time not heading to the main building, but to a small reception room in the west wing. The reception room was small, but luxuriously decorated—Persian carpets, crystal chandeliers, and portraits of Hohenzollern emperors hanging on the walls. Firewood burned in the fireplace, dispelling the chill of the rainy night.

Wilhelm II was already waiting there. He had changed into casual clothes—a deep red velvet robe over a white shirt and a black waistcoat—and looked less imposing and more tired than he had in the afternoon.

"Mr. Wang, please have a seat." William gestured to the sofa opposite the fireplace. "What would you like to drink? Brandy or tea?"

"The tea is ready, thank you, Your Majesty."

A waiter brought in tea. William waved for everyone to leave, leaving only the two of them in the drawing room. The firelight from the fireplace danced on their faces, casting flickering shadows on the wall.

"Let's get straight to the point," William said, raising his brandy glass. "I'll take both Bismarck-class ships. But the price needs to be adjusted."

"Your Majesty, please speak."

"First, the loan can offset one ship, no problem." William took a sip of his drink. "Second, for the other ship, a 20% down payment is fine, but the post-war payment period must be extended to 15 years, and the annual interest rate cannot exceed 3%."

Wang Wenwu quickly calculated in his mind. Fifteen years after the war, with an annual interest rate of three percent, it meant that Lanfang would have to wait fifteen years to recover the full amount, and the interest rate would be very low. This was a typical delaying tactic—if Germany's economy recovered after the war, this money would be insignificant; if Germany was defeated, it might not be recovered at all.

"Okay," he agreed, "but we need collateral. We'll use the customs revenue from Germany's African colonies as collateral."

William frowned: "That's impossible. Colonial taxes are a vital source of the Empire's revenue..."

"Then use something else as collateral," Wang Wenwu said calmly. "Or, increase the down payment to thirty percent."

The two looked at each other. The firewood in the fireplace crackled.

"Twenty-five percent," William finally said. "The colonial taxes cannot be touched, but the special trading rights of the Hanseatic League cities can be used as collateral."

The Hanseatic League—a federation of traditional German commercial cities—held a special position in foreign trade. Using this as collateral meant that Lanfang could circumvent some trade barriers in the future.

"Okay," Wang Wenwu nodded. "Then what's the third point? The part about paying interest on the gold."

"Twenty million pounds in gold...that's too much." He put down his wine glass, his fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of his robe.

"What is Your Majesty's suggestion?"

"Five million," William said, "and it will be paid in installments, one million a year for five years."

Wang Wenwu shook his head: "Your Majesty, the difference is too great. Commander Chen Feng's bottom line for me is 15 million, and it must be paid immediately. The plan you proposed... I cannot explain it to the Commander."

"Then twelve million it is." William leaned forward, his eyes sharpening. "Pay in three installments: four million upon signing the contract, another four million upon taking delivery of the ships, and the final payment after the war. That's the limit I can accept."

Wang Wenwu fell silent. He was thinking, weighing his options. Twelve million was three million less than Chen Feng's bottom line, but it would secure eight million in immediate gold. As for the four million after the war... it might not be recovered, but it wasn't entirely hopeless.

More importantly, he needed this deal to succeed. Chen Feng wanted more than just gold; he wanted favors from Germany and future influence in Europe.

"I need to consult the President," he finally said.

"Of course," William leaned back on the sofa, "but please hurry. My patience is limited."

Wang Wenwu stood up: "May I use the Ministry of Foreign Affairs' telegraph room?"

"Schmidt will take you there." William also stood up and extended his hand to Wang Wenwu. "Mr. Wang, I hope we can reach an agreement. Germany and Lanfang have many areas where they can cooperate, not just a transaction."

These words were deeply meaningful. Wang Wenwu grasped the emperor's hand: "I hope so too, Your Majesty."

Schmidt took him to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs' telegraph office. Wang Wenwu drafted an encrypted telegram, detailing the progress of the negotiations and William's counter-offer. The telegram was sent to Dubai, and theoretically, it would take several hours to receive a reply—but Chen Feng gave him the authority to make the decision on the spot.

The key question is, what does Chen Feng want?

Wang Wenwu sat in the lounge outside the telegraph office, looking at the clock on the wall. The second hand ticked away, time passing silently. He recalled Chen Feng's last words before leaving Dubai:

"Remember, gold is important, but not the most important thing. The most important thing is to make Germany owe us a favor, to make Wilhelm II feel that only Lanfang can help him in critical moments. This is the political capital for the next ten years."

Favor.

Political capital.

Twelve million taels of gold, plus loan repayments, future trade privileges, and the favor of the German Emperor…

worth it.