World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Wang Wenwu listened quietly, his fingers unconsciously stroking the base of his wine cup. He was waiting, waiting for the emperor to finish speaking, waiting for that inevitable request.

"Mr. Wang," Wilhelm II leaned forward, lowering his voice, "Commander-in-Chief Chen Feng has close ties with the Japanese government, and Prime Minister Saionji Kinmochi trusts him greatly. If the Commander-in-Chief could mediate and persuade the Japanese to amend the contract terms, allowing those eight divisions to be transferred to the western front..."

He paused, observing Wang Wenwu's reaction: "Germany will be extremely grateful. Moreover, we can pay additional compensation. The price is negotiable."

Falkingham added, "We can pay £500,000 for each division redeployment. For eight divisions, that's £4 million. Or we can pay with equivalent industrial equipment or technology transfer."

Wang Wenwu didn't answer immediately. He picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and let the red wine linger on his tongue for a moment, savoring the astringency of the tannins and the aftertaste of the fruit. He was thinking—not about how to respond, but about how to elicit the plan Chen Feng had prepared.

That cunning, sophistical plan that skirts the edge of morality.

"Your Majesty, General," he finally spoke, his voice steady, "I understand your country's predicament, and I believe Commander-in-Chief Chen Feng is willing to offer assistance. However..."

He put down his wine glass and placed his hands, crossed, on the table: "A contract is a contract. Once an international agreement is signed, it is legally and morally binding. If the Sakura government unilaterally modifies the terms, it will damage its international reputation and trigger a political upheaval domestically. Prime Minister Saionji is already under considerable pressure; to ask him to openly violate the agreement, I'm afraid..."

Wilhelm II and Falkenhayn's expressions darkened. They understood the refusal.

"However," Wang Wenwu changed the subject, "perhaps there is another way. A way that doesn't require modifying the contract terms."

"In what way?" Wilhelm II asked eagerly.

Wang Wenwu leaned forward, lowering his voice to ensure only those around the table could hear: "The contract states that 'Japanese soldiers will not directly engage in combat with British and French troops,' is that correct?"

"Yes." Falkenham nodded. "Every soldier from the Sakura Kingdom has this clause in their employment contract."

"Then," Wang Wenwu smiled, a hint of cunning in his smile, "what if those soldiers... were no longer soldiers from the Kingdom of Sakura?"

A blank stare filled the table. Several German officials exchanged bewildered glances, not understanding what he meant.

"Mr. Wang, I don't quite understand." Wilhelm II frowned. "A soldier is a soldier; their nationality is ingrained in their bones. How can they not be soldiers of Japan?"

"Your Majesty, please allow me to ask a question," Wang Wenwu said, turning the question into a question, "On the battlefield, when you see an enemy force through your binoculars, how do you determine which country they belong to?"

Wilhelm II paused for a moment: "Look at the uniforms, the flags, the equipment..."

"Exactly!" Wang Wenwu raised his voice. "You're judging by external markings. The color and style of the uniform, the shape of the helmet, the pattern of the flag—these visual symbols define a soldier's nationality. If an army wears German uniforms, carries German weapons, and fights under German command, then regardless of the soldiers' skin color, appearance, or native language, on the battlefield, they are German soldiers." (Veterans should understand what I mean by "changing uniforms," ​​but I can't explain it in detail here.)

He paused, letting his words settle.

Falkenham's eyes widened, as if he had grasped something: "You mean...?"

"What I mean is," Wang Wenwu said, enunciating each word clearly, "if Your Majesty were to reorganize those eight Sakura National Army divisions into German army units, grant them official German army designations, and issue them German uniforms and equipment—of course, the weapons could be the familiar Japanese equipment to reduce the difficulty of training—then on the battlefield, they would be German soldiers."

He spread his hands, his smile gentle: "The contract stipulates that 'Soldiers of the Sakura Nation' will not fight against Britain and France. But if they wear German uniforms, then they are 'German soldiers.' The contract terms will naturally no longer apply."

The Hall of Mirrors was deathly silent.

The sunlight outside the window shifted slightly, and a beam of light shone directly onto the silver candlestick in the center of the dining table, reflecting a dazzling light. Wilhelm II stood with his mouth agape, a cigar hanging in mid-air, ash falling onto the pristine white tablecloth, spreading a small patch of gray.

Falkenhayn was the first to react. He jumped to his feet, the chair legs scraping against the marble floor with a screeching sound: "This...this is sophistry! Blatant wordplay!"

"But it's a legal word game, Your Excellency," Wang Wenwu said calmly. "The contract says 'Soldiers of Japan,' without defining what 'Soldiers of Japan' means. From a legal perspective, it can be argued that 'Soldiers of Japan' refers to 'soldiers belonging to the Japanese military establishment.' If these soldiers are formally incorporated into the German army, they will no longer belong to the Japanese military establishment."

"Will the Japanese government agree?" Wilhelm II finally found his voice, his eyes filled with a mixture of shock, absurdity, and a glimmer of hope ignited by this crazy idea.

"That requires negotiation." Wang Wenwu picked up his glass again. "But if the German side is willing to offer... sufficient compensation, I think Prime Minister Saionji will see the flexibility involved. After all, the soldiers are still the same soldiers, just in different uniforms. What Japan receives is additional compensation, and more importantly—"

He looked at Wilhelm II: "—The friendship and commitment of the German Emperor."

Wilhelm II leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. His fingers tapped rapidly on the table. Falkenhayn sat down again, grabbed the bottle, and poured the wine directly into his glass, his hand trembling, spilling some.

The other officials whispered among themselves; some shook their heads, while others looked pleased.

"This is too..." a Treasury official murmured, "too indecent. It's like...like dressing a prostitute in a nun's habit and then taking her to Mass."

"But it can solve the problem." Falkenhayn downed his drink in one gulp, his eyes red. "It can solve the manpower problem at Verdun! Eight full divisions, two hundred thousand combat-experienced soldiers! God, if they join us, we can break through the French second line of defense by the end of the month!"

Wilhelm II opened his eyes, his initial shock replaced by a calm calculation: "Mr. Wang, is President Chen Feng aware of this plan?"

"This was a plan personally designed by the President," Wang Wenwu said frankly. "Before leaving Dubai, he specifically instructed me to make this suggestion if His Majesty raised the issue of troop numbers on the western front."

"Did he know that the Sakura Parliament had agreed?"

"The President understands Prime Minister Saionji," Wang Wenwu said. "The Prime Minister is a pragmatic person. He cares more about the practical interests of Japan than the minutiae of international law. As long as the price is right, he will find a reason to persuade the people."

Wilhelm II remained silent for a long time. He stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to the dining table. Outside, in the gardens of Sanssouci Palace, gardeners were trimming roses, and the fountains shimmered with rainbow-like light in the sunlight. It was a peaceful, elegant scene, belonging to the Old World.

And he, the Emperor of the German Empire, was considering a cunning, dishonorable deal belonging to the new world.