World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Agreeing would be tantamount to openly violating the tacit understanding with the Entente Powers, potentially triggering British naval sanctions or even military retaliation. Refusing could lead to Germany ceasing payments, immediately plunging Japan into financial difficulties.

"A dilemma..." Saionji muttered to himself.

"Your Excellency Prime Minister," the secretary began cautiously, "should we call an emergency cabinet meeting?"

Saionji remained silent for a long time before finally shaking his head: "No, let's wait a bit."

"What else did Wang Wenwu say?"

"Mr. Wang implied that President Chen Feng would support the plan. He also said something very strange: 'Contracts bind nations, but nations are made up of people. People's opinions can be changed if the price is right.'"

The price is reasonable...

Saionji opened her eyes, her gaze sharpening.

"I see."

Saionji knelt down and picked up his brush. Fine Xuan paper lay before him, and ink was ground evenly in the inkstone. He pondered for a long time before finally writing:

"To President Chen Feng: I have received the Berlin Plan. This proposal violates international norms and may provoke a strong reaction from Britain and France. However, Germany is in a hurry, and our country also has financial needs. May I ask, Your Excellency, what advice do you have for me?"

It's a very simple question, but it gets to the heart of the matter—Why should I, Chen Feng, do such a disgraceful thing? And what do I get in return?

The telegram was sent. Saionji knew that, given the time difference between Dubai and Tokyo, Chen Feng would receive it in the local afternoon, and a reply might not come until tomorrow.

But just two hours later, the call came back.

The secretary practically ran in, holding the newly translated telegram in her hand, her expression strange.

"Your Excellency the Prime Minister... Lanfang's reply."

Saionji received the telegram, which contained only three Chinese characters:

"He added money."

The room was deathly silent. Even the chirping of insects outside the paper door seemed to pause for a moment.

Saionji stared at the three words, first in astonishment, then his lips began to twitch, and finally he couldn't help but let out a short laugh that was a mixture of helplessness and absurdity.

"He added money... haha... what a great 'he added money'!"

The secretary looked at the prime minister, puzzled. Saionji laughed for a long time, until tears streamed down his face. He wiped away the tears, held the telegram up to the light, and examined it repeatedly.

Simple, straightforward, without any diplomatic rhetoric or moralizing. It's the most primitive and naked logic of a transaction: You think the price isn't enough? Then ask him to raise it. Raise it until you're satisfied.

Saionji guessed it too; such a disgusting idea must have been Chen Feng's "thought"! He was afraid that not enough Imperial soldiers had died!

This is Chen Feng's style. This is how the man who built a country from scratch in just over a decade views the world.

"Prepare for a cabinet meeting." Saionji finally calmed down, carefully folded the telegram, and put it in his pocket. "Notify the Minister of the Army, the Minister of the Navy, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and the Minister of Finance to meet at the Prime Minister's Official Residence in one hour. Top secret."

"Yes!" The secretary accepted the order and left.

Saionji remained alone in the Japanese-style room. He walked to the edge of the courtyard and looked at his reflection in the pond. His face in the water was old and weary, and his eyes held too much unspeakable weight.

He recalled many years ago, when he was a young diplomat attending his first international conference. At that time, he believed in rules, in morality, and in the need for nations to adhere to certain noble principles.

But now, at the age of 67, the Prime Minister of Japan faces a choice: whether or not to have 200,000 of his own soldiers don enemy uniforms and fight against former potential allies for money.

That suggestion came from someone twenty years younger than him, who summed up all the political calculations in just three words.

He added money.

How ironic. How true.

A summer night breeze blew by, bringing a touch of coolness. Saionji looked up at the Tokyo night sky. The clouds were thick, and the stars were nowhere to be seen.

The cabinet will make a decision tomorrow.

Whatever the decision, Japan will take another step forward on a path of no return.

June 17th, 12:30 AM.

The underground conference room of the Prime Minister's official residence was filled with smoke. Five core cabinet members sat around a long conference table: Prime Minister Kinmochi Saionji, Army Minister Kenichi Oshima, Navy Minister Gonnohyōe Yamamoto, Foreign Minister Ichiro Motono, and Finance Minister Reijiro Wakatsuki. The room had no windows, only the blinding white light from the overhead chandelier; the walls were thick concrete, and the door was locked from the outside.

"I object!" Army Minister Kenichi Oshima slammed his fist on the table, making the ashtray jump. "This is an utter disgrace! Imperial soldiers wearing enemy uniforms? What kind of decorum is this! Where is the military's reputation?"

The 55-year-old army general's face was ashen, and his beard was trembling. He was a typical Japanese soldier, a believer in the Bushido spirit, and who valued a soldier's honor above life itself.

"Oshima-kun, calm down." Navy Minister Yamamoto Gonnohyōe remained relatively calm, but his eyes were equally gloomy. "However, I also believe this proposal is inappropriate. The Empire and Britain have cooperated for decades, and to do this..."

Foreign Minister Ichiro Motono chimed in, the career diplomat's tone sharp: "If Japanese soldiers appear on the Western Front wearing German uniforms, it's tantamount to announcing to the world that we've sided with Germany. Britain will immediately retaliate—cutting off oil supplies, freezing our assets in London, and possibly even deploying its Far East Fleet to blockade our sea lanes. France will also sever diplomatic relations. We will be completely isolated in the international community!"

The three ministers' objections were clear and vehement.

Saionji did not speak; he looked at the Minister of Finance, Wakatsuki Reijiro, who had remained silent.

"Wakatsuki-kun, what about finances?"

Wakatsuki Reijiro pushed up his glasses, revealing a pile of reports spread out in front of him. This financial expert was pale and had heavy bags under his eyes, clearly having been working late for several days in a row.

"Your Excellency Prime Minister, ministers," his voice was somewhat hoarse, "let me begin with the figures: Germany's labor costs are currently stable at four million pounds per month, accounting for approximately eighteen percent of our national revenue. If this funding were to cease, our fiscal deficit this year would widen to 120 million yen, equivalent to…"

He paused, then announced a figure that sent chills down everyone's spines: "It's equivalent to the Navy's entire year's shipbuilding budget, or the annual maintenance cost of thirty Army divisions."

The meeting room was silent for a few seconds.

"We can cut spending..." Kenichi Oshima tried to argue, but his voice was no longer so firm.

"Where should we cut spending?" Wakatsuki countered. "Military spending? The army and navy have been arguing about budgets for years. Consumer spending? Rice prices are already rising domestically; further cuts could trigger social unrest. Or tax increases? Current tax rates are already causing widespread discontent among businesses and industries."