World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Dubai, the underground strategic room of the Presidential Palace, 4:30 p.m. local time (about three hours time difference with Verdun).

Chen Feng stood in front of a huge display screen, which was divided into four areas: the upper left corner showed a real-time situation map of the Verdun region (updated hourly based on data sent back by frontline intelligence); the upper right corner showed a map of the North Sea and the waters surrounding Wilhelmshaven; the lower left corner showed stock market and commodity price fluctuations in Berlin, London, Paris, and Tokyo; and the lower right corner showed production data for Lanfang's major industrial zones.

The room has no windows, and the air is precisely filtered to maintain a constant temperature and humidity. This is Chen Feng's self-designed "war brain," and fewer than ten people in the entire Lanfang area have access to it.

Wang Wenwu stood to his side and behind him, pointing at the display screen and reporting.

"The Verdun battle report is complete," Wang Wenwu said. "Eight divisions of Japan launched a general offensive at 6:00 AM today. As of 1:00 PM local time, they have advanced 3 to 5 kilometers into enemy territory, but have suffered heavy casualties. Conservative estimates put the death toll at over 5,000, with an equal number seriously wounded."

Chen Feng's gaze swept across the situation map. The blue arrow representing the Japanese forces had indeed pierced the French red lines, but the base of the arrow was covered with red "X"s—casualty markers.

"How did the French army react?" Chen Feng asked.

"Pétain has deployed reserves to block the breach. However, the main German forces are applying pressure on both flanks of the gap opened by the Japanese forces, attempting to expand their gains. Overall, today's offensive has indeed disrupted the French defensive rhythm."

"German public opinion?"

"A cheer erupted. All the newspapers' front pages were filled with 'Eastern allies display amazing courage' and 'The Verdun deadlock is about to be broken.' Wilhelm II gave a speech at Sanssouci Palace in the afternoon, praising the Japanese troops for their spirit of sacrifice."

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Chen Feng's mouth: "The spirit of sacrifice... that word is so convenient, it can package all cruelty as something noble."

He walked to the control panel and pulled up a set of data: "Have you analyzed the tactical characteristics of the Japanese forces?"

"Preliminary analysis complete." Wang Wenwu slid the tablet. "Strengths: Extremely tenacious offensive will, proficient in close combat and bayonet fighting, flexible small-unit tactics. Weaknesses: Insufficient protection against modern artillery fire, overly dense assault formations, and outdated communication methods leading to coordination difficulties. In addition... they seem to have an unusually high tolerance for casualties."

"It's not that they have a high tolerance for hardship," Chen Feng corrected, "it's that they had no choice. Once they put on that uniform, they had to prove that they were worth the money the Germans were paying."

He sat down, tapping his fingers lightly on the table: "Minister Wang, how much do you think the 10,000 casualties today are worth to Saionji Kinmochi?"

Wang Wenwu was taken aback for a moment: "This... is difficult to quantify."

"I can give you a figure." Chen Feng pulled up another document. "Germany paid Japan twenty pounds per person per month for labor services, so for 200,000 people that's four million per month. The one-time compensation is eight million. And today, the death benefits for these 10,000 people, according to German standards, are about one hundred pounds per person, which is one million. Adding the treatment and life pensions for the seriously wounded, the total amount will not exceed three million."

He paused. "In other words, the blood of ten thousand people shed today is worth less than a quarter of the compensation paid by the Germans. And don't forget, this eight million was paid in advance; in effect, the Germans used future money to buy lives in the present."

Wang Wenwu felt a chill: "Commander, your calculations are... too ruthless."

"War is the coldest form of mathematics." Chen Feng turned off the screen, and the room went dark. "Troops, ammunition, supplies, time, political capital... everything is a calculable variable. And what we need to do is ensure that Lanfang is always the one adding value in this mathematical problem."

He stood up, walked to the safe by the wall, entered the password, and took out a thick folder.

"Liu Yongfu's 'Prototype Vehicle No. 1' test report is out. It has an off-road speed of 25 kilometers per hour, can cross a 2-meter-wide trench, and its frontal armor can withstand machine gun bullets. Although there are still many problems, the concept verification is a success."

Wang Wenwu's eyes lit up: "Then we can start making contact with the Germans?"

"No rush." ​​Chen Feng shook his head. "Let the blood of Japan flow even more. Let the Germans taste the sweetness of 'numerical superiority' first, and then let them discover that manpower alone is not enough; they also need new tools that can break through barbed wire and machine guns."

He put the folder back: "Inform our people in Berlin to start releasing some 'technical hints.' Say that Lanfang has made a 'breakthrough' in heavy engineering machinery, which may be helpful for 'complex terrain operations.' Use vague wording, but enough to pique the interest of the German Ordnance Office."

"Yes."

"Also," Chen Feng added, "send a private letter to Saionji. In my name, express 'admiration' for the bravery of the Japanese soldiers, while... subtly reminding him that such a high casualty rate might affect the unit's long-term combat capability. Perhaps our German friends need to consider providing more 'advanced' equipment to reduce casualties."

Wang Wenwu quickly took notes: "What are you doing here...?"

"To pave the way for future deals." Chen Feng walked to the door of the strategy room. "The Germans will only truly realize Lanfang's value when they need both manpower and technology. What we need to do is ensure that we have what they need in our hands."

Verdun, 6:45 p.m. local time, dusk.

Corporal Imamura sat in the French bunker he had just captured, mechanically chewing on a black bread as hard as a rock. His squad, which had set out that morning at full strength of thirteen, now had only five men left: himself, Sergeant Yoshida, Kobayashi, and two new recruits whose names he didn't know.

Yoshida was inspecting weapons, while Kobayashi was winding up the French pocket watch—it was still ticking. Two new recruits, wrapped in blankets torn from French corpses, shivered in a corner, not from the cold, but from post-war reactions.

Fifty meters ahead of the position lay the French last line of defense. It was brightly lit, and the footsteps of reinforcements could be faintly heard. Tomorrow, they would continue their attack.

Imamura examined his wounds: the cuts on his arm had scabbed over, but his left ribs had been hit by the butt of a rifle during the afternoon's hand-to-hand combat, possibly breaking one or two ribs, and it hurt every time he breathed.

He pulled out his notebook and pencil from his pocket—a habit of his, to record his daily combat experiences. But today he stared at the blank page for a long time, finally writing only one line:

"July 4th. Advance four kilometers. Eight men in the squad were killed. I wonder if their names will be remembered."

The sound of artillery fire could be heard in the distance; it was the Germans conducting nighttime harassment shelling. Imamura closed his notebook, leaned against the cold concrete wall, and shut his eyes.

In his dream, he returned to his hometown, Kyushu. The cherry blossoms were in bloom, their pink petals falling like snow. His younger sister ran beneath the trees, laughing and calling out, "Brother! Brother's back!"

Then the shells fell, and the cherry blossoms turned blood red.