World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Tell Minister Liu that all veterans who voluntarily retire will receive an additional six months' salary as a retirement allowance. The money will come from the profits of this transaction," Chen Feng said. "Soldiers defend the country with their loyalty and lives, and the country cannot treat them unfairly."

"Yes."

Wang Wenwu gazed at Chen Feng's profile in the morning light. This man was always like this, harboring both ruthless strategic calculations and tenderness towards specific individuals. This contradiction made him even more enigmatic, and even more... awe-inspiring.

"President," Wang Wenwu finally asked, "aren't we sure we won't make mistakes by dealing with all the major powers at the same time? What if something goes wrong, like Britain discovering we're negotiating a tank deal with Germany in Istanbul? Would they back down?"

Chen Feng turned around, and the sunlight shone in from behind him, casting a long shadow on the conference room floor.

"Minister Wang, what do you think international politics is?" he asked, continuing without waiting for an answer, "It's the science of precise calculation, and also the art of ambiguity. Britain knows we'll continue trading with Germany, just as Germany knows we'll continue trading with Britain. They acquiesce, not because they like it, but because they need it."

He walked to the world map and pointed to Eurasia: "Britain needs our warships to counter the German navy, our anti-submarine technology to protect shipping lanes, and may even need our influence in the Far East after the war. Germany needs our tanks to break the stalemate on the Western Front, our industrial goods to sustain the war economy, and our help to stabilize the situation regarding the Ottomans. And we—"

His finger traced Lanfang's position: "—We need their gold, technology, markets, and... the room for development they create for us by restraining each other."

"That's balance," Li Te said softly.

"Yes, a dangerous balance." Chen Feng nodded. "It's like walking a tightrope. It looks thrilling, but as long as the calculations are precise and the steps are steady, you can reach the other side. And once we succeed, we will no longer be the tightrope walkers, but... the bridge builders. In the future, other countries that want to cross the river will have to pay a toll."

He glanced at the map one last time, then turned and headed for the door: "Get ready to change shifts and rest. There's a mountain of paperwork to process before we enter the Suez Canal this afternoon. Especially the arms sales list for the Ottomans—it needs to be carefully checked."

"Yes, Commander-in-Chief."

After Chen Feng left, Li Te and Wang Wenwu remained in the conference room. They stared silently at the shipping route on the nautical chart, stretching from Cairo to Istanbul.

"General," Wang Wenwu finally broke the silence, "do you think the Commander-in-Chief's balancing act can continue indefinitely?"

Litte didn't answer immediately. He walked to the porthole and looked out at the vast Mediterranean Sea. There, a British freighter was sailing parallel in the distance, its smokestacks billowing black smoke and its deck piled high with cargo containers.

"I don't know," the admiral said honestly, "but I do know one thing—in this world, you either become a player or a piece. Lanfang has chosen to be a player. And once you sit on the chessboard, you can only keep playing until the game is over."

He paused, his voice low: "And all we can do is make sure we take the right steps, make sure this ship," he patted the bulkhead, "and this country, can safely navigate these most dangerous waters."

Wang Wenwu followed his gaze and looked towards the sea. The sun had fully risen, and the sea and sky merged into one, bathed in golden light.

But beneath this brilliance lies a bottomless undercurrent.

Tokyo, Prime Minister's Official Residence, at the same time, 12:8 noon on August 14, 1916.

The cicadas' chirping was deafening; July in Tokyo felt like a sauna. Saionji Kinmochi sat on the floor of the tatami room, three documents spread out on the low table before him, but he couldn't concentrate on a single word. Sweat streamed down his temples, soaking the collar of his linen kimono.

Outside the window, the pond in the courtyard gleamed blindingly white under the blazing sun. Several koi carp hid in the shade of water lily leaves, their mouths opening and closing as they struggled to breathe in the sweltering air. Further away, the silhouette of Tokyo was distorted and deformed by the heatwave, like a ukiyo-e painting soaked in water.

Three documents.

The first document was a draft reply to the British note sent by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs—the seventh draft already. The wording grew increasingly humble, and the responsibility increasingly evasive. The latest draft even stated, "Upon investigation, the so-called personnel traveling to Europe are members of an illegal trading company impersonating Imperial soldiers, and the Imperial government has begun apprehending those responsible." A complete and utter lie; even Saionji himself found it disgusting.

The second report was an urgent one from the Ministry of Finance: the national treasury's gold reserves had dwindled to only 87 tons, enough to cover three months' worth of imported grain. If Britain imposed economic sanctions, halting exports of industrial raw materials and machinery to Japan, domestic factories would face widespread shutdowns within six months.

The third... the heaviest. A supplementary report on casualties on the Western Front, forwarded by the Army Ministry. As of August 10, the total number of killed, seriously wounded, and missing persons across the eight divisions was 8. The casualty rate was 73.9%. A small note at the end of the report stated: "Most bodies were unidentifiable and were buried on site. Identification tags are being collected, and the list is expected to be completed within three months."

147,000 people.

Saionji closed her eyes. The number was branded into her mind like a red-hot iron. 147,000 sons, husbands, and fathers, dressed in German uniforms, died in the mud of France, 10,000 kilometers from their homeland. And their motherland couldn't issue a statement for them, only offer money!

The paper sliding door was gently pulled open. The secretary cautiously poked his head in: "Prime Minister, Army Minister General Oshima requests an audience."

Saionji didn't open her eyes: "Let him in."

Footsteps. Heavy, firm, with the rhythm unique to soldiers. Kenichi Oshima entered the tatami room, his military uniform impeccably tailored, but the dark circles under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion. He sat down opposite Saionji, the low table separating them, the documents spread out on it like an invisible chasm.

A long silence.

"From the UK," Oshima finally spoke, his voice hoarse, "they've sent another note. They're demanding that we provide a detailed list of all 'so-called people going to Europe' within forty-eight hours so they can 'verify their identities.'"

Saionji slowly opened her eyes: "And then? Are we supposed to give it to them? Give them a list of 147,000 people, and then say that all of them are 'outlaws'?"

Oshima looked away: "The General Staff recommends... a processed list. Surnames should be retained, but given names should be pseudonyms. Place of origin should be obscured. This would both meet the British's requirements and..."

"You're lying again." Saionji chimed in, her voice weary. "Oshima-kun, when will you stop this lie? The war will end someday, and those people in Europe will return—if anyone can even return. How will we face them then? How will we face their families?"

"At least they came back alive!" Oshima suddenly raised his voice, clenching his fist. "At least the Empire got eight million pounds and German technology! Prime Minister, do you know what Krupp's gun steel smelting technology means? Our steel mills can now produce armor steel with 30% increased strength! Siemens' electrical patents can double our power generation efficiency! These are things money can't buy!"

"It was bought with 147,000 lives," Saionji said coldly.