World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Prime Minister, this is the latest assessment from the General Staff." His voice was hoarse with excitement. "If we accept the demands of Britain and Germany and send 350,000 troops, the Reich can obtain: first, the remaining 12 million pounds from Germany; second, Britain's promised rights in Shandong and post-war support; and third, the second batch of technology transfers from Krupp and Siemens."

He pushed the documents towards him: "These are detailed calculations. Twelve million pounds can buy three million tons of rice, enough to feed all the cities in the empire for a year. It can import two hundred of the latest machine tools and rebuild five arsenals. It can..."

"That can buy 350,000 lives," Saionji interrupted him softly.

Oshima was stunned.

"The lives of 350,000 young men of the Empire." Saionji raised his eyes, his old eyes bloodshot. "Oshima-kun, can you sleep at night? I can't. When I close my eyes, I see the faces of those young men. When they boarded the transport ships, many of them were smiling, thinking that going to Europe was an opportunity to make a name for themselves. And now? Nearly 200,000 are dead, buried in nameless graves in France, their names not even engraved on their tombstones."

Oshima's expression shifted, but he quickly regained his composure: "Prime Minister! This is war! War means death! The only difference is where and why people die! Freezing to death on the Eastern Front, being bombed on the Western Front, working to death in a factory, starving to death at home—is there a difference? At least they received double pay before they died, and their families received triple compensation!"

He leaned forward, almost touching the table: "Go ask those mothers in the countryside, would they rather their sons starve to death at home, eating dirt, or would they rather they send them to fight in Europe, at least so their younger siblings could survive?"

Saionji remained silent. He knew that part of what Oshima said was true. The Empire's food crisis was worsening, and the price of rice in Tokyo had only just begun to come down slightly.

"Moreover," Oshima lowered his voice, "this isn't a question of whether we want to or not. The Germans have already paid an initial payment of eight million pounds, and if we don't continue to fulfill our obligations, they might stop transferring the technology, or even... demand a refund of what they've already paid. As for the British, if we refuse, it would be tantamount to completely offending them, and we would be isolated and helpless in the international community after the war."

He paused, then stated the harsh reality: "Prime Minister, the Empire is on the brink of collapse. Without this foreign exchange, without this technology, without the support of the post-war great powers... we cannot survive for more than five years."

A long silence followed. The only sound was the soft crackling of the kerosene lamp wick.

Finally, Saionji slowly spoke: "Chen Feng invited me to Borneo to discuss rice trade. What do you think?"

Oshima's eyes lit up: "Rice? If we could get cheap rice, it would at least alleviate the domestic situation..."

"But Chen Feng won't give it away for nothing," Saionji said with a wry smile. "He's a shrewd businessman. If he invited me to talk about rice, there must be other conditions."

"We're going anyway!" Oshima said without hesitation. "We can't let any opportunity to get food slip by now. Besides, Chen Feng... he may be ruthless, but he keeps his word. If he promises to give us rice, he definitely will.

Saionji looked at the three documents on the table, and finally reached out and picked up Lanfang's invitation.

"Reply to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Lanfang: I accept the invitation and will depart in three days." He paused. "As for the demands of Britain and Germany... we'll discuss that after I return from Borneo."

"But time..."

"Let's stall for time." Saionji stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the silent Tokyo night sky. "Perhaps Chen Feng... can give us a third way."

He didn't know what kind of road it was, but his intuition told him that the Easterner must have a way.

Because Chen Feng's greatest strength lies in finding possibilities in the impossible and forging new paths in desperate situations.

Even if that road... is full of thorns.

September 12, Pontianak, the capital of Borneo, at the North View Tower. (Not from the TV series "In the Name of the People," I just thought the name sounded nice.)

This is a traditional Chinese garden building with white walls, black tiles, and upturned eaves, nestled on the banks of the Pontianak River. Inside, there are small bridges, flowing water, artificial hills, and pavilions, making it impossible to tell that it's located in a tropical rainforest. Even more wonderful is the hundred-acre rice paddy behind the garden, which is currently being harvested. The golden rice ears ripple like waves under the sunlight, and the air is filled with the fresh fragrance of new rice.

Chen Feng chose this location for the meeting with a profound purpose—to show Xiyuanji Lanfang's agricultural strength (that we can grow so much rice) and to create an idyllic atmosphere to soften the sharpness of the negotiations.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, Saionji's convoy arrived. The old man was dressed in a simple black kimono, his steps slow but steady. As soon as he got out of the car, he saw the rice paddy, and his eyes flickered slightly.

"Prime Minister Saionji, welcome." Chen Feng greeted him at the entrance, also dressed in a simple Zhongshan suit. "You must be tired from your journey."

"Your Excellency, thank you for the invitation." Saionji bowed slightly. "This rice paddy... is truly breathtaking."

"Borneo has had favorable weather this year, a bumper harvest." Chen Feng gestured for them to continue walking and talking.

The two walked into the garden along the bluestone path. The servants followed at a distance, maintaining a distance from which they could see but not hear the conversation.

"I heard that rice prices in Tokyo have gone up again?" Chen Feng asked, as if they were having a casual conversation.

Saionji smiled wryly: "Yes, it's already reached 35 yen per koku. Many families are only eating one meal a day."

"Lanfang has had a bumper harvest this year, and we can export our grain," Chen Feng said. "If the Prime Minister needs it, we can sign a long-term supply agreement. The price... will be 70% of the international market price."

Saionji paused. A 30% discount! This meant saving tens of millions of yen in foreign exchange every year.

"What are the conditions?" he asked directly. Having dealt with Chen Feng for so long, he knew all too well that this Easterner would never do favors without a reason.

Chen Feng smiled: "The Prime Minister is straightforward. The conditions are simple: the rice from Lanfang must be transported by Lanfang ships. The freight costs will be at the normal rate, without any increase."

Saionji mental calculation: Even with shipping costs included, the total cost is still more than 20% lower than what we currently pay for from other Southeast Asian countries. This is truly a godsend.

"On behalf of the Empire, I thank the Grand Master for his generosity." He bowed solemnly.

"No need to be so polite, it's only right for neighbors to help each other." Chen Feng walked to a pavilion and gestured for Xiyuan Temple to sit down. Tea sets were already set on the stone table in the pavilion, but no tea was served.

The attendant retreated twenty meters away.

Now, the real topic is about to begin.

"Prime Minister," Chen Feng's smile faded, his tone turning serious, "besides rice, there's something else I'd like to discuss with you. I heard... the British are asking you for troops?"

Saionji's heart tightened. They've arrived.

"Yes," he admitted frankly. "Both sides are pressing hard. Germany wants a second batch of ten divisions, 250,000 men. Britain also wants them... the number hasn't been discussed yet."

"What are your plans?"

Saionji remained silent for a long time before finally shaking his head: "I don't know. If we agree to one side, we'll offend the other. If we agree to both... there will be a tragedy of Imperial soldiers killing each other on the battlefield. And after the war, no matter who wins, the Empire will be in a difficult situation because of its 'fence-sitting' stance."

He spoke frankly, knowing that pretending to be confused in front of Chen Feng was useless. However, as he spoke, he kept glancing at Chen Feng out of the corner of his eye!