World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chen Feng picked up his teacup but didn't drink, only watching the tea leaves rise and fall within. "Prime Minister," he said, "you just mentioned 'Imperial soldiers.' But have you considered—do all those soldiers have to be from Japan?"

Saionji was stunned: "What do you mean?"

"The Germans wanted 250,000 'combat-experienced soldiers'," Chen Feng put down his teacup. "They didn't say they had to be from Japan. The British wanted 'soldiers who could carry guns in trenches,' and they didn't specify their nationality either."

He looked into Saionji's eyes and said, slowly and deliberately, "The Prime Minister seems to have forgotten that Cao County... is still in your hands."

boom--

It struck my mind like a bolt of lightning.

Saionji froze. Cao County! Yes, Cao County!

Following the First Sino-Japanese War in 1894, Japan controlled the Caoxian Peninsula and formally annexed it in 1910. The peninsula had a population of nearly 20 million, with at least 3 million young adults. If we consider the people of Caoxian…

"However," he began with difficulty, "the people of Cao County... their fighting strength is probably..."

"A little training will do," Chen Feng said casually. "The Germans desperately need line-filling troops right now. All they need is someone who can shoot, dig trenches, and charge under artillery fire. The British are even simpler—in the Battle of the Somme, they need cannon fodder to deplete German ammunition and create conditions for their subsequent offensive."

He leaned forward and lowered his voice: "Recruit some soldiers from Cao County. All of them will be equipped with weapons and equipment provided by Lanfang—we have some rifles in stock that we need to dispose of. The transportation will be handled by Lanfang's fleet; we are familiar with the routes and know how to evade submarines."

Saionji's breathing quickened. This plan... was too ruthless, yet too tempting.

They used the lives of the people of Caoxian to exchange for the money and living space of Japan. Even if they were condemned after the war, they could blame it on "local conscription" and say that "it was a spontaneous act by Caoxian volunteers."

"So... how will the compensation be divided?" he asked the most crucial question.

Chen Feng smiled, knowing the other party was already interested: "A 40/60 split. Lanfang takes 40%—20% for transportation and 20% for weapons and equipment. Japan takes 60%—you are responsible for recruitment, training, and command, and bear the political risks."

He paused, then added, "Furthermore, regarding the 250,000 troops to Germany, I suggest... they should be Japanese soldiers. The Germans have witnessed the 'quality' of Japanese soldiers; if they receive substandard goods, they'll consider it a waste. This way, the Germans will feel they've received the 'genuine' goods. The 100,000 troops to Britain could all be from Cao County."

Saionji quickly calculated: 350,000 people, at the "market price" of 200 pounds per person (this was the price quoted by the Germans), totaling 70 million pounds. Lanfang would receive 28 million, and Japan would receive 42 million. After deducting recruitment and training costs, the net profit would be at least 35 million pounds.

More importantly, this 35 million is cash, which can be used immediately to buy food, machinery, and stabilize the domestic situation.

"Then... the compensation for the people of Cao County after the war..." He was still somewhat hesitant.

"That's the Japanese government's business," Chen Feng said calmly. "Or, we could deduct a portion from their salaries as insurance—if they come back alive, we'll return it to them; if they don't, it'll be considered a pension." (During the War of Resistance Against Japan, there were Cao County soldiers in Xiao Ri Jia; they showed no mercy to the Chinese!)

Extremely cold-blooded.

Looking at Chen Feng's calm face, Saionji suddenly felt a chill. This man had calculated everything, from the price of human lives to the profits from transportation, from the losses on the battlefield to the post-war blame-shifting. In his eyes, war was business, and human lives were commodities.

But... Japan needs this business.

"I need to go back and discuss it with the cabinet," he finally said.

"Of course." Chen Feng stood up. "But please hurry. The Germans are pressing us hard, and as for the British... I heard their prime minister has already returned to London from Dubai and will soon formally make his request to you."

Little did Chen Feng know that the British telegram had already been delivered to Saionji's desk!

The two walked out of the pavilion and back to the edge of the rice paddy. As the sun set, the golden rice ears swayed in the evening breeze, a scene as beautiful as a painting.

But Saionji knew that beneath this beautiful scenery lay 350,000 lives about to be sent to the slaughterhouse.

"Prime Minister," Chen Feng suddenly said, his tone softening, "I know this decision is difficult. But sometimes, for the majority to survive, a minority must be sacrificed. This is the fate of politicians."

Saionji did not answer. He simply gazed at the rice paddies, at the plump ears of rice, and thought of the emaciated children on the streets of Tokyo.

After a long silence, he said softly, "Sir, after the war... how will history judge us?"

Chen Feng also looked into the distance: "History is written by the victors. If you can ensure that the Sakura Kingdom survives and thrives, then today's decision is necessary and wise. If you fail... then the evaluation doesn't matter, because you will all be gone."

It's cruel, but it's true.

Saionji took a deep breath, turned around, and bowed deeply to Chen Feng: "Thank you for your guidance, Commander-in-Chief. The Empire... will seriously consider this plan."

Chen Feng helped him up, saying, "No need to be so polite. We're neighbors and business partners. Lanfang is willing to help her friend through this difficult time."

The two shook hands. The setting sun cast long shadows of them, intertwining them in the rice paddies, like some kind of metaphor.

As Saionji left, Chen Feng saw him to his car. Just before he got in, the old man suddenly turned back: "Commander-in-Chief, may I ask you a question?"

"Speaking."

"Do you feel uncomfortable when you do these things?"

Chen Feng remained silent for a few seconds. The evening breeze ruffled the hem of his clothes, and his face was somewhat blurred in the twilight.

"Prime Minister, have you heard a story?" he began slowly. "There was once a general who was ordered to defend a city. There were 100,000 people inside the city and 300,000 enemy troops outside. The general knew he couldn't hold it, but he still did. In the end, the city fell, 100,000 people were slaughtered, and the general committed suicide. Later generations commented: The general was foolishly loyal, causing the deaths of 100,000 people."

He paused, then continued, "But what if the general surrenders? Ten thousand civilians might survive, but the city would fall to the enemy, and the nation would be in grave danger. Future generations would then judge him as cowardly and a traitor who sold out his country for personal gain."

He looked at Saionji: "So, there is no perfect choice. There is only... the least bad choice at the time."

Saionji nodded and got into the car.

The convoy departed from Wangbeilou and headed towards Pontianak Wharf. There, a Japanese warship was waiting to take him back to Tokyo, to make the "least bad choice."

Chen Feng stood there, watching the convoy disappear into the twilight. He muttered viciously to himself, "Damn it, I finally found a way to reduce your population and get Comrade Shenhe to stay out of trouble. Do you think I'd let you get away with this?!"

Wang Wenwu came up from behind and whispered, "Will he agree?"

"Yes." Chen Feng turned and walked deeper into the garden. "Because he has no better choice. The cherry blossom country is like a drowning person, grabbing at any straw they see, even if that straw is stained with blood."

"Those 350,000 people from Cao County..."

"They will die," Chen Feng said calmly. "Most will die in the trenches of France, a small number will die on transport ships, and a very few will survive, but they will be riddled with injuries. That's war. But what does that have to do with us? I'm only interested in evil money. As for saving the world? That's someone else's business!"

Wang Wenwu fell silent. He was a diplomat who had seen much darkness, but the ruthlessness of this plan still chilled him to the bone.