World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Do we... really want to do this deal?"

Chen Feng stopped and turned to look at him: "Minister Wang, how many 'dishonorable' deals do you think Lanfang has made since its founding? Selling warships to Germany, selling warships to Britain, and now they're acting as human traffickers."

He took a step closer, his gaze piercing: "But because of these businesses we've done, Lanfang now has a world-class shipyard, a burgeoning industry, and forty million people can have enough to eat, children can go to school, and the elderly can access medical care. Tell me, isn't it worth it?"

Wang Wenwu opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"I don't like it this way either," Chen Feng said in a lower voice, "but this is reality. In a world where the strong prey on the weak, you either eat the meat or you are eaten. Lanfang chose to be the meat eater, so she has to bear the price of eating meat—a guilty conscience, sleepless nights, and being cursed by future generations."

He looked up at the night sky; stars were beginning to appear. Chen Feng had some things he couldn't say to Wang Wenwu: how much Chinese blood did Japan have in the other world? Besides, the pressure on Earth was too great; the population was too large. Now there was a legitimate opportunity…

"But at least we survived. And... we're thriving."

After saying that, he strode away. His silhouette stretched long in the garden lights, like a drawn sword.

Tokyo, Prime Minister's Official Residence, September 15, 4:00 AM.

It had been twenty-four hours since Saionji Kinmochi returned from Borneo, but he had barely slept a wink during those twenty-four hours. The light in his study remained on, and three core members of his cabinet—Army Minister Kenichi Oshima, Foreign Minister Takaaki Kato, and Finance Minister Reijiro Wakatsuki—accompanied him, all looking equally exhausted.

Two draft agreements were spread out on the table.

One document is the "Agreement between Lanfang and Sakura on Cooperation in Grain Trade and Transportation," commonly known as the "Rice Agreement." The terms are very favorable: Lanfang will export three million tons of rice to Sakura annually at 70% of the international market price for five years. In exchange, all goods imported by Sakura from Lanfang must be transported using Lanfang's shipping fleet.

The other document is the "Memorandum of Understanding between Lanfang and Japan on Labor Export and Military Cooperation," also known as the "Caoxian Agreement." This is the real core document and the focus of the controversy.

"...Article 5, Paragraph 3," Finance Minister Wakatsuki read from the draft, his voice dry, "'The recruitment, training, and management of laborers' shall be the responsibility of the Sakura Kingdom government, with the Lanfang Republic providing necessary assistance. The safety, health, and food of 'laborers' during transportation shall be the responsibility of the Lanfang transport fleet, with the costs deducted from the total remuneration."

He looked up: "'Laborers'...do they know that means people going to war to die?"

"The wording must be like this," Foreign Minister Kato explained. "If we write 'soldier' ​​or 'mercenary,' it becomes a state act, which violates international law. Writing 'laborers' can be interpreted as civilians voluntarily going out to work, with the government merely 'assisting in management.'"

Kenichi Oshima chimed in: "The key is the price. 350,000 men, totaling 70 million pounds. Lanfang will take 28 million, and we'll take 42 million. After deducting the costs of recruitment, training, equipment, and transportation, the net profit will be around 35 million."

He looked at Saionji: "Prime Minister, thirty-five million pounds! That's enough to buy five million tons of rice, enough to feed the whole country for a year and a half!!"

Saionji closed her eyes: "What about the 350,000 lives?"

The study fell into a deathly silence.

After a long silence, Oshima gritted his teeth and said, "Prime Minister, I know this is hard to hear, but... the lives of the people of Caoxian are not the lives of the people of the Empire. In 1894 we won the First Sino-Japanese War, and in 1905 we won the Russo-Japanese War. What did we rely on to win? We relied on the sacrifices of the Imperial Army! Now, it is the turn of the people of Caoxian to sacrifice for the Empire."

He spoke with such self-righteousness, as if it were a matter of course.

Saionji opened her eyes and looked at the soldier: "Oshima-kun, would you dare say that publicly?"

Oshima was speechless.

"We can think that way in our hearts, but we can't say it," Saionji said slowly. "The agreement has to be signed, the people have to be sent, and the money has to be received. But at least... we need to know what we are doing. We need to know that one day in the future, when history judges us, we will not be able to refute it."

He picked up the pen and signed his name on the "Cao County Agreement." His hand was steady, but each stroke felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

"Inform Lanfang that we agree. But there are a few conditions attached—"

He dictated, and Kato recorded:

"First, of the 250,000 troops to be given to Germany, at most 50,000 can be Japanese soldiers. All officers and non-commissioned officers must be Japanese citizens to agree to this."

"Secondly, the transport ships must fly the Lanfang flag and be nominally 'commercial cargo ships.' If they are sunk by British submarines, Lanfang will be responsible for compensation."

"Third, the weapons and equipment must be truly functional; we can't use scrap materials to fool people. The price... we can discuss it further."

"Fourth," Saionji paused, "all 'laborers' must sign a 'voluntary overseas work contract' before boarding the ship, clearly stating the potential dangers they may face in Europe. We must keep these documents; they might be useful in the future."

Kato quickly jotted down the notes: "Understood. I'll go draft the official text right away."

"Wait a minute." Saionji called out to him, taking a photograph out of his drawer—it was a picture he took at Wangbeilou in Borneo, where the golden rice fields were breathtaking in the sunlight.

He put the photo on the agreement.

"Put this in the file too. If anyone asks in the future why we signed such an agreement..." His voice was so low it was almost inaudible, "just say... it was so that the people of the Empire could have food to eat."

Kato's eyes reddened, and he lowered his head to take the photo: "Yes."

When the four left the study, it was already dawn. The streets of Tokyo were beginning to fill with the sounds of early risers, the bicycle bells of newspaper deliverymen, and the cries of tofu vendors; the lives of ordinary people continued.

Unbeknownst to them, on this very morning, the fate of a group of people thousands of miles away, complete strangers to them, had already been decided.

Saionji stood alone by the window, gazing at the gradually brightening sky.

He recalled Chen Feng's last words: "History is written by the victors."

So, can the land of cherry blossoms... emerge victorious?

he does not know.

All he knew was that if they didn't sign this agreement now, Japan might not even have the right to write history.

A weak nation has no diplomacy, only... a pathetic existence.

Cao County, Incheon Port, September 20, 1916, 5:00 AM.

The sky was still a deep blue, with a thin line of gray and white just beginning to appear on the sea. Pier No. 3 in the harbor was brightly lit by searchlights, and the area was surrounded by heavily armed Japanese military police, their bayonets gleaming coldly in the lights.

The dock was packed with a dense crowd of young men, ranging from fifteen or sixteen to their early thirties, dressed in tattered linen clothes, barefoot or wearing straw sandals. They were tied together by the wrists in groups of ten, strung together like livestock, staring blankly at the giant ship anchored at the berth.