World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"I need Chen Feng's reply within 24 hours. A detailed timeline for the submarine warfare within 48 hours. A comprehensive contingency plan based on the premise of 'Merika's participation' within 72 hours. Any questions?"

No one speaks.

"very good."

The door opened, then closed again. The emperor's footsteps faded into the distance in the empty corridor, eventually disappearing into the darkness.

In the map room, six people looked at each other. The light from the kerosene lamp cast flickering shadows on their faces, making each of them look old and tired.

General Ludendorff's first action was to open his folder, turn to the last blank page, and begin writing a new title: "Emergency Plan A-7: Western Front Defense and Negotiation Bottom Line Under the Premise of Merika Intervention."

The sound of the pen nib slicing across the paper was particularly jarring in the quiet room.

At the same time, in the Persian Gulf, at the Dubai presidential palace.

It was four in the morning, but Chen Feng's office was brightly lit. Three maps of different scales were spread out on the huge mahogany desk: a world map, a map of the European theater of operations, and a map of the Pacific Ocean. The maps were covered with markings and annotations he had personally made in red pencil.

Chen Feng wasn't wearing formal attire, but rather a dark blue silk robe, his bare feet resting on a Persian handmade rug. He held a cup of strong tea in his hand, standing before a world map, his gaze lingering on the east coast of North America.

A knock came at the door.

"Come in."

Wang Wenwu pushed open the door and entered, carrying a silver tray with a newly decoded telegram on it. The foreign affairs director had a grave expression and prominent eye bags, clearly having been woken from his sleep.

"From Berlin, with the highest level of encryption. It went through a transit point in Bern, Switzerland, using the 'Dragon-3' codebook we just replaced three months ago." Wang Wenwu placed the tray on the table. "The messenger said it was dictated by the German Emperor himself."

Chen Feng didn't check the telegram immediately. He went back to his desk, sat down, and took a sip of his tea. The tea had gone cold, and a bitter taste spread across his tongue.

"What did you say?"

Wang Wenwu picked up the telegram and read it aloud: "To His Excellency Chen Feng, President of the Lanfang Republic: Urgent situation. British Prime Minister Asquith has secretly visited the United States and held substantive talks with President Wilson. The British are systematically lobbying for Meilika to abandon neutrality, using financial debt as leverage. If the United States enters the war, the balance on the Western Front will be completely broken, and the war may end within the next six months. This outcome is not in Germany's interest, nor is it in the security of Lanfang's investments in Germany. I request Your Excellency to use your wisdom and influence to help resolve this crisis. Yours truly, William."

After reading it aloud, Wang Wenwu looked up at Chen Feng. The only sounds in the office were the low hum of the air conditioning system and the barely audible roar of the waves from the Persian Gulf in the distance.

"What do you think?" Chen Feng asked.

"The Germans are getting anxious." Wang Wenwu put down the telegram. "Wilhelm II used such direct language, even mentioning 'the safety of Lanfang's investment in Germany,' which is almost a veiled threat—if Germany is defeated, our investment may not be recovered."

"It's not a possibility, it's a certainty." Chen Feng stood up and walked to the window. Through the bulletproof glass, he could see the lights of Dubai harbor, and several cargo ships were loading and unloading goods in the night. "If Germany is defeated, the victorious powers—mainly Britain and France—will form a reparations commission to take every penny, every piece of land, and every patent from Germany to pay off its debts. Our technology transfer fees? Warship design fees? They will all be ranked after Britain and France's own war claims, and we may not get a single cent."

He turned around, his gaze sharp.

"But that's not the worst part. The worst part is, what will happen to our entire industrial system if the war ends in six months?"

Wang Wenwu immediately understood. Lanfang's rise was largely built on the "special needs" of this war. Tank factories, shipyards, gun and artillery production lines, clothing factories, food processing plants... tens of thousands of enterprises sprang up like mushrooms after rain in the past two years, employing more than one-third of the nation's workforce. More than 70 percent of their orders came from belligerent countries.

If the war were to end suddenly, these orders would vanish overnight.

"Unemployment crisis," Wang Wenwu said in a low voice. "Factory closures, bank bad debts, social unrest... The economic system we spent five years building may collapse within a year."

"Not only that," Chen Feng said, walking back to the map and pointing to Southeast Asia. "The British were too preoccupied with the war to look eastward, which allowed us to expand our influence in Borneo, Sumatra, and the Malay Peninsula. If the war ends, London will immediately turn its attention back to the Far East. How will they view a 'neutral' country that has a fleet in the Persian Gulf, infiltrates Southeast Asia, and sells weapons to both sides?"

Wang Wenwu felt a chill. He had followed Chen Feng for over a decade, witnessing firsthand how this man built the nation from scratch. But at this moment, for the first time, he felt that this ship might be heading towards the eye of a storm.

"So we must stop Miraika from joining the war?" he asked.

"Or at least delay it." Chen Feng returned to his seat, placing his hands clasped on the table. "But the problem is, what bargaining chips do we have? Britain can threaten with $2.1 billion in debt, mobilize its century-old network of connections, and control the transatlantic communications cables. What do we have?"

silence.

The sky outside the window was beginning to lighten, with a hint of dawn seeping into the edge of the deep blue night. Morning comes quickly in Dubai; in another half hour, the first rays of sunlight will illuminate the surface of the Persian Gulf.

"Convene a core meeting," Chen Feng finally said. "Two hours later, in the underground command center. Notify Liu Yongfu, Li Te, Lin Huaimin, Zhao Xuecheng, and the heads of the Ministry of Finance, the Ministry of Industry, and the Ministry of State Security. We need to develop a comprehensive response plan."

"Yes."

Wang Wenwu turned to leave, but Chen Feng called him back.

"Furthermore," Chen Feng's voice was soft but unusually firm, "notify the Armaments Committee to initiate the preparatory procedures for 'Operation Taishan.' While we find a diplomatic solution, we must prepare for the worst."

"Operation Mount Tai..." Wang Wenwu gasped. "Commander-in-Chief, that's a full-scale war mobilization plan. Once it's launched, there's no turning back."

"I know." Chen Feng looked out the window at the gradually brightening sky. "But sometimes, showing determination is itself a form of diplomacy."

At 6:30 a.m., fifteen meters underground in the Presidential Palace.

This was the wartime command center of the Lanfang Republic, codenamed "Leopard House." The entire facility was located inside a natural limestone cave and was secretly expanded over three years. The roof was covered with five meters of reinforced concrete, capable of withstanding a direct hit from a 500-kilogram aerial bomb. The only entrance was a 300-meter-long sloping tunnel equipped with three blast doors and 24-hour armed guards.