World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Now you understand?" Wilson's voice was icy. "While you're playing your little tricks in the North Atlantic, a storm is brewing in the Far East that could destroy the entire empire. And this storm could very well be triggered by Miraka's hasty entry into the war."

"But...does Lanfang really dare? They're just a newly emerging country..."

"Emerging nations?" Wilson sneered. "They have world-class warships, a complete industrial system, and oil from the Persian Gulf. More importantly, they have ambition. Chen Feng told me in Hawaii: 'The Asians have arrived, bringing their own will and power. You may not like it, but you must accept it.'"

He paused, letting each word sink into people's hearts.

"So, Mr. Ambassador, go back and tell London: Merica will go to war, but according to our timetable. We will protect the shipping lanes, provide supplies, and eventually send troops. But before that, Britain must do two things."

Spring-Rice put down the documents and tried to remain calm: "Please speak."

"First, keep your intelligence departments in check. Stop trying to manipulate the situation and stop using the Meilika people as pawns. Otherwise, next time, I will expose the evidence to the world—let the whole world see what these so-called 'allies' really are."

The ambassador's face turned ashen.

"Second, reassess your global strategy. If you push too hard on the Western Front and drive Germany to the brink, Germany will continue to seek help from Lanfang. At that point, you will face a two-front war—Europe and the Far East. And Mirka cannot help you win two wars at the same time."

Wilson stood up, a signal to see the guest out.

"I'm being direct because there's no time for beating around the bush. Merika will fulfill its responsibilities as an ally, but only in a rational and controlled manner. If Britain can't understand this, then this war may be lost somewhere else before we even reach Europe."

Spring-Rice also stood up. He seemed about to say something more, but in the end he simply nodded: "I will relay your words to London in full."

As he reached the door, he hesitated, then turned back: "Mr. President, please believe me, Britain never intended to harm Mirka. We were just... too desperate."

Wilson looked at him with a complicated expression.

"Desperation is no excuse for resorting to any means necessary, Mr. Ambassador. Otherwise, what difference is there between us and those we are fighting against?"

The door closed.

Wilson sat back down by the fireplace and sighed deeply. His earlier toughness was both an act and a reflection of his true feelings. He had to make the British understand that Miracle was not a pawn to be manipulated at will.

But a deeper concern is that Chen Feng's warning might be correct. An escalating war could indeed drag the entire world into an abyss.

The phone rang. It was Lansing.

"The British ambassador has left?"

"Just left."

"How does he look?"

"It's like being struck by lightning." Wilson rubbed his temples. "But it's necessary. Tell Rodman that I need him to bring the plan for going to Lanfang at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. A detailed plan."

"Understood. Also... we have news from Chen Feng's side. Lanfang just held a large-scale conferment ceremony, promoting fifteen new major generals to division commanders. This means their army is rapidly expanding."

Wilson closed his eyes.

The wheels of history are turning faster. And he is trying to grab the steering wheel before it goes out of control.

London, 10 Downing Street, 11 p.m.

Prime Minister Asquith was still awake. He sat in his study, holding a long, encrypted telegram from Spring-Rice. It detailed every aspect of his meeting with Wilson.

Outside the window, the London winter night was pitch black. Under the blackout, the entire city was lit by only a few scattered lights, like candles about to go out.

The study door opened, and Foreign Secretary Sir Grey walked in, his face equally grave.

"You received the telegram too?" Asquith asked.

"Just finished reading it." Gray sat down, rubbing his temples wearily. "Wilson is tougher and smarter than we thought."

"He saw through NY-107's scheme."

“There’s no direct evidence, but he saw through it.” Gray smiled wryly. “That’s even more frightening. Because he didn’t make a public accusation, but used it as a bargaining chip. This means he might actually have evidence we don’t know about.”

Asquith threw the telegram on the table: "The problem now is the Far East. Fifty Japanese Imperial Guards... God, if this is true..."

"What Chen Feng said to Wilson in Hawaii matches the information we obtained from other channels." Gray walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of whiskey—he rarely drank. "The cooperation between Lanfang and Japan is deepening. Our Far East intelligence station reports that Japan has recently been recruiting soldiers on an unusually large scale, and its military factories are also expanding."

"But where will they get the money? Japan's economy probably can't support the mobilization of fifty divisions."

"It's obvious that Lanfang gave it to him." Gray took a sip of his drink, the strong liquor making him frown. "Chen Feng has gold mines and oil in Borneo. More importantly, he has technology. He can use his technology and capital to exchange for manpower from Japan."

Asquith stood up and paced around the study. The carpet was thick, absorbing his footsteps, leaving only the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace.

"What are Wilson's terms? What do you think?"

"He gave us a way out," Gray analyzed. "The Atlantic Fleet's full takeover of the escort duties is a de facto entry into the war, just without a declaration of war. He needs time to mobilize, which is understandable—the Milica Army does need to prepare. The key point is that he warned us not to force Lanfang out of the Far East."

"So what should we do? Give up our interests in the Far East?"

"No." Gray put down his glass. "But we need to adjust our strategy. With Lanfang, we need a combination of soft and hard tactics. On the one hand, we need to demonstrate our naval power in the Far East; on the other hand... perhaps we can make private contact and probe their expectations for postwar interests."

Asquith stopped in his tracks: "You're suggesting we negotiate with Lanfang?"

"It wasn't a formal negotiation, but a private communication. The message was conveyed through neutral channels in Switzerland or Sweden: Britain acknowledges Lanfang's special interests in the Persian Gulf and Southeast Asia, as long as they don't challenge our central position in India and Singapore."

Will Chen Feng accept this?

"I don't know," Gray admitted, "but we have to try. If Lanfang really joins forces with Japan to launch an attack in the Far East, and we're already bogged down in the European theater... that would be a disaster."

Asquith walked back to his desk, tapping his fingers on the surface. This was a habitual gesture he made when he was thinking.

"Send a telegram to the Governor-General of India, instructing him to strengthen defenses. In particular, expedite the construction of the Singapore fortress. Send telegrams to Australia and New Zealand, warning them to be on high alert. But remember—all actions must be discreet; do not openly provoke Lanfang or the Sakura Kingdom."