World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chen Feng walked to the window and looked at the soldiers marching in formation in the courtyard of the military headquarters building. "Yamamoto isn't stupid. He knows that the money for the warships comes from the army's 'labor costs.' But that's exactly what I want—to make the Japanese army and navy check and balance each other, so that neither can do without our support."

He turned around, his tone becoming serious:

"More importantly, through this deal, we will gain wartime command of fifty divisions. This means that if the war really expands to the Far East, we can use these one million men where they are most needed—for example, to tie down British troops in India."

Wang Wenwu understood. This wasn't a simple arms deal; it was a strategic move.

"Tell the Pontianak base to be fully prepared," Chen Feng concluded. "I need to finalize things in Japan before Rodman arrives in Dubai. We need to bet on both sides—the Pacific and the Far East."

(Originally, I was going to include a scene of Chen Feng giving a private speech to fifteen major generals, but after thinking about it, I decided against it.)

Borneo, Pontianak Naval Base.

February in Southeast Asia is the tail end of the rainy season, and the air is so humid and hot it feels like you could wring water out of it. At six o'clock in the morning, a thin mist still shrouds the harbor, but the docks are already bustling with activity. Four "Jianghe-class" destroyers are lined up in a deep-water berth, and sailors are washing the decks;

Colonel Zhao Hai, the base commander, stood at the observation window of the control tower, observing the sea through binoculars. He was forty years old, his skin tanned bronze by the tropical sun, and a thin scar on his left cheek—a mark left three years ago during a pirate hunt.

"Bearing 150, 15 nautical miles away, two targets spotted." The lookout's voice came through the radio.

Zhao Hai adjusted the focus of his binoculars. The morning mist was dissipating, and two black dots appeared on the horizon, gradually growing larger until the outline of a medium-sized passenger ship became discernible. The hull was painted grayish-white, black smoke billowed from the funnel, and a cherry blossom flag fluttered on the mast.

"Identity confirmed," Zhao Haitao said.

"Target identified: Sakurakoku Yusen Co., Ltd.'s 'Kasuga Maru' and 'Akizuki Maru.' Speed: 12 knots, heading due north."

"Notify the pier to prepare for reception. Proceed with Level B security plan."

The order was given. The soldiers on the dock sprang into action. Two rows of Marines lined up at the gangway, machine gun emplacements were pushed out from their concealed positions, and snipers took their positions on the high watchtower. Everything proceeded swiftly and quietly, like the precise operation of a well-oiled machine.

At 7:00 a.m., two passenger ships from Japan slowly entered the harbor.

The "Kasuga Maru" was the first to dock. The gangway was lowered, and the first person to step down was Saionji Kinmochi. The 68-year-old Prime Minister of Japan wore a dark gray kimono with a black haori over it and carried a sandalwood cane. He was thin but had a straight back, his gray hair was neatly combed, and he wore the gentle yet aloof smile typical of politicians.

Following closely behind was Yamamoto Gonnohyōe. Unlike Saionji's traditional attire, this Minister of the Navy wore a dark blue naval officer's uniform, the three gold stars on his epaulets gleaming in the morning light. He was sixty-five years old, short and stocky, with a distinctive mustache, and walked with a steady gait, his eyes scanning the dock facilities like an eagle's.

Zhao Hai stepped forward to greet them and saluted: "Lord Saionji, General Yamamoto, welcome to Pontianak. I am Zhao Hai, the base commander."

Saionji gave a slight bow in return, speaking fluent Chinese: "Colonel Zhao, I apologize for the intrusion. Has Commander Chen arrived yet?"

"The President arrived last night and is waiting for you two at the officers' club. Please follow me."

The group boarded the waiting vehicles. The convoy left the dock and drove along the coastal highway. Dense tropical rainforest lined both sides of the road, with occasional glimpses of gun emplacements and radar antennas hidden among the trees. Yamamoto observed through the car window and whispered to Saionji, "The defense system is very sophisticated. The coastal artillery is positioned very professionally."

Saionji didn't respond, only watching the scenery flash by outside the window. He saw newly built barracks, repair shops, oil depots, and planes taking off from the airport runway in the distance. All of this silently demonstrated Lanfang's military presence in Borneo—not a temporary deployment, but a long-term operation.

Ten minutes later, the convoy entered the officers' club area.

The environment here is a stark contrast to the base's militarized style. The club is a white colonial-style building surrounded by meticulously manicured lawns and gardens, with palm trees swaying in the breeze. If it weren't for the faintly visible masts of warships in the distance, it would almost resemble a resort hotel.

Chen Feng was already waiting at the door. He was wearing a light gray suit today, without a tie, looking casual and relaxed. Seeing the Japanese guests get out of the car, he took the initiative to walk forward.

"Lord Saionji, General Yamamoto, you must be tired from your journey."

They shook hands. Saionji's hand was dry and steady, while Yamamoto's hand was thick and strong.

"Your Excellency, thank you for your invitation," said Saionji, still speaking in Chinese. "The development of Borneo is impressive. Just over a decade ago, this was still a jungle, and now it has a modern naval base."

"It's all thanks to everyone's hard work." Chen Feng smiled and gestured for them to join him. "We've prepared some refreshments inside; let's eat and talk."

The officers' club's meeting room was small, about thirty square meters. In the center was a round mahogany table, surrounded by six high-backed chairs. The walls were undecorated, except for a Lanfang flag and a Japanese flag hanging side-by-side. The window was open, and the sounds of birdsong from the garden outside could be heard.

The waiter served tea and snacks and then left, closing the door behind him. Only four people remained in the room—Chen Feng, Wang Wenwu, Xiyuanji, and Yamamoto.

"Let's get straight to the point." Chen Feng picked up his teacup, skipping the pleasantries. "How's the formation of the fifty divisions progressing?"

Saionji and Yamamoto exchanged a glance. Saionji put down her teacup and sighed.

"Your Excellency, this issue... is somewhat complicated."

"Where does it go wrong?" Chen Feng asked calmly.

Saionji placed his hands on his knees, his posture as upright as if he were participating in a tea ceremony: "You are aware of the situation in Japan. The war two years ago dealt us a heavy blow, and our economy has not yet fully recovered. Although we have received many orders from your country and Germany, most of the revenue has been used to stabilize people's livelihoods, repay foreign debt, and rebuild infrastructure."

He paused, his voice carrying just the right amount of helplessness:

"Forming fifty divisions means mobilizing one million people. The equipment, training, and logistics for these one million people will require huge sums of money. And our current finances... to be honest, are very tight."