World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Tirpitz listened, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

He wanted to say, "The Chinese are cunning," but he didn't say it aloud. Instead, a hint of awe crept into his gaze as he looked at Chen Feng—this man had calculated every single step.

Zhang Zhen stepped forward: "Commander-in-Chief, I'll go."

Chen Feng looked at him.

"The Huaihe is my flagship, and I know it best," Zhang Zhen said. "Moreover, this kind of mission requires a commander who can adapt to changing circumstances. How to fight back after the British open fire, when to show weakness, when to retaliate, and when to let the reporters capture the 'appropriate' footage—all of these require on-the-spot decisions."

Chen Feng was silent for three seconds, then nodded.

"Alright. Get ready, we'll depart at dawn tomorrow. The Huaihe and Zhujiang ships will not fly their national flags, and will sail at a speed of 18 knots eastward along the regular route in the Arabian Sea. The British will definitely intercept us."

He paused for a moment: "Remember, we can't let anything happen to the reporters. They are the audience and the witnesses in this play."

Chang Chen stood at attention: "Yes, sir!"

"Furthermore," Chen Feng added, "after the war begins, you can counterattack, but not with all your might. You must appear weak, make the British think 'German warships are nothing special,' and let them get more and more excited and invested as the fighting goes on. Wait until they focus all their attention on you—"

"The Bismarck has appeared," Zhang Zhen continued. "Commander-in-Chief, I understand."

He saluted, turned, and strode out of the conference room. The moment the door closed, Scheer saw his silhouette stretched long in the corridor lights, like a sword about to be drawn.

The meeting room fell silent again.

Chen Feng turned to Sher.

"General Sher, your mission is both simpler and more difficult than Zhang Zhen's."

Scher sat up straight: "Please speak, Commander-in-Chief."

"Set sail in six hours. Fly the German flag and proceed at full speed into the battlefield," Chen Feng said. "By the time you arrive, the Huaihe and Zhujiang should have already held out for over four hours, and the British fleet will certainly have suffered losses. What you need to do is—"

"Make the British believe that the two ships they attacked were German warships," Scheer continued, "and that we are here to provide support."

Chen Feng nodded.

"This completely confused Jellicoe. He would think there were two groups of German warships—one that he had been fighting for four hours and was still putting up a fight, and the other that had just arrived from Dubai to provide support. He would desperately try to figure out why the Germans had two Bismarck-class ships? Which two were the real ones?"

Tirpitz chuckled softly.

"Then, by the time he realized it," the old marshal said, "the whole world had already seen the photos taken by the reporters on the Huaihe. The British could no longer erase the accusation of attacking a neutral country."

Sher looked at Chen Feng and remained silent for three seconds.

Then he stood up, stood at attention, and gave Chen Feng a standard Prussian military salute.

"Commander Chen," he said, his voice steady and powerful, "the German warships will cooperate unconditionally with Lanfang. This is what you deserve."

Chen Feng stood up and returned the greeting.

"General Scheer, remember," he said, "when you arrive, don't fight too fiercely. If the British run away, let them run. The goal of this battle is not to annihilate the British fleet, but to brand the British as having waged war without declaration. Once that goal is achieved, everything else can wait."

Scher nodded: "Understood."

Tirpitz also stood up. The old marshal walked over to Scheer and patted him on the shoulder.

"Schär," he said, "is your ship ready?"

"Ready, Marshal. Ninety-five percent combat strength."

The meeting ended at 4:00 AM.

Wang Wenwu and Li Te left first to coordinate communications and intelligence. Only Chen Feng, Tirpitz, and Scheer remained in the conference room.

Chen Feng walked to the window and looked at the sky outside, where dawn was about to break.

"General Sher," he suddenly asked, "are you afraid of death?"

Scher paused for a moment, then shook his head.

"I'm not afraid, Commander. I've never been afraid since the day I joined the army."

Chen Feng turned around and looked at him.

"And what about your crew? 1,200 men, aren't you afraid they'll die?"

Scher remained silent.

Chen Feng walked back to the table and sat down.

"There are eight hundred Lanfang sailors on the Huaihe. There are also eight hundred on the Zhujiang. They will all die—maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe in this battle. Zhang Zhen knew, Zhou Zhenguo knew, and those sailors knew too. But they still went."

He paused for a moment: "Do you know why?"

Scher did not answer.

"Because they believe that Lanfang's future requires someone to fight for it," Chen Feng said. "Just like your crew believed in you and were willing to follow you to the Atlantic to their deaths."

He stood up and walked over to Scheer.

"So come back alive," he said. "Bring your ship, bring your men, come back alive. Lanfang needs you, and Germany needs you."

Sher looked into Chen Feng's eyes.

Those eyes were calm, but beneath that calm, Scher saw something else.

That's a responsibility.

The look in someone's eyes is the kind of look that comes from someone who carries the lives of millions on their shoulders.

"General," Scheer said, "I will."

Chen Feng nodded and turned to Tirpitz.

"Marshal, is there anything else you'd like to say?"

Tirpitz remained silent for a long time.

Then he spoke, his voice hoarse:

"Commander Chen, Germany owes Lanfang a debt that can never be repaid in this lifetime."

Chen Feng shook his head.

"Marshal, you're mistaken," he said. "This isn't about owing someone. It's about mutual need. Germany needs Lanfang to help you survive, and Lanfang needs Germany to help us tie down the British. It's simply a matter of each getting what they need."

He paused for a moment: "In international politics, there are no permanent friends or permanent enemies. But at least at this moment, we are friends."

Tirpitz looked at him, his eyes slightly red.

Then he reached out his hand.

Chen Feng grasped it.

Hold hands together, then separate after three seconds.

"It's almost dawn," Chen Feng said. "Let's go back and get ready."

Scher and Tirpitz walked out of the conference room side by side and headed down the corridor toward the door.

The corridor was quiet, with only the echoing sound of their footsteps. Outside the window, the surface of the Persian Gulf was turning a pale white; dawn was approaching.

Finally, Sher couldn't help but ask, "Marshal, what do you think of Commander Chen?"

Tirpitz did not answer immediately.

He took more than ten steps before speaking.

"Smart," he said. "Very smart."

Scheer nodded: "This plan has the British completely figured out. A man like Jellicoe will definitely open fire. By the time he realizes he's made a mistake, it will be too late."

Tirpitz stopped and looked out the window at the sea that was getting brighter.

"Sher," he said, "do you know why I'm worried?"

Scher shook his head.

"Because they're too smart," Tirpitz said. "They've calculated every step, considered every detail, and prepared contingency plans for every possibility. If such an opponent were an enemy, they would keep you up at night."

He turned to look at Sher: "Fortunately, he's a friend now."

Scher thought for a moment and said, "Marshal, do you think he will always be a friend?"

Tirpitz remained silent for a few seconds.

"I don't know," he said. "In international politics, there are no permanent friends. But as long as Germany is of use, he will continue to be a friend."

He continued walking, and Scheer followed.

As he reached the main entrance, Tirpitz suddenly stopped and glanced back at the closed conference room door at the end of the corridor.

"Sher," he said softly in German, "the Chinese, so cunning."

Scher paused for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh.

"Marshal, what you're saying..."

"I'm praising them," Tirpitz said. "In this day and age, the honest don't live long. Only the cunning survive."

He pushed open the door and stepped into the morning light.

Scher followed behind, but the old marshal's words kept echoing in his mind.

Chinese people are cunning, cunning, cunning.

He thought this was probably the highest praise Tirpitz could give Chen Feng.