novelAbuy Chapter 63 That Empire is Too Old
Chapter 63 That Empire is Too Old
"Guests here to negotiate," Li Te smiled. "Because when force fails to solve problems, wise people choose dialogue. And the President has said that when the other side is willing to sit down and talk, we've already won half the battle."
As night deepened, the port of Mumbai gradually quieted down. But in every corner of this port, in the conference rooms of London, in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Paris, and in the command center in Dubai, countless people knew—
No one will sleep tonight.
Because the world has changed.
Persian Gulf, Dubai Port Administration Building
The conference room windows were open, letting in a salty, damp sea breeze that ruffled the nautical charts and documents spread out on the table. Chen Feng stood at the head of the long conference table, his fingers lightly tapping the surface. His gaze swept over everyone present—Uncle Wang, Liu Yongfu, Li Mingyuan, and several department heads who had just returned from the front lines.
The clock on the wall points to seven o'clock.
"Let's begin," Chen Feng said calmly. "Uncle Wang, tell us what cards we have in our hand right now."
Uncle Wang put on his reading glasses and opened the thick ledger: "As of six o'clock this morning, the direct consumption of the 'Revival' ship in the Indian Ocean is as follows: 850 tons of fuel, 4 tons of food supplies, and 500 tons of fresh water. The total cost, including purchases in Mumbai, is approximately £4,000."
He paused, then turned to the next page:
"Regarding indirect benefits: First, the advance payment for the second batch of orders from Germany, amounting to £3.6 million in gold, has been fully deposited into a Swiss bank account. Second, the initial payment for the French order, £1.9 million, consisting of half gold and half francs, is currently undergoing customs clearance. Third, through Wang Wenwu's operations in Singapore, we obtained five-year purchasing rights for three copper mines in Chile at a price 15% lower than the market price."
Chen Feng nodded: "Expenditure of four thousand, income of five and a half million. A very profitable deal. But money isn't the most important thing—continue."
"Regarding intelligence," Li Mingyuan continued, "a summary of messages from the 'Dragon Eye' network in London, Paris, and Berlin: The British cabinet has split, and the voices of the pro-war faction are weakening. The French are smug, while the Germans are watching from the sidelines. Furthermore…" He pulled out an encrypted telegram, "The Japanese 'Kasuga Maru,' after leaving the Arabian Sea, suddenly turned towards Batavia. We suspect they might be trying to gather information through Dutch channels."
"The Dutch," Chen Feng repeated the word, a cold glint in his eyes. "They'll come out sooner or later. Continue to monitor them, but don't provoke them for now."
He walked to the huge world map on the wall and picked up a pointer.
"Gentlemen, we are not here today to discuss how to deal with the British blockade—that's in the past." The pointer pointed to the spot in Mumbai. "The presence of the 'Liberation' there signifies the complete failure of the blockade strategy. The British now face two choices: either escalate the conflict or sit down and talk."
Liu Yongfu frowned: "Escalate the conflict? Do they have the guts?"
"No," Chen Feng said firmly, "but they care about their image. So, London will send a message through the French, hoping to 'handle this discreetly.' They will propose negotiations, possibly in Paris or London. And the content of the negotiations..."
His pointer moved, traversing the Indian Ocean, and came to rest in the Persian Gulf.
"On the surface, it was a discussion about 'navigation safety' and 'trade rules.' In reality, it was a bargaining game: How much would Britain tolerate us? What could we get from Britain?"
Li Mingyuan asked, "Commander-in-Chief, what is our bottom line?"
"Three conditions." Chen Feng held up three fingers. "First, fully restore trade, and prices must not exceed pre-crisis levels. Second, Britain tacitly approves of our 'dispute' with the Dutch in Southeast Asia—note, tacit approval, not support. Third, allow Lanfang to establish a commercial office in London and enjoy basic diplomatic privileges."
A low murmur rippled through the meeting room. Each of these three demands crossed the line for the British Empire.
"Will they agree?" some people doubted.
"If they disagree, we'll continue sending the 'Revival' out to explore," Chen Feng smiled. "Next stop, Singapore. The next stop after that, Hong Kong. Then... maybe we'll go to Australia. Let the British do the math: is it less of a loss to agree to our demands, or to have a warship they can't catch up with or defeat circling around in their backyard every day?"
Uncle Wang hesitated for a moment: "Young master, wouldn't this be... too forceful? I'm afraid the British will resort to desperate measures."
"No." Chen Feng shook his head. "Uncle Wang, have you studied British history? This empire was able to last for three hundred years not by brute force, but by calculation. They will be angry, they will roar, but in the end, they will choose the path that best serves their interests."
He walked back to his seat and placed his hands on the table:
"Moreover, what we're going to discuss today isn't how to negotiate with the British—that's Wang Wenwu's job. What we're going to discuss is where Lanfang should go after the negotiations."
All eyes were on him.
"Gentlemen, the 'Revival' ship's voyage to the Indian Ocean has three purposes," Chen Feng said slowly. "First, to break the blockade, as everyone has seen. Second, to demonstrate our strength to overseas Chinese, which is also underway. But the third... is the most important."
He paused, making each word clear:
"The third purpose is testing."
"test?"
"Testing Britain's actual control in the Indian Ocean, testing their reaction speed, testing their decision-making patterns under pressure." Chen Feng's eyes sharpened. "I've carefully read every single report sent back by Little. From the discovery of the 'Revival' to adjusting their deployment, to requesting instructions from London, the British fleet's reaction time and decision-making logic at every step tell us one thing—"
His coaching focus is primarily on the central Indian Ocean:
"This empire is old. Its muscles are still there, but its nerves are slow to react, its joints are stiff, and its thinking is rigid. It is used to speaking with cannons, but when its cannons are inferior to others, it doesn't know what to do."
The meeting room was so quiet you could hear someone breathing.
"So, after the negotiations, we need to do three things." Chen Feng held up three fingers. "First, we must do our utmost to complete the Franco-German orders, build credibility, and accumulate funds. Second, we must launch the 'Southern Spark' project—not to fight back now, but to begin preparations. Third, we must begin designing the concept for the next generation of capital ships."
Liu Yongfu's eyes lit up: "The next generation? Isn't the 'Cheetah-class' already ahead?"
"The lead is temporary." Chen Feng looked at him. "Chief Engineer Liu, what do you think the British are doing right now? They are frantically studying every detail of the 'Revival' ship, mobilizing all shipyards to accelerate shipbuilding, and working day and night in the laboratory. In three years at most, they will catch up."
He walked to the window and looked towards the harbor outside:
"So we have to go faster. The 'Cheetah-class' is our first generation of superior products, but we need a second and a third generation. We need to improve the oil-fired boilers, make the guns bigger, make the armor thicker, and make the speed faster... and it's not just about warships."
He turned around:
"Uncle Wang, allocate one million pounds from the second tranche of advance payments from Germany to establish the 'Future Technology Fund.' Invest specifically in several areas: aero engines, radio communications, synthetic fuels, and special alloys. We need to lay the groundwork for the next decade before others even notice. As for blueprints and data, I'll figure it out, but we also need talented people to do it."
Uncle Wang was writing quickly, his hands trembling slightly. One million pounds—that was almost double Lanfang's total expenditure over the past three years.
"Young master, isn't spending so much money too risky...?"
"Not taking risks is the biggest risk," Chen Feng interrupted him. "Uncle Wang, think about it. If we don't invest in research and development now, what will we do if the British catch up in three years? What will we do if the Americans and Japanese catch up in five years? By then, how will we survive? How will we get home?"
His voice echoed in the conference room:
"Technological advantage is our only bargaining chip. Without it, we will revert to Lanfang from a hundred years ago—a group of exiles with ideals and passion, but without power, and ultimately be swallowed up by history."
Everyone fell silent.