novelAbuy Chapter 64 The "Restoration Ship" must cease its "friendly visit".
Chapter 64 The "Restoration Ship" must cease its "friendly visit".
Chen Feng walked back to the map, his finger slowly moving from the Persian Gulf to Borneo. That shipping route crossed the Strait of Malacca, passed through Singapore, and finally arrived at Pontianak—the ancient capital of Lanfang.
"Going home," he said softly. "This is the ultimate purpose for all of us who came here. But not begging to go home, but going home with our heads held high. Not going home as refugees, but going home as masters."
He turned around, his gaze intense:
"So every penny spent now, every ship built, and every technology developed is paving the way home. It may be difficult, and it may take a long time. But once the road is started, it cannot be stopped."
"If we stop, all our previous efforts will be in vain."
At the same time, in the Indian Ocean, on the bridge of the "Kuang Fu" ship.
Li Te had just received an encrypted telegram from Dubai. After translating it, he stood in front of the nautical chart for a long time without saying a word.
"Captain?" Lin Hai asked cautiously.
"The President's orders," Li Te handed over the telegram, "are instructing us to detour through Colombo, Aden, and Djibouti on our return voyage. Each port stop must not exceed twelve hours, for only basic resupply. And... be 'polite'."
Lin Hai quickly scanned the telegram, his eyes widening: "This...this means they're going to tour every single British outpost along the entire Indian Ocean coast!"
"More than that." Little walked to the observation window, looking at the calm sea outside. "This is telling the British: I can go to every one of your outposts. I can cut off every one of your shipping routes. If war breaks out, your entire trade network in the Indian Ocean will be exposed to my guns."
He paused:
"Moreover, the President particularly emphasized 'politeness.' What does that mean? It means that we are not going to provoke, but to 'visit.' We abide by international law, we pay the fees, and we are courteous. This leaves the British with no excuse to open fire, yet they feel threatened at all times."
Lin Hai swallowed hard: "Captain, this is even more ruthless than opening fire directly..."
"Because this is an open conspiracy." Lee Te turned around. "Do you know what an open conspiracy is? It's when I clearly tell you what I'm going to do, but you can't do anything about it. Because my power is there, and my reasoning is sound. You either accept it, or you suffer even greater losses."
He patted the young navigator on the shoulder:
"Remember today, Lin Hai. This is our first lesson: in the game of international politics, power is the bargaining chip, but how to use power is the real art."
"So now we..."
"Adjust course, target Colombo," Little ordered. "Speed 20 knots, no rush, proceed slowly. Give the British enough time to think, and give the Chinese along the way enough time... to observe their ships."
London, Admiralty Building
Lord Fisher's office was filled with smoke. The First Sea Lord had barely slept for three days, his eyes were bloodshot, but he was unusually excited.
"They're going to Colombo," he slammed a telegram on the table, "and then Aden, Djibouti. Like taking a walk in their own garden."
Several key figures from the Navy were sitting in the office, and each of them looked grim.
"This is an insult!" Sir Watts, the shipbuilding director, gritted his teeth. "A blatant insult!"
“No, this is education,” Fisher said coldly. “They are teaching us what a new era of naval power is. They are teaching us that three hundred years of experience is worthless in the face of technological leaps.”
He walked to the huge nautical chart on the wall and traced the planned route of the "Guangfu" ship with his finger:
"Look at this line. Colombo—our center of dominance in Ceylon. Aden—the gateway to the Red Sea. Djibouti—French territory, but also within our surveillance range. Each point is a key node in our Indian Ocean strategy."
He turned around:
"Now, a warship that we can neither catch up with nor defeat is going to visit these nodes one by one. And under the guise of a 'friendly visit.' Gentlemen, do you know what this means?"
No one answered.
"That means if war breaks out, they could easily blockade the Strait of Malacca, cutting off our connection with the Far East. They could blockade the Gulf of Aden, cutting off our connection with Europe. They could even sail to the Cape of Good Hope, threatening our connection with South Africa." Fisher's voice trailed off. "One ship could tie down our power throughout the Indian Ocean. What if they had five? Ten?"
The office was deathly silent.
"Therefore, we must negotiate," Fisher finally said. "Not because we are weak, but because we are clear-headed. When power is insufficient, negotiation is the best way to buy time. And time..." He paused, "is what we need most right now."
"What is the bottom line for negotiations?" someone asked.
"The bottom line?" Fisher smiled wryly. "Our bottom line is to keep that ship out of the Thames estuary. Everything else... is negotiable."
He walked to the window and looked at the traffic on Whitehall Street outside:
"Inform the Foreign Office to have them relay a message through the French: The British Empire is willing to consult with the Lanfang representatives on the issue of 'safety of navigation in the Indian Ocean.' The location... could be London or Paris. But on the condition that the 'Guangfu' cease its 'friendly visit.'"
"What if the other party disagrees?"
"Then we can only watch it sail across the entire Indian Ocean and tell the world: the Royal Navy is powerless." Fisher closed his eyes. "Which do you choose?"
No one dared to choose the latter.
Paris, Admiralty victory celebration
Champagne bubbles rose in the crystal glasses, and under the lights, the French naval officers were all beaming. General Dubois stood in the center of the banquet hall, glass in hand, accepting congratulations from his colleagues.
"Charles, well done!" a general slapped him on the shoulder. "I've never seen the British so pathetic! Their fleet trailed behind like lackeys, ha ha!"
Dubois smiled, but a hint of worry lingered in his expression. He took a sip of champagne and whispered to Minister Thomson beside him:
"Minister, the British have just sent a formal note. They hope we can act as intermediaries to arrange negotiations between them and Lanfang."
Thomson raised an eyebrow: "Give in so quickly?"
"It's not about bowing down, it's about being pragmatic," Dubois said. "The British have calculated that the cost of war is too high, so negotiation is better. But they want to save face, so they're asking us to relay their message."
What do you think?
“I think…” Dubois pondered, “this is good for France. We can play both sides and benefit from both. But…” He paused, “we must be careful not to let Lanfang feel that we are betraying them, nor can we let the British feel that we are favoring Lanfang.”
Thomson nodded: "The art of balance. It's like walking a tightrope; one wrong step and you offend both sides."
He glanced at the laughing crowd in the banquet hall and lowered his voice:
"Xia Er, to be honest, what do you think Chen Feng ultimately wants? Is it really just to go back to Borneo and rebuild Lanfang?"
Dubois remained silent for a long time.
"I don't know," he finally said, "but I do know one thing: what he wants is not just land, not just a country. What he wants is recognition. Recognition that Chinese people are also capable of building a modern nation, capable of mastering advanced technology, and qualified to have a place on the world stage."
"And this recognition," he said, looking out at the Parisian nightscape, "is harder to obtain than any treaty or any territory. Because it means changing the world's perception of the Chinese, changing the three-hundred-year-old concept of white supremacy."
Thomson said thoughtfully, "So what he wants is a revolution. A bloodless, but more profound revolution."
"Yes," Dubois nodded. "And we, unknowingly, became the catalyst for this revolution. Or, to use Chen Feng's words, the chess players."
The two clinked glasses. The champagne bubbles swirled in the glass, much like the world that was spinning at an accelerating pace.