novelAbuy Chapter 98 Fuxing High-Speed Railway Launch 2
Chapter 98 Fuxing High-Speed Railway Launch 2
"I hereby announce: The battlecruiser 'Fuxing' is launched!"
The order was transmitted to the control room by telephone. The massive gates slowly opened, and seawater rushed into the dock. The last few wooden piles supporting the hull were pushed down by hydraulic presses, and the massive body of the "Fuxing" began to move along the slipway.
At first it was slow, almost imperceptible. Then it accelerated, the bow slicing through the tarpaulin, splashing white foam. When a third of the ship was in the water, the speed reached its peak, and the entire dock shook.
Then came the roar of the water hitting the surface.
More than 40,000 tons of steel crashed into the sea, creating waves ten meters high, like a localized tsunami. The water mist refracted rainbows in the sunlight, and the ship rocked violently on the sea surface a few times before gradually stabilizing.
Successful.
Applause, cheers, and the sound of whistles mingled together. The workers embraced, some tossing their hard hats into the air. Liu Yongfu took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes vigorously. Uncle Wang murmured, "So big...so big..."
As Chen Feng looked at the giant ship floating on the sea and the yellow dragon flag slowly rising on the mast, he suddenly felt his eyes welling up with tears.
But he held back.
The ceremony moved into its final stage: the appointment of the captain.
Lin Hai had already returned to the dock by small boat. He walked to the viewing platform and stood at attention to salute Chen Feng.
"Reporting to the President, the 'Fuxing' ship has been successfully launched without any damage! Please provide further instructions!"
Chen Feng returned the greeting, and then took out the captain's hat with gold trim from the brocade box held by Uncle Wang.
"Lin Hai".
"exist!"
"From today onwards, you are the captain of the battlecruiser 'Fuxing'. The responsibility on your shoulders is this ship, the 1,300 officers and men on board, and the future of the Lanfang Navy."
Chen Feng personally put the hat on him and adjusted the brim.
"Remember, captain isn't a rank, it's a responsibility. In calm seas, you'll lead your brothers in training; in stormy weather, you'll stand on the bridge to command; when surrounded by powerful enemies, you'll make decisions that might require your own sacrifice. Are you ready?"
Lin Hai straightened his back and said in a firm voice, "Ready!"
"Alright." Chen Feng took a step back. "Now, go and meet your senior."
Li Te stepped out from the crowd. He was also wearing a captain's uniform, but his shoulder insignia indicated he was a major general. He walked up to Lin Hai, and the two saluted each other.
There were few ceremonial words. Li Te took out a thick notebook with worn edges from his pocket and handed it to Lin Hai.
"These are my nautical logs from the past three years," Li Te said. "From sea trials to the Indian Ocean, to Java, to Europe. They record every troubleshooting, every tactical exercise, and every interaction with foreign navies. They may not all be accurate, but they are all experiences."
Lin Hai accepted it with both hands: "Thank you, Captain."
"Don't call me captain anymore," Li Te laughed. "You're a captain now. From now on, when we meet at sea and greet each other with light signals, remember to return the greeting."
"yes!"
The two saluted each other again. Then Li Te turned around, saluted Chen Feng and Wang Bo, and retreated back into the crowd.
Li Mingyuan announced the end of the ceremony. The crowd began to disperse, but many remained standing, watching the giant gray ship on the sea. Tugboats had already moved closer, preparing to tow it to the outfitting pier for final equipment installation.
"Young Master," Uncle Wang said softly, "it's time to go back. We have to meet with the Chilean representative this afternoon."
Chen Feng nodded and left with Uncle Wang.
They got into their car and drove away from the dockyard area. Along the way, they passed a newly planned industrial zone, where bulldozers were leveling the land and workers were chanting as they laid foundations. Further away, a simple but neat residential area had been built for the new immigrants.
"Have the population statistics been released yet?" Chen Feng asked.
"Preliminary statistics show 460,000," said Uncle Wang. "Last month, three ships carrying about 6,000 people arrived from Fujian and Guangdong. There are even more from Southeast Asia. After the Batavia incident, many Chinese felt hopeful and brought their families here."
"Is there enough room?"
"Barely. Housing is insufficient, but food reserves are enough for three months. The railway construction is being accelerated. Once the railway reaches the inland agricultural reclamation areas, food self-sufficiency will be achieved."
Chen Feng nodded and closed his eyes.
He was thinking of Lin Hai. That young man had taken over not just a ship, but the baton of an era. They were running at top speed, but their opponents were running too. Britain, Germany, Japan… no one would stop and wait for them.
"Uncle Wang."
"Um?"
"Order the security department to conduct background checks on all new immigrants starting today. Those coming from Japanese-controlled areas should be given special screening."
"Young Master is worried..."
"It's not just worry, it's inevitable." Chen Feng opened his eyes. "Togo Heihachiro is coming. If he can't buy a ship, he'll find other ways. Espionage, sabotage, bribery... the Japanese are good at that."
The car entered the administrative district. Shops, teahouses, and even a cinema had sprung up on both sides of the street—the projector was imported from France, and the films were all silent, but it was packed with people every night.
This is the city they built. A city carved out bit by bit from the desert.
Chen Feng suddenly felt very tired. Not physically tired, but a deep, bone-deep tiredness, the kind of tiredness that comes from carrying too much on your shoulders.
But he can't stop.
Because 300,000 people followed him, and because there were millions, even tens of millions more waiting in Southeast Asia.
Because the journey home has only just begun.
At 11 p.m., the light was still on in the study on the top floor of the administration building.
Chen Feng sat before a huge map of Southeast Asia, holding a red and blue pencil, but he didn't put it down for a long time. The map was already covered with markings: red was Pontianak, the homeland of Lanfang; blue was the Dutch-controlled area; yellow was the British colony; and black was the territory of the indigenous kingdoms.
It's as complicated as a dead end game.
There was a gentle knock on the door.
"Come in."
Uncle Wang carried in a bowl of noodle soup and placed it on the table: "Young master, have something to eat. You didn't eat much tonight."
"Thank you." Chen Feng put down his pencil, rubbed his temples, and said, "Uncle Wang, do you think... we can really go back?"
The old man did not answer immediately. He walked to the map and looked at the South Seas, which was fragmented by various colors.
"My father was among the first group of people to come to Pontianak with Governor Luo Fangbo," Uncle Wang said slowly. "He often said that back then, Borneo was full of jungles, swamps, and wild beasts. A few hundred of them, with hoes and machetes, gradually cleared the land and built villages. Later, as the population grew, they built cities and established a country."
He paused. "When the Dutch came. I remember that day, their gunboats sailed into the Pontianak River, their cannons pointed at our council hall. Your grandfather—standing on the dock—said to the Dutch commander: 'Lanfang is a Chinese country. We do not fight with foreigners, but we are not afraid of foreign threats either.'"
"And then?"
"Then the Dutch did open fire," Uncle Wang said softly. "Not that day, but years later. They nibbled away at our strength little by little, using treaties, bribes, and threats of force. Some of our men died in battle, some were exiled, and some fled into the mountains."
Chen Feng closed his eyes. He had heard these stories many times, but every time he heard them, it felt like a stone was pressing on his chest.
"You were only six years old when I took you away," Uncle Wang continued. "We were on a fishing boat and drifted at sea for seven days and seven nights. You had a high fever and kept talking nonsense, calling out 'Father, Mother.' At that time, I thought that as long as I could survive and raise you, I would have done right by my master."
He turned to Chen Feng and said, "But now, we've not only survived, we have ships, cannons, and 400,000 men. The British ministers have to negotiate with us, the German Emperor has to win us over, and the French have to beg us to sell them ships. Young master, you asked if we can go back—I don't know. But I do know that we've gone further than anyone imagined."
Chen Feng opened his eyes; his eyes were red.
"Uncle Wang, I'm scared."
"What are you afraid of?"
"I'm afraid of making one wrong step and dragging everyone into the abyss." Chen Feng's voice trembled slightly. "Back in Java, when I ordered Little to fire, my palms were sweating buckets. What if the Dutch wouldn't back down? What if the British took the opportunity to intervene? What if... what if our men died?"
He stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to Uncle Wang.
"I was their 'commander-in-chief,' and they called me 'Young Master.' They trusted me and entrusted their lives to me. But I was only twenty-four years old, Uncle Wang. I dreamt that the ship sank, that the fortress exploded, and that everyone pointed at me and said, 'You killed us.'"