World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chapter 99 Togo Heijiro Arrives

Silence filled the study. Only the clock on the wall ticked away.

After a long while, Uncle Wang said, "Young master, do you know what the old master said to me before he passed away?"

Chen Feng turned around.

He said, "Uncle Wang, my biggest regret in this life is not losing Lanfang, but leaving no hope for future generations. If... if one day Feng'er wants to go back, don't stop him. Even if he dies, even if he loses, he has to try. Because if he doesn't try, he'll never be able to go back."

The old man walked up to Chen Feng and patted him on the shoulder, just like he did when they were children.

"Young Master, you're not a god. You'll be afraid, hesitate, and have nightmares—that's normal. But as long as you remember why you set out and who's behind you, you won't go astray. As for winning or losing… we've already lost once, so losing again won't make a difference. But what if we win?"

Chen Feng looked at Uncle Wang, the old man who had taken care of him since childhood and whose hair was now completely white. Suddenly, he understood why he had been able to survive in the desert for three years, and why 300,000 people were willing to follow him.

It's not because he's the "President" or because he's the "Young Master".

It's because they believe that by following him, they can go home.

"I understand." Chen Feng took a deep breath, walked back to the map, picked up the red and blue pencils, and said, "Uncle Wang, you should go and rest. I'll look at the map a little longer."

"The noodles are getting cold."

"I'll eat it."

After Uncle Wang left, Chen Feng actually sat down and finished the bowl of noodles. Then he unfolded another sheet of white paper and began to write.

It's not a plan, not an order, it's a letter. A letter to all Lanfang people.

To all Lanfang compatriots:

As I write these words, our second main warship, the "Fuxing," has already been launched. Three years ago, when we set foot on this desert, we had only some tents and 300,000 bewildered hearts. Today, we have cities, factories, and world-class warships.

I know that many people are still asking: When are we going home?

I don't have a definite answer. But I can promise: within three years, we will launch the "Nanyang Spark" program. Within five years, we will see the yellow dragon flag raised again on the coast of Borneo.

This road will not be easy. We will face Dutch guns, British obstruction, Japanese intrigue, and the hostility of all vested interests. We will bleed, we will sacrifice, we will experience failures and setbacks.

But we must go.

A hundred years ago, our ancestors built the first Chinese nation on Borneo with their own hands. Three years later, that nation was swallowed up by tyranny. Today, we have a second chance—to rebuild our homeland with steel, with wisdom, and with the lessons learned from generations of displacement.

I am not a god, and I cannot guarantee victory. But I can assure you: no matter how difficult the road ahead, I will be at the forefront. No matter how great the sacrifice, I will be the first.

Because, like you, I want to go home.

陈峰

Night of June 15, 1908

After he finished writing, he folded the letter and put it in the drawer.

Then he looked at the map again, and the red and blue pencils finally fell, drawing a circle at the location of Pontianak, and then an arrow pointing from the Persian Gulf to the Strait of Malacca.

Step one, step two, step three...

The Chilean delegation arrived three hours earlier than scheduled.

When Wang Wenwu received the call from the port authority, he was reviewing a list of imported steel. He put down his pen and glanced at the clock on the wall—9:10 a.m.

How many people came?

"Eight people," the voice on the other end of the phone said. "The leader is Carlos Silva, his title is Special Procurement Specialist for the Navy. There are also two engineers, a translator, and four assistants. They don't have much luggage, but they brought two large suitcases that look like they're full of documents."

"Arrange for them to stay at 'Palm Palace' Building 2, according to Level A hospitality standards." Wang Wenwu thought for a moment, "Tell the kitchen to prepare seafood for lunch; they're from South America, they should like it. For wine… open Chilean wines, we have some in stock, right?"

"Yes, samples left over from last year's trade show."

"Use that. I'll be there in half an hour."

After hanging up the phone, Wang Wenwu stood up and walked to the window. From this angle, he could see part of the harbor; a cruise ship was docking, its hull painted white, and its smokestack adorned with the red, white, and blue colors of the Chilean flag.

They came so quickly.

News of Argentina's purchase of battleships from Lanfang had been circulating for three months, and the Argentinians' boasting, in particular, naturally made the Chileans uneasy. For Lanfang, the arms race in the South Pacific was a business opportunity delivered right to their doorstep.

He straightened his suit jacket and was about to leave when his secretary knocked on the door and came in.

"Minister, another ship has entered the port. It's the Japanese delegation."

Wang Wenwu stopped in his tracks: "When did you arrive?"

"They stopped at Pier 3 right behind the Chilean ship. The leader was Admiral Togo Heihachiro, the Commander-in-Chief of the Combined Fleet. He was accompanied by twelve men, all of whom were naval officers."

"Where should we arrange it?"

"As per your instructions, someone has been sent to pick you up from Building 4 of 'Palm Palace'."

Building No. 4 is located on the westernmost side of the park, close to the wall, and furthest from the main facilities. The room is clean, but simply furnished, without a telephone, and the view from the window is of the back of the warehouse area.

Wang Wenwu nodded: "Notify the reception office that all activities of the Japanese delegation must be approved 24 hours in advance. The scope of visits is limited to the civilian port area and the open industrial exhibition hall. Entry into the shipyard, steel mill, and power plant within three kilometers is strictly prohibited. Also, all cameras and drawing tools will be temporarily confiscated upon entry."

"Yes."

"Also," Wang Wenwu picked up his briefcase, "call the Security Bureau and have them send two teams, one to accompany the Chilean delegation for protection, and the other to accompany the Japanese delegation for surveillance. Togo Heihachiro is no ordinary officer; he has a sharp eye and a quick mind."

The secretary quickly took notes, then asked, "Which side would you like to see first?"

"Chileans," Wang Wenwu said, opening the office door. "The Japanese... Tell them to wait. Just say I'm full today, and we'll schedule a preliminary meeting for tomorrow morning at 10 a.m.

As the elevator descended, Wang Wenwu saw his face in the reflection of the metal door. At that moment, gray hairs were beginning to appear at his temples, and the wrinkles around his eyes resembled contour lines on a map. This job is really tough.

But he had no time for sentimentality. The Chileans wanted to buy the ship, and the Japanese wanted to buy it too, but they were completely different things. One could sell, the other absolutely could not. How to handle this difference would determine Lanfang's stance in the South Pacific and the Far East. (Ultimately, it depends on the readers' opinions. Later, the little days will become a vassal state; long-time readers know this. After World War I breaks out in Europe, the editor will continue to handle Japanese "labor dispatch" companies.)

The car was already waiting downstairs. The driver was a young man in his early twenties who had just come from Sumatra three months ago. He drove with his back ramrod straight, as if he were participating in a military parade.