Chapter 102: Standoff

Xi Er Wa also stood up, shaking hands more firmly than in the morning.

"Mr. Wang, we'll sign the letter of intent tomorrow. No, we can start drafting tonight. Chile needs these two ships; the sooner the better."

"A wise choice."

On the way back to Palm Palace, Xi Er Wa talked noticeably more. He discussed Chile's copper mines and saltpeter mines, the strategic layout of the South Pacific, and even hinted that if Lanfang later needs to establish a supply point in South America, Chile could provide convenience.

Wang Wenwu responded point by point, but in his mind he was thinking of another matter: what are the Japanese doing now?

When the car stopped at Palm Palace, it was already dusk. Wang Wenwu had just stepped out when he saw a light on the second‑floor window of Building Four, a silhouette standing at the window, looking this way.

It was Dong Xiang Pingbala.

The old man's figure appeared thin in the light, yet his posture remained perfectly upright. He just stood there, watching the Chilean delegation chat and walk into Building Two, watching Wang Wenwu at the doorway shake hands with them as they departed.

Wang Wenwu lifted his head and met Dong Xiang's gaze for a moment.

Distance was too great to see the expression. But Wang Wenwu could feel that gaze, like a knife, pierced the twilight.

The next day's meeting was scheduled for 10 a. m. in the small conference room of Building One at Palm Palace.

Wang Wenwu arrived five minutes early; Dong Xiang Pingbala was already there. The old man was not in a military dress uniform but wore a dark‑gray suit, though the golden anchor insignia on his lapel still revealed his identity.

"Your Excellency Dong Xiang, you are very punctual," Wang Wenwu said in Japanese.

"It's a habit of soldiers," Dong Xiang rose, gave a slight bow, "Minister Wang, let's begin directly."

The two sat at opposite sides of the long table. The Japanese delegation consisted of three people: Dong Xiang, the Director of the Navy Ministry Technical Bureau, and Lieutenant Xiao Ye, the translator. On Lanfang's side there were only Wang Wenwu and Li Mingyuan.

There was no small talk, no coffee, not even an opening remark.

Dong Xiang took a document from his briefcase and slid it across the table: "This is the Japanese Empire Navy's procurement intent letter. We need two battleships, performance benchmarked against the Restoration Ship, budget… each ship not to exceed 4 million pounds."

Wang Wenwu did not touch the document.

"Your Excellency Dong Xiang," he said in Chinese, waiting for Xiao Ye to translate into Japanese, "Lanfang and the Japanese Empire currently have no formal diplomatic relations. A sale of this magnitude requires a top‑level political decision. I am only the Minister of Commerce and have no authority to decide."

Shan Ben Quan Bingei spoke up, his Japanese carrying a Tokyo accent, speaking rapidly: "Minister Wang, we can first discuss the technical details. Performance requirements, construction schedule, payment methods… once these are settled, the political side can be advanced."

"Without a political foundation, technical details are meaningless," Wang Wenwu said calmly, "and to be frank, a budget of 4 million pounds cannot purchase a ship of the same class as the Restoration Ship. Our construction cost exceeds that figure."

"Then how much would be acceptable?" Dong Xiang asked.

"Not for sale," Wang Wenwu said, looking straight into Dong Xiang's eyes, "the Restoration Ship and its sister ships are national assets of Lanfang and will not be sold to any country."

The room fell silent for a few seconds. Only the sound of Lieutenant Xiao Ye's pen scratching paper—he was taking shorthand notes.

Dong Xiang's fingers tapped lightly on the tabletop, at a very slow rhythm.

"Minister Wang, the Japanese Empire comes with sincerity. We know Lanfang needs funds and international recognition. We can provide these—large orders, diplomatic recognition, even support in Far East affairs."

"Lanfang's diplomatic recognition is not obtained through arms deals," Wang Wenwu said, "we rely on strength and principle."

"Principle?" Dong Xiang raised an eyebrow, "what principle?"

Wang Wenwu paused, switched back to Japanese—this time speaking slowly to ensure every word was clear:

"Lanfang's principle is: our warships will never fly the flag of a nation that once slaughtered our compatriots."

The words hung, and the air in the conference room solidified.

Shan Ben Quan Bingei's complexion changed. Lieutenant Xiao Ye's pen halted on the paper, the ink spreading into a small blot.

Only Dong Xiang's expression remained calm. He slowly reclined in his chair, hands crossed on his abdomen.

"Minister Wang, you are referring to… the First Sino‑Japanese War?"

"The Japanese call it the First Sino‑Japanese War; we call it the First Sino‑Japanese War." Wang Wenwu's voice grew cold, "Your Excellency Dong Xiang was then the captain of the vessel 'Naniwa,' participated in the Toyoshima Sea Battle, and sank the transport 'Kōshō.' Over 700 Qing soldiers aboard drowned. Do you remember?"

Dong Xiang was silent for a few seconds, then said, "That was war."

"War has its rules," Wang Wenwu leaned forward, "but what about the Port Arthur massacre? Four days, 20 000 civilians killed, streets piled with corpses. Is that also war?"

Shan Ben Quan Bingei could not help interjecting, "Those are unverified accusations—"

"My grandfather's younger brother was in Port Arthur," Wang Wenwu cut him off, "he was a merchant who ran a grocery shop. The day after the Japanese troops entered the city, he, his wife, two daughters, and a son all died in the shop. Their bodies were not discovered until a month later, already rotted beyond recognition."

He paused, looking at Dong Xiang, "Your Excellency Dong Xiang, you say that was war. Fine, even if it was war. But the war ended, Taiwan was annexed, Penghu was annexed, the indemnity of 230 million taels of silver broke the Qing's backbone. Is that also war?"

Dong Xiang did not avoid his gaze.

"Minister Wang, history is already past. The Japanese Empire now wishes to establish a new relationship with Lanfang."

"History will not pass," Wang Wenwu shook his head, "it is there, etched in every Chinese person's memory. Of Lanfang's 300 000 people, half came from the Qing. Their fathers and grandfathers experienced the First Sino‑Japanese War, the Eight‑Nation Alliance, and everything you did in the Northeast."

He stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to the Japanese.

"Your Excellency Dong Xiang, let me be frank. Lanfang can sell ships to Chile, can sell ships to Deguo, even to Yingguo. But Japan? No. This is not a price issue, not a technical issue, it is a matter of stance."

"What stance?"

Wang Wenwu turned around and said word for word:

"I am a Lanfang native, but in my bones I am Chinese. My roots are in Tangshan, in China. Some accounts can be temporarily ignored, but never forgotten. Lanfang's warships will never fly the Rising Sun flag."

The conference room was dead silent.

Shan Ben Quan Bingei's hand clenched into a fist under the table. Lieutenant Xiao Ye bowed his head, daring not to look at anyone.

Dong Xiang Pingbala slowly stood up. He was not tall, but when he stood straight there was an unspoken, dignified aura.

"Minister Wang, do these words represent the official stance of the Lanfang government?"

"They represent my personal stance, and also the stance of most Lanfang people," Wang Wenwu said, "as for the government's official stance… the President will meet you in person tomorrow. You can ask him directly."

Dong Xiang nodded, picked up the document on the table, slowly tore it in half, then into quarters. The torn pieces fell onto the tabletop like white petals.

"Then there is no need to continue the talks," he said, his voice calm, even a bit weary, "Xiao Ye, Shan Ben, let's go."

The three walked toward the doorway. Dong Xiang stopped at the door, did not look back, and said the final sentence:

"Minister Wang, you are a patriot. I respect patriots. But collisions between patriots are often the bloodiest. I hope Lanfang… be well prepared."