Chapter 124: Government Work Report 2

Chen Feng nodded, "Cultural infiltration lasts longer than military infiltration. What about Penang?"

"Penang is easier," Wang Wenwu said, "There Chinese make up sixty percent, and Yingguo's rule is relatively lax. We plan to open a 'Lanfang Bank Penang Branch', offering low‑interest loans to Chinese merchants. At the same time we'll build a 'Chinese Cultural Center', organizing reading clubs, opera performances, and martial‑arts training."

"Budget?"

"Singapore will invest eight hundred thousand pounds in the first year, Penang five hundred thousand, Batavia three hundred thousand. A total of one million six hundred thousand pounds."

"Approved," Chen Feng signed the document. "But pay attention to the method—people must not see it as an official act. Everything should be carried out through civilian organizations."

"Understood."

Chen Feng turned to Liu Yongfu, "In deepening industry, what's the focus?"

Liu Yongfu adjusted his glasses. "Automobiles. Deguo's Mercedes company is willing to cooperate technologically; we provide capital and market, they provide technology and engineers. We plan to build a car factory in Dubai, with an annual capacity of five thousand vehicles. The first year we'll produce trucks and buses, the second year passenger cars."

"How long until we are fully independent?"

"Three years," Liu Yongfu said. "First year we'll assemble, second year we'll produce some parts, third year we'll achieve self‑production of engines and gearboxes. The blueprints you gave, President… our engineers have studied them; the design Concept is ahead of its time, but the craftsmanship demands are too high and need time to digest."

Chen Feng gave him the "blueprints," which are a simplified version of 1930s automobile technology—assembly‑line production, all‑steel body, six‑cylinder engine. For 1910, that's a dimensionality‑reduction strike.

"Then proceed according to the plan," Chen Feng said. "What about the agricultural machinery plant?"

"Site has been selected; construction starts March next year," Liu Yongfu turned to the next page. "We'll mainly produce small tractors, water pumps, and grain threshers. Goal: within three years raise the mechanization rate of the Persian Gulf agricultural reclamation zone to thirty percent."

"Home appliances?"

"The electric fan factory will start production next month; electric irons and electric stoves are under development. But the biggest problem—" Liu Yongfu paused, "ordinary people can't afford electricity. Our electricity rates are still too high."

Zhou Nian took over, "Electrification takes time. Now the city's power coverage is only thirty‑five percent, rural areas under five percent. To raise it to fifty percent will require at least two more years, with an investment of three million pounds."

"Invest," Chen Feng said. "Electricity isn't a luxury; it's a necessity. Without electricity there's no modern industry, no modern life."

He signed the electricity budget and turned to Li Te, "What about the navy?"

【9】 Li Te sat up straight. "The Restoration Ship and the Revival Ship are in good condition and can be deployed at any time. New‑ship plan: in 1911 start construction of two South Ocean‑class battleships, to be commissioned by the end of 1913. Additionally, we need at least six cruisers and twelve destroyers to control the South Ocean shipping lane."

Li Te sat up straight: "The Restoration Ship and the Revival Ship are in good condition and can be deployed at any time. New ship program: two South Ocean-class battleships to begin construction in 1911, entering service by the end of 1913. Additionally, we need at least six cruisers and twelve destroyers to control the South Ocean shipping lanes."

"Budget?"

"Two South Ocean‑class ships: twelve million pounds. Cruisers and destroyers: eight million pounds. Total twenty million pounds, to be invested over three years."

Chen Feng calculated quickly, "Will the military‑budget share be too high?"

"It's a necessary investment," Li Te said. "Without sea‑control, our merchant ships can't go out, immigrant ships can't come in, and returning home is just talk. The Dutch East India fleet now has fifteen capital ships; although old, their number is seven times ours. The Yingguo Far‑East fleet is even more beyond mention."

"Then invest," Chen Feng signed, "but I want efficiency—every penny must become combat power."

"Understood."

Finally Zhou Nian asked, "For infrastructure construction, what are the priorities for the next three years?"

"Three: an airport, a deep‑water port, and strategic roads." Zhou Nian marked several points on the map. "The airport will be inland to prevent sea attacks. The deep‑water port must accommodate a hundred‑kiloton fleet—for preparing to go home. The strategic roads connect all key facilities, allowing rapid mobilization in wartime."

"Budget?"

"Airport: two million pounds. Deep‑water port: three million pounds. Strategic roads: two point five million pounds. Total seven point five million pounds."

Chen Feng finished signing all the documents, leaned back in his chair, and massaged his temples. Three years, another three years, massive investment, massive risk.

"President," Wang Bo said softly, "You're tired; would you like to rest?"

"Not tired." Chen Feng waved his hand. "Wang Bo, have the population forecasts been done?"

Wang Bo opened a notebook; the characters were written in neat small regular script, as tidy as printed text:

"Based on current trends, by the end of 1911 we expect 1.9 million people, by the end of 1912 2.3 million, by the end of 1913… possibly surpassing 2.8 million."

"Immigration sources?"

"Mainly the Fujian‑Guangdong coastal regions, making up seventy percent. South Ocean Chinese account for twenty percent, the rest are from the north. Arab‑descended peoples grow naturally with a small influx, projected to reach about fifty thousand by 1913."

"Will housing keep up?"

"According to the plan, we'll build ten thousand units each year, which can meet basic needs. But to give everyone a good home… at least another five years."

Chen Feng fell silent for a moment. One point five million people, two point eight million after three years, possibly four million after five. So many people follow him, staking their lives, homes, and futures on him.

The pressure is like a mountain.

"Wang Bo," he suddenly asked, "You say, have we taken the right road?"

The elder put down his pen, thought seriously, then said, "Young Master, I'm too old to grasp such grand principles. But I know that three years ago we had 460,000 people, now 1.52 million. Three years ago we had eight small shipyards, now we have ten large and fifteen medium ones. Three years ago the foreigners didn't give us a proper look; now their generals have to negotiate with us."

He paused:

"Whether this road is right, I don't know. But this road has kept us alive, and we're getting better. That, to me, is right."

Chen Feng smiled, his eyes a little warm. He looked at the others, "What about you? Tired?"

"Tired," Liu Yongfu said frankly. "Three years without a full day off. But it's worth it. Seeing the ship I designed launch, the gun I built hit the target—that feeling… not even an emperor could trade it away."

"I'm tired too," Zhou Nian patted his injured leg. "But thinking of the brothers who died on the construction sites, my fatigue is nothing. I have to watch for them, watch what we're building."

Li Te said, "Navy personnel are even more tired. But every time the Restoration Ship goes to sea, foreign warships only dare to follow from a distance, never getting close— that feeling is also worth it."

Wang Wenwu concluded, "I'm tired, but excited. Every negotiation, every contract signed, every time I see money hit the account… that feeling of building a country from nothing to something is more addictive than anything."

Chen Feng looked at them, the people who have followed him since the thirty‑tent era. Three years, they've aged, they're tired, but there is light.

"Alright," he said. "Then we'll work another three years. After three years, we'll bring everyone home."

The clock on the wall struck.

Dang—Dang—Dang—

It was twelve o'clock.

1911 arrived.