Chapter 137: Defense Industry

"Second, we can provide design consulting for the 'Restoration'-class battlecruiser," Chen Feng noted Mueller's eyebrows raise, "not the full blueprints, but solutions to key technical nodes—such as armor layout optimization, fire‑control system integration, power‑room arrangement, and so on."

"That's... generous," Mueller said cautiously, "what's the price?"

"The price is that Deguo must provide a £35 million loan, five‑year term, at an annual interest of 2.8%."

Mueller inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. "I need to consult Berlin. But from what I know of Your Majesty... he will agree. Especially the submarine part. Admiral Tirpitz has always believed that submarines are the best asymmetric weapon to challenge Yingguo's sea power."

"And the loan?" Chen Feng asked.

"Thirty million," Mueller said. "Your Majesty prefers round numbers; thirty million sounds neater than thirty‑five million. An interest of 2.8% is acceptable. Repayment can be offset with armaments—if war truly breaks out, you supply weapons, we cancel the debt."

Chen Feng extended his hand: "Deal."

The two hands clasped. Mueller's palm was rough and strong, the mark of years steering a wheel; Chen Feng's hand was long and steady, more like an engineer or scholar.

"One more thing," Mueller said after releasing his hand, "about Japan."

Chen Feng sat back down: "Please, go on."

"Our informants in London report that Japanese Navy Minister Yamamoto Gokenbei is operating in Britain. He spent a full week at Barrow Shipyard inspecting the construction of the 'Diamond' ship," Mueller lit his cigar, the smoke rising slowly in the study, "the British may transfer some technology to Japan in exchange for Japan's containment of you in the Far East."

"I know," Chen Feng said calmly, "we have reports from Singapore."

"You aren't worried?"

"Does worrying help?" Chen Feng retorted, "Japan plans to build four Diamond-class ships; we intend to build four Bismarck Class (renaming feels a bit chaotic). This is an arms race we can't avoid. All we can do is make the Bismarck Class stronger than the Diamond Class and get them into service earlier."

Mueller smiled, a camaraderie only soldiers understand. "You are very direct, Mr. Chen. I like that style. So..." he raised his glass, "to the competition between the Bismarck Class and the Diamond Class?"

"To the competition," Chen Feng clinked his glass with his, "but more importantly, to our respective motherlands."

By the time the drink was finished, it was eleven p. m. Chen Feng rose to take his leave, and Mueller escorted him to the door.

"Mr. Chen, one final question," Mueller said suddenly in the corridor, "Do you truly believe a war will break out between Yingguo and Deguo?"

Chen Feng halted, looking at the German Navy Rear Admiral. In the dim light, Mueller's face appeared older than his years, his eyes filled with deep worry.

"Rear Admiral, I am a businessman," Chen Feng said slowly, "but I have read history. When two great powers both believe they must win and that they can win, war becomes hard to avoid."

"Which side do you stand on?"

"I stand on Lanfang's side," Chen Feng said clearly. "We sell weapons, but we don't sell our stance. We make friends, but we don't form alliances. What we want is simple—return home, return to Borneo. Until then, anyone who blocks our path is an enemy; anyone who paves the way for us is a friend."

Mueller nodded, saying nothing further.

The black sedan pulled out of the consulate, merging into Dubai's night. Chen Feng leaned against the seat, closed his eyes. Wang Bo sat in the passenger seat, glanced at him through the rearview mirror, and asked softly:

"Young Master, was the deal done?"

"It was," Chen Feng said without opening his eyes, "thirty‑million Deguo loan, 2.8% interest. Add the £80 million from Yingguo and France, total £110 million."

Wang Bo inhaled a sharp breath of cold air. "That much money..."

"Is it too much?" Chen Feng opened his eyes, looking at the street scene flashing by outside. Under the streetlights, newly built workers' housing blocks were neatly arranged, some windows still lit. "Four Bismarck Class ships cost forty million, dock expansion twenty‑five million, steel‑plant upgrade fifteen million, army expansion ten million... the remainder just covers immigration settlement for the next three years."

He paused, his voice lowering.

"Wang Bo, you say, five years from now, if we truly can't repay, handing the Hud Class blueprints to Yingguo and France—would that be a breach of faith?"

Wang Bo remained silent for a long time. "Young Master, I, an old man, don't grasp such grand principles. But I know that when the Dutch came thirty years ago, they didn't keep their word with us."

Chen Feng smiled, his smile bearing fatigue and resolve.

"Indeed. International politics never has fairy tales."

As the car entered the administrative building's courtyard, Chen Feng suddenly said, "Starting tomorrow, I will spend two hours each day at the dock. I will personally monitor the Bismarck Class progress."

"Yes, Young Master."

"Also, send a telegram to the Shanghai station. Tell them to closely monitor the Wuhan situation. I have a feeling... it's near."

"What's near?"

"A storm that will change China's destiny," Chen Feng pushed open the car door, the night wind slapping his face, salty with sea water, "and we must finish building the ships before the storm arrives."

July 25 in Dubai, the temperature rose to 41 °C. Yet in the Revival Hall, the air‑conditioning ran at full blast, keeping it a comfortable 22 °C. At nine a. m., the hall was already packed—with journalists from various countries, diplomats, Lanfang government officials, and specially invited business representatives.

Above the podium hung a massive Yellow Dragon flag, and on both sides a red‑field, gold‑letter banner read: "Equality and mutual benefit, joint development." The long table was covered with dark‑green velvet cloth, bearing a trilingual (Chinese, English, French) conference sign.

Chen Feng sat in the chief seat, with Wang Wenwu on his left and Consul Howard on his right. Dupont sat beside Howard, quietly confirming something with the translator.

Below the stage, the click of shutters rose and fell. Reporters from London's The Times, Paris's Le Figaro, and Berlin's Berlin Daily held vintage cameras, their flashbulbs flickering, puffing out clouds of white smoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen," host Li Mingyuan stepped up to the podium; he is a director in the Ministry of Commerce, fluent in English, "today we are here to witness the historic signing of a financial cooperation agreement between the Republic of Lanfang, the British Empire, and the French Republic."

Applause rose, not fervent but suitably formal.

Howard was the first to rise and speak. He wore a formal black tuxedo, an Imperial medal pinned to his chest, his hair meticulously groomed.

"I am honored to represent the British Empire government in signing this milestone agreement with the Republic of Lanfang," his Oxford accent echoed through the hall, "the £5,000 loan not only reflects Yingguo's confidence in Lanfang's development, but also stands as solid proof of the two nations' friendly relations..."

Chen Feng listened quietly, maintaining a proper smile. His gaze occasionally swept the audience, spotting a few familiar faces—Liu Yongfu seated in the third row, sketching something on a notebook, likely a technical diagram; Zhou Nian leaning on a cane, his expression solemn; Li Te in a navy rear admiral uniform, his back straight.

"... We believe this funding will boost Lanfang's industrialization, promoting regional prosperity and stability," Howard concluded, applause rising again.

It was Chen Feng's turn. As he rose, the camera clicks below erupted into a din.

"Thank you, Consul Howard, thank you, Consul Dupont," Chen Feng began in Chinese, then switched to English, "Many years ago, when we set foot on this land, many asked: will you survive? Today we can answer: we not only survived, we will also build and develop."

He paused briefly, allowing the interpreter to keep up.

"This loan is of great significance to Lanfang. It will be used to build more schools so our children receive better education; to construct more hospitals so patients receive timely care; to expand ports and railways so trade flows more smoothly; and, of course, to develop the necessary defense industry, protecting the hard‑won peace of our construction environment."

A slight stir rose among the audience. Several British reporters quickly jotted down the term "defense industry."