Chapter 246: Negotiations

Shanben bowed deeply: "I understand."

"That's good," Sinei patted his shoulder lightly, "Go rest. Tomorrow we head to Manila; we may still have to deal with reporters—though I've ordered the Foreign Ministry to block the news as much as possible, there will always be some that slip through."

Shanben nodded but did not move. He watched Sinei's staggered silhouette returning to the cabin and suddenly felt that silhouette had become unnaturally aged.

The sea wind blew, carrying the humid heat unique to tropical oceans. In the distance, a flock of gulls circled, emitting sharp cries.

Shanben lifted his head, looking south. At the far edge of his sight, where sea met sky, there was nothing—no land, no ships, only endless water and sky.

And they, in this emptiness, drifted slowly toward an unknown fate.

He suddenly recalled what Dongxiang Pingbaluo had said yesterday:

"What we lose at sea must be reclaimed at sea. But not by the same means—by new means, by ways belonging to the new era."

New ways… what are they?

Shanben did not know. He only knew that the old ways had utterly failed. The things they had revered for forty years—big‑ship cannons, fleet decisive battles, the samurai spirit—were shown in a battle in the East Sea to be outdated.

He turned and walked back to the cabin. Passing Dongxiang's room, he saw through the doorway the old man bent over his desk, the kerosene lamp light reflecting on his graying hair, casting a trembling shadow on the rough paper.

Shanben did not disturb him, and quietly returned to his own berth.

Lying on the bed, the hull swayed gently with the waves, like a baby's cradle. Yet he could not sleep, his eyes fixed on the low ceiling, where yellow stains from water formed an abstract map.

On the map, the Cherry Blossom Nation was tiny—very tiny.

And the world was vast—very vast.

Dongxiang Pingbaluo's logbook:

Taisho 3, November 5, South Sea, Batavia

Day 8 of the voyage. The ship passed the western shore of Luzon Island; the sea color shifted from deep blue to emerald green. In shallow water, coral reef shadows were visible, like underwater mountains.

At dawn, dolphins chased the waves, dozens moving together, occasionally leaping, their silver‑gray backs flashing in the sunrise. The crew told me dolphin sightings foretell good weather and a safe journey. May it be so.

Conversation with Shanben on the deck. Though this young man has suffered a heavy setback, his will remains unbroken, and he still bears responsibility. If the Imperial Navy is to survive, it will depend on people like him. Yet his eyes are clouded, reminiscent of my own after the defeat in the Qing Beiyang Fleet exercises years ago. Knowing defeat without knowing its cause, knowing lag without knowing its source—this is the most lamentable.

In the afternoon I played chess with Prime Minister Sinei. The prime minister's style was steady, but he overthought; each move was deliberated repeatedly, costing the larger game. Mid‑game, he suddenly pushed his piece and sighed, "The board still has moves, but state affairs have no moves left." I replied, "The board has nineteen lines and three hundred sixty‑one intersections; every point can be a battlefield. State affairs are the same." The prime minister fell silent.

In truth I too do not know the way out; I can only console myself with those words.

At night I observed the heavens; the Southern Cross was clearly visible. I recalled my youth, when I first sailed in the South Pacific and saw this star, excitement keeping me awake. The instructor rebuked me: "Stars guide navigation, not for admiration." In hindsight, the instructor was wrong. If stars were not beautiful, why would they inspire? If sailing lacked a spirit of exploration, how would it differ from canal transport?

Has Japan's forty years of navigation retained an exploratory spirit? Perhaps, but it has gradually succumbed to utilitarianism. Shipbuilding for hegemony, training troops to erase shame—everything is superficial. By contrast, Lanfang, I heard, established a naval academy at the founding of the nation, hiring German and British instructors, yet set its own curriculum, stating: "Learn technique without learning thought; practice tactics without studying strategy." I did not understand at first; now I grasp it partially.

Technique can be learned, thought must grow; tactics can be practiced, strategy must be created. We have studied the West for forty years, learning its skills, practicing its arts, yet our thought and strategy are mere copies, lacking anything original. This is the root of our defeat.

The Batavia's engine rumbled heavily, the hull shaking nonstop. The Dutch captain laughed, "This ship is old, just like me." I asked, "If it's old, why does it still sail?" The captain replied, "The sea does not mind an old ship; it only despises a coward."

Witty.

Writing this, my ink is nearly spent. Tomorrow we reach Manila and will see more Western vessels, more national flags. Observe carefully what differs between Lanfang's ships and Western ships.

Also: this morning, washing my face, I saw more white hair in the mirror. Sixty‑seven years old, old indeed. Yet my heart is not old; I still wish to see the shape of the new era.

Even if that shape was created by those who defeated us.

【Navigation Data Comparison – November 5】

Lanfang delegation – Fuxing battlecruiser:

Position: 87°15′ E, 5°33′ N (central Indian Ocean)

Speed: 22 knots

Distance traveled: 2,800 nautical miles covered, 1,200 nautical miles remaining

Estimated arrival: November 15

Onboard status: all crew healthy, provisions ample, fresh water ample, Fuel ample

Communications: daily contact with Di, signal clear

Japanese delegation – Batavia merchant ship:

Position: 120°48′ E, 18°12′ N (west of Luzon Island)

Speed: 11 knots

Distance traveled: 1,500 nautical miles covered, 2,500 nautical miles remaining

Estimated arrival: November 22 (if no delay)

Onboard status: Prime Minister Sinei seasick, many unwell; provisions scarce, fresh water limited; Fuel nearly exhausted, needs replenishment in Manila

Communications: telegram possible once every three days, signal intermittent

Currents and weather:

Fuxing route: with Indian Ocean monsoon currents, weather clear, sea conditions good

Batavia route: against South Sea monsoon, occasional squalls, sea conditions moderate

Symbolic significance index (Intelligence Department analysis):

Ship comparison: 40,000‑ton battleship vs 6,000‑ton old merchant ship

Speed comparison: 22 knots vs 11 knots

Condition comparison: composed confidence vs fatigued distress

Psychological expectation gap: expected to peak at the start of negotiations

The Kundian International Conference Center sits on the Kapuas Riverbank, a three‑story white marble building glowing ivory in the morning light. Completed less than two years ago, it was built by Lanfang to host the inaugural "South Ocean Economic and Trade Forum," blending Greek columns with South Ocean arcade style; now it will witness another piece of history.

At six a. m., Marine Corps soldiers were already in position. Every ten meters along the conference center's perimeter they manned a post, wearing white steel helmets, khaki tropical uniforms, bayonet blades on their rifles glinting coldly in the dawn. Further away, two armored vehicles rested silently at the intersection, their turrets turning slowly, scanning all directions.

Chen Feng stood before the floor‑to‑ceiling window on the third floor, a cup of black coffee in hand, overlooking it all. He wore a dark‑gray suit without a tie—an intentional casualness, conveying that this is not an equal diplomatic meeting, but the victor receiving surrender.