Chapter 256: Treaty Signing

Wang Wenwu stood up and walked to the center of the long table. There, two documents had already been laid out—one Chinese, one Japanese, each forty pages thick, tied with red silk ribbon.

"According to the negotiation results, the main contents of the Lanfang Republic–Sakura Nation Peace Treaty are as follows," Wang Wenwu began to read, his voice devoid of any emotion:

"Article One: The Sakura Nation Empire acknowledges the Lanfang Republic's complete sovereignty over Borneo and relinquishes all historical rights and claims in that region."

"Article Three: The Sakura Nation Empire shall pay compensation of five hundred million Japanese yen (pre‑devaluation), to be paid in full over twelve years, with an annual interest of three percent."

"Article Four: The total tonnage of the Sakura Nation Empire's navy shall not exceed one hundred thousand tons, and the tonnage of any single ship shall not exceed eight thousand tons. Existing vessels that exceed the limits must be retired or retrofitted within five years."

"Article Five: The Sakura Nation Empire shall open the ports of Nagasaki, Yokohama, Osaka, and Kobe as trade ports, granting Lanfang the most‑favoured‑nation treatment for its goods…"

Wang Wenwu read the articles one by one. With each article, the faces of the Sakura Nation delegation grew paler. Shan Ben Quanbingwei's clenched fist rested under the table, his nails digging into his palm, oozing fine threads of blood. Si Nei Zhengyi closed his eyes, as if silently reciting sutras. Only Dong Xiang Pingbalang kept his eyes open, listening calmly, his face showing no expression.

When they reached Article Fifteen—Lanfang guarantees the Sakura Nation's domestic security, provided the Sakura Nation strictly adheres to this treaty—Dong Xiang nodded slightly. It was the only consolation he had managed to secure yesterday.

Twenty minutes later, Wang Wenwu finished reading all the clauses. The hall fell silent, broken only by the occasional click of a camera shutter.

"Now," Chen Feng said, "please have the chief representatives of both sides sign."

The staff stepped forward, untied the silk ribbons on the documents, and turned to the final page. The state seals of both parties were already affixed, leaving only the signatures.

Si Nei Zhengyi inhaled deeply, picked up the "jade brush". When the tip dipped into the inkstone, his hand trembled even more, and ink dripped onto the edge of the document, spreading into a small blot.

He stared at the ink blot for a few seconds, then looked up at Chen Feng: "Mr. President, before signing… may I say a final sentence?"

"Please."

Si Nei stood up. The sixty‑three‑year‑old elder now appeared unusually frail, his back slightly stooped, yet his voice was strikingly clear:

"I, Si Nei Zhengyi, in my capacity as Grand Minister of the Sakura Nation Empire's Cabinet, sign this treaty on behalf of the Sakura Nation government. I am fully aware that this treaty will bring profound suffering to the Sakura Nation, causing countless citizens to endure humiliation. Yet I also know that if we do not sign, the suffering will be greater and the humiliation deeper."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone present: "Every line written here today will become a mark in history. I hope that future generations, when they read this history, will understand—we are not cowardly, not incompetent. We are, in a desperate situation, choosing the only path that lets the nation survive."

His voice choked: "For this, I am willing to bear all the vilification, to become history's sinner. I only ask… I only ask that the Sakura Nation may live on. I only ask that, someday in the future, our descendants need not bear today's shame again."

Having finished, he bowed deeply.

The hall was dead silent. Even the reporters forgot to press the shutter.

Chen Feng watched Si Nei quietly, for a long time. Then he spoke, his voice soft yet clearly heard by everyone:

"Prime Minister, history will remember your decision today—it is what kept the Sakura Nation alive."

Si Nei straightened, tears already glistening in his eyes. He no longer hesitated, leaned forward, lifted his brush, and signed his name on the document.

The handwriting trembled but was legible: Si Nei Zhengyi.

After signing, he seemed drained of all strength, slumped back into his chair, and the "jade brush" slipped from his hand, rolling to the edge of the table where a staff member carefully picked it up.

It was Shan Ben Quanbingwei's turn.

The Naval Minister rose, his movements stiff as a robot. He did not use the brush Si Nei had brought; instead he drew a plain steel pen from his pocket—a pen his father had left him, his father having been a navy officer during the household war.

He opened the document and found the Naval Minister's co‑signature line. The pen tip hovered over the paper, lingering without touching.

Everyone's eyes were fixed on his hand. The pen trembled, violently trembling.

"Shan Ben," Dong Xiang Pingbalang suddenly said, his voice low but carrying an undeniable authority, "sign."

Shan Ben turned his head sharply toward Dong Xiang. The elder's gaze was calm, yet deep within lay something—not a command, not a plea, but a deeper, transcendent thing beyond personal honor or shame.

Shan Ben closed his eyes. Two tears slid from the corners of his eyes, down his cheeks, landing on the document and smearing beside the words "Naval Minister".

Then he opened his eyes, leaned forward, and signed. The pen tip scratched the paper, producing a rustling sound, as if crying.

Shan Ben Quanbingwei.

Finally came Dong Xiang Pingbalang. The elder held no military rank, but as plenipotentiary he also needed to co‑sign.

He took up a brush—the most ordinary writing brush, with freshly ground ink. He did not hesitate, did not tremble, and smoothly signed his name:

Dong Xiang Pingbalang.

The script was robust and forceful, nothing like the hand of a sixty‑seven‑year‑old man.

After signing, he set the brush down, looked at Chen Feng: "President, it's your turn."

Chen Feng nodded. The staff passed the document to him. He did not use a brush but a Montblanc steel pen—German‑made, a gift from William II.

He opened the document, found his spot, and smoothly signed:

Chen Feng.

Then Wang Wenwu, as Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs, added his co‑signature.

The whole process took less than ten minutes. When the final stroke was laid, a low sigh rose in the hall—someone finally exhaled in relief.

The staff exchanged the documents. Each side collected its own copy.

Wang Wenwu announced: "According to the treaty, it takes effect the moment both parties exchange texts. Immediate cease‑fire, restoration of navigation, and lifting of the blockade."

Chen Feng stood and walked to Si Nei Zhengyi, extending his hand.

Si Nei looked at the outstretched hand, hesitated for a second, then grasped it. The hand was cold, trembling, like holding a block of ice.

"Prime Minister," Chen Feng said, "the war is over. I hope that from today onward, our two nations can walk toward a peaceful future."

Si Nei forced a smile: "Hope so."

But he knew peace had arrived, yet the future… was still far, far away.