Chapter 299: Harvest Plan

At the same time, the Presidential Office Strategic Room.

Chen Feng stood before a massive East Asia map, a red pencil in his hand. The map was already marked with countless symbols: Lanfang's control zone in red, Yingguo's sphere in blue, Sakura Nation in white, Deguo in black, Faguo in purple, United States in green.

Wang Wenwu and Zhou Tieshan stood behind him.

"Gerard left?" Chen Feng asked.

"He left, looks angry," Wang Wenwu said.

"Anger is exactly what we need," Chen Feng drew a circle on the Sakura Nation islands with his pencil, "The angrier he is, the more effective our strategy proves. An emotional opponent is easier to handle than a calm one."

Zhou Tieshan asked, "President, are you really planning to do business with the Yingguo? How do we explain it to Deguo?"

"No explanation needed," Chen Feng turned, "I said, we are merchants. How can a merchant serve only one client? That would be too dangerous."

He walked to the desk, where several documents were spread out: "Look at these. The Yingguo Navy Department, through a Singaporean agent, inquired whether we can provide design plans for high‑speed torpedo boats. The Faguo Quartermaster Department sent people to approach our steel plant, wanting to buy special armored steel. Even the Americans came, asking if we sell diesel engine technology."

Wang Wenwu exclaimed, "I didn't know any of this."

"Because we haven't reached the formal contact stage," Chen Feng said, "but the probing has already begun. Europe has been at war for a year and a half, each country's stockpiles are depleting, industrial capacity is near its limit. They urgently need external replenishment."

He sat down, hands crossed on his chin, "This is our opportunity. No, it's more than an opportunity; it's our national strategy."

"What strategy?" Zhou Tieshan asked.

"Bidirectional blood‑transfusion strategy," Chen Feng's eyes lit up, "We simultaneously supply both warring sides with the resources, technology, even… manpower they desperately need. Deguo lacks troops; we send Sakura Nation soldiers there. The Yingguo lacks resources; we can sell them. As long as the price is right, we sell anything."

Wang Wenwu expressed some concern, "But this is walking a tightrope. What if both sides discover we're profiting on both ends…"

"Then let them find out," Chen Feng interrupted, "So what if they do? Would they dare offend the sole supplier at the same time? Europe now is like two people bleeding out, and we have blood packs in hand. They can refuse a transfusion, but then they only wait for death."

He stood, paced to the window, "The more brutal the war, the more secure our position. When they are exhausted, we will be the ones who can tip the scales."

Zhou Tieshan inhaled deeply, "President, this plan… is too crazy."

"Crazy?" Chen Feng smiled, "No, it's the most rational choice. You think why I spare no expense to develop the navy? Why I push industrial construction? It's so we have the right to sit at this table."

He returned to the map, tapping the European region with his finger, "Now the game has begun. Deguo is our first major client, but not the last. The Yingguo are angry today, but soon reality will make them bow. Anger can't be used as a Shell, can't be eaten as food."

The phone rang. Wang Wenwu answered, listened to a few sentences, and his complexion changed.

"President, Minister Liu Qinian of the Industry Department reports urgently. The Manhattan base's 'Kunpeng' prototype crashed during today's test flight; the pilot… died in the line of duty,"

The room fell silent instantly.

Chen Feng closed his eyes, opened them after a few seconds, "Notify the family with the highest‑grade compensation. Tell Liu Qinian to find the cause, improve the design, and continue test flights. The Air Force program cannot stop."

"Understood."

Zhou Tieshan whispered, "The cost is huge."

"Every advancement has a price," Chen Feng's voice was calm, "The pilot's life is a price; every step on this risky road costs something. But if we don't take this road, the price is greater—being forever trampled underfoot, forever watching others' moods."

He walked to the liquor cabinet, poured three glasses, and handed them to Wang Wenwu and Zhou Tieshan.

"To the 'Kunpeng' that crashed today, and to all who have paid the price for this country," he raised his glass, "And to ourselves, because we chose the hardest path." (He omitted a toast to the fallen Sakura Nation soldiers.)

The three drank it in one gulp.

The drink was bitter, but after swallowing, a fire ignited in his chest.

"Alright, back to business," Chen Feng set down his glass, "Issue a formal order to the Industry Department: 'Harvest Plan' enters Phase Two. The technology Deguo provides, I want fully assimilated within a year, becoming our own. The optics plant, special steel plant, engine plant—expand all production."

"What about funding?" Wang Wenwu asked.

"Use the money the Deguo pay," Chen Feng said, "They pay for our weapons; we use that money to develop industry, then produce better weapons and sell them back. A perfect cycle."

Zhou Tieshan laughed, "President, you really are…"

"A real profiteer?" Chen Feng also laughed, "Maybe. But in this world, good people rarely live long. I want Chinese to survive, to thrive, to live so that no one dares to look down on us. For that, I don't mind being a profiteer."

He looked out the window; night had deepened, yet Dubai's lights remained bright. The city's rise is a microcosm of the nation—miracles forged in desert, paths carved in desperation.

"Minister Wang, starting tomorrow, you will proactively approach the Yingguo Governor in Singapore. Hint that we are willing to discuss certain 'business collaborations.' But remember, the posture must be lofty; we are giving them an opportunity, not begging them,"

"Minister Zhou, the navy continues to intensify training. Those four new ships, I want all launched within twelve months. If funds are insufficient, tell me, and I'll earn them,"

Both stood at attention simultaneously, "Yes!"

Chen Feng waved his hand, letting them leave. Alone, he walked to the balcony and lit a cigarette.

The night breeze was cool, dispersing the day's heat. On the distant sea, merchant ship lights moved—that was a Lanfang vessel, carrying cargo, hope, and also blood and death, sailing toward every corner of the world.

He recalled Gerard's angry gaze, the weary face of Xiyuan Si Gongwang, and the excited smile of Wilhelm II.

Everyone is playing their part in this massive chess game. Some are pieces, some are players, and Lanfang… will be the one setting the rules.

The cigarette burned to the tip, scorching his finger. Chen Feng flicked the butt into the sea, watching the red flare trace an arc in the darkness before fading.

Back in the office, he opened his diary and recorded today's entry:

"January 14, 1916. The British came to protest, returned empty‑handed. They were angry but powerless. This is the voice of power.

"Gerard is a typical old‑empire officer; he cannot grasp our logic. In his world, nations are only friends or enemies. In my world, there are only clients and potential clients."