Chapter 382: Worth It

Berlin, the Foreign Ministry Guesthouse.

Wang Wenwu sat on the sofa in the room, a glass of red wine in his hand but untouched. Outside, the rain sounded like a waterfall, and the street lamps blurred into clusters of light through the curtain of water. It was already ten o'clock at night, Distance since he left Wuyou Palace, seven hours have passed.

He was waiting.

Waiting for Berlin's decision, waiting for the Emperor's reply, waiting for the final outcome of this deal.

Chen Feng had told him before he left: "Wilhelm II will hesitate, will haggle, but will eventually agree. Because he has no better option. The key is not that he agrees, but how quickly he does so. If he consents within forty‑eight hours, it shows he's been forced into a corner, and we can raise the price. If he drags his feet, it shows he still has other options, and we need to adjust our strategy."

Now, half the time has passed.

A knock sounded. It wasn't the rhythm of a servant.

Wang Wenwu set down his glass: "Please come in."

The one who entered was Schmidt, the Foreign Ministry liaison officer. He shed his raincoat, water still dripping from his hair, and his complexion looked a bit pale under the room's dim light.

"Mr. Wang, sorry to disturb you so late." Schmidt's voice was a little hurried, "Your Majesty… wishes to see you once more. Now."

"Now?" Wang Wenwu glanced at the clock on the wall, "Ten past ten."

"Yes. The car is already waiting downstairs." Schmidt paused, lowering his voice, "Your Majesty did not consult the Navy Department, but directly summoned the heads of the Finance Ministry, the General Staff Department and the Ordnance Bureau for a meeting. The meeting lasted four hours and has just ended."

Wang Wenwu felt a stir in his mind. Not consulting the Navy Department—this meant Wilhelm II had already anticipated Tirpitz's opposition and decided to bypass him.

"Result of the meeting?"

"I don't know the details." Schmidt shook his head, "But when Your Majesty asked me to fetch you, he said, 'Tell Mr. Wang we can negotiate, but the terms need adjustment.'"

Negotiable. That's the most important signal.

Wang Wenwu stood, straightened his suit, and said, "Let's go."

The rainy Berlin streets were empty and desolate. A Mercedes sedan rolled over the slick cobblestones, wheels splashing water, the wipers moving at a steady rhythm across the windshield. Wang Wenwu looked out and occasionally saw a patrol of soldiers pass, their steel helmets glinting coldly under the streetlights.

The capital in wartime remained on edge even in the dead of night.

The sedan entered the side gate of Wuyou Palace; this time it did not go to the main building but headed to a small reception room in the western wing. The room was modest in size but lavishly decorated—Persian carpet, crystal chandelier, portraits of successive Hohenzollern emperors hanging on the wall. A fire burned in the fireplace, dispelling the chill of the rainy night.

Wilhelm II was already waiting there. He had changed into civilian clothes—a deep‑red velvet robe over a white shirt and black vest, looking less imposing than in the afternoon and more weary.

"Mr. Wang, please sit." Wilhelm gestured to the sofa opposite the fireplace, "Would you like something to drink? Brandy or tea?"

"Tea, please. Thank you, Your Majesty."

A servant brought the tea set. Wilhelm waved his hand for everyone to leave; the reception room was left with just the two of them. The firelight danced on their faces, casting flickering shadows on the wall.

"Let's be direct." Wilhelm lifted his own brandy glass, "I want two Bismarck Class ships. But the price needs adjustment."

"Your Majesty, please speak."

"First, offset one ship with a loan; that's fine." Wilhelm took a sip, "Second, installment payment for the other ship: a twenty‑percent down payment is acceptable, but the post‑war payment period must be extended to fifteen years, with an annual interest rate not exceeding three percent."

Wang Wenwu did quick mental math. Fifteen years after the war at three percent annual interest meant Lanfang would have to wait fifteen years to recover the full amount, and the interest was low. It was a classic delaying tactic—if Deguo's post‑war economy recovered, the money would be trivial; if Deguo were defeated, it might never be collected.

"Agreed." He replied, "But we need collateral. Use the customs revenue from Deguo's African colonies as security."

Wilhelm frowned, "That's impossible. Colonial tax revenue is a vital source of the empire's finances…"

"Then use something else as collateral." Wang Wenwu said calmly, "Or raise the down‑payment ratio to thirty percent."

The two locked eyes. The firewood in the fireplace crackled.

"Twenty‑five percent." Wilhelm finally said, "Colonial tax revenue cannot be touched, but we can use the special trade rights of Hanseatic League cities as collateral."

The Hanseatic League—a union of Germany's traditional commercial cities with a special status in foreign trade. Using it as collateral meant Lanfang could later bypass certain trade barriers.

"Agreed." Wang Wenwu nodded, "Now the third point? The portion of gold for interest payment."

"Twenty‑million pounds of gold… that's too much." He set down his glass, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the edge of his robe.

"And Your Majesty's suggestion?"

"Five million." Wilhelm said, "And paid in installments—one million per year, cleared over five years."

Wang Wenwu shook his head, "Your Majesty, the gap is too large. President Chen Feng gave me a bottom line of fifteen million, and it must be a spot‑payment. The plan you propose… I cannot report to the President."

"Then twelve million." Wilhelm leaned forward, his gaze sharpening, "Paid in three installments: four million at signing, another four million upon delivery, and the final sum after the war. That's the limit I can accept."

Wang Wenwu fell silent. He was contemplating, weighing options. Twelve million was three hundred thousand less than Chen Feng's bottom line, but it would secure eight million in spot gold. The four million after the war… might not be recoverable, yet it wasn't entirely hopeless.

More importantly, he needed this deal to succeed. Chen Feng wanted not only gold but also Deguo's goodwill, the future influence in Europe.

"I need to consult the President," he said finally.

"Of course." Wilhelm reclined against the sofa, "But please be quick. My patience is limited."

Wang Wenwu stood, "May I use the Foreign Ministry's telegram room?"

"Schmidt will take you there." Wilhelm also stood, extending his hand to Wang Wenwu, "Mr. Wang, I hope we can reach an agreement. Deguo and Lanfang have many areas for cooperation, not just this transaction."

The words were loaded with meaning. Wang Wenwu grasped the emperor's hand, "I hope the same, Your Majesty."

Schmidt escorted him to the Foreign Ministry's telegram room. Wang Wenwu drafted an Encrypted Telegram, detailing the negotiation progress and Wilhelm's counter‑offer. The telegram was sent to Dubai; in theory it would take several hours to receive a reply—but Chen Feng had granted him discretionary authority.

The key lay in what Chen Feng wanted.

Wang Wenwu sat in the lounge outside the telegram room, watching the clock on the wall. The second hand ticked tick by tick, time slipping away in the silence. He recalled the words Chen Feng had said before leaving Dubai:

"Remember, gold is important, but not the most important. The most important thing is to make Deguo owe us goodwill, to make Wilhelm II feel that, at a critical moment, only Lanfang can help him. That is a decade's worth of political capital."

Goodwill.

Political capital.

Twelve million gold, plus the loan offset, plus future trade privileges, plus the German emperor's goodwill…

Worth it.