Chapter 427: The British Empire

Belfort snuffed out his cigarette and said, "So, the final decision: King Your Majesty will travel to Cairo to meet Chen Feng. The Navy Department will handle security and itinerary along the way. The core agenda of the meeting: first, where is the boundary of Lanfang's relationship with Deguo? Second, what is Lanfang's attitude in the Far East, especially toward the Sakura Nation? Third, is Lanfang willing to forge a more stable partnership with Yingguo?"

"And a fourth," Jackson added, "a courteous yet clear warning to Chen Feng: the British Empire's patience is limited. If Lanfang's actions threaten the Empire's core interests, no matter the cost, the Empire will respond."

Betty nodded, "Understood. I will personally assign the 'Malaya' battleship‑cruiser as Your Majesty's flagship and allocate a complete destroyer escort group. From Portsmouth to Gibraltar, then to Malta, and finally to Alexandria, safety will be ensured throughout."

"Where is the meeting place?" Belfort asked.

"Montaza Palace in Cairo," Jackson said. "It's relatively secluded, security is easy to control, and… on Egyptian soil it can remind Chen Feng that the British Empire is still a sun‑never‑sets global empire."

All arrangements were set. The three highest decision‑makers of the Yingguo Navy stood in the office, gazing at the massive world map on the wall. On the map, the British Empire's territories were highlighted in red, stretching from Canada to India, from Australia to South Africa, continuous and covering a quarter of the globe.

Yet this massive red empire now faces unprecedented challenges: the stalemate on the Western Front, pressure on the Eastern Front, America's ambiguity, the Sakura Nation's betrayal, and the unpredictable variable of Lanfang.

"Gentlemen," Jackson concluded, "we are living through one of the most perilous moments in the Empire's history. Yet remember, the Royal Navy has never disappointed Yingguo in three centuries. This time will be no different."

Belfort and Betty solemnly nodded.

Outside the window, London's rain finally ceased. Sunlight pierced the clouds, striking the wet cobblestones of Whitehall Street and reflecting a dazzling glare. On the street, a paperboy shouted the midday edition, the front‑page headline faintly visible:

"King Your Majesty to Visit Egypt—New Imperial Diplomatic Initiative"

"Somme Campaign Enters Second Week—Valiant Troops Advance Steadily"

"Finance Ministry Announces New War Bond Issuance"

Ordinary London citizens read the paper, discussing weather, rations and front‑line news, continuing their daily lives. They knew nothing of the decisions in Downing Street and the Navy Department, nothing of the Far East's betrayal or the diplomatic showdown about to unfold in the Mediterranean, and nothing of their king's impending secret journey that could decide the Empire's fate.

This is history. Decisions made by a few in a closed room eventually spread like ripples, affecting the destinies of millions.

And in distant Dubai, another secret meeting was underway.

On August 1, 1916, at 2 p. m., four Encrypted Telegrams were dispatched from London, traveling along undersea cables toward the four corners of the world.

The first, sent to the British Embassy in Tokyo: "Note received, response insufficient. Maintain diplomatic pressure, but do not escalate for now. Continue monitoring the Sakura Nation's naval movements."

The second, sent to the British High Commissioner's Office in Cairo, Egypt: "Prepare the highest‑level reception. King Your Majesty will arrive on August 10. Absolute secrecy."

The third, sent to the Gibraltar naval base: "The 'Malaya' and the Escort Fleet are ready for departure. Destination: Alexandria. Highest security level."

The fourth, also the most important, was sent to the capital of the Lanfang Republic, Dubai, addressed to President Chen Feng.

The telegram was concise and solemn:

"His Majesty King George V of the British Empire sincerely invites President Chen Feng to meet in Cairo, Egypt, on August 15, to discuss bilateral friendship and exchange views on the current international situation. We look forward to a face‑to‑face dialogue with Your Excellency."

—Foreign Office, Edward Gray

This telegram was encrypted three times and conveyed by a dedicated communications vessel to the Suez Canal, then transferred via the Lanfang consulate in Egypt.

August 12, 1916, 8 a. m.

Dawn pierced the eastern clouds, tinting the sea a burning gold. The 41,000‑ton steel hull of the 'Huai River' sliced through the Mediterranean's calm blue water, its bow throwing up waves that rolled into white wakes hundreds of meters long on either side. The ship maintained 25 knots, the standard cruising speed for long‑range voyages, yet for the world's most powerful battleship today it was as easy as a stroll.

On the bridge, Vice Admiral Li Te stood by the observation window, his deep‑blue Lanfang Navy uniform crisp, the veteran navy officer's hands clasped behind his back as he calmly watched the horizon. Behind him, the navigation officer, helmsman, radar officer and other duty officers performed their duties, and the control room was filled only with the faint hum of instruments and occasional low‑tone reports.

"Course 285, speed 25 knots, Distance to Alexandria 420 nautical miles," Navigation Officer Lieutenant‑Commander Lin reported, holding the latest weather chart. "Estimated arrival tomorrow at 04:00."

Li Te nodded without turning around. "Notify the engine room to reduce speed to 18 knots at 21:00. Maintain vigilance during night navigation."

"Yes, General."

The control room door swung open as Colonel Zhao Gang entered, holding a freshly translated telegram, his expression somewhat grave.

"General, an Encrypted Telegram from Dubai," Zhao Gang handed the telegram paper to Li Te, lowering his voice. "The handover preparations for the 'Fuxing' and the Restoration Ship have encountered some resistance."

Li Te took the telegram and skimmed it quickly. The telegram was encrypted with the Lanfang Navy's internal code, its content brief: a group of former 'Fuxing' crew members jointly petitioned, refusing to hand the warship over to Yingguo. Their reason: "The ship's soul belongs to Lanfang; it would rather sink than aid the enemy."

Li Te's fingers tapped lightly on the edge of the telegram paper. The situation was expected, yet still vexing. "Fuxing" and the "Restoration Ship" are the Lanfang Navy's earliest two Hood‑class battleship‑cruisers, six years in service, having fought in the East Sea battle, symbols of the navy. Handing them over now to a former potential adversary inevitably stirs the crew's emotions.

"Has the President been informed?" Li Te asked.

"The telegram was sent personally by Minister Liu Yongfu; the President should already be aware," Zhao Gang paused. "Minister Liu is inquiring whether coercive measures should be taken?"

Li Te pondered briefly, then shook his head. "No. Reply: have the Navy Political Department send personnel aboard to conduct ideological work. Emphasize—first, this is a national strategic necessity; second, all officers and sailors will receive proper placement and promotion before the handover; third, the names 'Fuxing' and 'Restoration' will forever remain in the Lanfang Navy's registry, and future, more powerful warships will inherit these two names."