Chapter 430: Cairo Meeting 3

"The ship's condition is brand‑new, maintenance level extremely high. The officers and troops are strictly disciplined, and the standardisation of all operational procedures even exceeds that of the Royal Navy. The most critical point—" Mai Ke Ma Hong paused, "some of the ship's equipment is completely incomprehensible to our engineers. In particular, a sealed compartment beneath the Main Gun turret; the Lanfang side refuses to show it, citing 'military secrets'."

Sir Ge Lei interjected: "So the 'Bismarck' and 'Tirpitz' sold to Deguo may not yet be complete?"

"Very likely," Mai Ke Ma Hong nodded, "Chen Feng kept a card up his sleeve. That's in keeping with his style—never playing his best hand all at once."

Qiaoji Wushi finally turned. In the candlelight his face was sharply angular, and the blue eyes inherited from his father Edward VII were now filled with complex emotions: caution, irritation, curiosity, and a barely perceptible… anxiety.

As a monarch who had lived through the splendor of the Victorian era and personally witnessed the British Empire at its zenith, he understood the empire's current predicament all too well. The war was in its third year, the treasury was bleeding, youths were dying, colonies were showing signs of discontent, and that American Wilson spent his days singing of "peace" and "self‑determination" while covertly challenging Yingguo's naval power and financial hegemony.

Now, Lanfang has emerged again.

"Where is Chen Feng?" the king asked, his voice low.

"The convoy left Alexandria and is expected to arrive at eight o'clock," Mai Ke Ma Hong glanced at his pocket watch, "He refused the transport we offered, insisting on using his own vehicles. A twelve‑car convoy, all Lanfang‑manufactured East Wind brand bulletproof sedans."

Sir Ge Lei sneered, "He's showcasing capability in another field—automobile industry."

"He's demonstrating all‑round capability," Qiaoji Wushi corrected, "Battleships, automobiles, and the machine guns, artillery, communications gear that give Deguo the edge on the Western Front… Lanfang's industrial system is advancing at a speed we can scarcely comprehend."

The hall fell silent for a moment. From afar the chanting from Cairo's proclamation tower drifted in, long and ethereal.

"Your Majesty," Sir Ge Lei said cautiously, "Tonight's talks require us to achieve several clear objectives. First, ascertain Chen Feng's true stance toward Deguo and the limits of his commitments. Second, resolve the loan issue and secure as many advantages as possible. Third, probe his view of the Sakura Nation and whether he is willing to play any role in the Far East."

"Fourth," Qiaoji Wushi added, his tone hard, "make Chen Feng understand that the British Empire's patience has limits. If he continues this dangerous balancing act, it will ultimately backfire on him."

Sir Ge Lei opened to speak but stopped. He thought that threats might not work on someone like Chen Feng. The Oriental was too calm, too calculating; every move he made was like a chess game, always looking at least three moves ahead.

In the end, the foreign minister merely nodded, "Understood, Your Majesty."

At precisely eight o'clock, the sound of automobile engines came from outside the palace. Through the tall arched windows a convoy entered the courtyard. All the cars were black, and atop each hood fluttered Lanfang Republic's blue‑field gold‑dragon flag.

The guards opened the doors. The first to disembark was Rear Admiral Li Te, in dark‑blue uniform, posture upright. Then came several Lanfang military and civil officials. Finally, from the central stretched sedan, Chen Feng stepped out.

Even viewing him through the glass, Qiaoji Wushi could sense the Oriental's distinction. In his thirties, of average build, dressed in a simple dark‑gray suit, bearing no medals or ornaments. Yet his gait was steady, his posture relaxed, and as his eyes scanned the palace there was no cautious curiosity typical of a diplomat new to an unfamiliar setting, but rather a… assessment. Like an engineer inspecting a machine, a merchant appraising a piece of cargo.

"He's arrived," Mai Ke Ma Hong whispered.

Qiaoji Wushi adjusted his formal attire, inhaled deeply, and restored the dignified expression befitting a monarch.

"Let us go meet this… the most shrewd opportunist of our age."

The hall doors were pushed open by the guards. Chen Feng entered accompanied by Li Te and Wang Wenwu. The Lanfang delegation was small; with translators and recorders there were eight in total. Compared with the British side's massive contingent of over twenty, it appeared streamlined and restrained.

Qiaoji Wushi stepped forward. According to diplomatic protocol, this was an extraordinary courtesy extended by a monarch to the head of a non‑monarchical state.

"Mr. President, welcome to Egypt," the king extended his hand, speaking fluent English with a standard royal accent.

Chen Feng reached out and shook hands. His hand was dry and steady, grip moderate. "Your Majesty's personal welcome is a great honor. Thank you for your invitation."

The translator quickly relayed. Their gazes met in the air. Qiaoji Wushi saw deep brown pupils, calm and still, like two deep wells, revealing no emotion. Chen Feng saw a pair of blue eyes mingled with pride and fatigue, with fine lines at the corners and premature gray‑white at the temples.

"After a weary journey, I hope the Mediterranean's winds and waves have not caused you too much discomfort," the king gestured invitingly, guiding Chen Feng toward the dining table.

"On the contrary, the voyage of the Huai River was very smooth. Your nation's Malaya navigation was professional and impressive," Chen Feng replied with a smile.

The participants seated in order. On the British side, the king sat in the centre, with Sir Ge Lei, Sir Mai Ke Ma Hong, the navy representative, the army representative, etc., on his left. On the Lanfang side, Chen Feng sat in the centre, with Li Te on his right, Wang Wenwu on his left, and the remaining members arranged accordingly.

The waiter began serving the appetizer—cream asparagus soup. The silver soup spoon struck the porcelain plate, producing a faint clink; for a moment the hall was filled only with the sound of cutlery and faint distant music.

"Mr. President, is this your first visit to Egypt?" Qiaoji Wushi broke the silence.

"Yes. However, I have always been fascinated by Egypt's history," Chen Feng stirred the broth gently with his spoon, "the Pharaonic civilization, the Ptolemaic dynasty, the Roman provinces, the Arab Empire… this land has witnessed the rise and fall of countless empires. Standing here makes one inevitably contemplate the cycles of history."

Sir Ge Lei interjected, "Does the President study history?"

"A little," Chen Feng set down his spoon, "I believe the greatest value of studying history is not memorising dates and events, but grasping a principle: there is no eternal hegemony, only perpetual change. The wise do not try to halt change, but learn to find their place within it."

The remark caused the atmosphere at the table to thicken slightly. It was no longer casual chatter, but the transmission of some signal.

Qiaoji Wushi took a sip of wine and said slowly, "Change is indeed eternal. Yet some things are worth upholding—such as promises, reputation, and the dignity of international law."

"I completely agree," Chen Feng nodded, his expression sincere, "which is why Lanfang has consistently honoured all treaties signed with every nation, including the pre‑war loan agreements with Deguo and Yingguo."

"Now we can begin. Let's get to the point."