Chapter 460: Prime Minister's Arrival and Cold Reception

Wang Wenwu came from behind and handed him a bottle of ice water: "Minister Liu, take a break. There's still three hours left."

Liu Yongfu took the water and gulped a big mouthful, his eyes still fixed on the dock: "No rest. This is the largest‑scale diplomatic event since Lanfang was founded, and also… the most sensitive one. The President must, under the watchful eye of the Yingguo Prime Minister, carry out a handover ceremony that both shows strength and maintains composure. Any single mistake could be read as provocation or weakness."

He looked at the two warships, his gaze complex: "How many years... These two ships, I watched them go from blueprints to steel, from the slipway into the sea. Now… they are to be handed over to others."

Wang Wenwu understandingly patted his shoulder: "For a greater strategy."

"I know," Liu Yongfu inhaled deeply, "which is why it must be done beautifully. We must leave the Yingguo unable to find any fault, and also let our veterans… say goodbye with dignity."

As he spoke, a commotion rose at the port entrance. A large crowd was trying to breach the security line—not by force, but by pleading. Most were middle‑aged, wearing faded old uniforms, with East Sea naval battle commemorative medals pinned to their chests.

"Let us in! We'll just watch from afar!" a one‑armed old man shouted, "We fought on those two ships! We have the right to see them off on their final voyage!"

The young guard on duty looked a little at a loss. According to regulations, the harbor area is under full martial law today; no non‑staff may enter. Yet faced with these medal‑adorned veterans…

"Let them in," a calm voice said.

The guard turned and saw Chen Feng stepping down from the vehicle. The President unusually wore a navy white summer uniform today—not a marshal's dress, just a regular officer's uniform, with no stars on the shoulder boards. Yet that bearing made everyone instinctively straighten up.

"President! They…" the guard began to explain.

Chen Feng waved his hand and walked toward the veterans. He recognized the leading elder—Lin Santai, former engine crew of the "Fuxing" ship, now working at a shipyard after retirement.

"Old Lin," Chen Feng said as he reached the elder, "you came to see them off?"

Lin Santai hadn't expected the President to come personally, and was momentarily uneasy: "Yes… yes, President. We're not here to cause trouble; we just want… to take a distant look. One look and we leave."

Chen Feng was silent for a few seconds, then turned to the guard captain and said: "On the open area east of the dock, set up a viewing zone. Provide chairs, shade canopies, and drinking water for these veterans. They may stay."

"Understood!"

The veterans were stunned. Lin Santai's eyes instantly reddened: "President, this… this isn't according to protocol, is it? If the Yingguo see…"

"This is my port, my rule," Chen Feng said lightly, "you shed blood for these two ships, you have the right to see them one last time. But—"

He scanned all the veterans: "—maintain dignity. No crying, no uproar, no actions that tarnish the nation's prestige. You represent Lanfang Navy's history; let the Yingguo see what our veterans are like."

"Understood!" Lin Santai straightened his back and gave a proper military salute. Though he had only one hand, the motion was still forceful.

Chen Feng returned the salute, then turned and walked toward the viewing platform. Wang Wenwu followed, whispering: "President, could this make the Yingguo think we're being sentimental…"

"What they think doesn't matter," Chen Feng kept walking, "what matters is that our soldiers know: the nation will not forget their sacrifice, not even a ship, a piece of steel, a Rivet."

He stepped onto the viewing platform and looked toward the port entrance.

At exactly eight o'clock, Asquith's fleet was due to arrive.

At 8:15 a. m., the Royal Navy destroyer "Daring" guided the Prime Minister's flagship "Malaya" battleship‑cruiser into Dubai's main channel.

Asquith stood on the bridge of the "Malaya", holding a telescope to observe this rising Eastern port. As an elder statesman who had lived through the Victorian era's splendor, he had seen the world's great ports: London's grandeur, Hamburg's precision, New York's bustle, Shanghai's chaos. But Dubai… was different.

Everything here was too new. The dock cranes were Deguo's latest electric models, the warehouses were reinforced‑concrete structures, the roads were smooth asphalt, even the lamp posts were uniform stainless steel. Farther away, on the city skyline, several buildings over ten stories were under construction— in this era, aside from major Western cities, few places build such tall towers.

"Like a nouveau riche," the navy minister Belfort whispered beside him, "but a very wealthy nouveau riche."

Asquith gave no reply. He noted the other vessels moored in the harbor: two sister ships of the Bismarck Class battleships were being fitted out, and at least four cruiser keels lay on the slipways. What alarmed him more was the shipyard's scale— twelve large dry docks, all active, welding sparks flashing in the morning light like stars.

This country's industrial capacity has already surpassed Italy and is closing in on France.

"Prime Minister, they have prepared a welcome ceremony," Belfort said, pointing toward the dock.

Asquith looked in that direction. Indeed, the dock had an honor guard, a military band, even a red carpet. But… it was too plain. No welcome banners, no flowers, no cheering crowd, only people in uniform standing in formation, as if on duty rather than receiving a dignitary.

"They're expressing dissatisfaction," Asquith set down the telescope, "because we questioned their garrison in Hordesa."

Belfort frowned: "That doesn't conform to diplomatic protocol. You are the Yingguo Prime Minister and should receive the highest‑standard reception."

"In Chen Feng's eyes, perhaps we are just… customers," Asquith smiled wryly, "and picky customers at that."

The "Malaya" slowly pulled into its designated berth. The gangway lowered, and the Royal Navy Marine Corps honor guard disembarked first, lining up on the dock. Then followed the Prime Minister's delegation.

As Asquith stepped down the gangway, the military band began to play—not the Yingguo anthem, nor the Lanfang anthem, but a strange march. After a few seconds he recognized it: it was the "Grenadiers' March," a Prussian military song from Deguo.

His complexion darkened. It was intentional.

Greeting him was Wang Wenwu, not Chen Feng. The foreign minister smiled, courteous yet distant: "Prime Minister Asquith, welcome to Dubai. After your arduous journey, please proceed to the hotel to rest."

"Where is the President?" Belfort couldn't help asking.

"The President is preparing the handover ceremony and will meet with you, Prime Minister, before it," Wang Wenwu turned and made a beckoning gesture, "the car is ready."