Chapter 462: Deguo People Can Hire, Why Can

The topic suddenly shifted, Asquith was startled for a moment: "Occasionally."

"Then you must know that in places where beasts roam, you can't just carry a stick. You must carry a gun, a gun with enough firepower, to let the beasts know— the price of attacking you, they cannot pay." Chen Feng leaned back in his chair, "The Middle East now is such a place where beasts roam. The Ottoman Empire is collapsing, Arab tribes are rebelling, bandits run rampant, order is broken. We plan to invest tens of millions of pounds there, building ports, repairing railways, drilling oil wells… If we lack sufficient armed protection, those investments will turn to ruins in an instant."

He paused, his tone turned serious: "I understand Yingguo's concerns. But please trust me— Lanfang's goal in the Middle East is not to contest hegemony with Yingguo. We simply want oil, a stable energy supply. We invest, build, develop, bringing jobs, tax revenue, modernization. This benefits everyone, including Yingguo."

"Including Yingguo?" Asquith raised an eyebrow.

"Of course." Chen Feng picked up the map again, "A stable Middle East means a safer Suez Canal— that is your lifeline to India. A prosperous Middle East means a larger market— your textiles, machinery, industrial goods can be sold here. And moreover…"

He paused, deliberately leaving a gap.

"And what?"

"And also, if Lanfang can establish a foothold in the Persian Gulf, it can become a… balancing force." Chen Feng said slowly, "The Russians have long wanted a warm‑water port in the south, Deguo dream of a Berlin‑Baghdad railway, Faguo eye Syria hungrily. If the Middle East completely spirals out of control, these forces colliding…"

Asquith fell silent. He of course knew—that would be the spark for another great war.

"Lanfang's presence can create a buffer," Chen Feng continued, "We do not side with any party, we only protect our own interests. Objectively, we are like a firewall, preventing any side from monopolizing the Middle East. This is beneficial for maintaining the status quo, preventing conflict escalation…"

These words sounded lofty, but Asquith heard the subtext: Lanfang wants to be the player, not the piece. To occupy its own position on the Middle East chessboard.

"Excellent theory," Asquith said slowly, "but the reality is, your troops are right on the flank of my troops. That prevents me from confidently moving forces from Sinai to the western front— and the western front is bleeding, bleeding every day."

Chen Feng nodded, as if waiting for this line: "I understand. So, I have a proposal—a proposal that could reduce bloodshed on the western front."

Asquith grew wary: "What proposal?"

Chen Feng leaned forward, lowering his voice: "I know Yingguo's lads are bleeding on the Somme River. I can also act as an intermediary, letting the Cherry Blossom Country send troops to help you."

In an instant, the air in the reception room solidified.

Asquith almost thought he misheard: "You… what did you say?"

"Cherry Blossom Country mercenaries," Chen Feng repeated, "Deguo people can hire, Yingguo people why can't? The price is negotiable, transport, equipment, training… Lanfang can provide a full package."

After the shock, anger surged. Asquith's face flushed: "President, you sold Cherry Blossom Country people to Deguo, and now you want to sell them to us? What do you think this is? Slave trade?"

"This is reality," Chen Feng said without changing expression, "War needs manpower, the Cherry Blossom Country needs foreign exchange, Lanfang needs… commissions. Each gets what they need."

"But those are living people! And—" Asquith suddenly thought of something, "On the battlefield it could happen that Cherry Blossom Country people fight Cherry Blossom Country people! That's too…"

"Too cruel?" Chen Feng took over, "Prime Minister, war is inherently cruel. The French and Deguo kill each other in the trenches; three hundred years ago they may have shared a common ancestor. Yingguo and Deguo are cousins; Wilhelm II was Queen Victoria's maternal grandson. Blood ties, culture, history… in the face of survival, all are unimportant."

He stood, walked to the window, turned his back to Asquith: "I'm merely offering an option. Yingguo can choose not to accept, continue using its own lads to fill the trenches. Or accept, swapping Yazhou lives for Yingguo lives. The choice is in your hands."

A long silence.

In the corner, the recorder's pen tip hovered over the paper, unwilling to move. The translator bowed his head, as if trying to shrink into the floor.

Asquith felt a pressure in his chest. He recalled the casualty list received yesterday, the young names, their parents, wives, children. If… if there were substitutes…

No! He roared in his mind. This is a red line! The British Empire has not yet fallen to this point!

But another voice asked: what about the 5,000 daily casualties on the Somme River? The Verdun meat grinder? The growing anti‑war voices at home?

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the politician's composure had returned: "What can Lanfang get?"

Chen Feng turned, knowing the other was already tempted: "Peace. A stable Middle East, a long‑term client, and… Yingguo's understanding."

"Understanding?"

"Understanding of our presence in Huo Er De Sa."

Asquith stared at him, trying to read what the Eastern man's mind was calculating. But Chen Feng's eyes were like two deep wells, revealing nothing.

"I need to consider," the Prime Minister said finally.

"Of course." Chen Feng smiled, "After the ceremony ends, you can take your time to consider. Now… time is about up."

He made a "please" gesture.

Both walked out of the reception room together. Outside, Wang Wenwu and Belfort were waiting, and upon seeing them emerge, they both breathed a sigh of relief— at least there was no immediate quarrel.

Asquith, heading toward the elevator, suddenly turned back: "President, one final question."

"Please, go ahead."

"How are the tanks you sold to Deguo performing?"

Chen Feng smiled, the smile laden with meaning: "Prime Minister, you'll know when you encounter them on the battlefield, won't you?"

The elevator doors closed, cutting off their view of each other.

At exactly ten a. m., the Dubai Port military band played "Rule, Britannia".

On the viewing platform, Asquith and Chen Feng stood side by side. Behind them, the civil and military officials of the two nations lined up on either side, clearly divided. Further away, in the veterans' viewing area, Lin Santai and dozens of old comrades sat upright, eyes fixed on the two warships.