Chapter 50

Inside Chen Feng's office!

"General, we are now formal partners." Chen Feng invited Dubois to sit, personally poured two cups of tea, "Some things, I want to say frankly as a partner."

"Please speak."

"The Yingguo fleet is on its way." Chen Feng pushed a cup of tea toward Dubois, "They will arrive at the outer waters of the Persian Gulf at the latest in five days. They will demonstrate, apply pressure, and may even provoke."

Dubois lifted the teacup, not drinking: "Paris is already mentally prepared. The Prime Minister has authorized me to tell you: the French Republic will not abandon its allies under Yingguo's pressure. If the situation requires, we can dispatch part of the Mediterranean fleet to Djibouti as… a strategic response."

This is an important commitment, almost equivalent to military support.

But Chen Feng shook his head.

"Thank you for your support, but we do not need it for now." His tone calm and confident, "I will receive the Yingguo guests in Lanfang's own way."

Dubois raised his eyebrows slightly: "Are you sure? The 'Fearless' may not match the 'Restoration', but the Yingguo fleet has a complete escort formation and rich combat experience…"

"So what we need to do is not combat, but demonstration." Chen Feng set down the teacup, "Demonstrate strength, demonstrate resolve, demonstrate the technological gap. Let the Yingguo understand that in this Persian Gulf waters, their old rules no longer apply."

He walked to the window, gazing toward the harbor outside.

"The Restoration will begin combat-ready training tomorrow. Captain Li Te will take it to Oman Bay to 'meet' the Yingguo fleet. If all goes well, the Yingguo will reassess the situation in shock. If not…"

Chen Feng turned around, his eyes clear and resolute.

"Then let them personally experience what a technological gap is."

Dubois looked at this man thirty years younger than himself, and suddenly felt a long‑absent surge of hot blood in his chest— the feeling he had when, as a young man, he first commanded a warship to sea: facing the unknown, facing challenges, but firmly believing he held power.

"Mr. Chen, may I ask a question?"

"Go ahead."

"What do you ultimately want by doing all this?" Dubois stared into Chen Feng's eyes, "Money? Power? Or…"

"Home."

Chen Feng's answer was so simple that Dubois was stunned for a moment.

"Home?"

"I was born in Kundi, in western Borneo. Long ago, my ancestors established the Lanfang Republic there." Chen Feng's voice was soft, but each word weighed a thousand jin, "Later the Dutch came, using gunboats and treaties, bit by bit swallowing our nation. My grandfather was the last supreme leader; before he died, he took my hand and said: 'Grandson, remember, Lanfang has not perished. As long as a single Chinese person remembers this name, Lanfang has not perished.'"

The study was so quiet one could hear the heartbeat.

"So I brought those willing to follow me to this desert. We built factories, shipyards, warships—not for conquest, not for hegemony." Chen Feng looked at Dubois, "It is so that one day, with sufficient strength, we can return to Borneo and tell the Dutch, tell the world: the Chinese on this land have the right to decide their own fate."

Dubois remained silent for a long time.

He recalled French history, the predecessors who fought for the republic, the soldiers who shed their last drop of blood on the battlefield. Nation, ethnicity, freedom—these words are discussed too lightly in Paris salons, but in some corners of the world they remain things that must be won with blood and life.

"I understand." The old general slowly rose and gave Chen Feng a military salute.

It was not diplomatic courtesy, but a soldier's respect for another soldier.

Chen Feng returned the salute.

"General, could you do me another favor?"

"Please go ahead."

"Send a telegram to Paris." Chen Feng said, "Tell them that within the next seventy‑two hours, some… dramatic news may emerge from the Persian Gulf. Please keep your country calm and continue advancing cooperation as planned."

Dubois laughed: "Are you going to make big news?"

"It's not me making trouble," Chen Feng also laughed, "it's the Yingguo forcing my hand. Since they've laid out their formation, we have to respond, or it would be impolite."

The two smiled at each other.

At this moment, the differences of age, nationality, and background vanished. They were two people struggling on their own paths, two who believed power could change destiny.

Night fell over Dubai port.

On the bridge of the Restoration, Li Te was making the final preparations. The massive warship lay at anchor in the deep harbor, all its portholes lit like a crouching iron beast.

"Ammunition loading complete!"

"Fueling complete!"

"All crew have completed pre‑battle preparations!"

Reports rose and fell one after another.

Li Te stood before the command console, gazing at the complex instrument panel and communications equipment. His fingers lightly brushed the helm, feeling the cold metal.

"Captain."

The deputy captain approached, a young man in his twenties named Lin Hai. He was among the first graduates of the technical school—smart, diligent, his eyes always shining.

"The tally is complete. The ship has 1,200 battle stations, with an average age of twenty‑four. The oldest is forty‑year‑old Master Wang in the engine room; the youngest is eighteen‑year‑old Ah Ming in the signal team."

Li Te nodded: "Tell them, starting tomorrow we will face a real test. This is not a drill, not training. Opposite us comes the Royal Navy, a three‑hundred‑year maritime hegemon."

"They're not afraid," Lin Hai said. "I just went through the compartments; everyone is checking equipment, reviewing procedures. No one is panicking, no one is scared. They know why they fight."

Why they fight.

Li Te recalled Chen Feng's words before the departure: "We are not fighting for a battle; we are fighting for a nation's dignity. Sixty years ago, British gunboats blasted open China's gates. Ten years ago, Japan's fleet defeated the Beiyang Navy in the Yellow Sea. Now it is our turn. Now we take to sea in a warship built by Chinese hands to tell the world: the era has changed."

"Captain," Lin Hai whispered, "are you nervous?"

Li Te thought, then answered honestly: "Nervous. But I am more excited."

He walked to the observation window, gazing at the harbor lights outside. Those lights stretched out, illuminating the newly built factories, docks, and residential areas. Three years ago this place had only a few tents; now it already has the outline of a city.

Three hundred thousand people.

Three hundred thousand souls who left their homelands, placing their hopes here.

"Lin Hai, do you know which design I like most on the Restoration?"

"Which one?"

"The name," Li Te said. "Restoration—restoring the homeland, reviving the nation. Every time I utter that name, I know why I fight."

The young deputy captain stood straight: "Me too."