Chapter 502: The Prime Minister

Ma Ge Li Te forced a bitter smile. The ship will sink, people will die, and only those slogans forever float on the sea surface, like oil slicks, covering the countless white bones beneath.

She rose slowly and walked to the window. Rain‑soaked London was a gray haze, and the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral appeared and disappeared in the curtain of rain. The city had endured more than two years of war, food rations grew tighter, young people grew scarcer, yet the war continued.

How much longer will it last? How much more will it cost?

Ma Ge Li Te did not know. She was merely a laundress who had lost her husband and had just lost her son. Her world was tiny, limited to this street, this house, and the remembered smiles of her family.

But at this moment, within that small world, she felt a deep, cold anger. Not at the Deguo people— they too were losing sons. Not at the sailors— they had done their duty.

Rather, at those who decided to send those young men to die.

Those who, in a warm conference room, drew circles on a map with pencils.

Nine o'clock at night, the study at 10 Downing Street.

As Kui Si sat alone at the desk, three documents spread before him.

The first was the full report from the Navy Department, including the detailed combat record of the Queen Ship, radar data, and survivor testimonies.

The second was a secret cable from the Foreign Ministry, summarizing each nation's reaction to the sinking of Hood: Deguo's revelry, Faguo's worry, Meilika's cautious attention, Lanfang's "regret" statement.

The third was a draft he himself had prepared, a public statement to be issued tomorrow.

The fire in the hearth had dwindled to a small glow, but he was too lazy to add wood. The room's temperature fell, yet he felt no cold. Exhaustion was like a soaking‑wet coat, tightly wrapping his body and mind.

The door was knocked lightly.

"Come in."

His wife, Ma Ge Te, entered carrying a tray with a pot of hot tea and a few biscuits. "You haven't eaten anything all day, He Bo Te."

As Kui Si forced a smile: "Thank you, dear. But I have no appetite."

Ma Ge Te set the tray on the table, moved behind him, and gently pressed both hands on his shoulders. "I've heard everything. Hood… so many young men."

"One thousand four hundred eighteen," As Kui Si closed his eyes, "the average age under twenty‑five. They all had parents, some even wives and children. Starting tomorrow, casualty notices will be sent to their families one after another."

"War is cruel like that."

"No," As Kui Si suddenly opened his eyes, "Ma Ge Te, this is not the cruelty of war, it is our failure. The failure of us who sit in offices making decisions. We underestimated the enemy, overestimated ourselves, and then let the young pay the price."

Ma Ge Te was silent for a moment. "Then what will you do?"

As Kui Si picked up the statement. "Tomorrow I will tell the nation that Hood's sacrifice was heroic, the spirit of the Royal Navy lives on, and we will keep fighting."

"And then?"

"And then," As Kui Si set the draft down, "I will go to Meilika."

Ma Ge Te looked at him in surprise: "Now? During the war?"

"Precisely because it is wartime," As Kui Si rose and walked to the window, "Ma Ge Te, we held a four‑hour meeting at the Navy Department today. The conclusion is clear: the British Empire cannot win this war alone. We need allies, truly strong allies."

"What about France? What about Russia?"

"France has bled out at Verdun, Russia is on the brink of collapse itself," As Kui Si forced a smile, "No, what we need is industrial strength, ship‑building capacity, and a steady flow of resources. Only Meilika can provide those."

"But the Meilika people have consistently refused direct involvement."

"Then let them intervene indirectly," As Kui Si's voice grew firm, "Loans, supplies, technology, ships—whatever they are willing to give, any terms can be negotiated. Even… the arrangement of the post‑war order."

Ma Ge Te sensed the deeper meaning in her husband's words. "You intend to pawn the Empire's future?"

"The Empire's future is already pledged, dear," As Kui Si turned to her, fatigue deep in his eyes, "Every day we lose thousands in France. Every day our national debt rises by millions of pounds. Every day the Deguo draw nearer to victory. If we do not change, if we do not seek a new path, the Empire may have no future."

The study fell silent, broken only by the occasional crackle of charcoal in the fireplace.

Ma Ge Te walked to her husband's side and grasped his hand. "You'll be condemned, He Bo Te. The opposition will say you sold the Empire to the Meilika people, that you scrambled for aid after the failure."

"Let them say what they will," As Kui Si's voice was soft yet unusually firm, "In a hundred years, history books will either write 'As Kui Si saved Britain in crisis' or 'As Kui Si incompetently doomed the Empire.' But at least I will make a choice, rather than wait for fate to arrive."

He walked to the desk, picked up a pen, and added a paragraph to the end of the statement.

"... In these difficult times, we must unite as one and view the world with fresh eyes. The British Empire will stand together with all nations that cherish liberty and justice, confronting darkness jointly. Tomorrow may be hard, the road may be long, but as long as belief endures, hope remains eternal."

After writing, he set the pen down and said to Ma Ge Te, "Call the secretary for me. I need to telegram Washington, personally inviting President Wilson to a meeting."

"Now?"

"Now," As Kui Si nodded, "Every minute is precious."

After Ma Ge Te left, As Kui Si sat back down. He picked up a photograph on the desk—a picture taken during a previous royal fleet review, showing Hood as the flagship sailing through the Strait of Spithead, the ship festooned with signal flags, sailors lined on deck, sunlight glinting on the brand‑new hull.

So beautiful, so powerful.

Now it lies on the seabed of the North Sea, a tomb of steel.

As Kui Si gently brushed the photo, whispering, "I'm sorry."

Sorry, Major General Wei Er Si Li. Sorry, Colonel Tuo Wei. Sorry, Corporal Mi Le. Sorry, to all who believed the Empire would protect you.

Then he straightened his back and pressed the electric bell on the desk.

The secretary pushed the door open and asked, "Prime Minister?"

"Record," As Kui Si's voice returned to its usual steadiness, "To His Excellency President Woodrow Wilson of Meilika: At this historic moment, I, on behalf of the British Empire government, sincerely invite you to a top‑level conference on the current international situation and future bilateral cooperation. Given the urgency, I intend to visit Washington personally; the timing may be set by you. Our shared values and the gravity of the challenges we face make this meeting not only necessary but urgent. I look forward to your positive response."

The secretary recorded quickly. "Encryption level required?"

"Maximum. Send via the Navy's secure line," As Kui Si paused, "Also, notify the Foreign Ministry to begin preparing the visit immediately. The delegation should be small, but must include experts from the Navy, Finance, and Industry sectors."

"Yes, Prime Minister."

After the secretary left, As Kui Si walked to the window and drew back the curtain. The rain had stopped, and London's night sky revealed a few stars. In the distance, Big Ben struck, ten o'clock at night.