Chapter 511: White House Meeting

The convoy drove underground for about three minutes, then began to ascend. The light gradually brightened, and finally entered a closed garage. After the vehicle stopped, Feilipu Si was the first to get out and opened the door for Asuikesi.

"Please follow me, Prime Minister. The President is waiting."

They passed through a corridor carpeted with deep‑red carpet, with portrait oil paintings of past Presidents hanging on the walls on either side. The air carried a faint scent of paint and floor wax, blending into a special aura belonging to the core of power. At a double‑leaf oak door at the end of the corridor stood two Secret Service agents in black suits, with earpieces.

The door opened.

The Oval Office was a bit smaller than Asuikesi had imagined. Afternoon sunlight slanted in through the south‑facing floor‑to‑ceiling window, casting bright spots on the deep‑blue carpet. In the center of the room, behind a massive mahogany desk, President Woodrow Wilson rose.

"Prime Minister," Wilson walked around the desk, extending his right hand, "welcome to Washington."

Asuikesi grasped the hand. Wilson's hand was dry and firm, and the handshake lasted just right—polite enough but not overly enthusiastic. The twenty‑eighth President of Meilika appeared slimmer than in photographs, with sunken cheeks, round‑frame glasses, and hair already silver‑gray. He wore a dark‑gray three‑piece suit, the vest buttoned meticulously to the topmost button, exuding a scholarly rigor.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet, President," Asuikesi replied in standard British English, "in such difficult times, this goodwill is especially precious."

"Please sit," Wilson indicated the reception area in a corner of the office, where a set of brown leather sofas and two armchairs were arranged. A silver tea set and porcelain cups were already placed on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

The two sat down. Beierfu sat on the single sofa beside Asuikesi, while Han Ji and Feilipu Si took the chairs against the wall. A Black servant in a white uniform entered silently and began pouring tea. Only the faint clink of porcelain remained in the room.

After the tea was poured, the servant withdrew, and the door closed softly. Only five people remained in the Oval Office.

Wilson lifted his tea cup but did not drink. His gaze, seen through his lenses, examined Asuikesi with a calm, analytical stare, like a professor reviewing a paper.

"First," Wilson began, "allow me to express my respect for your country's sacrifices in this horrible war. The people of Meilika, like the people of Yingguo, cherish liberty, democracy and peace."

A standard opening line, Asuikesi thought. Polite, correct, but hollow.

"Thank you for your understanding, President," Asuikesi leaned forward, "precisely because of that, I am here at this moment. This war has reached a… critical point. Not only for Yingguo, but for the entire civilized world."

Wilson's eyebrows lifted slightly: "Critical point?"

Asuikesi looked at Beierfu. The Navy Minister took a black leather folder from his briefcase, opened it, and placed the first document on the coffee table. It was a color chart, with red and blue lines marking two curves.

"Allow me to show you some data, President," Beierfu's voice was calm and professional, "the red line represents the proportion of European territory controlled by Deguo and its allies; the blue line represents the Entente camp. As you can see, from August 1914 to the end of 1915 the two lines were roughly equal. But from early 1916—during the Battle of Verdun and the Battle of the Somme—the red line began a steady rise."

Wilson put on his glasses, leaned forward, and examined the chart closely. His expression did not change, but Asuikesi noticed the President's hand gripping the tea cup tightened slightly.

"Currently, Deguo and its allies control about forty‑two percent of Europe's continental territory and population," Beierfu continued, "more importantly, they control fifty‑five percent of Europe's coal output, sixty percent of steel production, and—" He paused, "seventy percent of the chemical industry."

"The chemical industry?" Wilson looked up.

"Explosives, poison gas, fertilizers, dyes… the lifeblood of modern warfare and modern economy," Beierfu's voice remained steady, "the Germans possess giants like Bayer, BASF, and Hoechst. As for us, after losing Bilishi and the northern French industrial zones, our chemical capacity is only one‑third of Germany's."

The room was silent for a few seconds. The sunlight outside shifted an inch, and the light spot climbed onto Wilson's leather shoes.

"These figures are… impressive," Wilson finally said, removing his glasses and wiping the lenses with a cloth, "but, to be frank, Sir Beierfu, these are military and industrial data. And Meilika, as you know, is a neutral country. Our government and people take the stance of not intervening in Europe's territorial disputes."

Here it comes, Asuikesi thought. The first obstacle.

"We fully respect Meilika's position, President," the Prime Minister leaned forward, his tone sincere, "but today I wish to discuss not territory, not military balance, nor even political concepts. What I want to discuss are some more fundamental, concrete matters."

He looked at Han Ji. The secretary immediately handed over a second folder. This time the documents were thicker, bound with dozens of pages of densely packed tables.

"Economics," Asuikesi opened the folder, his finger pointing to the summary data on the first page, "specifically, the economic ties between Meilika and the Entente. From August 1914 to October 1916, Meilika's total exports to the Entente camp amounted to—"

He paused, ensuring Wilson's full attention.

"3,275,000,000 dollars."

Wilson's expression finally showed a slight change. The corner of his mouth twitched subtly, not out of surprise but a complex mix of caution and comprehension.

"In the same period, Meilika's export amount to the Central Powers camp," Asuikesi turned to the next page, "was 3,200,000 dollars. A difference of over a thousandfold."

"These figures are public, Prime Minister," Wilson's voice remained calm, "Meilika firms do business with any customer willing and able to pay; that is the principle of a free market."

"Of course, of course," Asuikesi nodded, "but the issue is not 'doing business,' President. The issue is 'payment capability.'"

He gestured a third time, and Han Ji handed over a third folder. This folder was the smallest, containing only a few thin pages, but the paper was of the finest quality, with gold‑stamped edges.

"This is the total amount of bonds issued, loans obtained, and outstanding trade credits by Entente governments, firms, and individuals in the United States over the past twenty‑six months," Asuikesi's voice slowed, each word clear, "cumulative: 2,190,000,000 dollars. Of that, Yingguo accounts for fifty‑eight percent, Faguo twenty‑seven percent, Russia nine percent, and the remaining countries six percent."

He pushed the folder in front of Wilson.