Chapter 518: Strategic Assessment of Dubai

"I want to see Chen Feng's response within twenty‑four hours. I want the detailed timetable of the submarine war within forty‑eight hours. I want a comprehensive contingency plan based on the Meilika Entry into War premise within seventy‑two hours. Any questions?"

No one spoke.

"Very good."

The door opened, then closed. The emperor's footsteps receded down the empty corridor, eventually disappearing into the darkness.

In the map room, six people stared at each other. The kerosene lamp cast flickering shadows on their faces, making each of them look aged and weary.

General Ludengdaofu was the first to act. He opened his folder, turned to the last blank page, and began writing a new heading: "Contingency Plan A‑7: Western Front Defense and Negotiation Bottom Line under the Meilika Entry into War Premise".

The sound of the pen tip scratching the paper rang especially harshly in the silent room.

At the same time, Persian Gulf, Dubai Presidential Palace.

It was four a. m. here, but Chen Feng's office was brightly lit. Spread across the massive mahogany desk were three maps of different scales: a world map, a European theater map, and a Pacific chart. The maps were covered with markings and notes he had drawn himself in red pencil.

Chen Feng was not in formal attire; he wore a deep‑blue silk nightgown, barefoot on a hand‑woven Persian carpet. He held a cup of strong tea, stood before the world map, and his gaze lingered for a long time on the east coast of North America.

A knock sounded.

"Come in."

Wang Wenwu pushed the door open, carrying a silver tray on which lay a freshly decoded telegram. The diplomatic affairs chief wore a grave expression, his eye bags evident, clearly having been roused from sleep.

"From Berlin, top‑secret level. Routed through Bern, Switzerland, using the 'Dragon‑3' cipher book we just swapped three months ago," Wang Wenwu placed the tray on the desk, "The courier said the German emperor dictated it personally."

Chen Feng did not look at the telegram immediately. He walked back to his desk, sat down, lifted the tea cup and took a sip. The tea was already cold, its bitter taste spreading across his tongue.

"What does it say?"

Wang Wenwu lifted the telegram and read directly: "To His Excellency President Chen Feng of the Lanfang Republic: Emergency. British Prime Minister Asquith has secretly visited the United States and held substantive talks with President Wilson. The British are leveraging financial debt to pressure Meilika to abandon neutrality. If Meilika joins the war, the Western Front balance will be shattered, and the war could end within the next six months. This outcome is contrary to German interests and also jeopardizes the safety of Lanfang's investments in Germany. We request your wisdom and influence to help resolve this crisis. Yours faithfully, William."

After finishing, Wang Wenwu looked up at Chen Feng. The office was filled only with the low hum of the air‑conditioning system and, from far away in the Persian Gulf, an almost inaudible sound of waves.

"What do you think?" Chen Feng asked.

"The Germans are anxious," Wang Wenwu set the telegram down, "William II phrased it so bluntly, even mentioning 'the safety of Lanfang's investments in Germany'—that's almost an implicit threat: if Germany loses, we might not recover our investments."

"It's not a possibility; it's a certainty," Chen Feng said, standing and moving to the window. Through the bullet‑proof glass, the lights of Dubai's port were visible, with several cargo ships loading and unloading in the night. "If Germany loses, the victors—mainly Britain and France—will form a reparations committee and use every German cent, every piece of land, every patent to offset debts. Our technology transfer fees? Battleship design fees? They'll be placed behind Britain and France's own war claims, likely yielding us nothing at all."

He turned around, his gaze sharp.

"But that's not the worst. The worst is, if the war ends within six months, what will happen to our entire industrial system?"

Wang Wenwu understood immediately. Lanfang's rise was largely built on the war's "special demand." Tank factories, shipyards, artillery production lines, uniform factories, food processing plants… tens of thousands of enterprises sprang up like mushrooms over the past two years, employing more than a third of the nation's workforce. Over seventy percent of their orders came from the warring nations.

If the war were to end abruptly, those orders would vanish overnight.

"A wave of unemployment," Wang Wenwu whispered, "Factory closures, bank bad debts, social unrest… the economic system we built over five years could collapse within a year."

"Not only that," Chen Feng returned to the map, his finger pointing at Southeast Asia, "The British had no capacity to look east during the war, allowing us to expand influence in Borneo, Sumatra, the Malay Peninsula. If the war ends, London will instantly refocus on the Far East. Then how will they view a 'neutral country' that has a fleet in the Persian Gulf, penetrates Southeast Asia, and sells weapons to both sides?"

Wang Wenwu felt a chill. He had followed Chen Feng for over a decade, witnessing firsthand how the man built the nation from nothing. Yet now, for the first time, he sensed that this ship might be sailing straight into the eye of the storm.

"So we must prevent Meilika from entering the war?" he asked.

"Or at least delay it," Chen Feng returned to his seat, hands clasped on the table, "But the question is, what leverage do we have? Britain can wield a twenty‑one‑billion‑dollar debt threat, can mobilize a century‑old network of contacts, can control trans‑Atlantic communication cables. What do we have?"

Silence.

Outside the window, the sky began to pale, a thin line of dawn light seeping into the deep‑blue night. Dubai's morning arrived quickly; in half an hour, the first ray of sunlight would illuminate the Persian Gulf's surface.

"Convene the core council," Chen Feng finally said, "In two hours, at the underground command center. Notify Liu Yongfu, Li Te, Lin Huaimin, Zhao Xuecheng, and the heads of the Finance, Industry, and Security ministries. We need to draft a comprehensive response plan."

"Understood."

Wang Wenwu turned to leave, but Chen Feng called him back.

"Also," Chen Feng's voice was soft yet unusually firm, "Notify the Armaments Committee to initiate the preparatory procedures of the 'Taishan Project.' While we seek a diplomatic solution, we must be ready for the worst."

"Taishan Project…" Wang Wenwu inhaled sharply, "Mr. President, that's a full‑scale war mobilization plan. Once activated, there's no turning back."

"I know," Chen Feng said, looking at the sky brightening outside, "But sometimes, demonstrating resolve is itself a form of diplomacy."

Six‑thirty a. m., fifteen meters below the Presidential Palace.

This is the wartime command hub of the Lanfang Republic, code‑named "Leopard Room." The entire facility sits within a natural limestone cavern, expanded secretly over three years, its roof capped with five‑meter‑thick reinforced concrete capable of withstanding a direct hit from a five‑hundred‑kilogram aerial bomb. The sole entrance is a three‑hundred‑meter sloping tunnel equipped with three blast doors and armed guards on duty twenty‑four hours.