Chapter 519: Plan A, Plan B

In the oval command hall, a few dozen people sat around a circular conference table. On the ceiling, three rows of shadowless lights cast a pallid, even glow, illuminating the fatigue and tension on each face.

Chen Feng sat in the chief seat, already dressed in formal khaki military service uniform; his shoulder boards bore no rank, only a golden dragon‑shaped badge. On his left and right were Wang Wenwu and Liu Yongfu— the former representing the diplomatic and intelligence system, the latter representing the industrial and military‑industrial system.

"That's the situation," Chen Feng said, giving a ten‑minute brief of the Berlin telegram's contents and his preliminary analysis. "Now we need to decide: first, how to respond to Deguo; second, how to deal with the chain reaction that Meilika's possible entry into the war may cause; third, Lanfang's own strategic choice."

He scanned the room.

"Who will start?"

"I'll go first." Liu Yongfu stood. The fifty‑eight‑year‑old industrial chief and military‑industrial director was short and stout, with dark skin and thick‑jointed fingers—a typical craftsman's build. He walked to the massive display screen against the wall—the Lanfang‑developed cathode‑ray tube monitor, its technology derived from Chen Feng's laptop.

The screen lit up, showing a series of charts and data.

"This is the growth curve of our nation's industrial output over the past twenty‑four months," Liu Yongfu said, pointing with a laser pen at an almost vertical blue line. "From August 1914 to October 1916, total industrial output rose by 470 %. Of that, the share of military‑industrial output climbed from 8 % to 62 %."

He switched the view, bringing up a complex pie chart.

"Our main customers: Deguo 35 %, Yingguo 22 %, the Ottoman Empire 15 %, the Sakura Nation 12 %, the rest 16 %. Note that Yingguo's share has been falling steadily over the last six months, while Deguo's has been rising."

Another switch, this time to employment data.

"Labor directly engaged in military‑industrial and related sectors: 1.2 million people. Indirectly related industries: 2.4 million. The nation's total labor force is about 8 million. In other words, over 45 % of employment is directly or indirectly tied to war demand." (Arabs and Borneo natives are excluded here.)

Liu Yongfu turned off the screen and faced the conference table.

"In short, our economy is deeply 'war‑ified.' If the war were to end abruptly within six months, the most optimistic estimate puts unemployment soaring above 30 %. The pessimistic estimate… could trigger nationwide unrest."

Minister of Industry Zhao Xuecheng—a thin man with thick glasses—added, "That doesn't even account for banking‑system risk. To expand capacity, firms have borrowed heavily and banks have loosened credit standards. If orders disappear, the bad‑debt rate could exceed 40 %. The entire financial system faces collapse danger."

Low murmurs rose in the meeting room.

"Therefore," Rear Admiral Li Te said in a low voice, "must we prevent the war's end? Or, prevent Meilika's entry into the war?"

"Not prevent the war's end," Chen Feng corrected, "but delay it. We need time to adjust our economic structure, to accumulate technology, to consolidate our position in Yazhou and the Persian Gulf. Ideally, the war would continue for another two years, giving us a sufficient time window."

"But how to delay?" asked Zhang Mingyuan, the number‑two figure of the Foreign Ministry responsible for American affairs. "Our direct contact with Meilika is minimal. President Wilson may not even know Lanfang's exact location on the map."

"So we must establish contact," Wang Wenwu took over. "I have already drafted a note, in the name of President Chen Feng, requesting a meeting with President Wilson to discuss 'the current world situation and prospects for peace.' The venue can be designated by the American side."

"Will they agree?" Minister of Security Zhou Tieshan questioned. The former intelligence chief habitually doubts everything.

"Wilson is an idealist," Chen Feng began, all eyes on him. "He despises war but is bound by reality. If we can offer a… seemingly feasible peace plan, or at least a path to mitigate the crisis, he will be interested. The key is how we package the proposal."

He rose and walked to the sand‑table at the center of the room. The sand‑table displayed the world's terrain, each continent molded from resin in different colors.

"The current situation is: Yingguo uses economic pressure to push Meilika into the war; Deguo uses submarine warfare to force Yingguo's surrender. Both sides are tightening the rope, and the rope is looped around everyone's necks." Chen Feng's finger traced the North Atlantic, "What we need is not to untie the rope—that's already impossible—but to wedge a block in before the rope tightens completely."

"What block?" Li Te asked.

"A reason that lets all parties pause temporarily," Chen Feng's eyes flashed shrewdly under the lights. "For example… a peace conference convened by neutral nations. The venue could be Switzerland or the Netherlands. Participants would include all belligerents, plus the United States, Lanfang and other neutral states. The conference would not demand an immediate ceasefire, only the formulation of basic negotiation principles and a timetable."

Wang Wenwu frowned, "Will the belligerents agree? Especially Deguo, which now holds the battlefield advantage."

"That's why we need a lure," Chen Feng said. "For Deguo, we can privately promise that if negotiations start, Lanfang will provide a new round of loans and technical aid to help them consolidate the front. For Yingguo, we can convey through Meilika: if negotiations fail, Meilika's entry will be inevitable, but negotiations at least will buy time, allowing Yingguo to complete a new round of mobilization."

"What do we gain?" Liu Yongfu asked bluntly.

"Time." Chen Feng's answer was simple. "The peace conference can buy at least three months. If it runs well, it could buy half a year. In that half‑year we can accomplish three things: first, shift industrial structure toward civilian sectors; second, complete mass production of new warships and aircraft; third, cement our influence in Southeast Asia."

He paused, letting everyone digest the information.

"But that's Plan A," Chen Feng's voice grew cold. "We must also prepare Plan B: if Meilika joins the war within half a year, or if the war ends swiftly, how we will safeguard ourselves."

Everyone's backs straightened.

"Li Te."

"Present!"

"Current naval readiness?"

Li Te stood, walked to the Pacific section of the sand‑table.

"The main fleet includes: six active Bismarck Class battleships, six Lexington‑class aircraft carriers, all under construction in shipyards, with the first slated to launch in March next year; twelve heavy cruisers, twenty‑four destroyers, one hundred thirty‑four submarines. In addition, four battleships and eight cruisers are being built in shipyards and can be requisitioned urgently if needed."