Chapter 531: The Shift in Public Opinion

"Credible?"

"\"As long as the story is well crafted and the evidence chain is complete, it will be enough to convince the Meilika people, \" You Yin walked to the telephone, \"I need to see the First Sea Minister and the Foreign Minister immediately. Gentlemen, continue your work. I want every word and every punctuation mark of this telegram to withstand the strictest scrutiny. Because soon it will become a heavyweight bomb aimed at international public opinion. \""

He picked up the handset and dialed. While waiting for the connection, he looked at the telegram draft on the desk, knowing in his heart: this telegram will change the war, change the world.

But is it really true?

You Yin recalled that three days earlier, the Navy Intelligence Director, Major General Huo Er, had whispered to him, "Alfred, we need a 'just right' piece of intelligence. It must be shocking enough, real enough, enough to make the Meilika people abandon their last neutral illusion."

At the time he thought it was just his superior's pressure talk. Now, looking at this telegram that is so perfect it borders on unreal, a terrifying thought surfaces in his mind:

Perhaps this telegram, from beginning to end, was invented by the British?

The call connected.

"Major General Huo Er? This is You Yin. We... have deciphered a very important telegram. Yes, very important. I need to report to you immediately."

After hanging up, You Yin gave the telegram one last glance. The red translated script glared in the light like fresh blood. Regardless of the truth, this telegram will become part of history.

He smoothed his suit and walked toward the door. The steel door opened and shut, sealing the code‑breaking experts inside, who continued to analyze the telegram that could change the world.

Outside, You Yin knew that a meticulously planned "information leak" operation was about to begin.

January 15, Washington, Washington Post editorial department.

Editor-in-chief John R. McClain stared at the freshly delivered proof, his brows knit. The front‑page headline was a striking bold title:

Deguo Plots Alliance with Mexico Against Meilika

Diplomatic Telegram Reveals Shocking Scheme

Subheadline: "Berlin proposes an alliance with Mexico, promising to help it 'reclaim' Texas, New Mexico, Arizona; the plan to launch unrestricted submarine warfare in February."

The article detailed the contents of the Zimmermann Telegram that the Yingguo intelligence department "accidentally obtained", and quoted an "anonymous senior Meilika government official": "If this telegram is genuine, it would be the gravest provocation against Meilika's sovereignty."

"Has the source been confirmed?" McClain asked the political news editor standing at the desk.

"Confirmed three times," the editor replied. "First, the Yingguo Foreign Ministry formally submitted a copy of the telegram to our State X Department last night; second, our reporter in Mexico City verified that the Deguo embassy has indeed been in frequent contact with the Mexican military lately; third..." He lowered his voice, "the White House press secretary privately hinted that the President is 'extremely concerned' about this."

McClain took off his glasses and wiped them with a cloth. It was his habitual gesture when thinking.

"How convenient," he muttered, "the Yingguo have been lobbying Meilika for three months with limited effect. Then, suddenly, they 'accidentally obtain' such a perfect telegram, its content striking the Meilika people's most sensitive nerve—territorial integrity."

"Do you suspect it's forged?"

"I doubt everything that looks too perfect," McClain said, putting his glasses back on. "But the problem is, even if we doubt, we can't withhold the story. If it's true and we suppress it, the newspaper is finished. If it's false..." He gave a wry smile, "by the time the truth emerges, the war may already be over."

He lifted his fountain pen and signed "Approved for publication" on the proof. The ink spread on the paper like a black period, sealing off a certain possibility.

"Print it. Front page, full page. Also, have the editorial page prepare a commentary with the tone… 'stern concern, demanding a thorough investigation.' Leave some leeway."

"Yes, chief editor."

The editor hurried away with the proof. McClain walked to the window, watching the sky outside brighten gradually. This decision could send tens of thousands of Meilika youths to the battlefield. And he, a newspaper editor, had become one of the pushers.

The newspaper hit the stands at six a. m. By seven, Washington's streets were already in an uproar.

At the same time, the New York Stock Exchange.

Before the opening bell rang, the trading floor was already packed. Brokers, traders, investors—everyone was discussing the same thing.

"Did you see the New York Times? The Deguo want to ally with Mexico against us!"

"The Wall Street Journal says unrestricted submarine warfare means all Meilika merchant ships will become targets. Transatlantic trade is finished!"

"But arms stocks are rising... Look, Bethlehem Steel was up eight percent before the opening!"

The bell rang. Opening.

The index plunged straight down. Shipping firms, import‑export companies, manufacturers dependent on the European market... all stocks tied to the transatlantic economy were sold off wildly. The Dow Jones Industrial Average fell 4.7% within the first fifteen minutes of trading, the largest single‑day drop since the outbreak of war in 1914.

On the other side, defense stocks, steel stocks, and chemical stocks surged against the trend. Speculators smelled war, and war meant profit.

In the trading hall, a young broker shouted into the phone, "Sell! Dump all shipping stocks! Buy Dupont, buy Bethlehem, buy Remington!"

His client—a farm owner from Chicago—hesitated on the other end, "But what if there's no war? These stocks are already overvalued..."

"No war?" the broker sneered. "Read the paper, sir. Deguo is plotting to split our country. Which Meilika president could tolerate such insult? War is inevitable. Buy arms stocks now, and in six months your assets will double. Trust me!"

There was a few‑second silence on the other end.

"Alright. Do as you say."

He hung up, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and said to the colleague beside him, "See? Fear and greed are always the market's biggest drivers. And today, we have both."

The colleague shook his head, "Do you really think they'll go to war?"

"It doesn't matter," the broker said, pointing at the numbers flashing on the big screen. "What matters is that people believe a war will happen. In the stock market, belief is reality."

2 p. m., the White House, Oval Office.

President Woodrow Wilson sat behind his desk, with six different newspapers spread before him, each front‑page headline the Zimmermann Telegram. Outside, Pennsylvania Avenue was packed with thousands of protesters holding placards and chanting slogans. Their voices drifted in:

"Defend Meilika! Punish Deguo!"

"Not fighting is treason!"