Chapter 533: No One May Organize Lanfang's Interests

"For example?"

"For example... technology sharing." Chen Feng's eyes lit up, "Imagine: what if Deguo agreed to transfer some military technology to Britain and France—such as tank designs, chemical engineering—as a bargaining chip for territorial concessions? What if Britain and France agreed to co‑build a 'European Economic Community' with Deguo, eliminating trade barriers? What if Meilika pursued influence in Europe not through war but through investment and technology export?"

Wang Wenwu was stunned. These ideas were too ahead of their time, too idealistic, almost like a utopia.

"The Deguo people wouldn't agree. Technology is their last advantage."

"If they are defeated, they will lose everything. If peace, they can retain part of it and also gain access to the British and French colonial markets. That's the rational choice."

"Britain and France wouldn't agree either. They hate the Deguo people."

"Hatred will fade with time, but economic recession will not." Chen Feng set down his teacup, "The industrial zones in northern Faguo were bombed into ruins; reconstruction requires money and technology. Yingguo's national debt already exceeds twice its GDP; continuing the fight would lead to bankruptcy. Peace, even a humiliating peace, is better than destruction."

He walked to the window, watching night fall over Dubai. The city's lights were just coming on, the port remained busy. This nation he had built single‑handedly was like a small boat in a storm, needing to find a safe channel.

"But all this takes time, and Wilson has none. Meilika's domestic public opinion is already boiling; he can hold out at most two months. After two months, either a war declaration against Deguo or he will be blamed as a coward and forced to step down."

"So our goal is... to buy those two months?"

"At least one month." Chen Feng turned, "If we can persuade Wilson to believe a peaceful solution is possible, he can cite 'awaiting diplomatic results' to postpone the war declaration. In a month we can accomplish many things."

"For example?"

"For instance, secretly arrange informal contacts between Deguo and Britain and France. For instance, promote Osman Diguo to negotiate a separate peace, easing Yingguo's pressure in the Middle East." Chen Feng listed them one by one, "Each small problem solved widens the space for solving the big one."

Wang Wenwu pondered. The plan was grand, but the details were vague, the risk extremely high. If it failed, Lanfang could offend all the great powers at once.

"President, do you really think... peace is still possible? So many have died, so much hatred has accumulated."

"Hatred can be resolved, provided the interests are sufficient." Chen Feng's voice was calm, "In 1914, the French hated the Deguo people because of the 1871 war. But look, before the war, French capital heavily invested in Deguo industry, Deguo goods were everywhere in the French market. In the face of interests, hatred is secondary. In total, no one can affect Lanfang's interests, including that idealistic president across the Pacific."

He walked to the desk and began sorting documents.

"Prepare to depart. The 'Huaihe' will set sail tomorrow; we need to reach Pearl Harbor before the 23rd. Also, inform Liu Yongfu, Li Te, Zhou Tieshan — the 'Mount Tai Project' is entering its second phase. If diplomacy fails, we must face the outcome."

"What does the second phase refer to?"

"Full mobilization." Chen Feng's gaze turned icy, "If peace efforts fail, if Meilika enters the war, if the world war escalates... then Lanfang will choose the side that can win. And to be qualified to choose, we must have enough leverage."

Wang Wenwu felt a chill. This meant Chen Feng had already prepared the worst‑case plan—not how to avoid war, but how to maximize Lanfang's benefits in war.

"You intend to choose a side?"

"If we must choose." Chen Feng closed the folder, "But I hope we won't have to go that far. Go prepare. This trip to Hawaii may be our last chance."

After Wang Wenwu left, Chen Feng sat alone in the office. He opened a drawer and took out a yellowed document—it was the 1905 plan he wrote when he first arrived in this world. The first page read:

"Goal: to establish a nation where Chinese can live and work in peace, free from oppression. Method: exploit the great powers' conflicts, develop industry, accumulate strength, and wait for the opportunity."

Eleven years had passed. The nation was established, industry had developed, strength had been accumulated. But now, the timing was not in his hands, but hinged on a single thought of that idealistic president across the ocean.

He picked up a fountain pen and wrote a new line on the last page of the plan:

"January 17, 1917. The final diplomatic effort is launched. If it fails, the survival plan will be activated. The cost is unknown, but it must be paid."

After writing, he locked the drawer and went to the balcony. Night had fully fallen, the Persian Gulf sky glittered like diamonds. Beneath this beautiful night sky, humanity was slaughtering each other over reasons perhaps not worth it at all.

Chen Feng recalled an ancient Chinese saying: "The great trend of affairs cannot be stopped by human effort."

But he insisted on trying.

Even if the chance was only one in ten thousand.

January 18, 1917, six o'clock in the morning, Dubai naval base.

Mist hung over the port like gauze. Visibility was under five hundred meters, but through the thin fog the outline of the massive vessel could still be seen—a 45,000‑ton steel hull like a moving island, quietly moored at a dedicated pier. Its deep‑gray paint blended almost into the sea fog, only the two white characters on the bow were faintly visible through the haze: Huaihe.

The Bismarck Class battleship "Huaihe", Lanfang Navy's newest flagship, and the vessel Chen Feng would travel on for this visit.

Wang Wenwu stood on the pier's gangway, tightening his coat collar. A January Persian Gulf morning carried a slight chill; the sea breeze brought a mix of salty brine and engine oil. He checked his watch, then looked toward the President's Palace—the convoy should be arriving soon.

"Minister Wang, all supplies have been loaded." Colonel Zhang Haitao, the ship's captain, came over and saluted. The forty‑two‑year‑old naval officer was the first generation of captains cultivated by Lanfang, had studied for two years at the German Kiel Naval Academy, and after returning had commanded cruisers and destroyers, but this was his first time taking charge of a giant like the Huaihe. "Fuel at 100%, ammunition base at 100%, fresh water and food sufficient for forty‑five days of sailing. The Escort Fleet is already on standby in the open sea."

"Escort formation configuration?"

"Two cruisers, 'Jiangsu' and 'Shandong', four destroyers, one supply ship. Also..." Zhang Haitao lowered his voice, "'Qianlong No. 3' and 'Qianlong No. 5' submarines will accompany the fleet at a distance of fifty nautical miles underwater, maintaining radio silence, but will surface in an emergency."

Wang Wenwu nodded. Such a configuration already surpassed the main fleets of many nations, but Chen Feng insisted on showing strength—not for show, but to send a signal: Lanfang is not a foe to be taken lightly, nor a pawn to be manipulated at will.