Chapter 541: Landing: The Subtle Weight

Pearl Harbor, Ford Island pier.

Lieutenant General Rodman has already changed into a full set of white summer dress uniform, golden stars shining on the shoulder epaulettes. Behind him stand two rows of navy honor guard, soldiers holding rifles upright, bayonets glinting coldly in the sunlight. Further away, some sailors and officers not on duty gather at the edge of the pier, looking on curiously.

"They're coming," the Chief of Staff whispered.

At the entrance channel of the harbor, the first silhouettes are two destroyers, their bows cutting the calm water. Next come the towering superstructures of the cruisers Jiangsu and Shandong. Finally, the massive leviathan drifts slowly into view.

Even though they were mentally prepared, when the Huai River actually appeared inside Pearl Harbor, a hushed gasp rose from the crowd.

With a displacement of 45,000 tons, it is a behemoth by contemporary standards. Its hull exceeds 250 meters in length, 36 meters in beam, and the armor belt near the waterline has a deep‑gray matte finish. Most striking are the two massive quadruple‑turret gun houses on the foredeck, each 380 mm barrel over 19 meters long, jutting skyward like a beast's fangs. The bridge is a compact tower bristling with optical and electronic antennae, the most prominent being a rotating radar dish.

"More impressive than any photograph," Rodman whispered to the Chief of Staff.

"Intelligence estimates its main guns can penetrate the main armor of any of our battleships at twenty‑thousand yards,"

Rodman gave no reply. He watched the Huai River glide toward the dedicated pier with flawless handling, completing the complex berthing maneuver almost without tug assistance, demonstrating superb steering and propulsion response.

The gangway was lowered.

First to disembark were a squad of marines in distinctive desert‑camouflage combat uniforms, wielding semi‑automatic rifles manufactured by Lanfang. They swiftly set up a security line on both sides of the gangway, moving cleanly and efficiently, eyes alert yet unhostile.

Then Chen Feng appeared.

He was not in a military dress today, but in a tailored dark‑gray suit, a golden dragon badge pinned to the left breast pocket. In his thirties, his physique remained excellent, his stride steady and strong. Wang Wenwu followed half a step behind, also in a suit, carrying a briefcase. (Comrades requested a change; now it's the dragon badge.)

Rodman stepped forward and saluted, "President Chen Feng, I represent President Woodrow Wilson of the United States of America and the Meilika Pacific Fleet, and welcome you to Pearl Harbor."

Chen Feng returned with a standard handshake, firm yet measured, timing just right: "General Rodman, thank you for your hospitality. It is an honor to come to this world‑renowned naval port."

His English carried a slight accent, but his diction was precise and his tone calm.

"The President is awaiting you. However, before that, according to naval tradition, you might be interested in touring Pearl Harbor's facilities? Of course, should you and your entourage need rest…"

"The guests follow the host's lead," Chen Feng smiled, "We are also curious about a world‑class naval base."

After a brief welcome ceremony, Chen Feng and his principal entourage boarded the waiting convoy. No red carpet, no marching band, only essential security personnel and a streamlined procedure. Yet Rodman noted that everyone from Lanfang— from the president down to ordinary staff— behaved decorously and calmly, showing no hint of newcomer awkwardness.

The convoy drove toward the officers' villa district within the base. Passing the pier, the main ships of the Meilika Pacific Fleet were neatly moored: three battleships, six cruisers, over twenty destroyers, and auxiliary vessels. The scale was grand, yet Rodman inexplicably felt that, contrasted with the ultra‑modern silhouette of the Huai River, his own fleet appeared somewhat… dated.

"Mr. Chen, what is your impression of Pearl Harbor?" Rodman asked tentatively in the vehicle.

"Impressive," Chen Feng said, looking at the scenery outside, "The port's natural conditions are uniquely favorable, the facilities are comprehensive. More importantly, I see rigorous management and professional sailors. That is the foundation of any powerful navy."

A diplomatic answer, yet Rodman could hear the sincerity within it.

"I've heard Lanfang's base in the Persian Gulf is also excellently constructed,"

"We're still learning. After all, our nation is only a little over a decade old, and in many respects we need to learn from traditional naval powers."

The dialogue proceeded in a courteous and cautious atmosphere. Rodman tried to glean information, but Chen Feng's replies were airtight, neither overly modest nor arrogant.

The officers' villa is a white, two‑story colonial‑style building, shaded by surrounding trees. President Wilson chose to stay here rather than at a hotel on Oahu, evidently for security and secrecy.

Chen Feng was assigned a suite on the first floor, its windows facing a small garden. Wang Wenwu stayed next door. The other accompanying officials and security personnel were placed in adjacent buildings.

"In three hours, the President will dine with you," Rodman said before departing, "If you need anything before then…"

"Thank you, General. We may need a brief regroup," Chen Feng shook his hand again.

After the door closed, Wang Wenwu immediately began inspecting the room. It was a security protocol; although the American side had assured safety, they had to be cautious. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, he moved to the window and peered outside through the slats.

"Security is tight, but not overly conspicuous."

Chen Feng removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie: "Wilson chose to meet me here, indicating how much he values this meeting and that he doesn't want the outside world to learn details too early. That's a good thing."

"General Rodman's earlier probing…"

"Normal," Chen Feng said, sitting on the sofa. "If it were me, I'd also want to get a read on the other side. The afternoon ship‑to‑ship visits are the main event; that's what they truly want to see."

Wang Wenwu nodded: "Captain Zhang's side is ready. The sailors have all undergone special… training."

When he reached the last two words, his expression turned slightly odd.

Chen Feng smiled uncharacteristically: "I hope their performance isn't too over‑the‑top."

It was two p. m. in the afternoon, and the Hawaiian sun was perfect.

Accompanied personally by Lieutenant General Rodman, Chen Feng, Wang Wenwu, and a twenty‑person Lanfang naval officer detachment boarded the battleship Arizona moored at Pier 3.

The second ship of the Pennsylvania‑class battleships, commissioned in 1916, displaces 31,400 tons and is armed with twelve 356 mm main guns, making it one of Meilika Navy's current prides. When the Lanfang delegation stepped onto the gangway, Colonel Williams of the Arizona was already waiting at the entrance.