Chapter 544: Undercurrents Beneath the Bonfire

The motor launch docked. Rodman stood up and tidied his uniform. As a soldier, his duty was to be ready. And today, he saw the challenge he might face in the future, a challenge harsher than he had imagined.

"General," the Chief of Staff whispered, "the evening bonfire ceremony…"

"Proceed as usual," Lieutenant General Rodman resumed his usual composure, "remember, we are the hosts; we must display the Meilika Navy's magnanimity and bearing."

"Understood."

But both understood that beneath tonight's bonfire, the tone of the dialogue had already become entirely different.

At six o'clock in the evening, on the beach of Ford Island, Pearl Harbor, the bonfire was already lit.

This is the Meilika Navy's traditional way of socializing—lighting piles of bonfires on the sand, grilling food, singing songs, and sailors from different vessels exchanging stories. Tonight, to welcome the Lanfang delegation, the Pacific Fleet headquarters specially organized a larger‑Scale evening.

Six bonfires were arranged in a semicircle, with the largest one in the center surrounded by long tables piled with food: grilled pork chops, corn, bread, fruit, and barrels of beer. Meilika sailors had already gathered in groups of three or five; some held guitars, others had already begun a wrestling game.

When the Lanfang delegation arrived, the beach fell silent for a moment.

Captain Zhang Haitao led fifty sailors and officers of the Huaihe, all dressed in clean service uniforms. Although the Meilika white uniforms differed—Lanfang Navy's summer service uniform is light khaki—their attire was uniform, tidy, and spirited.

Lieutenant General Rodman personally greeted, "Welcome! I hope this relaxed format makes everyone feel comfortable."

"A very distinctive tradition," Captain Zhang smiled, "we also have some sailors prepared with performances; we hope we won't disappoint."

"We look forward to it."

Soon, personnel from both sides began mingling. Language was a barrier, but the young sailors had their own means of communication—gesturing, showing photos, sharing cigarettes. A few Lanfang sailors who knew basic English acted as ad‑hoc translators.

Captain Li Zhenhua was surrounded by a group of Meilika pilots. They were curious about the AR‑1 he was flying, firing question after question.

"Can the aircraft's structure withstand that kind of maneuver?"

"Is the liquid‑cooled engine maintenance very complex?"

"How many flight hours do you log in training?"

Li Zhenhua answered patiently, neither bragging nor deliberately withholding. When he mentioned that Lanfang Navy pilots averaged over 300 flight hours per year, several Meilika pilots widened their eyes—their standard was 150 hours.

Beside another bonfire, Lieutenant Colonel Zhao Zhiqiang was discussing with Meilika artillery officers. The topic gradually shifted from gunfire to fire‑control systems.

"Your radar… can it really lock onto targets in severe weather?" a Meilika major asked.

"It can. But every technology has limits; radar can be jammed," Zhao Zhicheng answered honestly, "so we retain a refined optical system as backup."

"That integrated approach is very advanced. Who proposed it?"

Zhao Zhiqiang paused, "It's one of the basic Concepts of our naval construction. Specifically, it was set by the President and the Equipment Department years ago."

Not far away, Chen Feng and Rodman sat by a relatively quiet bonfire, drinks rather than alcohol before them. Wang Wenwu accompanied them.

"Captain Zhang and his subordinates left a deep impression on me," Rodman said, "professional, confident, yet very modest."

"The navy is a technical service; professional competence is the foundation," Chen Feng replied, "the Meilika Navy's history and experience offer many lessons for us."

"But today on the Huaihe, I saw many things worth learning," Rodman looked straight at Chen Feng, "to be frank, some of the technologies' advancement exceeded my expectations."

Chen Feng smiled faintly, "Technology always progresses. Ten years ago, the appearance of the Dauntless made all old‑style battleships obsolete overnight. Today, perhaps another turning point has arrived."

It was subtle, but the direction was clear.

Rodman lifted his cup and took a sip, "Reform requires resources, time, and also… a clear objective. What is the Lanfang Navy's goal? Protect trade routes? Maintain regional stability? Or something longer‑term?"

The question was direct, bearing a soldier's candor.

Chen Feng thought for a few seconds and answered equally candidly, "A nation's navy scale should match its sphere of interest. Lanfang's trade spans the globe—from the Persian Gulf to Southeast Asia, from the Indian Ocean to the Pacific. We need a navy capable of protecting those interests. That's all."

"Then, if other nations' interests clash with yours?"

"That calls for diplomatic wisdom to avoid conflict," Chen Feng said calmly, "the navy exists not to wage war but to ensure our voice is heard seriously at the negotiating table. I think that should be the shared Concept of all responsible nations' navies."

Rodman nodded. The answer was impeccable, yet he heard the subtext—Lanfang had already defined its interests globally, and their naval construction was meant to support that definition.

The atmosphere on the beach grew livelier. A Lanfang sailor produced a bamboo flute and played a melodious Eastern tune. Several Meilika sailors clapped to the rhythm. Then a Meilika sailor performed a country‑style guitar; the Lanfang sailors didn't understand the lyrics but felt the emotion in the music.

By the largest bonfire, sailors from both sides began a friendly arm‑wrestling contest. A burly Meilika sailor won three opponents in a row, raising his arms high to receive cheers. At that moment, a not‑particularly massive but seemingly agile Lanfang sailor approached.

The surroundings fell silent.

The two shook hands, elbows resting on a temporary wooden crate. The referee shouted "Start," and muscles tensed instantly.

Ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds… the match was evenly matched. The Meilika sailor's face turned bright red, the Lanfang sailor's arm veins bulged. Rhythmic cheers rose around, Meilika and Lanfang alike applauding the participants' perseverance.

In the end, the Lanfang sailor won by a slight margin. He stood, immediately reaching out to pull his opponent up. The two patted each other's shoulders as enthusiastic applause and whistles erupted.

Rodman watched the scene, thoughtful, "Sometimes, sailors' exchanges reflect reality more than diplomats' dialogues."

"Because sailors are more direct and sincere," Chen Feng said, "they know that on the boundless sea, professionalism and mutual respect matter more than anything."

The evening continued until nine o'clock. As the bonfire dwindled and sailors began packing up, a subtle connection had been forged. They exchanged souvenirs—the Lanfang sailors gave handmade Chinese knots and small crafts, the Meilika sailors gave navy insignia and postcards.

At the farewell, many were shaking hands and hugging.