Chapter 585: Lanfang Film & Television Academy 3

"What's the matter?" Rodman asked.

"There's a big one!" Li Te's voice rose again, "General, you're an insider; let me give you the scoop—these Bismarck Class ships we're building now are just appetizers. The real…"

He suddenly stopped, as if realizing he had said too much, and quickly covered his mouth.

Rodman's heartbeat quickened. He poured a glass of water for Li Te: "General Li, you've had too much to drink. Want to rest a bit?"

"No, no need." Li Te took the water, gulped it down, seeming a bit clearer, "Sorry, that was out of line. The words I just said... just pretend you didn't hear them."

"What words?" Rodman smiled, "I only recall that we were having a friendly exchange."

Li Te looked at him gratefully, then changed the subject: "By the way, General, what's your schedule tomorrow? If you'd like to visit other places, I can arrange it."

Rodman thought for a moment: "The original plan was to continue the exchange tomorrow, but I just received word that the Pacific Fleet has some urgent matters I need to handle. So... I may have to return at first light tomorrow."

"That soon?" Li Te showed a regretful expression, "I still wanted to show you our air station and radar center."

"Next time then," Rodman said, "Next time I'll definitely come back and take a good look."

The dinner ended at nine o'clock. Rodman left early, citing "preparing to set sail tomorrow morning." Li Te escorted him to the door and shook hands in farewell.

"General Li, thank you again for your warm hospitality," Rodman said, "This visit has been immensely beneficial to me."

"General, you're being modest. I wish you a smooth journey."

After Rodman left by car, the drunken haze on Li Te's face vanished instantly. He returned to the club, entered a small conference room where Wang Wenwu was already waiting.

"How's it going?" Wang Wenwu asked.

"The fish took the bait," Li Te said as he sat down, taking a sip of strong tea, "He saw the dock and heard my 'post‑drink slip‑up.' He'll leave first thing tomorrow, eager to report back."

"The stuff in the dock…"

"It's just an empty shell," Li Te laughed, "We built a frame with steel plates; there's nothing inside. But the dimensions follow the design of a 50,000‑ton super battleship, and we used thickened steel, so it looks real. Plus the deliberately placed 'scrap' and 'large components'… that's enough to make him believe."

Wang Wenwu also laughed: "The President's move is brilliant. It shows 'strength' without actually revealing the carrier's secret. When Rodman reports back, those in Washington will have to reassess for at least half a year."

"But we must be careful," Li Te said seriously, "Meilika people aren't fools. They'll verify and analyze. We need to run the whole charade—keep that 'super dock' at a moderate level of mystery, occasionally 'leak' semi‑true information, but never let them obtain solid proof."

"It's already arranged," Wang Wenwu said, "Starting tomorrow, raise the dock's alert level by one. Double‑check all personnel entering and exiting. At the same time, have the intelligence department 'accidentally' leak some vague info about the '50,000‑ton battleship design.'"

Li Te nodded: "Also, inform the submarine fleet that after Rodman's fleet departs tomorrow, dispatch two submarines to 'escort' a segment behind."

"Understood."

The two discussed more details until late night.

At six o'clock the next morning, the battleship "Arizona" cast off from the harbor.

Rodman stood on the bridge, watching Dubai recede gradually. In the morning light, the city's outline became clear—modern buildings, a bustling port, massive oil tanks, and a mysterious shipyard in the distance.

"General, the Signal Room received an inquiry from Washington asking about the visit," the communications officer reported.

"Reply: The visit went smoothly, and we obtained important information. A detailed report will be submitted after returning," Rodman said.

He turned and entered the chartroom behind the bridge, spread out the ship's log, and began drafting a preliminary report for the Navy Department and the President. After a few lines he stopped—some information couldn't be put into a telegram that might be intercepted.

He walked to the porthole, gazing at the azure Persian Gulf waters outside. In his mind replayed yesterday's scene: the three Bismarck Class battleships, advanced training facilities, efficient logistics, and… that mysterious huge dock.

And the line Li Te uttered in his post‑drink slip‑up: "The real big one."

Super battleships over 50,000 tons. If that's true, Lanfang's navy's ambition and strength far exceed Meilika's prior estimates.

What's even scarier is what consequences such a nation would face if forced to pick sides.

Rodman recalled Chen Feng's warning in Hawaii: "If Meilika enters the war, Lanfang will meet the same fate."

At the time he thought it was bluster. But now, having seen Lanfang's power firsthand, he realized it might not be a threat, but a prelude.

"General," the adjutant entered, "the Signal Room reports two underwater contacts, bearing 280, distance about five nautical miles. They're moving slowly, seemingly tracking us."

Rodman immediately went to the Signal Room. The operator reported the two targets were faint, maintaining distance, moving in sync.

"It's a submarine," the Signal Chief said, "From the signal characteristics, it's not any known model. It's very quiet; without an active sonar sweep, it couldn't be detected."

"Can we determine its nationality?"

"Can't. But we're less than fifty nautical miles from Dubai…"

The meaning was clear: it's likely a Lanfang submarine.

Rodman's complexion darkened. It was a silent show of force—we're watching you, we can track you, and we don't want you to notice, so you won't notice.

"Maintain surveillance, but do not take hostile action," he ordered, "If they're just tracking, let them track."

"Understood."

Rodman returned to the bridge. The sun had risen high, and the sea surface glittered with fine golden light. Yet beneath the beautiful illumination, a game of hidden currents churned.

He decided that once back at Pearl Harbor, he'd go straight to Washington. He must report in person to the President and the Secretary of the Navy, and reassess the entire Pacific strategy.

Meanwhile, in the command tower of the Dubai naval base, Li Te was using a telescope to watch the retreating Meilika fleet's silhouette.

"Submarine report: the target has been seen tracking but made no response," the Chief of Staff said.

"Very good," Li Te set the telescope down, "Tell them to track until the Strait of Hormuz exit and then return. Not too close, not too far—maintain a professional distance."

"Understood."

Wang Wenwu walked over: "The President called, asking about the situation."

"Tell the President the first phase is complete. Rodman returned with questions about the 'super battleship.' What comes next depends on Washington's reaction."

"What if the Meilika people request to tour that dock?"

"Then we stall," Li Te said, "Safety reviews take time, construction is tight, diplomatic procedures are complex… we stall until they lose patience, or until the day we're ready."

He turned to look at the harbor. In the morning light, the battleship "Huaihe" was preparing to depart; tomorrow it will head to Borneo to pick up Chen Feng and return to Dubai. Meanwhile, in the dock, construction of the "Zhiyuan" continued, the real aircraft carrier was being built in secret, and the whole nation was operating at accelerated speed.

"By the way," Li Te suddenly recalled, "Tell the dock that starting today, every night we work with lights on in that 'super dock' so it can be seen from afar, with shadows. But control access—every 'worker' must be one of ours."

"Create a false impression?"

"Create a genuine illusion," Li Te laughed, "International politics sometimes is like magic—audiences see what they want to see and don't question what's really happening behind the scenes."

The Chief of Staff noted the order, then asked, "General, how long do you think this can deceive?"

"It doesn't need to last long," Li Te said, watching the sunrise in the east, "Just until Meilika makes its final decision, just until the war truly expands into the Pacific. Once the die is cast, the truth won't matter."