Chapter 64

Chen Feng walked back to the map, his finger slowly moving from the Persian Gulf to Borneo. That route, crossing the Malacca Strait, passing through Singapore, finally reaching Kun Field— the Dutch's former capital.

"Home." He said softly, "This is the ultimate purpose for all of us coming here. But it's not begging to go home; it's going home with heads held high. Not returning as refugees, but as masters."

He turned around, his eyes blazing:

"So, every penny spent now, every ship built, every technology developed, is paving that road home. It may be difficult, it may take a long time. But once the road begins to be paved, it cannot stop."

"Because stopping would render all previous efforts wasted."

At the same time, in the Indian Ocean, the bridge of the Restoration Ship.

Li Te had just received an encrypted telegram from Dubai. After translating it, he stood before the sea chart, silent for a long time.

"Captain?" Lin Hai asked cautiously.

"It's the president's order." Li Te handed over the telegram, "Let us, on the return voyage, detour via Colombo, Aden, and Djibouti. Each port stay no more than twelve hours, only for basic supplies. And... we must be 'courteous'."

Lin Hai quickly scanned the telegram, his eyes widening: "This... this is to tour all the Yingguo strongholds along the Indian Ocean coast!"

"Not just that." Li Te walked to the observation window, looking at the calm sea outside, "This is telling the Yingguo: I can go to every one of your outposts. I can cut off every one of your sea lanes. If war breaks out, your entire Indian Ocean trade network will be exposed to my guns."

He paused:

"Moreover, the president especially emphasized 'courtesy'. What does that mean? It means we are not going to provoke, but to 'visit'. We obey international law, we pay fees, we are polite. Let the Yingguo find no excuse to open fire, yet constantly feel threatened."

Lin Hai swallowed: "Captain, this is even harsher than opening fire directly..."

"Because this is a blatant scheme." Li Te turned, "Do you know what a blatant scheme is? It's when I clearly tell you what I'm going to do, but you can't do anything about it. Because my strength is here, my reasoning stands firm. You either accept it, or suffer greater losses."

He patted the young navigation officer's shoulder:

"Remember today, Lin Hai. This is our first lesson: at the international politics table, power is the chip, but how to use power is the true art."

"So what do we do now..."

"Adjust course, target Colombo." Li Te ordered, "Speed 20 knots, no rush, go slowly. Give the Yingguo enough time to think, and also give the overseas Chinese along the way enough time... to look at their ships."

London, Admiralty Building,

In Lord Fisher's office, smoke hung thick. This First Sea Lord had barely slept for three straight days, his eyes bloodshot, yet his spirit was unusually excited.

"They're going to Colombo." He slammed a telegram onto the desk, "Then Aden, Djibouti. It's like taking a stroll in their own garden."

In the office sat several core figures of the Admiralty, each face grim.

"This is humiliation!" Shipbuilding Director Sir Watts gritted his teeth, "Naked humiliation!"

"No, this is education." Fisher said coldly, "They are educating us what new-era naval power means. They are educating us that three hundred years of experience is worthless before a technological gap."

He walked to the huge map on the wall, his finger moving along the planned route of the Restoration Ship:

"Look at this line. Colombo—our administrative center in Ceylon. Aden—the gateway to the Red Sea. Djibouti—Faguo person's turf, but also within our surveillance range. Each point is a key node of Indian Ocean strategy."

He turned around:

"Now, a warship we can't catch or defeat is going to visit these nodes one by one, under the guise of 'friendly visit'. Gentlemen, do you know what this means?"

No one answered.

"It means that if war breaks out, they can easily blockade the Malacca Strait, cutting off our link to the Far East. They can blockade Aden Bay, cutting off our link to Europe. They could even sail to the Cape of Good Hope, threatening our link to South Africa." Fisher's voice grew lower, "One ship can tie down our entire Indian Ocean force. What if they had five? Ten?"

The office was deathly silent.

"So we must negotiate." Fisher finally said, "Not because we are weak, but because we are clear-headed. When strength is lacking, negotiation is the best way to buy time. And time..." he paused, "is what we need most right now."

"What is the bottom line for negotiations?" someone asked.

"Bottom line?" Fisher gave a wry smile, "Our bottom line is simply not to let that ship appear at the Thames Estuary. Everything else... can be discussed."

He walked to the window, looking at the traffic on Whitehall Street:

"Notify the Foreign Office, have them relay through a Faguo person: the Yingguo Empire is willing to consult with Lanfang representatives on the issue of 'Indian Ocean navigation safety'. The location... could be in London, or Paris. But the precondition is that the 'Restoration Ship' must stop its 'friendly visit'."

"What if they disagree?"

"Then we can only watch it tour the entire Indian Ocean, then tell the world: the Yingguo Royal Navy is powerless." Fisher closed his eyes, "Which do you choose?"

No one dared choose the latter.

Paris, Navy Ministry victory banquet

Champagne bubbles rose in the crystal glasses; under the lights, Faguo Navy's senior officers all had flushed faces. General Dubois stood at the center of the banquet hall, holding aloft his glass, accepting colleagues' congratulations.

"Charles, well done!" a general slapped his shoulder hard, "I've never seen the Yingguo person look so embarrassed! Their fleet trailed behind like lackeys, haha!"

Dubois smiled, but his smile held a hint of barely noticeable worry. He took a sip of champagne and whispered to Minister Thomson beside him:

"Minister, the Yingguo person just sent a formal note. They hope we will act as intermediary, arranging negotiations between them and Lanfang."

Thomson raised an eyebrow: "They've already given in this quickly?"

"Not giving in, but being pragmatic." Dubois said, "The Yingguo person has figured out that the cost of war is too great; negotiation is better. But they want to save face, so they want us to pass the message."

"What do you think?"

"I think..." Dubois pondered, "This is good for France. We can play both sides, gaining benefits from both. But..." he paused, "We must be careful, not let Lanfang feel we are betraying them, nor let the Yingguo person feel we are favoring Lanfang."

Thomson nodded: "The art of balance. Like walking a tightrope, one misstep and you offend both sides."

He glanced at the laughing crowd in the banquet hall, lowering his voice:

"Charles, speak frankly. What do you think that Chen Feng... ultimately wants? Is it really just to return to Borneo and rebuild Lanfang?"

Dubois remained silent for a long time.

"I don't know." He finally said, "But I know one thing: what he wants is not just land, not just a country. He wants a kind of... recognition. Recognition that the Chinese also have the ability to establish a modern nation, to master advanced technology, and to deserve a place on the world stage."

"And this recognition," he gazed out at Paris's night scene, "is harder to obtain than any treaty or any territory. Because it means changing the whole world's view of the Chinese, overturning three centuries of white supremacist notions."

Thomson pondered: "So he wants a revolution. A bloodless but deeper revolution."

"Yes." Dubois nodded, "And we, without realizing it, have become the... catalyst of this revolution. Or, in Chen Feng's words, a player."

The two clinked glasses. The champagne bubbles swirled in the cup, like the world that is now accelerating its spin.