Chapter 641: Old Companions Meet, Eyes Filled with Tears

She Er was stunned.

He opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word.

The man walked over, stood in front of him, and looked at him.

He stared for a long time.

Then he spread his arms and embraced him.

"She Er." The old man's voice was hoarse, trembling with suppressed emotion, "You're alive… you're still alive…"

She Er closed his eyes.

At that moment, he forgot his battle wounds, forgot the fuel, forgot the Yingguo, forgot that horrific sea battle. He only remembered that the old man was his teacher from thirty years ago, his lifelong idol, the founder of the Deguo Navy.

Alfred von Tirpitz.

"Marshal…" She Er began, his voice choked.

Tirpitz patted his back and let go.

"Let me see you." The old Marshal stepped back, appraising him from head to toe, "You've thinned. You've aged. But your eyes still have light."

She Er didn't know what to say.

Tirpitz took his hand and had him sit down.

"Sit." The old Marshal said, "Take your time. Start from the Atlantic, tell it piece by piece."

She Er sat on the sofa, looking at the old man opposite.

He had too many things to say. From the Atlantic hunt, to the sinking of the Queen Ship, to the Indian Ocean chase, to yesterday's bloody battle. Yet thousands of words were stuck in his throat, and in the end he could only utter one sentence:

"Marshal, I didn't lead the fleet well."

Tirpitz looked at him.

"You sank the Queen Ship, you sank the Barham, the Valiant, the Malaya, you sank the Brave and the Glorious. In the Arabian Sea you also took down the Royal Oak and the Determination," the old Marshal said, "Is that what you call not leading well?"

She Er lowered his head: "But we lost the support fleet. Four King Class ships, eight thousand sailors…"

Tirpitz was silent for a few seconds.

"She Er," he finally spoke, his voice deep, "Do you know why I built the Dreadnought back then?"

She Er lifted his head.

"Because I did the math," Tirpitz said, "The Yingguo have over twenty battleships, we have only a dozen or so. If we fight head‑on, we'll never win. So we needed to build a ship that's faster than theirs, stronger than theirs, so they can't catch us, can't beat us."

He paused: "The Bismarck Class is the continuation of that idea. Two Bismarck Class ships replace six of the Yingguo's main ships, and also take down two heavily damaged ones. No matter how you calculate it, the balance sheet doesn't lose."

She Er remained silent.

"The sacrifice of the support fleet," Tirpitz continued, "was their own choice. Schmidt knew what the outcome would be if he went to support you, yet he still went. Because he knew that keeping the Bismarck alive was more important than preserving four King Class ships."

He stood up, walked to She Er's side, and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"She Er, you owe no one anything."

She Er looked into the old Marshal's eyes.

In those eyes there was a glimmer of tears, but more so pride.

"Marshal," he finally spoke, his voice steadier, "Thank you."

Tirpitz nodded.

"Alright," he said, "No more of that. Chen Feng is treating us to dinner tonight. Then we have business to discuss."

The dinner was in the Presidential Palace's private dining room.

It wasn't a banquet hall, but a private dining room. A small round table, four chairs, the table set with a few simple dishes—steamed fish, stir‑fried greens, rice, soup. No red wine, only tea.

Chen Feng sat at the head, Tirpitz at his right, She Er at his left. One seat remained empty—it was reserved for Li Te, Chen Feng's companion, but he wasn't here tonight, saying he had matters to attend to.

She Er looked at the dishes on the table, a bit surprised.

He had expected a grand banquet, but it was even simpler than a regular household dinner.

Chen Feng seemed to see what he was thinking.

"General She Er," he said, "Lanfang doesn't indulge in extravagance. Eating is just eating; as long as you're full, that's enough."

She Er nodded: "President, I am very grateful for your hospitality."

Chen Feng picked up his chopsticks: "Eat first. We'll talk after the meal."

The three ate quietly.

She Er hadn't had such decent food in a long time. He'd been surviving on shipboard canned goods and hard biscuits for almost a month; now fresh fish and greens felt like a dream. Yet he restrained himself, not wolfing the food down.

After the meal, the servant cleared the dishes and brought tea.

Chen Feng lifted his teacup, looking at the two German generals opposite.

"Marshal Tirpitz," he finally asked, "You didn't come this time just to see She Er, did you?"

Tirpitz set down his teacup and sat upright.

"President Chen," he said, "You are right. I have come by Your Majesty the Emperor's decree."

He paused: "Your Majesty wishes to purchase a few more Bismarck Class ships."

She Er looked at Chen Feng.

Chen Feng said nothing, merely sipping his tea slowly.

Tirpitz continued, "The performance of the Bismarck Class in naval battles has already proven the value of such warships. Deguo needs more Bismarck Class ships to completely break the Yingguo's blockade and control the Atlantic and Indian Ocean."

He looked into Chen Feng's eyes: "Your Majesty is willing to pay any price—gold, technology, colonies—so long as Lanfang agrees."

Chen Feng set down his teacup.

"Marshal Tirpitz," he said, "Do you know why Lanfang does not join the war?"

Tirpitz was taken aback for a moment.

"Because the timing," Chen Feng said, "If we join now, whichever side we stand on will upset the balance.."

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the night over the Persian Gulf was very dark. Moonlight spilled onto the sea surface like shattered silver.

"What I need is time," he said, turning around. "Let Deguo and Yingguo keep fighting, let both sides wear themselves out, let Meilika keep waiting. When everyone is exhausted, Lanfang will step forward again."

He walked back to the desk and sat down.

"Selling the Bismarck Class to Deguo now is tantamount to telling Yingguo: Lanfang is about to fall. What will the English do? They will block the Indian Ocean at any cost, cut off our shipping lanes, and even declare war outright."

He shook his head. "I cannot take that risk."

Tirpitz fell silent.

She Er spoke up.

"President Chen," he said, "if Deguo doesn't buy, what about… leasing?"

Chen Feng looked at him.

"Lease?"

"Lease." She Er said, "Deguo pays rent, Lanfang retains ownership. If the situation changes, Lanfang can reclaim at any time."

He paused. "In that case, you aren't selling a weapon of war, just leasing it. The English will have no excuse."

Chen Feng remained silent for a long time.

He stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the night outside.

"General She Er," he finally said, "you are a clever person."

He turned around, walked back to the desk, and sat down.

"But leasing won't work either," he said. "At least not now."

He poured himself a cup of tea and took a slow sip.

"When you repair the Bismarck, when you return to the Indian Ocean, and win a few more battles. When the English are a bit weaker, when Meilika hesitates more, when the situation becomes clearer."

He paused. "Then, we'll discuss the leasing matter again."

Tirpitz nodded.

"President Chen," he said, "I understand."

He stood up, extended his hand. "Thank you for your hospitality, and thank you for taking in She Er. Deguo will remember this."

Chen Feng grasped his hand.

"Marshal," he said, "the Tirpitz needs seven days for repairs. During those seven days, you may stay in Dubai and have a good look. See Lanfang's shipyard, see our workers, see our future."

He smiled. "Perhaps after seeing it, you will have more confidence in Lanfang."