Chapter 66

Four o'clock in the morning in the Persian Gulf.

Chen Feng was startled awake by a sudden knocking at the door. He didn't turn on the light, but sat up straight from bed—an instinct honed during three years of exile.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Wang Bo walked in holding an oil lamp. The old man's face showed no trace of sleepiness, only a heavy sorrow.

"Young Master, an urgent telegram for the Restoration Ship." He placed a translated telegram slip on the bedside table: "Something's happened in Java."

Chen Feng picked up the telegram and read it by the oil lamp's light. He reads quickly, but his finger paused when he saw the number "forty‑seven."

Then he continued reading, saw Li Te's request, and saw the sentence: "To stand by while others die would chill the hearts of three hundred thousand compatriots; yet to act on one's own could disrupt the overall plan."

"What a Li Te." Chen Feng said softly, "In this dilemma, he's pushed the hardest decision onto me."

Wang Bo stood to the side, saying nothing. He knew he didn't need to speak at a moment like this.

Chen Feng threw off the covers, got out of bed, and walked to the window. Outside, the lights of Dubai harbor were still on—the night‑shift dockworkers rushing to finish work, the power plant's three‑shift rotation, the ceaseless heartbeat of this newborn nation that never stops, 24 hours a day.

"Wang Bo," he asked, his back to the old man, "If it were you, what would you choose?"

Wang Bo fell silent for a few seconds, then spoke slowly: "I don't understand those grand strategies. But I remember that three years ago, when we left Kun Dian, an old lady at the dock grabbed my hand and asked, 'Wang Bo, will you come back?' I said yes. She then asked, 'Well… how long will it take?'"

He paused, his voice a little hoarse:

"I can't answer. Because I don't know. Back then we had nothing but three hundred thousand mouths to feed and a barren desert."

Chen Feng turned around and looked at the old man.

"Then what happened?" he asked.

"After that, the old lady pulled a small cloth bundle from her pocket and pressed it into my hand." Wang Bo said, "Inside were three silver dollars she had saved her whole life. She said, 'Wang Bo, take this money. Buy the Young Master something good to eat. You must stay alive, build big ships, come back… so that we, before we die, can see the Yellow Dragon flag fly again.'"

The room fell silent, save for the crackling of the oil lamp's wick.

Chen Feng walked to the desk, sat down, spread out a fresh telegram sheet, and dipped his pen in ink.

"Wang Bo," he said while writing, "Do you know why we're building these ships?"

To go home.

"Yes, to go home." Chen Feng's pen didn't stop, "But going home isn't just a geographic distance. What is home? It's a place you can return to for redress when you're bullied abroad. It's having a group of people who can stand up for you when your siblings are beaten."

He finished the last character, set down his pen, and pushed the telegram toward Wang Bo.

"If we watch today as our compatriots in Java are killed and, for the sake of 'strategic overall situation,' stand by and do nothing, what's the point of building these ships? We keep saying we want to go home, but if we can't even protect our living families, then even if we truly return to Borneo, could that place still be called home?"

Wang Bo looked at the telegram, his eye sockets slowly reddening.

The telegram was simple:

【To Captain Li Te of the Restoration Ship, Top Secret

Message received. Approved change of plan, proceed at full speed to Java.

Principles are as follows:

1. Protecting the lives of compatriots is the primary task.

2. Action may be escalated stepwise, but must remain controllable. Do not open fire first unless the other side does.

3. Show strength, then withdraw when the goal is met. Make the Dutch remember the pain, and let all overseas Chinese see the light.

Specific measures are for you to decide on the spot.

The motherland and the three hundred thousand compatriots are your backing.

Also: operation code name 'Beginning of the Return.'

Chen Feng, 04:12】

"Send it out." Chen Feng said, "Use the highest priority. Also, notify Chief Engineer Liu and Li Mingyuan and the others: we'll have a meeting in an hour. We must prepare for the worst—if the Dutch don't back down, if the British take the opportunity to cause trouble, we need a contingency plan."

"Yes, Young Master." Wang Bo picked up the telegram, walked to the door, then paused, "Young Master…"

"Huh?"

"Aren't you worried about the British side? Our original plan…"

"Plans are meant to be broken." Chen Feng walked to the window, watching the eastern sky gradually turn fish‑belly white, "Wang Bo, remember: in the game of international politics, the fiercest move isn't following the playbook—it's having the power to flip the table whenever you want. The Restoration Ship going to Java is telling everyone—Lanfang's table is now ours to overturn."

In the meeting room of the Restoration Ship, smoke hung thick.

Eight people sat around the long table—Li Te, Executive Officer Lin Hai, Chief Engineer Zhou Da Yong, Gunnery Officer Zhao Tieshan, Navigation Officer Chen Qiming, plus three department heads. Each had a cup of bitter‑strong coffee in front of them, but nobody drank.

Li Te placed Chen Feng's reply telegram in the center of the table.

"Did everyone see it clearly?" his voice calm, "The president has authorized us to go to Java. Three principles: protect compatriots first, controllable escalation, show strength."

The meeting room fell into dead silence.

After a few seconds, Chief Engineer Zhou Da Yong was the first to speak: "Captain, at full speed to Java, do we have enough fuel? We just finished replenishing in Bombay, but the fuel consumption at 30 knots…"

"We've calculated it." Lin Hai replied, "If we maintain 30 knots the whole way, we'll have only enough fuel left for twelve hours of combat cruising upon arrival. But if we cruise at 28 knots economically, we can stretch it to twenty hours. The executive officer recommends the latter."

"I agree." Zhao Tieshan said—this forty‑year‑old veteran gunner who once served in the Qing Beiyang Fleet—"Java isn't an open ocean; we don't need such high speed. Twenty‑eight knots is enough to crush any Dutch ship—if they dare send one out."

"That's the problem." Li Te tapped the table, "Once we get there, what do we do? Demonstrate outside the harbor? Send small boats ashore to pick people up? Or just blast the Dutch military camp with our guns?"

Another silence fell.

"Captain," Chen Qiming said softly, "The president said 'do not open fire first.' So… are we just supposed to watch?"

"Watch?" Zhao Tieshan snorted, "Little Chen, you didn't get the president's meaning. 'Show strength, then withdraw when the goal is met'—what does that mean? It means we can hold our fire until they shoot first, but we must let the Dutch know that if they dare fire a second shot, we'll flatten their entire harbor."

"Old Zhao's right." Zhou Da Yong nodded, "Our ship has eight 381 mm guns; a full broadside is three tons of shells. The Dutch military installations in Batavia—how many rounds could we fire at them? They're not stupid; they'll do the math."

Li Te listened to his subordinates' debate, his fingers lightly tapping the tabletop.

"Lin Hai," he suddenly asked, "Do we have a nautical chart of the Java seas?"

"Yes!" Lin Hai stood up, walked to the wall, pulled back the curtain, and revealed a detailed South Ocean chart, "This was prepared by the executive officer before departure; it covers all major ports and routes from the Strait of Malacca to northern Australia."

Li Te walked up to the chart and pointed his finger at Batavia (present‑day Jakarta).

"What's the harbor depth?"

"The main channel's deepest point is twelve meters; our draft is eleven‑point‑five meters, so we can enter, but maneuvering room is tight." Lin Hai answered quickly, "We should stay offshore and cover the harbor with our guns. Our main‑gun range exceeds thirty thousand meters—more than enough."

"What about the Dutch defense?"

"According to intelligence from three months ago," the intelligence officer began, a bespectacled young man named Xu Wen, "Bandaweia Port permanently stations an old pre‑dreadnought of the Dutch East India Fleet, about a 7,000‑ton class, Main Gun caliber 240 mm, speed under 18 knots. The shore batteries number four, the largest caliber 280 mm, but they're all ten‑year‑old antiques, with poor range and accuracy."

"In other words," Li Te summarized, "In firepower we have an absolute advantage. In speed we have an absolute advantage. In protection… their guns can't even pierce our Armour Belt."