Chapter 666: These Chapters Are Water

"You don't know them, do you? I don't know them either. But I know they're dead. Killed by your navy."

Wilson walked around the desk to stand before Si Pu Lin-Lai Si. They were only two meters apart, but Si Pu Lin-Lai Si felt those two meters as if they were two kilometers away.

"Twelve capital ships engaged two training ships for three hours and didn't win. Then they got photographed firing," Wilson's voice rose, "What is your General Jie Li Ke thinking? Sea water?"

Si Pu Lin-Lai Si's face flushed. He was the diplomatic representative of the British Empire and had never been insulted like this in person. Yet he could not refute a single word—the photos were ironclad evidence; denying them was courting death.

"Mr. President," he finally spoke, his voice hoarse, "this is a... regrettable misjudgment. General Jie Li Ke thought at the time it was a German warship."

"Misjudgment?" Wilson sneered, "Twelve capital ships, hundreds of Main Guns, and they couldn't even see whether the enemy had raised a flag before firing? That's a misjudgment?"

He returned to the desk and picked up the British communiqué.

"You want me to mediate. To go to Chen Feng and say this is a misunderstanding. To tell him a little compensation will settle it."

He slammed the communiqué onto the desk.

"Mr. Ambassador, do you know what Chen Feng said at the Dubai City Hall?"

Si Pu Lin-Lai Si shook his head.

"He said, 'Lanfang people, do not kneel.' He said they would fight until you kneel."

Wilson walked back to the window, his back to everyone.

"I spent three years waiting for the Germans to slip up, waiting for a justifiable moment to join the war. And now? You give me a gift—pushing the neutral Lanfang into Germany's embrace."

He turned and looked at Si Pu Lin-Lai Si.

"Mr. Ambassador, go back and tell your Prime Minister: Meilika will not declare war on Lanfang. Not a single soldier will."

Si Pu Lin-Lai Si's complexion turned white in an instant.

"Mr. President, this... how can this be? If Meilika doesn't send troops, all our colonies in Yazhou will..."

"That's your problem," Wilson cut him off, "you shot people; you bear the consequences yourself."

He went back to the desk and sat down.

"I will send a consul to Dubai to convey your message. That's all."

Si Pu Lin-Lai Si stood there, opened his mouth, but said nothing. He gave a slight bow, turned, and walked out.

After the door closed, Wilson leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Lansing asked softly, "Mr. President, are we really not getting involved?"

Wilson did not open his eyes.

"Intervene? How? Attack Lanfang? Do you have a justification? Britain fires first, we help the British strike the victims—does that hold up internationally?"

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

"Wait. Let them fight it out, then we'll step in to tidy the situation."

London, 10 Downing Street.

In the Prime Minister's residence conference room, smoke swirled. Cabinet ministers sat around the long table, each with that stack of photos before them. They had seen them dozens of times, yet each viewing still felt blinding.

Prime Minister Qiao Zhi sat at the head, holding a freshly received telegram—the one sent by the ambassador to Meilika, relaying every word of Wilson.

He set the telegram down, lifted his head, and looked at those present.

"Wilson refused. Meilika will not send troops."

The conference room fell into dead silence.

Navy Minister John Jie Li Ke—not that Jie Li Ke, his cousin also named John Jie Li Ke, but this one a civilian—was the first to speak. (Editor's note: nonsense, haha.)

"Prime Minister, we can redeploy a fleet from the Mediterranean... Once they reach the Indian Ocean, adding Jie Li Ke's existing eight ships, we'll have eleven capital ships. Lanfang only has..."

"Only what?" the Prime Minister interrupted, "only four Bismarck Class? Only over a hundred submarines? Only 250,000 Sakura Nation soldiers boarding? Only three Arab divisions advancing toward Yilang? Only 120,000 already on the Sinai Peninsula waiting to storm the Suez Canal?"

He stood up and walked to the massive world map on the wall.

"Gentlemen, look at this."

He pointed at the Indian Ocean.

"Lanfang's over a hundred submarines are all deployed. From Malacca to the Persian Gulf, every British ship is prey. How can our merchant ships get through? How can we transport our supplies?"

He again pointed at the Suez Canal.

"Lanfang's 120,000 troops have gathered at Hor Dasah, only two hundred kilometers from the canal. Once they charge, what will happen to Egypt? What about the Suez Canal?"

He again pointed at Singapore.

"The Sakura Nation's ten divisions are boarding, Lanfang's two Bismarck Class ships are waiting in Borneo. Singapore's thirty thousand garrison—how long can they hold?"

He turned, looking at the silent faces.

"Gentlemen, we are losing a war. Not on the battlefield, but the moment that fool Jie Li Ke ordered to fire."

Army Minister He Bo Te Ji Qin Na spoke, his voice hoarse: "Prime Minister, we can negotiate. Though Lanfang's terms are harsh,..."

"But what?" the Prime Minister asked, "a public apology, admission of a deliberate attack, handing over Jie Li Ke, compensating all losses, relinquishing all privileges in Yazhou—this is a peace talk? This is surrender!"

He walked back to his seat and sat down.

"Moreover, even if we accept those terms, will Chen Feng stop? I doubt it. He already has a knife at our throats; until he sees blood, he won't withdraw it."

Foreign Minister Ai De Hua Ge Lei pushed the door open and entered. His complexion was even worse than when he left.

"Prime Minister, just received news. Lanfang's Foreign Ministry formally rejected Meilika's mediation request. Chen Feng said, 'No.'"

The conference room fell silent again.

The Prime Minister closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Any worse news?"

Ge Lei was silent for three seconds.

"Yes. The Governor of India called. Bombay, Calcutta, Madras have erupted in massive protests. The people demand independence, demand the British leave India. The colonial government can no longer control the situation."

"What about Australia?"

"They also sent a telegram. They request urgent reinforcements, saying Lanfang's Fourth and Fifth Divisions are gathering and could land at any moment. But we... we have no ships to transport troops. The Suez Canal could be cut off at any time."

The Prime Minister opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

"God," he murmured, "what have we done to deserve this punishment?"

The conference room door was pushed open again. An attendant entered and whispered a few words into the Prime Minister's ear.

The Prime Minister's complexion changed.

He stood up and adjusted his collar.

"Everyone, Your Majesty the King has arrived."

Everyone stood up simultaneously.

At the doorway, George V entered. He wore a navy admiral's uniform, his chest covered with medals, but his face lacked its usual authority, showing an indescribable fatigue and heaviness.

"Your Majesty," the Prime Minister bowed.

George V waved his hand: "Everyone, sit down. This is not a formal occasion."

He walked to the head of the long table and sat on the chair beside the main seat—a chair prepared especially for him.

Everyone sat down, but no one dared to speak first.

George V looked at the stack of photos on the table, picked up one, and stared at it for a long time.

"This person," he said, pointing at Zhang Zhen in the photo, "is he still alive?"

The Prime Minister was startled: "Your Majesty, you mean..."

"This blood‑smeared officer. The captain Lanfang. Is he dead?"

The Prime Minister looked at the Foreign Minister. Grey shook his head: "Your Majesty, intelligence shows he is still alive. He is seriously wounded, but not in mortal danger."

George V nodded and set the photo down.