Chapter 704: London's Fury

London's morning was so gloomy you could wring water from it.

A heavy layer of clouds pressed over the Thames River, gray and dim, like a massive sheet of lead. There was no wind, no rain, only a stifling oppression that made it hard to breathe. The great clock in the Parliament Building had just struck eight, its chimes echoing through the damp air, carrying far and wide.

In front of 10 Downing Street, dozens of reporters had already gathered. They held black umbrellas, crowded against the iron fence, craning their necks to peer inside. Some clutched notebooks, some raised cameras, some held cigarettes in their mouths, others whispered. Yet every eye was fixed on the tightly shut black door.

A young reporter stood on tiptoe, trying to see into the courtyard. An older reporter beside him tugged his sleeve.

"Stop looking; you can't see it."

The young reporter withdrew his neck in frustration and whispered, "Sir, what news do you think will come today?"

The older reporter glanced at him, pulled a pipe from his pocket, leisurely packed tobacco, struck a match and lit it. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"What news? Bad news. Only bad news."

The young reporter was taken aback: "How do you know?"

The older reporter pointed at the door.

"Do you see? From six this morning until now, how many have gone in? The Navy Minister, the Army Minister, the Foreign Minister, the Colonial Affairs Minister, the India Affairs Minister— all of them have entered. With a display like this, what good news could there be?"

The young reporter followed his finger's direction and indeed, the door opened at intervals, ushering in a dignitary seated in a car. Each time someone entered, the press erupted in a stir, flashbulbs flashing like a sea of light, only to be quickly swallowed by the rain curtain.

"Sir," the young reporter asked again, "Did you say Singapore really was lost?"

The older reporter was silent for three seconds.

"Whether it's lost or not, we'll know soon," he exhaled a puff of smoke, "but look at the expressions on those people's faces as they go in—none of them look good."

In the conference room, the smoke was so thick it stung the throat.

【7】 Both sides of the long table were filled with people—Army Minister Herbert Kichina, Foreign Minister Edward Gray, Colonial Affairs Minister Walter Long, India Affairs Minister Austin Chamberlain, and a host of generals, staff officers, and secretaries whose names were unknown. In front of each lay a thick stack of telegrams, and each face was as grim as if a loved one had died.

【8】 Prime Minister Herbert Henry Asquith sat at the head seat, holding the telegram about Singapore, which he had read three times.

【9】 "Singapore," he began, his voice hoarse as sandpaper on steel, "we have run Singapore for a hundred years, and in four days it is gone."

【10】 No one spoke.

【11】 He set the telegram down and picked up another.

【12】 "Burma. Lost."

【13】 He lifted yet another.

【14】 "Yilang. Also lost."

【15】 He slammed the stack of telegrams onto the table, raised his head, and stared at the silent faces.

【16】 "Four days. In four days, Yingguo has lost half of Yazhou. Who among you can tell me what will be lost next?"

The long table was flanked by people—Army Minister He Botè·Ji Qin Na, Foreign Minister Ai De Hua·Ge Lei, Colonial Affairs Minister Wo Er Te·Lang, Indian Affairs Minister Ao Si Ting·Zhang Bo Lun, and a large group of generals, staff officers and secretaries whose names we cannot recall. In front of each lay a thick stack of telegrams, and each person's complexion was as grim as if a loved one had died.

Navy Minister John Jellico— not the Admiral Jellico trapped in Mumbai Port, but his cousin, also named John Jellico, a civilian— finally spoke. His voice was low, as if muttering to himself.

"Prime Minister, our forces in Malaya… the losses are huge. The Sakura Nation lost over forty thousand, but our men…"

"But what happened to our men?" Asquith stared at him.

Jellico lowered his head.

"Our men surrendered. Over thirty thousand, including seventeen senior officers, all became prisoners."

Asquith closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Over thirty thousand surrendered. Seventeen senior officers captured. It is a humiliation the Yingguo army has never known since its founding.

Army Minister Kichina spoke. His voice was hoarse but steady.

"Prime Minister, the most urgent matter now is to hold Egypt. If the Suez Canal is cut, our link to India will be completely severed. If India is lost again…"

He did not finish, but everyone knew what it meant.

India is the crown jewel of the Yingguo Empire. Lose India, and the empire truly ends.

Asquith opened his eyes and looked at him.

"What are we to protect? The Sinai Peninsula is gone, Lanfang's 120,000 have already surged to the canal's edge. The few garrison troops in Egypt— are they enough to hold for a few days?"

Kichina was silent for a few seconds.

"We can redeploy troops from the Mediterranean. Egypt is nearer to Europe than to Asia. As long as we hold the Suez Canal, we can…"

"And what then?" Asquith interrupted, "Do we wait for Lanfang to launch another attack from the Sinai Peninsula? Or wait for the Sakura Nation to push from Burma into India?"

He rose and walked to the massive world map on the wall. On it, Yingguo's colonies had once been painted in vast swaths of red, from Canada to Australia, from Africa to Yazhou, covering the globe. Now those reds were fading piece by piece—Singapore gone, Burma gone, Yilang gone. India's red remained, but was already surrounded by black arrows.

"Gentlemen," he said, pointing at the map, "look at this. It took us a hundred years to paint so much land red. Now? Four days, only four days, and we've lost half."

"Prime Minister, the most important thing now is to hold onto Egypt. If the Suez Canal is cut off, our link with India will be completely severed. If we lose India again…"

"Who among you can tell me, when the war ends, how much red will remain on this map?"

The door was pushed open, and an aide entered, whispering a few words into Asquith's ear.

Asquith's expression shifted briefly, then returned to normal. He waved his hand, and the aide withdrew.

"Gentlemen," he said, "just received word. Admiral Jellico's fleet is still in Mumbai Port."

The conference room stirred.

"Still in the port?" Kichina sprang to his feet, "It's been a week! He's been in the port for a week! Deguo's Bismarck and Tirpitz are just outside, why doesn't he go out to fight?"

Navy Minister Jellico lowered his head, his voice barely audible.

"We can't win. Deguo has two Bismarck Class ships, plus two from Lanfang, four in total. We have only eight damaged battleships, and five reinforcements from the Mediterranean. But…"

"Everyone," he said, pointing at the map, "look at this. It took us a hundred years to paint so much land red. And now? In four days—just four days—we've lost half."

"Our troops' morale is low. After the Arabian Sea battle, many… dare not fight anymore."

Kichina slammed a fist onto the table.

"Dare not fight? They are the Royal Navy! The pride of Yingguo! What do you call…"

Asquith waved his hand, signaling him to sit.

"These words are useless now," he said, returning to his seat and sitting down. "Why Jellico didn't dare to fight, we can question after the war ends. The present problem is, what do we use to counter Lanfang?"

A commotion broke out in the conference room.

"Still in the harbor?" Jiqinna sprang to his feet, "It's been a week! He's been in the harbor for a week! Deguo's Bismarck and Tirpitz are right outside; why doesn't he go out to fight?"

Minister of the Navy Jieli Ke lowered his head, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

"We can't win. Deguo has two Bismarck Class ships, plus Lanfang's two, four in total. We have only eight damaged battleships and five reinforcements brought from the Mediterranean. But …"

"But what?"

"But our soldiers' morale is low. After the Battle of the Arabian Sea, many… no longer dare to fight."

Jiqinna slammed a fist onto the table.

"Don't dare to fight? They're the Royal Navy! The pride of the British Empire! What do you mean… don't dare to fight?"

Asi Kuisi waved his hand, signaling him to sit down.

"Talking about this now is useless." He walked back to his seat and sat down, "Why Jieli Ke won't fight, we can question that after the war ends. The problem now is, what do we use to deal with the Lanfang?"