Chapter 731: Community of Interests

At three in the afternoon, the signing ceremony was held in the small conference room of the Presidential Office.

There were no reporters, no flashbulbs, no grand ceremony—only a table, two documents, two fountain pens, and a few witnesses.

Chen Feng sat on one side of the table, La Wa Er on the other. Deputy Officer Lin stood behind Chen Feng, and Dumeng stood behind La Wa Er. Apart from them, no one else was in the room.

Chen Feng lifted the pen and signed his name on the document, stroke by stroke, slowly and carefully.

La Wa Er also took the pen and signed his name. His hand was steady, without any tremor.

The two exchanged the documents and signed again.

After signing, they stood up and shook hands.

Deputy Officer Lin clapped lightly. Dumeng followed suit. The applause sounded a little lonely in the quiet room, but it was enough.

La Wa Er looked at Chen Feng and said, "President, this agreement will change the world."

Chen Feng nodded.

"I know."

La Wa Er was silent for a few seconds.

"Aren't you afraid France will betray?"

Chen Feng smiled.

"Mr. La Wa Er, do you know what a 'Community of Interests' is?"

La Wa Er shook his head.

Chen Feng pointed at the agreement.

"In this agreement, Lanfang's and France's interests are tied together. Lanfang needs France's territory; France needs Lanfang's capital. Whoever betrays loses. A single betrayal forfeits decades of future cooperation. Smart people can calculate this account."

He looked at La Wa Er.

"Prime Minister Kelei Mengsuo is a smart person. You are also a smart person."

La Wa Er was silent for a few seconds.

Then he bowed deeply.

"President, France will not forget Lanfang's friendship."

Chen Feng patted his shoulder.

"Go. Return and tell Kelei Mengsuo that Lanfang awaits his good news."

That evening, La Wa Er left Dubai.

It was the same merchant ship bearing the Spanish flag, the same secret route. La Wa Er stood on the bow, watching Dubai's lights recede into the distance, his mind unsettled for a long while.

Dumeng walked to his side and whispered, "Ambassador, you look troubled."

La Wa Er nodded.

"Dumeng, tell me, what kind of person is Chen Feng?"

Dumeng thought for a moment.

"A politician. A strategist. Possibly also a prophet."

La Wa Er gave a wry smile.

"Prophet? Maybe."

He recalled Chen Feng's final words: "Mr. La Wa Er, after the war ends, have you ever thought what the world will become?"

He did not answer then. But now he has thought about it.

What will the world become?

Britain declines, Germany collapses, Meilika rises, Lanfang becomes a new great power. France is sandwiched in the middle, uncertain of its fate.

Chen Feng gave him an answer: cooperate with Lanfang, develop Africa together, jointly lead the International Alliance, and become players in the new world.

He could not refuse that answer.

But the question is—why did Chen Feng choose France?

Is it because France has colonies? Because France and Britain have conflicts? Or because France is weak enough not to threaten Lanfang?

He did not know.

But he knew that once the agreement was signed, France's destiny would be bound to Lanfang's.

Tied together, they could never be separated.

In the distance, Dubai's lights grew farther, dimmer, and finally vanished into darkness.

La Wa Er stood there, looking at the pitch‑black night, motionless for a long time.

January 3, Berlin.

Xingdengbao sat in his office, several fresh intelligence reports spread before him—one from Dubai, one from Washington, one from London. He read them over and over, each time furrowing his brows.

Ludengdaofu pushed the door open and entered.

"Marshal, you called for me?"

Xingdengbao nodded and pushed the reports toward him.

"Take a look."

Ludengdaofu took the reports, skimmed them quickly, then looked up, his complexion somewhat grim.

"Lanfang signed an agreement with France?"

Xingdengbao nodded.

"Yes. Chen Feng and the French envoy signed a secret pact in Dubai. The details are unclear, but it certainly concerns post‑war matters."

Ludengdaofu was silent for a few seconds.

"Are the French planning to abandon Britain?"

Xingdengbao sneered.

"Betrayal? The French and the British have always used each other. Now Lanfang has given them better terms, so they will naturally switch sides."

Ludengdaofu frowned.

"Is this advantageous or harmful to us?"

Xingdengbao thought for a moment.

"Advantageous. If the French turn to Lanfang, the British will be isolated in the Mediterranean. Their supply line in Egypt will be cut, and their garrison in India will lose support."

He paused.

"But it is also harmful."

"What harm?"

Xingdengbao pointed at the intelligence report.

"Lanfang's cooperation with France means they can enter Africa. Africa has resources, population, and strategic location. Once Lanfang establishes a foothold there, they will truly become a global power."

Ludengdaofu remained silent for a long time.

Then he asked, "Marshal, what should we do?"

Xingdengbao stood up and walked to the window.

"Wait."

"Wait?"

"Yes. Wait. Wait for Lanfang to take India, wait for them to free up their hands, wait for them to fulfill their promise."

He turned and looked at Ludengdaofu.

"Tell Tirpitz to send another telegram to Chen Feng. Ask them when they can dispatch troops to Europe."

Ludengdaofu nodded.

"Also, inform Your Majesty Weilian that the Italian Crown Prince is already in Berlin. Reassure him that Italy will not have problems for the time being."

Ludengdaofu nodded again.

Xingdengbao waved his hand.

"Go."

Ludengdaofu turned to leave when Xingdengbao suddenly called out to him.

"Ludengdaofu, do you think Chen Feng is trustworthy?"

Ludengdaofu was stunned.

"Marshal, you mean—"

Xingdengbao shook his head.

"Never mind. Go."

Ludengdaofu pushed the door and left.

Xingdengbao stood alone by the window, watching the gray, misty sky outside.

He recalled Tirpitz's words: "Chen Feng is a clever man. Very clever. Every decision he makes is for Lanfang's benefit."

Sending troops to Europe—what benefit does that bring Lanfang?

He thought for a long time but could not find an answer.

But he knew that regardless of Chen Feng's thoughts, Deguo had no other choice.

They can only wait.

They can only gamble.

They can only trust that the distant Eastern strongman will keep his promise.

January 4, Washington.

Wilson sat in the oval office, with several telegrams before him. One from London, Asi Kuisi urging him to speed up troop deployment. One from Paris, Ke Lie Mengsuo thanking Meilika for assistance. One from Dubai, a greeting from Chen Feng.

He stared at them for a long time, then set the telegrams down, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

Secretary of State Lansing sat opposite him and asked softly, "Mr. President, what are you thinking?"

Wilson opened his eyes.

"Lansing, tell me, what is Chen Feng doing now?"