Chapter 772: The Five Constants

Asquith looked up, a flicker of complex emotion in his eyes. He didn't know if this was good or bad. But he knew that Yingguo had no other choice.

Clemenceau nodded. He and Chen Feng had long had an understanding; Chen Feng's personal attendance could only benefit him.

Xingdengbao and Tirpitz exchanged a glance. They nodded too. Chen Feng was the only friend Deguo could count on. With him coming in person, Deguo had hope.

Wilson watched the reactions of all sides and secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Moving the talks to Cyprus was something he and Chen Feng had agreed upon. It was far from Europe's hatred, far from the bloodshed of the battlefield, where they could truly negotiate something.

"Then," he said, "three days from now, see you in Cyprus."

That evening, Frankfurt, the Meilika delegation's residence.

Wilson sat at his desk, a sheet of letter paper spread before him. He had already written three drafts, none satisfactory. The first was too soft, the second too hard, the third too wordy. He put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his temples.

Lansing pushed the door open and entered, holding a cup of coffee.

"Mr. President, you haven't rested yet?"

Wilson shook his head. "Can't sleep. I need to send a telegram to Chen Feng first."

Lansing placed the coffee on the table and glanced at the letter paper. "How many drafts have you written?"

"Three." Wilson gave a bitter smile. "Sending a telegram to Chen Feng is harder than giving a report to Congress."

He picked up his pen again, thought for a moment, and began writing the fourth draft.

"To His Excellency Grand President Chen Feng: At today's Frankfurt negotiations, Faguo proposed three conditions, which Deguo accepted; Yingguo demanded one billion in reparations, which Xingdengbao publicly refuted using the prisoner-of-war issue. The talks have reached an impasse. I have proposed moving them to Cyprus, and all parties have agreed. I hope Your Excellency can grace Cyprus at the end of the month for formal talks on post-war reconstruction. Also, the five-nation conference should have the heads of state of all five nations attending in person. Wilson."

He finished writing, read it over, and nodded. This time, it was concise and to the point, saying everything that needed to be said.

"Send it out." He handed the letter paper to Lansing.

Lansing took it, glanced at it, and hesitated. "Mr. President, will Chen Feng come?"

Wilson looked at him, silent for three seconds. "Yes."

"How do you know?"

Wilson stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the night over Frankfurt was deep, and the distant church steeple was faintly visible in the moonlight.

"Because he understands better than anyone that the post-war order cannot do without Deguo. He will definitely come."

Two hours later, the reply arrived.

Lansing knocked on Wilson's door and handed over the telegram. Wilson took it, read it once, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

The telegram had only one line:

"Agree to Cyprus. Should invite representatives from Deguo, Faguo, and Yingguo to discuss together. The post-war order needs everyone's participation. Chen Feng."

Wilson read it three times, then folded the telegram and put it in his pocket.

"Send a notice to all delegations," he said. "The five-nation conference is set for June 20th in Cyprus. Lanfang, Meilika, Faguo, Deguo, Yingguo—the heads of state of all five nations will attend in person."

Lansing nodded and turned to leave.

Wilson stood alone at the window, looking out at the pitch-black night. He thought of the line in Chen Feng's telegram—"The post-war order needs everyone's participation."

Yes, it needs everyone's participation. But the ones who really call the shots are always just a few.

At the same time, in different rooms across Frankfurt, representatives from all sides were digesting the day's events.

Yingguo delegation's residence.

Asquith sat on the sofa, holding a glass of whiskey that had already gone cold. He didn't drink it, just held it. Grey sat across from him, also holding a glass of wine, also not drinking.

The room was utterly silent. Only the firewood in the fireplace crackled.

After a long time, Asquith spoke. His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping steel.

"Grey, tell me, how did we end up like this?"

Grey was silent for three seconds. "Prime Minister, what are you talking about?"

Asquith looked up at him. "Four years ago, we were still number one in the world. First in navy, first in army, first in colonies. Deguo feared us, Faguo relied on us, the whole world watched our every move."

He gave a bitter smile.

"And now? India is lost, Australia is lost, Burma is lost, Malaya is lost. We have nothing left in Yazhou. In Europe, we have to be publicly slapped in the face by Deguo."

Grey didn't know what to say. He could only remain silent.

Asquith stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the night over Frankfurt was deep, and distant streetlights flickered in the darkness.

"Grey, tell me, why is Chen Feng helping Deguo?"

Grey thought for a moment. "Because Deguo is his pawn to checkmate Europe. With Deguo around, Europe is in chaos. With Europe in chaos, Lanfang has its opportunity."

Asquith nodded. "Yes. With Deguo around, Europe is in chaos. With us in chaos, Lanfang has its opportunity." He turned around and looked at Grey. "So Chen Feng will definitely protect Deguo. At tomorrow's Cyprus conference, Deguo will definitely enter the Five Permanent Members."

Grey was stunned. "Five Permanent Members?"

Asquith nodded. "The permanent members of the League of Nations. Wilson mentioned it to me privately today. Five nations, one veto each. Meilika, Lanfang, Faguo, Deguo—and one more, which should be us."

Grey's expression changed. "Us? In our current state, do we even qualify to be in the Five Permanent Members?"

Asquith looked at him, his gaze terrifyingly calm. "Whether we qualify or not isn't up to us to decide; it's up to Chen Feng. If he wants us in, we get in. If he doesn't, we don't."

Grey fell silent.

Asquith walked back to the sofa and sat down. He downed the glass of cold whiskey in one gulp, then set the glass down.

"Grey, remember today," he said. "Remember that slap from Xingdengbao. From today on, Yingguo is no longer the Yingguo it was. We have to learn to bow our heads, to read people's expressions, to survive in the cracks."

Grey looked at him, his eyes stinging slightly. "Prime Minister..."

Asquith waved his hand. "Go get some sleep. We have to travel tomorrow."

Deguo delegation's residence.

Xingdengbao sat at his desk, a map spread before him. He had been looking at it for two hours, motionless. Tirpitz sat across from him, holding a cup of coffee, equally silent.

After a long time, Tirpitz spoke.

"Field Marshal, what you said today was too harsh."

Xingdengbao looked up at him. "Harsh? I think it was too light."

He stood up and walked to the window.

"Tirpitz, do you know why I said that?"

Tirpitz shook his head.

Xingdengbao pointed at the pitch‑black night outside the window. "Because we must make the Yingguo people see reality. They lost. They lost in Yazhou cleanly, and in Europe they can no longer hold on. They think they are a victorious nation and can point fingers at us. I will make them know—defeated nations also have the dignity of a defeated nation."