Chapter 88: It Should Be Sailed Into Kiel Harbor

The Tea Meeting continued for another twenty minutes, the conversation revolving around trivial topics—the weather in London, the drought in the Persian Gulf, whether tea or coffee was better. But everyone knew that the truly important words had already been spoken.

When they left Buckingham Palace, the setting sun was gilding the palace in gold.

Li Mingyuan, waiting in the car, asked eagerly, "How did it go?"

Wang Wenwu settled into the seat and let out a long breath. "It's done."

"The specifics?"

"The King asked about our views on the European situation, particularly regarding Deguo. Following Young Master's instructions, I stated clearly that Lanfang would not intervene in European affairs and would focus only on Yazhou." Wang Wenwu rubbed the bridge of his nose. "He was reassured—personally poured my tea and even gave a gift."

Li Mingyuan took the velvet box, opened it, and drew a sharp breath. "That's a hefty gift."

"When someone comes bearing gifts, they surely want something." Wang Wenwu watched the London streets flashing past the window. "What he wanted was for us not to take sides, not to help Deguo against Yingguo. We gave him that assurance, so of course he had to show his satisfaction."

"Then the negotiations…"

"Signing tomorrow." Wang Wenwu closed his eyes. "The final check of the memorandum text will be done tonight. Yingguo agreed to a full lifting of trade restrictions, with compensation set at one hundred and twenty thousand pounds—paid in three installments. The London representative office will open next month, and you'll be the first representative."

Li Mingyuan was taken aback. "Me?"

"You're familiar with Yingguo law, graduated from Oxford, and speak fluent English—you're the best candidate." Wang Wenwu opened his eyes. "Young Master has agreed."

The car drove past the Houses of Parliament as Big Ben struck six.

The chimes carried far across the Thames.

The signing ceremony was held at the Foreign Office building.

It was very low-key—no journalists, only the two delegations present. Two copies of the memorandum lay on the table, one in English and one in Chinese, both formal diplomatic documents.

Wang Wenwu and the Marquess of Lansdowne signed simultaneously, exchanged texts, and signed again. As they shook hands, flashbulbs fired several times—the official photographer had recorded the moment.

Afterward, Fisher privately invited Wang Wenwu for coffee.

In the top-floor office of the Admiralty building, the sky toward Portsmouth was visible through the window.

"Mr. Wang," Fisher cut straight to the point, "those blueprints… the 'Leopard Class'—are they real?"

Wang Wenwu stirred his coffee. "General, that's a preliminary proposal. Many technical details still need refinement."

"How long would refinement take?"

"Depends on the requirements." Wang Wenwu looked up. "Is the General interested?"

Fisher was silent for a few seconds, then said, "If… if Yingguo wanted to order one, or obtain a technology license, what conditions would be required?"

"That would require formal diplomatic and technical negotiations." Wang Wenwu was watertight. "But the principle is: no transfer of core systems, such as oil-fired boilers and central fire control. We can sell complete vessels or provide technology licensing for select subsystems."

"Price?"

"For a complete vessel, approximately two hundred and eighty thousand pounds. Technology licensing… depends on the specific scope."

Fisher calculated quickly. Two hundred and eighty thousand—cheaper than developing it in-house, and faster. What Yingguo lacked most right now was time. Deguo might be building ships at a furious pace; every additional month of delay tilted the balance of power in the North Sea one degree further against them.

"I'll need a formal quote."

"Certainly." Wang Wenwu set down his coffee cup. "But there's one precondition: Yingguo must strictly execute the memorandum's terms. Any de facto restriction on trade with Lanfang would affect our cooperation."

"Understood."

By the time he left the Admiralty, it was already dark.

Three days—from wariness to negotiation, from probing to signing.

Now, the door had cracked open a sliver.

Next was to see just how many rooms lay behind that door.

The car stopped at the hotel entrance, and a doorman pulled open the door. As Wang Wenwu stepped out, he suddenly recalled what Chen Feng had said at their farewell:

"Remember, we're not going to beg for recognition. We're going to tell them: at this card table, we now have a seat."

He looked up at the splendid lobby of Claridge's Hotel.

The seat had been secured.

After concluding the negotiations in Yingguo, the Restoration Ship set course for Deguo.

When the special train pulled into Berlin Zoological Station, the platform was already packed with people.

Not civilians—a sea of gray uniforms, gleaming leather boots, and medals on their chests dazzling in the June sunlight. At the front was a stocky man with a trademark upturned mustache, his left hand resting habitually on his sword hilt.

Wilhelm II had come in person.

Wang Wenwu's stride faltered for a moment as he stepped off the train. He knew Deguo would take this visit seriously, but not this seriously—the Emperor himself meeting them at the station was rare even in European diplomatic history.

"Mr. Wang!" Wilhelm strode forward, extending his right hand with a grip strong enough to crush walnuts. "Welcome to the heart of the German Empire!"

"Your Majesty." Wang Wenwu shook his hand and gave a slight bow. "Lanfang is deeply honored."

"The honor is mine." Wilhelm held his hand and would not let go, his eyes sizing up the Lanfang delegation filing off the train behind him. "I've been looking forward to meeting you! The 'Restoration Ship'—I've seen photographs in the papers, but photos can't convey that kind of impact. Where is she berthed now?"

"Outside Hamburg harbor, Your Majesty. Your navy has arranged a berth."

"It should be sailed into Kiel harbor!" Wilhelm's booming voice made every officer on the platform turn to look. "Let everyone see what a new-era warship truly looks like!"

Only then did he release his hand, turning to the officers behind him. "Allow me to introduce—this is General Tirpitz, State Secretary of the Naval Office. Alfred, you've communicated by telegram; today you finally meet in person."

Tirpitz stepped forward. Unlike Wilhelm's warmth, the head of the navy had a restrained expression, his handshake brief and firm. "Mr. Wang. The Java affair was handled very… cleanly."

"Just doing our duty." Wang Wenwu caught the implication—the Germans had been watching all along.

"This is Chief of Staff Moltke, this is the State Secretary for Foreign Affairs…"

Wilhelm rattled off over a dozen names in one breath, the lowest rank among them major general. Wang Wenwu shook each hand in turn, rapidly matching faces to the photos and dossiers in his intelligence files. Moltke was a man of few words but had sharp eyes; the State Secretary for Foreign Affairs wore a professional smile; several industrial titans—the head of Krupp among them—were excessively warm.

"The car is ready." Wilhelm draped his arm over Wang Wenwu's shoulder and walked him toward the station exit—a gesture that startled all the attendants. "First to Sanssouci Palace, lunch is already prepared. This afternoon, a tour of the Krupp factory; tonight, a banquet at Charlottenburg Palace. Tomorrow, to Kiel for the fleet exercises—of course, they can't compare with your 'Restoration Ship,' but one must put on a show."

He spoke fast and dense, allowing no room for interruption.

The motorcade was uniformly black Mercedes—products of Deguo's up-and-coming automobile factories, their bodies gleaming. Wilhelm and Wang Wenwu rode in the first car; the windows were open, and the Berlin air in June carried the scent of linden blossoms.