Chapter 93: We Accept the Invitation

Just as they were speaking, the train began to slow. Not arriving at a station, but a temporary stop — the signal light ahead showed red.

"What's going on?" Wang Wenwu frowned.

Li Mingyuan got up to check. Footsteps came from outside the carriage, and the conductor explained something in German. A few minutes later, he returned, his expression odd.

"Minister, someone wants to see you. At the next stop, Potsdam station, with only a ten-minute stop."

"Who?"

"The Russian ambassador to Germany, Count Arshavin. He says... there's an urgent matter."

Wang Wenwu and Tirpitz's telegrams arrived almost simultaneously.

He glanced at his pocket watch: 9:20 AM. The special train to Paris departed at 1 PM; there was enough time.

"Notify the conductor, stop at Potsdam for ten minutes."

Potsdam station was a small station where normally only slow trains stopped. Today, however, three black sedans were parked on the platform, with several people standing in front of them, all wearing thick dark overcoats — Germany in June wasn't cold, so this attire was somewhat deliberate.

When Wang Wenwu stepped off the train, a tall man came to meet him. In his fifties, gray hair combed meticulously, his face had the sharp, angular features characteristic of Eastern Europeans.

"Mr. Wang, pardon the intrusion." Arshavin extended his hand, his German carrying a heavy Russian accent, "I am Pyotr Arshavin, Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary of the Russian Empire to Germany."

"Your Excellency the Count." Wang Wenwu shook his hand, his grip neither too firm nor too light. "What can't be discussed in Berlin?"

"Berlin... too many eyes." Arshavin looked around. "Shall we take a walk?"

The two walked along the platform toward the station exit. Bodyguards followed at a distance, while Li Mingyuan stayed by the carriage door, watching vigilantly.

"Mr. Wang's trip in Europe has been very successful." Arshavin spoke, his tone like casual conversation. "London signed a memorandum, Berlin ordered new warships. Next stop is Paris? And then? Back to the Persian Gulf?"

"Your Excellency the Count, please get to the point."

Arshavin stopped and turned to look at him: "His Majesty the Tsar asked me to pass on a message. He invites you to visit Saint Petersburg." (The Imperial Army asked me to bring you a word, hahaha)

The platform fell silent for a moment. Birdsong came from afar, and June sunlight filtered through the gaps in the station canopy.

"Russia?" Wang Wenwu raised an eyebrow. "I recall that Lanfang has no diplomatic relations with the Russian Empire."

"Which is precisely why they need to be established." Arshavin said, "His Majesty is very interested in your country's 'Restoration Ship'... and also highly appreciates your country's actions in Java."

"Appreciates?"

"Yes." Arshavin said meaningfully, "The Russian Empire understands a nation's determination to pursue dignity and a homeland. Because we ourselves... are pursuing the same."

Wang Wenwu caught the implication. The Russo-Japanese War had just ended, with Russia's disastrous defeat in the Far East and the complete annihilation of its Pacific Fleet. What the Tsar needed most urgently now was to rebuild his navy. (The junk the Germans sold over there was quite an eyesore to Nicholas)

"Your Excellency the Count, my itinerary for this European trip is already full." He politely declined. "After Paris, I will be heading back."

"It can be adjusted." Arshavin said directly. "From Paris to Saint Petersburg, a special train takes only three days. His Majesty is willing to receive you privately at the Summer Palace, not publicly disclosed. The contents of the talks will be known only to heaven, earth, you, and me."

These terms were tempting — a private meeting, no records left — meaning anything could be discussed and anything could be denied.

"I need to request instructions from home." Wang Wenwu said.

"Of course." Arshavin pulled an envelope from his coat. "This is His Majesty's personal letter of invitation. It bears the secret telegraph code of the Winter Palace office; you can communicate directly with His Majesty."

Wang Wenwu took it. The envelope was thick, sealed with wax, stamped with the double-headed eagle emblem.

"Additionally," Arshavin lowered his voice, "His Majesty asked me to convey: the Russian Empire has certain... special interests in the Far East. But we believe that with an emerging power like Lanfang, we can find a common language."

Special interests in the Far East — referring to Port Arthur, Dalian, and railway rights in the Northeast. Russia had lost South Manchuria in the Russo-Japanese War, but still wanted to retain North Manchuria and the Chinese Eastern Railway.

Wang Wenwu understood. Russia wanted to draw in Lanfang to counterbalance Japan, and even to counterbalance Germany and Britain's expansion in the Far East.

"Your Excellency the Count, Lanfang's position is clear," he said. "We are only concerned with the rights and interests of overseas Chinese. We have no intention of intervening in other countries' disputes over interests."

"Understood." Arshavin nodded. "That is exactly why His Majesty wishes to talk privately. Certain things cannot be said in public."

The whistle blew. The train was about to depart.

"Mr. Wang," Arshavin said finally, "Russia is a great power, but also a... wounded great power. We need friends, true friends. And between friends, mutual help is possible."

He extended his hand: "I shall await your reply in Berlin. Three days, is that enough?"

Wang Wenwu shook his hand: "Enough."

Returning to the carriage, the train started up again.

Li Mingyuan closed the door and asked urgently: "What do the Russians want?"

Wang Wenwu opened the envelope. Inside were two pages: one a Russian letter of invitation in ornate court script, signed "Nicholas II, Emperor of All Russia." The other was a secret telegraph code table and communication frequencies.

"The Tsar wants to see us." Wang Wenwu put the documents away. "Privately."

"Why?"

"Three reasons." Wang Wenwu held up his fingers. "First, their navy is finished and they need new ships. Second, they were beaten badly by Japan in the Far East and need a counterbalancing force. Third..."

He paused: "Third, they see us getting too close to Germany and worry we'll completely side with Germany. Russia and Germany's relationship... is very delicate."

Li Mingyuan had studied international law and immediately grasped it: "So they're here to court us?"

"Also to probe." Wang Wenwu looked out the window. "To see how much weight we actually carry, and whether we're worth the investment."

"Are we going?"

"Request instructions from the President."

There was a wireless telegraph on the train, but Wang Wenwu didn't dare use it — the Germans were surely listening in. He waited until noon, when the train stopped at Hanover for twenty minutes to resupply, before having Li Mingyuan go to the station's telegraph office to send an Encrypted Telegram.

The message was simple: "Russian Emperor invites visit to Saint Petersburg, private meeting. Request instructions."

The reply arrived at three in the afternoon. The train had already entered France, and the scenery outside the window shifted from Germany's orderliness to France's relaxed ease.

Chen Feng's reply was even more concise: "Agreed. May probe, do not commit. Note: Russia is bloated but resource-rich. Can be utilized."

In just over a dozen characters, the strategic intent was laid out crystal clear.

Wang Wenwu burned the telegram, watching the paper ash drift out the train window.

"Notify the French side," he said to Li Mingyuan, "Shorten the Paris itinerary by one day. Then... contact Arshavin. We accept the invitation."