pappabearbooks Chapter 90 is the Caesar-class, with only a few minor data changes.
Chapter 90 is the Caesar-class, with only a few minor data changes.
Tirpitz took the document and read it slowly. He spent more than a minute on each page, occasionally measuring the scale on the drawings with his finger. Finally, he looked up and asked a very professional question:
"Mr. Wang, what is the muzzle velocity of the 305mm main gun? What is the weight of the armor-piercing projectile?"
"The initial velocity is 70 meters per second, and the armor-piercing projectile weighs 450 kilograms," Wang Wenwu answered fluently. "At a distance of 10,000 meters, it can penetrate 300 millimeters of vertical armor."
"What about the fire control system? Centralized computing?"
"Yes. Electric synchronization, mechanical computer calculation, with an error rate of less than three per thousand."
"What is the thermal efficiency of an oil-fired boiler?"
"It is more than 40 percent better than the best coal-fired boilers."
The question-and-answer session resembled a technical defense. No one else at the table could get a word in edgewise.
Finally, Tirpitz put down the documents and looked at William: "Your Majesty, its performance is indeed superior to the 'Dreadnought.' But..."
"But what?" William frowned.
"But this is a simplified version of the 'Restoration'," Tirpitz said bluntly. "The main guns are 76 millimeters smaller, the armor is 50 millimeters thinner, and the speed is much slower. We spent £320 million and still got a product that's a generation behind."
These words were like a bucket of cold water.
William's face darkened. "Alfred, what about our own design? The improved 'Westvale-class' only has a standard displacement of 21000 tons, and the main guns are still 305mm. By the time we finish building it, the British will probably have already built ten 'Dreadnoughts'!"
"Therefore, we should accelerate our independent research and development—"
"Independent research and development takes time!" William raised his voice. "And what we lack most right now is time! Across the North Sea, the British are building ships at a frantic pace. Every extra month we wait, the balance of power will become even more unfavorable!"
He turned to Wang Wenwu, his tone softening: "Mr. Wang, two ships. Let's build two of these first... What should they be called?"
"It hasn't been officially named yet," Wang Wenwu said. "If your country places an order, His Majesty can bestow a name upon it."
William's eyes lit up again: "Then let's call them the 'Kaiser-class'! The lead ship, 'King Caesar Frederick III,' in honor of my grandfather! The second ship... 'Crown Prince William,' for my son!"
He grew increasingly excited as he spoke: "Alfred, prepare the contract immediately! Mr. Wang, what other conditions are there?"
This is what Wang Wenwu was waiting for.
"Your Majesty, besides the cost, there are several additional terms." He pulled out another document. "First, Germany must assist Lanfang in building a special steel plant in the Persian Gulf, providing a complete set of equipment and technical guidance."
"Can!"
"Second, the German Navy needs to open up some non-core submarine and torpedo technologies to Lanfang—in exchange, we can provide some manufacturing processes for new naval guns."
Tirpitz wanted to object, but William had already nodded: "No problem!"
"Third," Wang Wenwu paused, "regarding technological cooperation on more advanced warships... Lanfang is open to it, but deeper strategic mutual trust is needed."
That's a very artful way of putting it.
William understood: "What kind of mutual trust?"
"For example," Wang Wenwu looked into his eyes, "Germany gave Lanfang more... understanding and support in Far Eastern affairs."
There was a few seconds of silence.
William suddenly burst into laughter, patting Wang Wenwu on the shoulder: "I understand! If you want to return to Southeast Asia, you need someone to keep things quiet. Good! As long as you don't help the British, Germany can maintain... benevolent neutrality in the Far East."
"That's enough," Wang Wenwu said with a smile.
Tirpitz remained silent throughout. He simply stared at the "Caesar-class" design drawings, his fingers tapping lightly on the table as if he were calculating something.
The dinner was held at Charlottenburg Palace.
The hall, accommodating five hundred people, was brightly lit by crystal chandeliers, and a band played Wagner. William, dressed in a full suit and adorned with medals, attended the state banquet with Queen Augusta Victoria—the highest-level state banquet.
Wang Wenwu was seated at the head table, flanked by princes and dukes. Toasts followed one after another, all empty words praising the friendship between the two countries and looking forward to cooperation.
By the time dessert was served, Wang Wenwu had already drunk five glasses of wine—though he only took a sip each time, it still added up to quite a bit. He excused himself to get some fresh air and went outside to the terrace.
The nights in Berlin in June are cool. The terrace faces the gardens of Charlottenburg Palace, and the fountains shimmer silver in the moonlight.
"Mr. Wang."
A voice came from behind. It was Tirpitz, holding two glasses of champagne.
"General," Wang Wenwu said, taking the cup, "weren't you listening to the toast?"
"I've had enough," Tirpitz said, leaning against the railing. "Every banquet is the same, just empty platitudes."
The two remained silent for a moment. In the distance came the sound of a band playing an excerpt from Lohengrin.
"Mr. Wang," Tirpitz suddenly spoke, "what kind of person is Mr. Chen Feng?"
The problem came as a complete surprise.
Wang Wenwu thought for a moment: "He's very young, but he thinks far ahead. He has principles, but he also knows how to be flexible."
"What does he want?"
"What do you mean?"
"The ultimate goal." Tirpitz turned around, his face half-lit and half-shadowed in the moonlight. "To rebuild the Lanfang Republic? To unify the Chinese in Southeast Asia? Or... a greater ambition?"
Wang Wenwu swirled his wine glass: "General, Lanfang only has 300,000 people, a desert, and a few factories. It's too early to talk about ambition. We just want to survive, and live with dignity."
"Dignity..." Tirpitz repeated the word, "For dignity, the 'Liberation' was built in three years. If it were for more, what would be built?"
There's a hidden meaning in his words.
Wang Wenwu didn't answer, but instead asked, "General, are you dissatisfied with the 'Caesar-class'?"
"Satisfied, yet dissatisfied," Tirpitz said frankly. "As a warship, it's excellent. But as a strategic choice, it's poison."
"poison?"
"Think about it," Tirpitz lowered his voice, "we bought the 'Kaiser-class' and it'll be in service in two years. By then, Lanfang's own 'Super Fuxing' will definitely have been launched—it'll be a more advanced generation. Then we'll want to buy something even more advanced. Will you sell it?"
Wang Wenwu did not answer.
"Yes, but it won't be your best," Tirpitz continued. "You'll design another 'Kaiser-class Improved Model,' stronger than ours, but weaker than your own. We'll keep buying, keep chasing, and always be one generation behind."
He drank dry champagne and placed the glass on the railing:
"This is technological dependence. It will drain Germany's finances, stifle our research and development capabilities, and turn us into your... assembly plant."
Wang Wenwu had to admit that Tirpitz saw things very clearly.
"So the general opposes this deal?"
"What's the use of objecting?" Tirpitz smiled wryly. "His Majesty has already made his decision. The navy needs new warships, and it needs them now; it can't wait to develop them domestically. I can only try my best—to include technology transfer clauses in the contract and send people to your country to learn, whatever little we can learn."
He paused, his voice lower:
"Mr. Wang, let me be frank. Germany and Lanfang can be friends, but there should be boundaries between friends. We give you money, technology, and political support; you should at least... show us some genuine sincerity."
"for example?"