pappabearbooks Chapter 81 Reactions from Newspapers in Various Countries
Chapter 81 Reactions from Newspapers in Various Countries
The banquet didn't end until evening.
Chen Feng announced: "All officers and soldiers of the 'Guangfu' will take seven days of rest in shifts! Each person will receive three months' salary as a special reward! Those who wish to visit relatives can apply—we will organize a fleet to Southeast Asia to pick up their families! For those who stay in port to rest, all entertainment venues, bathhouses, and barbershops will be free for officers and soldiers!"
Cheers erupted again.
After the crowd gradually dispersed, Chen Feng said to Li Te, "Come on, let's go to my place. There are some things we need to discuss in detail."
The two walked back to the administration building. The setting sun cast long shadows, and the lights in the port area lit up one by one. Construction was still underway at the distant shipyard, and sparks from welding flashed like stars.
"How's the dockyard progress?" Lee asked.
"The main structure of the 'Fuxing' is 80% complete, and the main gun turret base has been installed. Outfitting will begin next month," Chen Feng said. "The 'Guangfu' will undergo a comprehensive overhaul upon its return. The engines, in particular, need to be carefully inspected—after more than 50 hours of continuous high-speed sailing."
"Understood. I've already instructed the engine room to prepare a preliminary inspection report."
"Also," Chen Feng pushed open the door, "we have news from the French."
In the office, Uncle Wang was already waiting. Several documents were spread out on the table, along with a newly translated telegram.
"It's from General Dubois," Wang Bo handed the telegram to Chen Feng. "The British have formally invited us to visit London."
Chen Feng quickly glanced at the page, a slight smile playing on his lips.
"They've finally arrived."
He showed the telegram to Little: "The British can't hold on any longer. The 'Recovery' has been toying with them in the Indian Ocean for over thirty hours and fired a shot over Java. They know that a direct confrontation won't work, and they need to find another way."
"Negotiations?" Little finished reading the telegram. "What conditions will they propose?"
"It's nothing more than three things." Chen Feng walked to the world map on the wall. "Trade embargo lifting—that's a must; diplomatic recognition—they won't give us formal recognition, but at least they'll give us an office; and then there's the Southeast Asian issue, they'll test our bottom line."
He turned around: "Wang Wenwu."
"Yes." Wang Wenwu stood up from the corner. He had been sitting there quietly, listening.
"Make yourselves ready. In seven days, you will board the 'Restoration' and head to London. You are the plenipotentiary envoy."
Wang Wenwu wasn't surprised; he simply nodded and asked, "What conditions should I bring?"
"Three conditions," Chen Feng said, holding up a finger. "First, a complete lifting of trade restrictions, with prices not exceeding pre-sanction levels. Second, the establishment of a trade representative office in London, enjoying basic diplomatic privileges. Third, Britain's tacit acceptance of our right to protect overseas Chinese in Southeast Asia—note, tacit acceptance, not recognition, much less support."
"What's the bottom line?"
"The first two points must be met. The third point can be discussed, but the core principle cannot be compromised: when the lives and safety of Chinese people are threatened, we have the right to take necessary actions."
Wang Wenwu noted this down and then asked, "What if they ask us to limit our cooperation with Germany?"
"Then let's not talk about it," Chen Feng said decisively. "Lanfang is not a vassal of Britain. It's none of their business who we cooperate with."
A ship's horn sounded outside the window; another cargo ship had entered the port. It was a copper ore ship from Chile, and it was drafting very deep.
"Li Te," Chen Feng looked at him, "you'll have to work hard again this time. Escort Wang Wenwu to London, then to Paris and Berlin. It's a long journey and a demanding mission."
"It's my duty," Li Te said.
"Go back and rest well for seven days." Chen Feng patted his shoulder. "We'll send you off in seven days."
After Li Te left, Chen Feng did not rest.
He sat down at his desk and began reading the report that Uncle Wang had prepared. It was a thick stack of documents detailing the events of the Java Incident, the list of casualties, the current situation of the local Chinese community, and the reaction of the Dutch colonial authorities. He read it carefully.
"Young Master, news has come from the mine," Uncle Wang said softly.
"explain."
"All nineteen people have been settled. They live in work sheds, and their shackles are changed to light shackles during the day and locked back into heavy shackles at night. The meals are as you instructed, two meals a day, cornbread and vegetable soup, enough to maintain their strength, but not enough to fill their stomachs."
Chen Feng didn't even look up: "What about the work arrangements?"
"Open-pit iron mines are the toughest mining jobs. Twelve hours a day, three shifts a day. Wang Tieshan said he would keep an eye on things and prevent the foremen from mistreating the workers, but he would also never let them slack off."
"Tell Tieshan that these people have the blood of forty-seven people on their hands. Make them pay for it in the mine, shovel by shovel."
"Yes."
Wang Bo paused for a moment, then said, "There's one more thing... British, French, and German newspapers have started reporting on it extensively."
He spread out several translation manuscripts.
The Times of London ran a headline: "Eastern Giant: Technological Miracle or Strategic Threat?" The article detailed the specifications of the "Kuang-Fu" and concluded: "Whether we like it or not, the hegemony of naval technology seems to be shifting..."
The French newspaper Le Figaro gloated, with an article titled "The Shame of the Netherlands and the Opportunity for France," implying that France's cooperation with Lanfang was a wise move and calling on "Europe to take this emerging power seriously."
The German newspaper Berliner Zeitung was the most pragmatic, providing a technical analysis throughout. It deduced the caliber from the length of the gun barrel and the type of boiler from the smoke from the chimney. The final conclusion was: "Germany must accelerate its technological integration with this Eastern partner."
Chen Feng read through them one by one and then smiled.
"Everyone's looking out for their own interests," he said. "The British are afraid, the French are happy, and the Germans are anxious. It's good that they keep each other in check."
"And the United States too." Uncle Wang handed over another copy. "The New York Times reprinted it, along with a commentary, titled 'Potential Variables in the Pacific Power Structure.'"
Chen Feng took it and quickly glanced at it.
The article is short, but insightful. The author points out that the emergence of Lanfang could disrupt the balance of power in the Far East, and that American interests in the Pacific "need to be reassessed." The final paragraph states: "Is this self-proclaimed 'Republic' Chinese regime merely a fleeting local power, or a rising nation poised to reshape the Asian and even global landscape? Washington should pay close attention."
"The Americans have noticed," Chen Feng said, putting down his newspaper. "That's good. With one more player, the game becomes more chaotic, giving small fry like us a chance."
"Young Master," Uncle Wang hesitated for a moment, "are we... really insignificant figures?"
Chen Feng raised his head and looked at the old man who had been with his family for three generations.
"Uncle Wang, what do you say?"
Uncle Wang thought for a moment, then slowly shook his head: "That was true three years ago. Now... it's not."
Outside the window, night had completely fallen. But the lights in Dubai Harbour were more than ten times brighter than they had been three years ago. White smoke billowed from the power plant's chimneys, the flames from the steel mills illuminated half the sky, and the searchlights in the docks clearly illuminated the massive silhouette of the "Fuxing" high-speed train.
Further away, the lights of the residential area twinkled, and under each light was a family.
"Yes, no," Chen Feng said softly. "That's why we need to be even more careful. The higher you climb, the harder you fall."
The phone rang at that moment.
Uncle Wang answered the phone, listened for a few moments, then covered the receiver: "Young Master, this is Chief Engineer Liu Yongfu. There's a problem with the installation of the main shaft of the 'Fuxing' high-speed train. The bearings from Germany have excessive tolerances and can't be installed."
Chen Feng stood up: "I'll go take a look."
"Aren't you going to rest?"
"The axle can't be installed, the boat can't be launched, and I can't sleep."
He picked up his coat and walked out, stopping at the door and turning back:
"Uncle Wang, prepare a detailed intelligence analysis of various European countries for Wang Wenwu. Inform him who in Britain advocates peace and who advocates war, who in France is pro-German and who is pro-British, what are the internal divisions within the German Navy... the more detailed the better. He is leaving in seven days, so let him thoroughly understand all of this in these seven days."
"clear."
The door closed.
Uncle Wang stood there, looking at the newspapers from all over the world on the table. English, French, German... those once prestigious languages were now discussing a name they had never even heard of three years ago.
Lanfang.
He walked to the window and watched Chen Feng get into the car and drive towards the dock.
The car headlights drew a flowing line of light in the darkness.
Just like that night three years ago, when the first group of them set foot on this desert and lit their torches. Faint, but not extinguished. Not only did they not go out, but they burned brighter and brighter, now almost becoming a raging fire.
Wang Bo suddenly remembered the words Chen Feng's grandfather had said before he died.
At that time, the old man was on his sickbed, holding the hand of Chen Feng, who was only a teenager. His voice was already slurred, but every word seemed to be carved with a knife:
"Grandson...remember...Lanfang is not dead...as long as there is even one Chinese person who remembers this name...Lanfang...is not dead..."
Chen Feng nodded through his tears.
Now, Uncle Wang thought, the old man could rest in peace.
More than one person remembers this name.
It's 300,000.
And it will soon be three million, thirty million.
He turned off the office lights, leaving only a desk lamp on. He sat down and began to organize the complex diplomatic intelligence.