AWB Chapter 461 If Germans can be hired, why can't the British?
Chapter 461 If Germans can be hired, why can't the British?
Chen Feng smiled: "Prime Minister, have you ever gone hunting?"
The topic suddenly changed, and Asquith was taken aback: "Occasionally."
"Then you must know that in places where wild animals roam, you can't just carry a stick. You need a gun, a powerful enough gun, to let the wild animals know—they can't afford to attack you." Chen Feng leaned back in his chair. "The Middle East is right now a place where wild animals roam. The Ottoman Empire is collapsing, Arab tribes are rebelling, bandits are rampant, and order is broken. We're going to invest tens of millions of pounds there, building ports, railways, drilling oil wells… Without sufficient military protection, those investments will turn into ruins in the blink of an eye."
He paused, his tone becoming serious: "I understand Britain's concerns. But please believe me—Lanfang's goal in the Middle East is not to compete with Britain for hegemony. We simply want oil, a stable energy supply. We invest, build, and develop, bringing jobs, tax revenue, and modernization. This benefits everyone, including Britain."
"Including Britain?" Asquith raised his eyebrows.
"Of course." Chen Feng picked up the map again. "A stable Middle East means a safer Suez Canal—your lifeline connecting you to India. A prosperous Middle East means a larger market—your textiles, machinery, and industrial goods can be sold here. And..."
He paused, deliberately leaving a blank space.
"And what?"
"Moreover, if Lanfang can establish itself in the Persian Gulf, it can become a... balancing force," Chen Feng said slowly. "The Russians have always wanted to move south to warm-water ports, the Germans dream of the Berlin-Baghdad railway, and the French are eyeing Syria. If the Middle East completely spirals out of control, what will happen when these forces collide?"
Asquith fell silent. He knew, of course, that would be the spark that ignited another great war.
"Lanfang's existence can serve as a buffer," Chen Feng continued. "We don't favor either side; we only protect our own interests. But objectively, we act as a firewall, preventing any one side from monopolizing the Middle East. This is beneficial for maintaining the status quo and preventing the conflict from escalating."
These words sounded grand and dignified, but Asquith understood the subtext: Lanfang wanted to be a player, not a pawn. She wanted to secure her place on the chessboard of the Middle East.
"A brilliant theory," Asquith said slowly, "but the reality is that your army is on the flank of mine. This makes it impossible for me to confidently transfer forces from Sinai to the western front—and the western front is bleeding, bleeding every day."
Chen Feng nodded, as if he had been waiting for these words: "I understand. So, I have a suggestion—a suggestion that can reduce bloodshed on the western front."
Asquith became alert: "What suggestion?"
Chen Feng leaned forward and lowered his voice: "I know the British lads are bleeding in the Somme. I can also act as an intermediary and get the Japanese to send troops to help you."
In an instant, the air in the reception room froze.
Asquith almost thought he had misheard: "What...did you say?"
"The Sakura Kingdom hires mercenaries." Chen Feng repeated, "If the Germans can hire them, why can't the British? The price is negotiable, and Lanfang can provide a full range of services, including transportation, equipment, and training."
After the initial shock, anger surged. Asquith's face flushed red: "Your Excellency, you sold the people of Japan to the Germans, and now you want to sell them to us? What do you take this for? The slave trade?"
"That's reality," Chen Feng said without changing his expression. "War requires manpower, Japan needs foreign exchange, and Lanfang needs... commissions. Everyone gets what they need."
"But those are living, breathing people! And—" Asquith suddenly realized something, "there might be a situation on the battlefield where Japanese people fight Japanese people! That's too..."
"Too cruel?" Chen Feng continued, "Prime Minister, war is inherently cruel. The French and Germans killed each other in the trenches, and they may have shared a common ancestor three hundred years ago. The British and Germans are cousins; Wilhelm II was Queen Victoria's grandson. Blood ties, culture, history... none of that matters in the face of survival."
He stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to Asquith: "I'm just offering an option. Britain can choose not to accept it and continue filling the trenches with its own lads. Or they can accept it and exchange Asian lives for British lives. The choice is yours."
A long silence.
The recorder in the corner held his pen still on the paper, too afraid to move. The translator kept his head down, as if trying to shrink himself into the floor.
Asquith felt a tightness in his chest. He thought of the list of the dead he had received yesterday, of those young names, of their parents, wives, and children. If… if there were replacements…
No! He roared inwardly. This was the bottom line! The British Empire had not fallen to this level!
But another voice asks: What about the 5,000 casualties every day at the Somme? What about the meat grinder of Verdun? What about the growing anti-war sentiment at home?
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he had regained the composure of a politician: "What can Lanfang gain?"
Chen Feng turned around, knowing the other party was already tempted: "Peace. A stable Middle East, a long-term client, and... Britain's understanding."
"understanding?"
"Understanding of our presence in Hurdlesa." Chen Feng walked back to his seat. "If this proposal succeeds, will that small troop presence still be a problem?"
Asquith stared at him, trying to see through what this Easterner was plotting. But Chen Feng's eyes were like two deep wells, revealing nothing.
"I need to think about it," the Prime Minister finally said.
"Of course," Chen Feng smiled. "You can take your time to consider it after the ceremony. Now... it's about time."
He made a "please" gesture.
The two walked out of the reception room together. Outside, Wang Wenwu and Balfour were waiting, and they both breathed a sigh of relief when they saw them come out—at least they didn't have a fight on the spot.
As Asquith walked toward the elevator, he suddenly turned back: "Your Excellency, one last question."
"Please speak."
"How are the tanks you sold to the Germans...?"
Chen Feng smiled, a smile that held a deeper meaning: "Prime Minister, you'll find out when you meet on the battlefield, won't you?"
The elevator doors closed, cutting off their view of each other.
At 10:00 a.m. sharp, the Dubai Port Military Band played "Rule, Britannia".
On the reviewing stand, Asquith and Chen Feng stood side by side. Behind them, civil and military officials from both countries lined up on either side, clearly separated. Further away, in the veterans' viewing area, Lin Santai and dozens of his old comrades sat ramrod straight, their eyes fixed on the two warships.