World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chapter 88: It should be driven into Kiel Port.

The tea party lasted another twenty minutes, filled with trivial conversations—the weather in London, the drought in the Persian Gulf, and whether tea or coffee was better. But everyone knew that the truly important things had already been said.

As we left Buckingham Palace, the setting sun bathed the palace in gold.

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

Wang Wenwu got into the car and let out a long sigh: "It's done."

"Specifically?"

"The King asked us for our views on the situation in Europe, especially Germany. Following the young master's instructions, I made it clear that Lanfang would not get involved in European affairs, but would only focus on Asia." Wang Wenwu rubbed his temples. "He was relieved, personally poured me tea, and even gave me a gift."

Li Mingyuan took the velvet box, opened it, and gasped, "This gift is quite substantial."

"When someone offers a gift, they must have something in mind." Wang Wenwu looked out the window at the London streets rushing by. "What he wanted was for us not to take sides and not to help Germany against Britain. We gave him that assurance, so of course he had to express his satisfaction."

"Then the negotiations..."

"Sign it tomorrow." Wang Wenwu closed his eyes. "The memorandum text will be finalized tonight. Britain has agreed to fully lift the trade ban, with compensation set at £1.2 million—to be paid in three installments. The London representative office will open next month, and you will be its first representative."

Li Mingyuan was stunned: "Me?"

"You are familiar with British law, graduated from Oxford, and speak fluent English. You are the best candidate." Wang Wenwu opened his eyes. "Young Master agrees."

As the car drove past the Parliament building, Big Ben struck six.

The chimes carried far across the Thames.

The signing ceremony was held at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs building.

It was a low-key affair; there were no reporters present, only the delegations from both sides. Two memorandums were laid out on the table, one in English and one in Chinese, both formal diplomatic documents.

Wang Wenwu and the Marquis of Langston signed simultaneously, exchanged copies, and then signed again. A few flashes went off during their handshake—the official photographer captured the moment.

Afterwards, Fisher asked Wang Wenwu out for coffee alone.

From the office on the top floor of the Admiralty building, one can see the sky in the direction of Portsmouth.

"Mr. Wang," Fisher said bluntly, "that blueprint... 'Cheetah-class,' is it real?"

Wang Wenwu stirred his coffee: "General, that's a preliminary plan. There are still many technical details that need to be perfected."

"How long will it take to perfect?"

"It depends on your needs." Wang Wenwu looked up. "Is the General interested?"

Fisher paused for a few seconds, then said, "If...if Britain wanted to order one, or obtain a technology license, what conditions would be required?"

"This requires formal diplomatic and technical negotiations," Wang Wenwu stated meticulously. "But the principle is: core systems, such as oil-fired boilers and central fire control, will not be transferred. The entire ship can be sold, or partial subsystem technology can be licensed."

"price?"

"The entire ship would cost approximately £2.8 million. Technology licensing... depends on the specific scope."

Fisher quickly calculated. Two million eight hundred thousand, cheaper and faster than developing it domestically. What Britain lacks most right now is time—Germany is probably building ships at a frantic pace, and every extra month of waiting will further weaken the balance of power in the North Sea.

"I need a formal quote."

"Okay," Wang Wenwu put down his coffee cup. "But there's a condition: Britain must strictly enforce the terms of the memorandum. Any disguised restrictions on Lanfang's trade will affect our cooperation."

"clear."

It was already late when I left the Admiralty.

In three days, from guardedness to negotiation, from probing to signing.

Now, the door is ajar.

Next, we need to see how many rooms are behind this door.

The car stopped in front of the hotel, and the doorman opened the door. As Wang Wenwu stepped out, he suddenly remembered what Chen Feng had said when he saw him off:

"Remember, we're not there to beg for recognition. We're there to tell them: this table now has a place for us."

He looked up at the magnificent lobby of the Clarridge Hotel.

We got the location.

After the negotiations with Britain concluded, the Guangfu set sail for Germany.

When the special train pulled into Berlin Zoo station, the platform was already packed with people.

They were not civilians—all dressed in uniform grey military uniforms, gleaming leather boots, and medals gleaming in the June sunlight. At the front was a short, stocky man with a distinctive upturned mustache, his left hand habitually resting on the hilt of his sword.

Wilhelm II came in person.

Wang Wenwu paused for a moment as he got out of the car. He knew Germany would take this visit seriously, but he hadn't expected it to be this important—the emperor himself was there to greet him, something rarely seen in the history of European diplomacy.

"Mr. Wang!" William strode forward, his right hand outstretched with enough force to crush a walnut. "Welcome to the heart of the German Reich!"

"Your Majesty," Wang Wenwu shook hands and bowed slightly, "Lanfang is deeply honored."

"It's an honor for me." William held his hand tightly, but his eyes were scanning the Lanfang delegation members disembarking behind them. "Finally, I've met you all! The 'Restoration Ship'—I've seen photos of it in the newspapers, but the photos don't capture the impact. Where is it now?"

"Outside the port of Hamburg, Your Majesty, your navy has arranged anchorage."

"We should send it into Kiel Harbor!" William's voice boomed, drawing the attention of all the officers on the platform. "Let everyone see what a modern warship truly is!"

He then released his grip and turned to the officers behind him: "Let me introduce you—this is General Tirpitz, State Secretary of the Admiralty. Alfred, you two have finally met today, thanks to the telegram."

Tirpitz stepped forward. Unlike William's enthusiasm, the naval commander's expression was restrained, and his handshake was short and firm: "Mr. Wang. The matter in Java was handled very... efficiently."

"It's our duty." Wang Wenwu understood the unspoken message—the Germans had been paying close attention.

"This is Chief of the General Staff Moltke, and this is the State Secretary for Foreign Affairs..."

William introduced more than a dozen names in one breath, the lowest rank being major general. Wang Wenwu shook hands with each of them, quickly matching their photos and resumes in the intelligence files. Moltke was taciturn, but his eyes were sharp; the State Secretary for Foreign Affairs smiled professionally; several industrial giants—the owners of Krupp were also there—were excessively enthusiastic.

"The car is ready." William put his arm around Wang Wenwu's shoulder and walked out of the station—a gesture that startled all the entourage. "First, we'll go to Sanssouci Palace; lunch is ready. In the afternoon, we'll visit the Krupp factory, and in the evening, we'll have a banquet at Charlottenburg Palace. Tomorrow, we'll go to Kiel to watch the fleet exercises—of course, it can't compare to your 'Restoration' ship, but we still need to show it off."

He spoke quickly and rapidly, allowing no interruption.

The convoy consisted entirely of black Mercedes-Benzes—products of a newly emerging German automaker, their bodies gleaming. William and Wang Wenwu rode together in the first car, the windows open, the air in Berlin in June filled with the scent of linden blossoms.