World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chapter 776 The Cyprus Conference 2

He picked up a document from the table and read aloud:

The Permanent Council is composed of five founding members—Lanfang, Merica, France, Germany, and the United Kingdom. Each of the five permanent members has a veto power. Any major international matter must be discussed and approved by the Permanent Council. Any permanent member can veto any resolution that is unfavorable to itself.

After he finished reading, he put down the document and looked at the five people present.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is my idea. Now, please feel free to speak."

The conference room was eerily quiet. The wall clock ticked away, and the occasional sound of soldiers' footsteps drifted in from outside the window before fading away.

None of the five people spoke.

After a long while, Clemenceau was the first to speak.

"Your Excellency, France's position is clear—we support the idea of ​​the League of Nations. But there is a condition."

Wilson looked at him. "Please speak."

Clemenceau looked him straight in the eye. "Germany must accept its status as a defeated nation. It must sign a peace treaty. It must acknowledge its responsibility for the war."

Tirpitz's expression changed. He stood up abruptly, his voice echoing like thunder in the conference room.

"A defeated nation? Chancellor Clemenceau, Germany was not defeated! Germany merely ceased hostilities! It simply couldn't fight anymore!"

Clemenceau also stood up, refusing to back down. "Too exhausted to fight is defeat! You've fought on French soil for four years, and now you want to retreat? What is that if not defeat?"

The two faced off, neither willing to give in.

Wilson raised his hand, signaling everyone to calm down. "Gentlemen, please sit down. We're here to make peace, not to argue."

Clemenceau and Tirpitz stared at each other for three seconds, then slowly sat down.

Wilson looked at Asquith. "Prime Minister Asquith, what is the British opinion?"

Asquith stood up.

He took a deep breath and straightened his back. The humiliation of last night, Hindenburg's slap in Frankfurt, were still churning in his mind. He knew Britain had lost, he knew Britain had to bow its head. But he was unwilling. He was truly unwilling.

He spoke. His voice was louder and his tone was harsher than usual.

"Britain supported the idea of ​​the League of Nations. But Britain had one condition—"

He paused, glanced around, and finally fixed his gaze on Tirpitz.

"Germany must pay Britain and France one billion pounds in war reparations. Not a penny less. And William must abdicate and leave Germany!"

The meeting room fell silent for a second.

Then someone laughed.

It wasn't a loud laugh, but a very soft, cold laugh coming from the back of his throat. Everyone turned to look—it was Chen Feng.

Chen Feng stood up and walked up to Asquith.

His pace was neither fast nor slow, each step firm and measured. He walked up to Asquith, stopped, and looked directly into those somewhat flustered eyes.

"Prime Minister Asquith," his voice wasn't loud, but every word was as clear as if etched in stone, "what did you just say? One billion pounds?"

Asquith's expression changed. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing came out.

Chen Feng continued, "You want Germany to pay you one billion pounds in compensation. Very well. Then, I ask you, who should compensate Lanfang for its losses in Asia?"

He turned around and faced everyone.

"India was ruled by Britain for a hundred years. How much wealth did they take from India? Billions? Tens of billions? Now that India is independent, shouldn't Britain return this wealth to India?"

Asquith's face turned bright red.

Chen Feng continued, "Britain was ruled by Britain for fifty years. Malaya was ruled by Britain for a hundred years. Australia, Britain seized the land from the indigenous people and killed them; now these places belong to Lanfang. How should this debt be settled?"

The conference room was deathly silent.

Chen Feng walked back to his seat, but didn't sit down. He stood there, his hands resting on the edge of the table, looking at Asquith.

"Prime Minister Asquith, you want to settle accounts. Fine, let's settle them. You say Germany should pay Britain one billion. Then, how much should Britain pay India? How much to Burma? How much to Malaya? How much to Australia?"

Asquith stood there, his face as pale as a sheet. His hands were trembling, gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Chen Feng's voice suddenly rose.

"Furthermore, you just said that Germany must compensate Britain and France for their losses. So, shouldn't Britain's losses in Asia also be attributed to Germany? Was the loss of India caused by Germany? Was the loss of Australia caused by Germany? No. You yourselves lost the war against Lanfang!"

He looked directly into Asquith's eyes.

"Prime Minister Asquith, I'll ask you one more time—if William abdicates, shouldn't George V also abdicate?"

These words were like a knife, piercing Asquith's heart.

He staggered and nearly fell. His chief of staff, Gray, quickly steadied him. Asquith pushed him away and stood there, trembling.

He looked at Wilson. Wilson remained expressionless.

He looked at Clemenceau. Clemenceau looked away.

He looked at Tirpitz. Tirpitz had a cold smile on his face.

He looked at Chen Feng. Chen Feng's gaze was frighteningly calm, like a bottomless pool of water.

Asquith opened his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing came out. He slowly sat down, head down, staring at the table. His shoulders were trembling slightly.

Wilson finally spoke. His voice was soft, but everyone heard him clearly.

"Prime Minister Asquith, is there anything else you would like to say?"

Asquith shook his head.

Wilson nodded. "That's good."

He stood up and looked around.

"Gentlemen, today's discussion has been very thorough. All parties have expressed their positions. Now, I propose a recess. We will continue tomorrow morning."

He paused.

"I hope that when you go back, you will think carefully about what is truly important."

That evening, at Chen Feng's villa.

Tirpitz visited again alone. This time, he had a smile on his face.

"President, that slap you gave me during the day was even harder than the one I gave you in Frankfurt."

Chen Feng smiled. "It's not about being ruthless, it's about making them face reality."

The two sat down on the sofa. Wang Wenwu served tea and then quietly slipped out.

Tirpitz picked up his teacup, took a sip, and then put it down.

"President, Germany thanks you for speaking up for us today."

Chen Feng shook his head. "It's not about speaking out for justice, it's about self-interest."

He looked directly into Tirpitz's eyes.

"Marshal Tirpitz, do you know why I said those things today?"

Tirpitz thought for a moment. "To keep the British in check?"

Chen Feng nodded. "Yes. Keep the British in check. But that's not all."

He stood up and walked to the window.

"The British are still not convinced. They feel that as the victorious nation, they should take more and more. I want them to know that—the defeated nation has its dignity, and the victorious nation also has its bottom line."

He turned to look at Tirpitz.

"Furthermore, I want everyone to know—Lanfang isn't here to play a supporting role. Lanfang is here to be a chess player."

He paused.

"Marshal Tirpitz, do you know what the most crucial step tomorrow will be?"

Tirpitz shook his head.

Chen Feng looked at him calmly.

"It's the British attitude. I've suppressed them today, but they'll rebel again tomorrow. Wilson will work on them to get them to accept reality. The key is—once they accept reality, Germany must give them a way out."

Tirpitz paused, taken aback. "Steps?"

Chen Feng nodded. "Yes. Steps. The British can't go back empty-handed. They need something to explain back home."

He picked up his teacup and took a sip.

"My suggestion is that Germany announces its willingness to release all British prisoners of war. In exchange, Britain should waive its claims for reparations."

Tirpitz's eyes lit up. "That's a great idea."

Chen Feng put down his teacup. "Moreover, it must be announced publicly. Let the whole world know that Germany voluntarily released prisoners of war out of humanitarian reasons, not out of coercion."

Tirpitz stood up and bowed deeply. "Sir, Germany will not forget."

Chen Feng helped him up. "It's not friendship. It's self-interest. Self-interest lasts longer than friendship."