Accepting Everything

The name Chen Feng brought the argument to a halt. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze shifting from one face to another.

"I've gathered you all here today not to listen to your complaints about not having enough money," his voice was calm, but carried an undeniable authority. "I'm here to hear solutions. On anniversary, you said railway construction costs are high—if we didn't use imported rails and used our own, how much could we save?"

Zhou Nian paused for a moment, then quickly calculated: "Our current rolling mills can produce medium-sized steel rails, which are not as good as the German ones, but they are usable. If we produce them all ourselves... we can save a third, which is about £80,000."

"Then we'll use our own." Chen Feng turned to Liu Yongfu, "Director Liu, can the steel mill supply the required rails on time?"

"Yes!" Liu Yongfu straightened his back. "As long as the ore supply remains constant, I guarantee that all the rails will be delivered within three months!"

"Okay." Chen Feng made a note in his notebook, then looked at Li Mingyuan, "How much will the power output decrease if the power plant design is simplified?"

"If steam turbines are used to replace part of the steam turbine units, the power output will decrease by 20 percent, but the construction time will be shortened by four months and the cost will be reduced by £40,000."

"That's acceptable." Chen Feng nodded. "The refinery will maintain its original scale, but will be built in two phases. The first phase will meet the needs of the shipyard and power plant, and the second phase will be completed when the next round of funding arrives."

He made decisions quickly, asking one question after another, each answer precise and decisive. Only Chen Feng's voice and the ministers' responses remained in the meeting room, occasionally punctuated by the scratching of pens on paper.

Twenty minutes later, Chen Feng put down his pen and looked up.

"The revised plan: 1.1 million for industrial expansion, 700,000 for infrastructure, 500,000 for agriculture, 300,000 for education, and 1 million for procurement. The total expenditure is 3.6 million, which is just right."

He paused, then surveyed the entire room:

"But I want to emphasize one point: this money isn't for slow development. Every penny must yield tangible results within six months. For the steel plant expansion, I want to see monthly output increase from 10,000 tons to 35,000 tons. For the first phase of the railway, I want to see 30 kilometers of track operational. For the first phase of the oil refinery, I want to see 500 tons of crude oil processed per day. Can you do that?"

A brief silence.

Then, Liu Yongfu was the first to stand up: "Commander-in-Chief, the steel mill guarantees to complete the mission! If we fail, I, Liu Yongfu, will jump into the steel furnace!"

On anniversary, someone stood up and said, "The Ministry of Infrastructure guarantees that the 30-kilometer railway will be open to traffic in six months! We can work in three shifts, with people stopping but machines never stopping!"

One by one, everyone stood up.

Chen Feng also stood up, placing his hands on the table:

"Gentlemen, this is no ordinary construction project. This is a life-or-death battle for Lanfang. The Germans are buying our ships with gold, not as charity, but to use us to contain the British. The French are coming soon, hoping to find weapons from us to fight against Germany. The British are already on guard, and the Japanese may be lurking in the shadows."

His voice rose slightly:

"If we cannot become strong in the shortest possible time, cannot build more and better ships, and cannot establish a complete industrial system, then when the great powers discover that we are just a paper tiger bluffing—"

Chen Feng paused, letting each word strike deep into the hearts of those present:

"The Persian Gulf will become a colony of the great powers. And we 300,000 Chinese will either be exiled again or become second-class citizens. The restoration of Lanfang will forever remain a dream."

The meeting room was so quiet you could hear someone breathing.

"So," Chen Feng slowly sat down, "after the meeting, I need each of you to submit a detailed implementation plan and timetable. I need to know what to do every day, what to accomplish every week, and what goals to achieve every month. Uncle Wang will set up a supervisory team to report the progress to me weekly."

"Yes!" came the unanimous reply.

"Finally," Chen Feng's tone softened, "I want to tell everyone that these six months will be tough. But six months later, when the railway is open, when the new steel mill goes into production, when the 'Cheetah' is launched... we will have the real capital to negotiate with the great powers. At that time, we will not only be able to sell them ships—"

He stood up, walked to the map of Southeast Asia on the wall, and pointed to Borneo:

"We can still go home."

Applause broke out. Not enthusiastic applause, but a deep, powerful clapping sound, like war drums, like a heartbeat.

After the meeting, Chen Feng kept Wang Bo behind alone.

"Young Master, isn't putting too much pressure on them by forcing them like this?" Uncle Wang asked with some concern.

"Great pressure can lead to miracles." Chen Feng walked to the window, looking at the bustling port outside. "Uncle Wang, do you know what? I've been thinking about something lately."

"What's the problem?"

"If those historically Chinese-owned countries—Lanfang, Daiyan, and Shunta—had possessed our current industrial capabilities, would they have perished?"

Wang Bo remained silent for a long time before slowly shaking his head: "No. Back then, the Dutch gunboats only had a few small cannons. If we had steel mills and could manufacture our own guns and cannons... even ten Dutch East India Companies wouldn't be enough."

"So technology is the foundation." Chen Feng turned around, his eyes firm. "Everything we do now, building steel mills, repairing railways, constructing warships... is not just for making money, but to make up for a lesson that the Chinese have missed for hundreds of years: in this dog-eat-dog world, without industrial power, there is no right to survive."

A ship's horn sounded outside the window; another cargo ship had entered the port. It carried iron ore from Australia, copper ingots from Chile, and machine tools from Germany.

Every shipment of goods forms the cornerstone of Lanfang's future.

"Oh, right," Chen Feng suddenly remembered something, "any new information from Wang Wenwu's side?"

"I just received a telegram." Uncle Wang pulled a piece of paper from his folder. "French special envoy General Dubois has left Djibouti and is heading to the Persian Gulf on a British-flagged cargo ship, the 'Seagull.' He is expected to arrive in seven days. He is traveling with six people, all of whom are experts."

"Tell the port to receive them as a Class A business delegation," Chen Feng thought for a moment. "Arrange for them to stay in the newly built reception area for foreign guests, send the best translators, and provide them with meals according to European standards. But their activities should be restricted—they can only visit civilian factories and public areas of the port."

"Understood." Uncle Wang noted it down. "Also, the list of the German technical exchange delegation has arrived. Thirty people, including eight naval engineers, five marine engineering experts, four artillery designers, and experts in metallurgy, optics, and radio. A very strong team."

Chen Feng laughed: "Emperor William is really going all out. He wants to find out our secrets and also use technology to bind us."

"Then we..."

"We'll take it all," Chen Feng said decisively. "We can teach them whatever they want to learn, as long as it's not top-secret. But we need to learn much more—especially technologies they might be hiding, like optical rangefinders, special alloys, and radio."