roccoschili Chapter 770, 5 Chang
Chapter 770, 5 Chang
Asquith looked up, a complex light flashing in his eyes. He didn't know if it was good or bad. But he knew that Britain had no other choice.
Clemenceau nodded. He and Chen Feng already had a tacit understanding; Chen Feng's personal attendance would only benefit him.
Hindenburg and Tirpitz exchanged a glance. They nodded. Chen Feng was Germany's only reliable friend. His personal visit gave Germany hope.
Wilson secretly breathed a sigh of relief as he observed the reactions from all sides. Moving to Cyprus was a plan he and Chen Feng had discussed. Far from the hatred of Europe and the bloodshed of the battlefield, it would be a place where they could truly reach an agreement.
"Well then," he said, "see you in Cyprus in three days."
That evening, in Frankfurt, at the residence of the Marilyn delegation.
Wilson sat at his desk, a sheet of paper spread out in front of him. He had already written three drafts, none of which satisfied him. The first was too soft, the second too stiff, and the third too verbose. He put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his temples.
Lansing pushed open the door and came in, holding a cup of coffee.
"Your Excellency, are you still not resting?"
Wilson shook his head. "I can't sleep. I need to send the telegram to Chen Feng first."
Lansing placed the coffee on the table and glanced at the letter. "How many times have you written it?"
"Three times." Wilson gave a wry smile. "Sending a telegram to Chen Feng is harder than giving a report to Congress."
He picked up his pen again, thought for a moment, and began writing for the fourth time.
"Your Excellency President Chen Feng: Today at the Frankfurt negotiations, France put forward three conditions, which Germany accepted; Britain demanded one billion in reparations, which Hindenburg publicly refuted with the issue of prisoners of war. The negotiations have reached a stalemate. I have proposed moving the talks to Cyprus, and all parties have agreed. I hope Your Excellency will visit Cyprus at the end of the month for formal talks on postwar reconstruction. Also, the five-nation conference should be attended in person by the heads of state of all five nations. Wilson."
He finished writing, read it through, and nodded. This time, he was concise and to the point, saying everything that needed to be said.
"Send it out." He handed the letter to Lansing.
Lansing took it, glanced at it, and hesitated for a moment. "Your Excellency, will Chen Feng come?"
Wilson looked at him and remained silent for three seconds. "Yes."
How did you know?
Wilson stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the night in Frankfurt was deep, and the distant church spires were faintly visible in the moonlight.
"Because he understands better than anyone that the postwar order cannot exist without Germany. He will definitely come."
Two hours later, the call returned.
Lansing knocked on Wilson's door and handed him the telegram. Wilson took it, read it, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.
The telegram contained only one line:
"I agree with Cyprus. Representatives from Germany, France, and the United Kingdom should be invited to discuss this. The postwar order requires the participation of everyone. Chen Feng."
Wilson read the telegram three times, then folded it up and put it in his pocket.
"Notify the delegations of all countries," he said. "The Five-Power Conference is scheduled to be held in Cyprus on June 20. The heads of state of Lanfang, Merika, France, Germany, and Great Britain will attend in person."
Lansing nodded and turned to leave.
Wilson stood alone by the window, gazing at the pitch-black night outside. He recalled the words from Chen Feng's telegram—"The postwar order requires the participation of everyone."
Yes, everyone needs to participate. But in the end, only a few people truly have the final say.
At the same time, in different rooms in Frankfurt, representatives from all sides were processing the events of the day.
British delegation's residence.
Asquith sat on the sofa, holding a glass of whiskey that had gone cold. He didn't drink it, just held it. Gray sat opposite him, also holding a glass of whiskey, and like him, didn't drink it.
The room was extremely quiet. The only sound was the crackling of the firewood in the fireplace.
After a long silence, Asquith finally spoke. His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against a steel plate.
"Gray, tell me, how did we get to this point?"
Gray paused for three seconds. "Prime Minister, what are you saying?"
Asquith looked up at him. "Four years ago, we were number one in the world. Number one in the navy, number one in the army, number one in the colonies. The Germans feared us, the French relied on us, and the whole world looked to us for approval."
He gave a wry smile.
"And now? India is gone, Australia is gone, Myanmar is gone, Malaya is gone. We have nothing left in Asia. And in Europe, we're being publicly humiliated by the Germans."
Gray didn't know what to say. He could only remain silent.
Asquith stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the night in Frankfurt was deep, and the streetlights in the distance flickered in the darkness.
"Gray, why do you think Chen Feng is helping the Germans?"
Gray thought for a moment. "Because Germany is his pawn in controlling Europe. With Germany around, Europe will be in chaos. And when Europe is in chaos, Lanfang will have an opportunity."
Asquith nodded. "Yes. With Germany around, Europe is in chaos. If we're in chaos, Lanfang has an opportunity." He turned to look at Gray. "Therefore, Chen Feng will definitely protect Germany. At tomorrow's Cyprus meeting, Germany will definitely become a permanent member of the UN Security Council."
Gray was stunned. "The five permanent members of the UN Security Council?"
Asquith nodded. "The permanent members of the League of Nations. Wilson mentioned it to me privately today. Five countries, one veto. Merika, Lanfang, France, Germany—and the last one should be us."
Gray's expression changed. "Us? Do we even deserve to be on the five permanent members of the UN Security Council?"
Asquith looked at him, his gaze eerily calm. "Whether we're qualified or not isn't up to us; it's up to Chen Feng. If he wants us in, we can go in. If he doesn't want us in, we can't."
Gray fell silent.
Asquith walked back to the sofa and sat down. He downed the now-cold whiskey in one gulp, then put the glass down.
"Grey, remember today," he said. "Remember Hindenburg's slap in the face. From this day forward, Britain is no longer the Britain we once were. We must learn to bow our heads, to read people's faces, and to survive in the cracks."
Gray looked at him, his eyes welling up with tears. "Prime Minister..."
Asquith waved his hand. "Go to sleep. We have a long journey ahead tomorrow."
The German delegation's residence.
Hindenburg sat at his desk, a map spread out in front of him. He had been studying it for two hours, motionless. Tirpitz sat opposite him, a cup of coffee in his hand, equally silent.
After a long while, Tirpitz finally spoke.
"Marshal, your words today were too harsh."
Hindenburg looked up at him. "Heavy? I think it's too light."
He stood up and walked to the window.
"Tirpitz, do you know why I said that?"
Tirpitz shook his head.
Hindenburg pointed to the pitch-black night outside the window. "Because I want the British to face reality. They lost. They lost everything in Asia, and they can't hold on in Europe either. They think they're the victors and can boss us around. I want them to know—a defeated nation also has the dignity of a defeated nation."