Smile, Wilhelm!

Historically, Bismarck had played a similar game of "luring by retreat." At the time, William, the Prince Regent, was about to ascend as the King of Prussia. However, his relationship with the parliament had soured terribly due to various disputes, with military expenditures serving as the spark for further deterioration. In that scenario, only Bismarck could salvage the mess and prevent a complete rupture between the crown and parliament.

Despite their myriad disagreements, the Prince Regent recognized the urgent need to resolve the immediate crisis. He extended an olive branch to Bismarck, inviting him to serve as his "Minister of the Interior," effectively the chief steward of the Hohenzollern family. In the theoretically still-autocratic Prussian monarchy, this was a position of considerable power—enough, at least, for someone in the role to mediate conflicts between the crown and parliament effectively.

Bismarck's response, however, was a resolute refusal, delivered with even greater firmness than now. He preferred to remain a diplomat rather than take up the post of Minister of the Interior.

This was a bold yet astute gamble. Time was on his side; the Prince Regent, facing mounting tensions with parliament, was the one running out of options. Sure enough, the conflict escalated, forcing William to offer Bismarck the position of Prime Minister. This demonstrated Bismarck's shrewdness and audacity in navigating political intricacies.

The present-day Bismarck was no less calculating. He understood exactly what he wanted and recognized that the relationship between the Prince Regent and parliament, though outwardly stable, was precarious. Most of this superficial harmony was due to Bismarck's deft maneuvering, which had shifted the focus of disputes. Without his presence in Berlin to mediate, the underlying tensions would quickly surface.

For this reason, Bismarck would not settle for the role of Minister of the Interior, powerful as it might be. Ultimately, that position was merely a servant to the Hohenzollern family. The Prime Minister, on the other hand, though nominally still a subject of the king, enjoyed a status far above that of a mere servant.

Bismarck, therefore, offered a justification that William could not refuse, intending to wait patiently for the situation to evolve.

Compared to Bismarck's calculated strategy, the Prince Regent's approach was far simpler. His focus was on entirely different concerns: the domestic situation was relatively stable, and Bismarck, who had become uncomfortably influential, could benefit from cooling off for a while. Given Bismarck's apparent enthusiasm, why not go along with it?

"Your decision is truly admirable," the Prince Regent said after some thought. "Visiting a distant and unfamiliar land like Khitan requires an exceptional diplomat like you to lead the delegation."

As he spoke, the Prince Regent glanced at Bismarck, missing the sly glint in his eyes and catching only the lingering sincerity.

"I am no expert in diplomacy," the Prince Regent continued. "As for selecting the members of the delegation, I must rely on your personal judgment."

"As you wish, Your Highness," Bismarck replied with a slight bow. In truth, he already had a list of candidates in mind.

To Bismarck, this diplomatic mission was not only a perfect excuse to practice his strategy of retreat but also a genuine opportunity. His earlier words to the Prince Regent reflected his true belief: an Eastern nation actively seeking to engage with the world was bound to become a key global player. Whether it would take ten, twenty, or thirty years to mature, Bismarck had always excelled at "casting a long line to catch a big fish." At just under forty-five years old, he had time on his side.

When Bismarck finally departed from the Prince Regent's palace, the evening had deepened. The banquet in the Crown Prince's palace was winding down, and guests were leaving. Servants had begun cleaning up, while little Smith—technically the guest of honor—was being carried off to the private quarters by his father, Frederick, with Victoria following closely behind.

"You see, Vicky," Frederick said, gently rocking the drowsy Smith in his arms, "the Khitan people, though different from us, are not barbarians. I believe we will find more common ground with them in the future."

Victoria, mindful not to disturb Smith, spoke softly, though her tone betrayed a faint contempt. "They may not be barbarians, but they are far from enlightened. If they had been willing to find common ground twenty years ago, there wouldn't have been a war!"

Smith, who had been drifting off to sleep, snapped awake at this remark.

It had been a full year since he had transmigrated into this world, occupying the body of the future Kaiser Wilhelm II. Though he now lived among people with prominent noses and deep-set eyes, speaking German more often than not, he remained deeply tied to the cultural identity of his previous life. Even though the Khitan envoys were not the exact same as those from his homeland, their black hair, dark eyes, and yellow skin evoked an undeniable sense of familiarity and belonging.

Hearing Victoria's dismissive words, Smith's small body tensed in anger. Though trapped in the body of a toddler, his mature mind knew better than to lash out.

Frederick, noticing Smith's sudden tension, smiled and said, "Ah, our little man is awake! Seems he's a bit grumpy from his nap."

But Smith was no ordinary child. Years of adult experience had taught him that venting emotions rarely solved problems. He understood that Victoria's contempt stemmed not from malice but from deeper prejudices. Addressing those prejudices required more than anger—it demanded systemic change.

For now, though, Smith could only accept his limitations. He couldn't even speak yet, let alone challenge anyone's worldview.

With this realization, much of his anger dissipated. After all, stewing in impotent rage would only harm his health. Why make life harder for himself?

Seeing Smith's expression shift from gloomy to cheerful, the Friedrich couple didn't suspect anything amiss. After a few more exchanges, they settled Smith into bed. Meanwhile, now more composed, Smith began trying to glean information from their earlier conversation.

It was the year 1860. Victoria had mentioned a war fought "twenty years ago," which placed the event in 1840. Based on her identity, the war was undoubtedly between Britain and Khitan. Connecting this to the history of his original world, Smith couldn't help but smile wryly.

"It seems that this world's Khitan follows a similar historical trajectory to what I know… Unfortunately, the part it mirrors isn't exactly a pleasant chapter..."

Nonetheless, Khitan had now taken the initiative to engage with the West. As the saying goes, better late than never. Compared to history, this was a much more progressive step.

"I wonder, though, how people like Hu Linyi—these 'Khitan envoys'—view Europe of this era and how they perceive Khitan itself?" A thought sparked in Smith's mind, igniting his ever-curious nature. Another equally intriguing question soon followed:

"With such a significant historical divergence in the Far East, can the Temporal Management Bureau really remain indifferent?!"

While this thought crossed Smith's mind, Hu Linyi and the "Khitan envoys" were making their way back to their lodgings.

Since Khitan and Prussia had yet to establish formal diplomatic relations, there was no Khitan embassy. To accommodate the group of dozens, the Prussian authorities had allocated a country estate of the Hohenzollern family on the outskirts of Berlin for their use. Although close to the city, it still took nearly an hour by carriage from the Crown Prince's palace.

Inside a luxurious black carriage in the middle of the convoy, Hu Linyi gazed at Berlin's nighttime scenery passing by the window and turned to the young man seated opposite him.

"Danya, what do you make of Prince Friedrich's words today?"

The young man addressed as "Danya" replied respectfully,

"My lord, the prince's words were utterly unprecedented. I truly don't know what to make of them!"

Hearing this, Hu Linyi smiled, recognizing that the young man likely had thoughts but was unsure whether to share them. He said,

"Prince Friedrich's words are as new to me as they are to you. Today is merely a brainstorming session—speak your mind without hesitation!"

Encouraged, the young man ventured,

"Then I shall be so bold. What the prince said seems to differ greatly from the teachings of the sages and even contradicts the moral principles of our Heavenly Kingdom. While the saying goes, 'Those who are not of our race are surely of a different heart,' such stark divergence still leaves me deeply unsettled…"

Hu Linyi nodded and replied,

"This is hardly surprising. As they say, 'Every hundred miles, customs differ; every thousand miles, cultures diverge.' Prussia and our dynasty are separated by tens of thousands of miles. It's natural for their customs and teachings to differ greatly from ours."

He turned back to the young man and continued,

"The key lies in understanding the logic behind their customs and teachings. Since the founding of our dynasty, we have always considered ourselves a superior nation and viewed others as barbarians. This arrogance and isolation led to our defeat twenty years ago. Reflecting on these two decades, foreign technologies have become ever more advanced and their craftsmanship ever more refined. From these small details, one can see the great strides of their civilization—advances we cannot match. If we cling to our old doctrines, resist change, and refuse to adapt, we will only fall further behind!"

"Your words, my lord, are truly enlightening!"

Hu Linyi waved his hand dismissively,

"Let's set this aside. This mission, spearheaded by Chief Minister Lin against all opposition, is meant to expose us to what we've never seen and to challenge what we've never imagined. Only through this can we gain anything of value. So, Danya, be bolder—broaden your horizons, expand your thoughts, and stretch your imagination."

The young man hesitated to respond, but before he could speak, Hu Linyi gestured for him to pause.

"Danya, have you noticed? Among the envoys on this mission, besides me, most are young men under thirty?"

"Now that you mention it, that does seem to be the case..."

"Precisely. The older one gets, the more timid one becomes. Age often brings an aversion to novel things—this is the essence of stagnation. You are still young. You must dare to observe, to think, to speak, and to act. Only then will this journey not be in vain, and only then will you live up to Chief Minister Lin's intentions!"

"I shall remember your advice!"

"Danya, no need to be so formal. Take a look at this!" Hu Linyi said, pulling a letter from his sleeve and handing it to the young man.

"This is a correspondence between Shaoquan and me. You might find it insightful."

The young man respectfully accepted the letter and was about to read it when Hu Linyi added,

"Danya, I've heard you keep a notebook documenting your observations since arriving in Prussia. May I have the honor of reading it?"

"Your request is an overwhelming compliment, my lord!" the young man exclaimed, looking both flattered and anxious.

"It would be my greatest privilege to have your guidance!"

He quickly handed over his notebook with both hands. Hu Linyi accepted it and, noticing the young man's nervous demeanor, chuckled,

"Why so tense? This is an exchange of equals!"

With that, Hu Linyi examined the notebook under the dim carriage light. The elegant, flowing script on the cover caught his eye. After a moment, he murmured,

"Li Fengbao… Such beautiful handwriting."

Meanwhile, Li Fengbao began reading the letter addressed to Hu Linyi:

"...For over a century, European nations have ventured from India to Southeast Asia, and from there to China, encroaching upon our borders and seeking trade. This marks an unprecedented transformation in millennia. With steamships and telegraphs traversing thousands of miles in an instant, and their precision weaponry and machinery amplifying power a hundredfold, their cannons destroy all they strike, rendering our fortifications futile. This represents a new kind of adversary unseen in thousands of years. If we do not amend our ways and strive for self-improvement, we risk perpetual subjugation…"

As he read, Li Fengbao glanced at Hu Linyi, who was engrossed in his notebook, and then at the scattered lights of Berlin's nightscape. He silently pondered the words:

"An unprecedented transformation in millennia…"