Chapter 109: 108, Selling One Item Twice, Bomber For 4.8 Million Francs
“Uncle Chen, I’ve come to see you.” Lin Shuiwang said with a cheerful smile to the elderly person sitting in the shop.
“You’re a glutton, coming here to scrounge food.” The elderly person stood up and chatted with Lin Shuiwang; they seemed to have a good relationship.
“This time it’s not about freeloading food; I have something big to discuss with you.” Lin Shuiwang said, his face turning serious.
His attitude puzzled the elderly person.
“What is it?”
“What I’m doing this time, Lin Shuiwang, is something major concerning the country.” Lin Shuiwang replied proudly.
This made the elderly person even more curious, and the two began conversing in Min Nan dialect, which outsiders truly couldn’t understand.
After a bout of conversation, the elderly person was persuaded and proactively went out to contact people.
Not long after, he brought back a large group of people and temporarily closed the shop.
In the closed shop, Lin Shuiwang explained to everyone:
“This time, I’m accompanying a pilot from our country who came to Europe for inspection. He’s very capable: he sank a Japanese warship in Shanghai and started an airline company back home. A person like him hasn’t forgotten the country and is willing to put up his own assets to purchase weapons and medicine in Europe to return to China and support the resistance against Japan. I admire people like him and am willing to work for him. Now, he’s preparing to hold a banquet inviting French business circles, but he’s worried about the high costs, so he wants everyone to help organize the banquet to save money, which can then buy more bullets to fight the Japanese.”
Regarding Lin Shuiwang’s explanation, some believed it, some didn’t.
Lin Shuiwang spoke again: “You won’t lose money; it’s just asking you to handle the banquet so the French don’t pocket the price difference.”
What he meant was to bypass Paris banquet agents and organize it directly themselves, saving a large portion of expenses.
But his expressive ability was somewhat lacking; he didn’t make any of his points clear, leaving the others unenthused.
Lin Baoluo quickly helped supplement.
“Everyone, war is a contest of equipment and firepower. This time, Mr. Fang wants to buy the French large bomber. With that thing, we can also drop bombs on the Japanese.”
These words were more appealing, and immediately someone asked: “How powerful is the large bomber?”
Lin Baoluo didn’t know either, but he knew how to boast: “One bomb takes out half a city; no matter how many little Japanese come, they all die.”
His words stirred everyone’s passion. Not to mention anything else, over these years, Chinese people had been unable to hold their heads high abroad because of the motherland’s weakness.
The country’s strength is the people’s face; who doesn’t want the country to stand tall? Lin Baoluo’s words ignited their fighting spirit.
“That powerful. If we can really get it back home, great. I’ll join this.”
“Me too; isn’t it just doing some work? I’d go even without pay.”
Everyone eagerly signed up, and ultimately Uncle Chen, who runs the restaurant, took the lead, settling the banquet arrangements.
January 6, 1933.
Fang Wen picked up clothes from the tailor’s shop and brought Lin Shuiwang to the consulate.
The banquet invitations had already been sent out, with the venue inside the consulate, but the ones handling the banquet were the overseas Chinese from Rue au Maire.
Fang Wen communicated with them without any sense of status difference and quickly bonded.
During the exchange, someone grew curious.
“Mr. Fang, I heard that airplane is as big as a house; is that true?”
“I haven’t seen the real thing either.” Fang Wen glanced at the ceiling and compared: “Over 5 meters tall, about two stories high, wings 36 meters long; just the two wings have an area of 180 square meters, four times the size of our current room, and it can carry 8 tons of bombs.”
His words provided a more vivid description.
Such a massive airplane, fully loaded with bombs to bomb the Japanese—truly satisfying.
Someone else asked: “Where do the bombs come from? Dropping 8 tons in one go—you probably couldn’t produce that many even in our country’s weapons factories.”
This question left Fang Wen speechless; because of Huo Duanyang, Fang Wen knew some about the domestic arsenals.
Take Huo Duanyang’s Jinling Arsenal: currently, it produces 35 Maxim water-cooled heavy machine guns, 800,000 bullets, 136 kg of smokeless powder, and 9 kg of yellow explosives per month.
This output couldn’t satisfy even one bombing by the Farman F.220 bomber that consumes 8 tons of bombs.
The huge industrial gap irritated Fang Wen; China at this time was truly too backward.
His silence made the questioner realize how inappropriate his words were, and he quickly changed his tune.
“No worries; as long as the airplane gets transported back, it’s a sharp weapon. Even if it bombs less, it’s still bombing.”
Fang Wen nodded, but in his mind, he thought: Should I set up a bomb production line this time back home?
At this moment, consulate staff came from the back kitchen door: “Mr. Fang, you need to prepare; the guests have arrived.”
The back kitchen immediately bustled, and Fang Wen quickly left.
Guests were already arriving one after another in the consulate banquet hall.
Fang Wen adjusted his formal attire and instrument panel in the vanity mirror and strode in.
The consulate master of ceremonies quietly directed Fang Wen: “Look to your right; that group is the senior managers from Farman Company.”
Fang Wen looked over: five men chatting together.
He didn’t rush over to make contact but followed the consulate master of ceremonies to the small platform.
The master of ceremonies announced to the guests.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the host of tonight’s banquet, Mr. Fang Wen from our China. He is a heroic pilot who once flew a French Potez 25 fighter to sink a cruiser. His current identity is our country’s military supplies procurement commissioner.”
This introduction drew various attentions. Everyone applauded in welcome.
Fang Wen also noticed those five looking at him and whispering.
The matter of bombing a warship with a Potez 25 was a great entry point; surely, executives from an aircraft manufacturing company would be very interested.
As expected, they came over together and questioned Fang Wen.
“Hello, Mr. Fang. Why did you choose to fly a Potez 25 for bombing back then?”
They spoke in French; Lin Shuiwang translated beside them.
After hearing Lin Shuiwang’s translation, Fang Wen conversed with them.
“Because there was no alternative, we modified the Potez 25, removed excess payload, and mounted 800 kg of bombs.”
The more details Fang Wen gave, the more interested they became.
“I recall the Potez 25 can’t carry such heavy bombs; did you modify it?”
“Yes, we converted the fuselage belly into a simple retractable hook bomb rack and installed the release mechanism in the cockpit.”
At this point, Fang Wen gestured with his hand. “Fly to the target, pull the connecting rod, bomb drops—boom!”
Hearing Lin Shuiwang’s translation, the five burst into laughter.
“That’s brilliant; modifying a biplane to achieve bomber effects.”
“Ingenious idea; if you were at our Farman Company, you’d be an outstanding designer.”
This was the best opportunity; Fang Wen immediately said: “Farman Company makes airplanes too? I’ve flown Potez Company planes, but never had the chance to fly yours.”
“Potez Company can’t compare to us; they only produce small airplanes, while we can build large aircraft.”
“Can you tell me about your airplanes? I’m interested in all kinds of aircraft.”
A pilot and five aircraft manufacturing company executives had common topics.
Fang Wen became the listener; the five became the storytellers.
They spoke as if introducing products to a client: detailed and earnest.
They focused on the F series models.
From the F-4 trainer airplane of World War I, F-20, F-30, F-40 reconnaissance aircraft.
But what made Farman Company famous was the widely used F-50 bomber in World War I.
Speaking of the F-50 bomber, they recounted many glorious past events.
“Back then, the Germans made a war airship, and the military wanted a countermeasure.”
“They planned to form a strategic bomber force of 30 bomber squadrons, capable of air raids on German cities, transportation hubs, and military facilities.”
“Our company took on the project to develop a bomber that could drop 500 kg bombs.”
“We succeeded in the end. The F-50 bomber entered German territory and conducted multiple bombings, playing a major role in the war victory.”
As he spoke, a Farman executive pulled out his wallet, took a black-and-white photograph from inside, and showed it to Fang Wen.
The F-50 bomber in the photo was quite a large biplane for its time, with an enclosed fuselage.
Fang Wen listened carefully until now he asked: “How fast could it fly?”
“150 kilometers per hour.”
After finishing, they put the photo away.
This was long-past glory; bringing it up now felt like a hero not mentioning past bravery.
Fang Wen pretended not to know and continued: “Not long ago, I flew a US Boeing P-26 airplane from Asia to Europe. That plane’s speed was decent, but it was too small. Do you have better airplanes? If better than the P-26, I can purchase.”
These words embarrassed the five Farman executives somewhat.
Boeing’s monoplane fighter had become a flagship that aircraft manufacturing companies worldwide were chasing.
Farman Company’s current fighter series was still biplanes, nothing to show.
But they had a trump card.
One executive said: “We’ve shifted to large transport aircraft and bombers. The airplane we’re developing now is absolutely stronger than Boeing’s P-26 in strategic terms.”
“For bombers, Boeing Company seems to be developing a new bomber too.” Fang Wen continued to provoke.
Such industry comparisons most ignited fighting spirit.
They couldn’t stop.
The Farman executives were like excited Gallic roosters.
“I know Boeing’s new bomber, model B-17. Our two companies developed almost simultaneously, but I guarantee our airplane is no worse than the B-17.”
（B-17）
“Really? Can you elaborate?”
Fang Wen grew interested too; this was professionals analyzing two different heavy strategic bombers from the same period.
The two heavy bombers had significant differences in multiple aspects.
The only similarity was probably both having 4 engines.
Wing aspect:
The F.220 bomber uses a strut monoplane wing layout.
The B-17 uses a conventional lower monoplane aerodynamic layout.
One upper, one lower—entirely different design philosophies.
Clearly, the F.220 bomber emphasizes payload capacity, while the B-17 aims to balance speed.
Interestingly, both stressed self-defense with machine guns.
The F.220 bomber has 4 machine guns; the B-17 has 13 heavy machine guns.
This surprised Fang Wen: what did it mean for a heavy bomber to mount so many heavy machine guns—did they intend to make an aerial fortress?
As for other performance, the Farman executives didn’t elaborate.
Even so, Fang Wen, with some knowledge of Boeing Company, could guess some data comparisons.
The B-17’s speed should be faster than the F.220,
Payload capacity should be similar for both.
Overall, the B-17’s comprehensive performance should be better than the F.220.
After all, they designed it as a daytime bomber.
But the B-17 was unobtainable; the F.220 was Fang Wen’s target.
After over an hour of exchange with the Farman executives, Fang Wen successfully built rapport with them.
For people with common hobbies, many topics unfold easily.
Fang Wen asked: “Is your F.220 for sale?”
Hearing Lin Shuiwang’s translation, the five fell silent.
They exchanged glances, and a senior executive spoke.
“The Air Force required a prototype; we built it as specified. But they felt the prototype’s engine performance wasn’t good and demanded a different engine model. Since the aircraft structure was preset for the engine, we couldn’t change it and had to produce a second prototype to meet military requirements.”
Hearing Lin Shuiwang’s translation, Fang Wen understood.
He was instantly delighted, like a heaven-sent opportunity.
This was practically a replica of the Shrike Hao.
Another prototype abandoned due to military demands.
Such an airplane couldn’t be mass-produced and wasn’t in military procurement plans.
Yet it gave Fang Wen the optimal chance to acquire it.
Fang Wen was ecstatic inside but appeared completely unhurried on the surface.
He replied:
“I see. A failed prototype—if no one buys it—becomes scrap, right?”
The other nodded instinctively.
Fang Wen continued:
“I’ve encountered something similar with Boeing Company. When developing the P-26, they had a P-26-B prototype also abandoned due to US Army rejection. That prototype was to be destroyed as cost write-off. Later, I bought it; Boeing reduced losses and gained profit.”
Fang Wen’s words tempted the five.
But they showed no indication.
Fang Wen knew the situation well; it involved company interests, and without extra incentive, it wouldn’t happen.
He lowered his voice: “I have a good suggestion, but not suitable here. How about we talk inside?”
Lin Shuiwang instinctively translated in a lowered voice too.
The five vaguely guessed something and showed knowing expressions.
Then, the group left the banquet hall through another door and went to a small reception room on the consulate’s second floor.
In the new meeting place, Fang Wen was direct.
“From the Boeing Company matter, I discovered a great business opportunity. We can cooperate.”
“How to cooperate?” one of the five executives asked.
“The first F.220 prototype, abandoned by the military, is a failure. How would you handle it?”
“Store it in the warehouse, write it off in the accounts later, then destroy it.”
Hearing Lin Shuiwang’s translation, Fang Wen waved his hand: “This method can be slightly adjusted. Write it off in the accounts, turning it into scrap, then sell it to me. I’m willing to pay the cost price for this F.220 prototype. As for how you and the company split the transaction payment afterward, I don’t care.”
The five executives couldn’t believe such favorable terms.
The F.220 prototype’s cost was already in development expenses; reselling at cost to this Eastern businessman would yield huge profit for them.
And this profit wouldn’t even enter reports; it could go straight into their personal pockets.
Such massive profit temptation—who could resist?
For this, they needed to return immediately and explain to key directors to complete everything Fang Wen proposed.
Before they left, Fang Wen specifically asked.
“What’s the cost of this F.220 prototype?”
The other hesitated: “Four million eight hundred thousand francs.”
After seeing them off, Fang Wen pondered.
How many US dollars is four million eight hundred thousand francs?
