Dinner

After a short break, everyone gathered in the banquet hall of the hotel. It was getting dark outside, just in time for dinner.

The spacious table was filled with sumptuous dishes, including black caviar, fresh mushroom soup, specially made black bread, delicate pancakes, and, of course, the legendary vodka.

Tukhachevsky warmly greeted them. "Mr. Wilhelm, being in the Soviet Union, you must taste our vodka. This is homemade, and I can proudly say it's the best in the Soviet Union."

Wilhelm couldn't help but recall the phrase "the motherland needs your stomach" from his original timeline in China. He picked up the glass and took a sip. "Damn, is this something people drink? It's like liquid fire!" He felt a burning sensation rushing down his throat into his stomach, then back up to his mouth. It felt like his heart, liver, and lungs were about to catch fire. It was extremely uncomfortable.

Wilhelm tightly sealed his mouth, afraid that coughing would make him spit it out. As a result, tears welled up in his eyes, and the others didn't fare much better.

Observing the situation, Tukhachevsky burst into laughter. "Haha, it seems Mr. Wilhelm needs to work on his tolerance for alcohol."

Wilhelm already had a hundred thousand expletives racing through his mind. Only you Slavic beasts can stomach this stuff.

Tukhachevsky instructed the waiter. "Serve our distinguished guests some Baltika beer."

Wilhelm quickly spoke up. "I'll pass, I'll just have some tea."

After tasting the Baltika beer, everyone nodded in approval. "Not bad, it has a unique flavor."

At the dining table, Wilhelm looked in surprise as Tukhachevsky drank one glass of high-proof vodka after another. He thought to himself that if he drank like that, even if he didn't get killed, he probably wouldn't live past 50. It's worth noting that even in the 21st century, the average life expectancy in Russia remained lower than the global average, and excessive drinking was a major factor.

After enjoying a satisfying meal and casual conversation, Natasha, who was sitting next to Wilhelm, asked, "Your Highness Wilhelm, do you have any hobbies or interests?"

Wilhelm smiled and replied, "My hobbies? They are quite similar to General Tukhachevsky's. Music, literature, painting, astronomy, architecture, and more. Of course, when it comes to sports, I'm definitely no match for General Tukhachevsky."

Tukhachevsky's eyebrows twitched slightly. "Oh? I really hope to have the opportunity to discuss music with His Royal Highness."

"No need to wait for the opportunity, isn't now the perfect time?" Perhaps it was the effect of the alcohol he had just consumed, but Wilhelm felt a bit lightheaded. Luckily, his mind was still clear. After saying those words, he got up and walked to the piano on the side, motioning for the pianist to step back and taking a seat on the bench. "General Tukhachevsky, then I shall perform."

Tukhachevsky hadn't expected Wilhelm to be serious. He couldn't help but put down his glass.

The table fell silent.

After pressing a few keys randomly, Wilhelm took a deep breath and began playing in earnest.

"In the quiet of the late-night garden, the rustling of the leaves no longer heard, The night is so beautiful, enchanting one's soul, what a serene evening. The small river flows silently, gently rippling, the moon shines on the water, sparkling silver. Faintly, I can hear someone singing softly, what a tranquil night. My beloved sits beside me in silence, quietly watching me, I want to speak to you, but I'm embarrassed, so many words are left unsaid in my heart. The long night quickly passes, the sky gradually brightens, I sincerely bless you, my dear girl; May we never forget each other from now on, in the Moscow suburbs' evening."

When the last note faded away, everyone remained immersed in the beautiful melody.

"Bravo!"

Wilhelm lightly pressed a piano key, and Tukhachevsky finally regained his composure.

Wilhelm smiled and said, "General, are you pleased with my impromptu performance?" After all this time, he could freely appropriate things from the future without any shame. No one would come forward to expose him anyway.

Tukhachevsky sincerely praised, "Excellent! Wilhelm, you have truly amazed me with your exceptional musical talent at such a young age."

"Then I shall dedicate this song to you as a token of our friendship," Wilhelm said. Who knows, maybe the Soviet intelligence department will even dig up evidence of your collaboration with Germany from these lyrics in the future.

"Very well! In honor of our friendship, let me raise a glass to you, Wilhelm," Tukhachevsky replied.

"Then I shall offer you tea instead of alcohol, in return, General, may our friendship be everlasting," Wilhelm retorted sarcastically.

And so, they all finished the meal in a very friendly atmosphere.

"..." Instead of having everyone return to their rooms, Wilhelm invited them all into his suite.

Once everyone was inside, Wilhelm placed his index finger on his lips, motioning for silence, then pointed to the ceiling and the floor.

Everyone understood immediately, cursing the Soviets' treachery in their hearts.

"You may all make yourselves comfortable; I'll go wash my face." In the bathroom, Wilhelm couldn't help but admire how lavish it was compared to his old bachelor apartment. After splashing his face with cold water, his slightly dizzy head cleared up completely.

When he returned to the living room, Rommel couldn't help but exclaim, "Your Highness, I never expected you to possess such extraordinary musical talent."

Wilhelm shrugged off the compliment, saying, "Perhaps it's the vodka that activated my musical cells, but I have no interest in trying that taste."

"These Russians have an extraordinary taste for strong liquor. How can they even stomach it?"

"Yeah, it's hard to believe they can handle such potent stuff without frying their brains."

"Today, Tukhachevsky must have drunk at least two liters, yet he can still walk steadily, as if nothing happened. Truly admirable."

Mansstein, Guderian, and Rommel, all around the same age, unanimously commented on the Russian general's youthful appearance. Wilhelm casually remarked, "General Tukhachevsky was born in 1893, making him 35 this year."

Rommel, the youngest here at 37 and holding the rank of captain, and Brauchitsch, who was 47 and only a colonel, felt quite inferior compared to Tukhachevsky's rank.

Guderian couldn't help but mutter, "Is this man truly as capable as they say? I need to study him further."

"Why bother studying him? He won't become our enemy." By 1937, he'll be gone, so studying him would just be a waste of time. Besides, although Tukhachevsky wrote numerous military theoretical works during his lifetime, he only began publishing some of them in the early 1960s. It would be more worthwhile for you to study the things I'll write for you in the future.

After giving it some thought, Wilhelm turned to Göring and said, "I heard that General Tukhachevsky is also staying here. Ask if he has passed out and, if he's still awake, invite him over for a discussion."

Brauchitsch advised: "Your Highness, is this not inappropriate? You mentioned earlier that the Soviets have requests for us. If we take the first step, wouldn't that lessen our advantage?"

"Advantage?" Wilhelm rolled his eyes and sarcastically replied, "They have requests for us, and we have requests for them too. Otherwise, why would we come here? Let's not be hypocrites when we are all the same."