Chapter 376 One Monkey, One Tethering Method (Catching Insects): They actually fall for this trick.

Once inside the military off-road vehicle, Punonin finally asked, "Are you really not planning to lay off any workers?"

Before the Soviet Union collapsed, when he had already decided to leave the Communist Party, he had repeatedly pondered a question—why did this land become like this?

After much thought, he concluded that everyone living on this land should bear responsibility.

Everyone who treats their work as a way to get by, whether it's government offices, factories, collective farms, schools, hospitals, or any other institution, should be held responsible for the country's increasingly dire situation.

Parasites abound; the corrupt system distorts and rewards those who don't work hard, and everyone wants to take advantage of the country.

In reality, the state never creates wealth; it only benefits those who work honestly.

Punoning, a top student who has been studying since childhood, is also a superhuman who wants to work as if there are 48 hours in a day after starting work, and he is physiologically nauseous at these parasites.

Ivanov glanced at him only once: "When have I ever fired an employee?"

Apart from those who were investigated and imprisoned for embezzlement, bribery, and other job-related crimes, he has never fired any employees to this day.

Punonin's face was full of unspeakable emotions, even expressing the worry that his own child was too well protected and unaware of the dangers of society: "Ivan, they are not employees hired through normal channels by your group. Do you understand what I mean? They are a group of long-term employees of state-owned enterprises."

The former are the true laborers, while the latter have long lost their status as laborers.

Ivanov raised his eyebrows, looking slightly puzzled: "But I didn't lay off any employees at the ZIL truck plant, the Muscovy automobile plant, or the Red Revolutionary machine tool plant. I didn't even kick anyone out of the Kuznetsk steel plant."

He took over the Kuznetsk steel plant in 1993, and the other plants have been in operation for a full year.

He did this not just today, so why are you suddenly bringing it up now?

Unable to suppress the upward curve of her lips, Wang Xiao quickly turned her head to look out the window.

There are worker patrol teams all around the oil field.

Wrapped in thick cotton-padded coats, wearing leather hats that almost covered half their faces, and heavy felt boots, they patrolled in the cold wind under the illumination of searchlights.

As oil fields are centers of wealth, it is difficult to prevent theft of materials and oil; this method is the only way to deter thieves from becoming too rampant.

Punoning's face flushed, a kind of embarrassment a parent might feel when their child unintentionally exposes their child's misconception.

Yes, this has happened before, and it's not the first time Ivan has taken over a state-owned enterprise.

Why am I only starting to care now about how he actually manages his employees?

He was unwilling to admit it, but his brilliant mind had already given him the answer—he had only been an observer before, and those companies had nothing to do with him.

The Surgut oil field is different; with the arrival of tax police, they have become a community of shared interests.

Punonin also noticed the workers' patrol outside.

Unfortunately, seeing them on such a long, cold, silent, and dark night, he felt not gratitude, but disgust.

He knows these people too well.

The so-called patrol teams were meant to combat thieves, but they drove out the outside thieves only to make it easier for them to divide up the supplies and oil.

Yes, we don't even need the word "steal." Because nobody feels like they're stealing; how can taking public property be called stealing?

This is the distorted humanity of a terrible socialist society.

His call for equality for all seems wonderful; but in reality, it drags everyone into an abyss, clips everyone's wings, and deprives everyone of the ability to move forward.

Punonin straightened his expression and earnestly warned his friend and partner: "Ivan, you can't be a pushover anymore. You think that by not firing those parasites, you're helping them and preventing them and their families from falling into hardship. But that kind of thinking is wrong; it's a socialist trap!"

His voice involuntarily rose a octave, “It seems like the country and the collective are bailing out a terrible person, helping him. In reality, quite the opposite, it’s hindering this person’s own growth and change. Being bailed out like this means he’ll never have a chance to improve!”

Wang Xiao was slightly surprised, and even turned his head to look at Punoning instead of the workers outside the window.

I never imagined that Major General of the Tax Police, besides being a military officer, could also have a scholarly side.

Punonin made no attempt to hide his disgust: "And this is a betrayal and punishment of those who work hard. It's all the same anyway; if you work hard, you'll be ridiculed with 'Do you want to be a model worker?' In the long run, who in this country will work hard? If you don't work hard, will a pie fall from the sky? How long can the pie of socialism be painted?"

He shook his head, his anger and annoyance mixed with a hint of melancholy and sadness that he himself was unaware of. "You've asked me countless times why I hate the Soviet Union. Now I can tell you the answer."

He didn't look at Ivanov, but stared at the thick darkness outside the window, his voice churning as if soaked in dark ink, "Because the Soviet Union destroyed Russia, it destroyed the national spirit of the Russian people. It turned the originally hardworking Russians into a group of muddle-headed, mindless, unambitious, and mindless walking corpses who just muddle through life."

As night deepened, his voice grew weary. "Ivan, you can't repeat the mistakes of the Soviet Union. Russia needs to change, a complete overhaul. We can't go on like this."

The off-road vehicle drove through the boundless darkness; the oilfield was the only source of light in this Siberian permafrost region.

Drilling platforms, pumping stations, processing facilities, and worker camps are illuminated by intense industrial lighting, resembling steel islands floating in a dark ocean.

Ivanov's gaze fell on the red aviation warning light on the derrick, which flickered alone in the boundless darkness.

“Of course, this can’t continue.” Ivanov looked at the warning lights and said expressionlessly, “The employees will be divided into two groups: alcoholics and non-alcoholics. The alcoholics will be assigned to unimportant positions with easy work, short hours, and low wages. The non-alcoholics will do important work with long hours, hard work, and high wages.”

Punonin felt that his method was too simplistic and crude, and very difficult to implement.

The simplest question is, how do you know if he or she is an alcoholic or not?

Good heavens, in Russia, especially in the cold and lonely Siberia, everyone, regardless of age or gender, can be a drunkard.

Asking a doctor to make a diagnosis would be meaningless.

During the Soviet era, it was commonplace for doctors to issue fake sick leave to workers.

"No, they'll fool you. The Soviet Union turned them all into masters of deception; no one is better at it than them."

Ivanov explained, “Let them sign up and choose for themselves first. Those who admit to having an uncontrollable drinking problem are reassigned to different positions. Those who say they don’t drink are put together and made to sit for eight hours. If they can refrain from drinking for eight hours, then they are considered not to have a drinking problem.”

Punonin was taken aback: "Make them sit for eight hours?"

They're practically wearing out the bench from sitting on it.

Ivanov nodded and offered an explanation: "This is a method used by Lin Zexu, an official in the Qing Dynasty of China who advocated the destruction of opium, to determine whether officials were smoking opium. His method took even longer, I think it took three days and three nights. We don't need that. We just need to ensure that the workers can refrain from drinking alcohol during their eight-hour workday."

Punonin didn't feel his leniency, but was even more surprised: "You really treat them like addicts."

According to Ivan's method, the President of the Kremlin should have been ousted long ago.

Ivanov's gaze drifted out the window.

Under the cover of night, another group of patrol members walked along, drinking as they went, seemingly unconcerned that their mouths would freeze to the bottles and they wouldn't be able to remove them.

His voice lowered, “What else can we do? What’s the essential difference between alcoholism and drug addiction? In Russia, it’s already quite difficult to select enough workers who aren’t drunk all the time and ensure they work the required hours each day.”

As for those alcoholics, will they spend even more time drinking when they get a less demanding job, making their drinking worse and even leading to them dying drunk on the street?

That's beyond his control.

If a person doesn't even want to save themselves, then why should they expect others to save them?

Seeing that he was in low spirits, Punoning offered a word of comfort: "Go back and get some rest. Don't worry, 10% of the shares will be yours."

Ivanov paused for a moment before nodding: "Okay, Vladimir, you should get some rest too."

The hotel they stayed at was a guesthouse left over from the Soviet era, which was said to have been under the control of the KGB in the past.

Yes, yes, the KGB during the Soviet era was not actually a simple intelligence agency.

It is actually somewhat similar to the Embroidered Uniform Guard or the Eastern and Western Depots of the Ming Dynasty. It is completely independent of the civil service and the military, and can supervise and check the latter two.

Therefore, the guesthouse left by KGB wasn't gloomy; it was just a very ordinary place.

The walls of the hall are also adorned with murals, one of which is the "Glory of the Oil Workers" series of murals that can be found all over Surgut, and the other is a replica of the famous "Barge Haulers on the Volga".

Wang Xiao had seen this painting in her textbook when she was in school. Now, seeing the large-scale reproduction, she couldn't help but take a few more glances. Then, behind Punonin's back, who was exchanging pleasantries and saying goodbye to his subordinates at the Surgut Tax Police Station, she whispered to Ivanov, "He's wrong. That's not true! It's not that the Soviet Union made people worse."

The eyes are the windows to the soul; a person's spirit can be revealed through their eyes and face.

Look at the Volga barge haulers! In the paintings of Repin, a painter filled with sympathy for them, each of them has a sorrowful face and dim eyes, showing no hope for the future.

But in "The Glory of the Oil Workers," everyone is full of vitality, their eyes shining brightly as they look ahead.

The Soviet Union did not destroy people's spirits; on the contrary, it gave people boundless hope.

Focusing solely on its mistakes while completely denying its merits demonstrates only petty cleverness, lacking true wisdom.

Ivanov's lips curled up slightly, and he nodded, seemingly able to support his heavy head.

When they returned to their room, Wang Xiao asked him, "Ivan, are you alright?"

Ever since the kidnapping incident at the container market, this unfortunate big guy has needed to hold her hand to fall asleep whenever he's feeling down.

He was clearly in great pain tonight.

This is the disadvantage of being too humane.

They are always able to put themselves in other people's shoes and think from their perspective, so they can easily empathize with other people's pain.

Ivanov nodded, as if to reassure himself or to encourage himself: "It's okay, I can do it."

He returned to his room, lay down on the bed, and closed his eyes.

The warmth from the heating made him drowsy, and all he could hear was the howling wind outside the window. But he knew that further away, in the oil field, diesel generators, pumps, compressors, and drilling rigs were constantly emitting a low rumble.

Even under the cover of darkness and in the freezing cold, oil continues to be extracted, processed, and transported to the West and Russia through a vast pipeline system.

This is currently Russia's almost sole source of hard currency, the economic lifeline beating in the dark Siberian wilderness.

It is the heartbeat of his motherland.

With the warm sound of his heartbeat accompanying him, he drifted off to sleep.

As expected, Punonin was unwilling to waste any time after getting up early. After breakfast, he led his men to the Surgut Oil Company.

Gentlemen, it's snowing in Siberia. Winter days are short, so please transfer 10% of your shares as soon as the sun rises.

But who would be willing to give up the benefits they've worked so hard to gain?

Everyone says that Russians are straightforward and don't mince words; Wang Xiao thinks that anyone who has this misconception has definitely never dealt with the bureaucrats of Russian state-owned enterprises.

When it comes to playing the game of Tai Chi, shirking responsibility, crying poverty, and making accusations, it's not easy. These people are all highly skilled at crying, making a scene, and threatening suicide, and each one of them could be enshrined in the hall of fame.

Wang Xiao and Ivanov watched the farce with great interest, neither offering any sarcastic remarks nor retaliating, choosing instead to remain neutral observers.

Didn't you hear what Punoning promised yesterday? He said that a 10% stake is absolutely not a problem.

So today is a special event for Punonin.

After watching the show for a while, the tax police major general glanced at his watch and immediately said, "Mr. Sunnikov, your imported Mercedes-Benz is quite beautiful."

Everyone was startled, and the finance manager who was called out blushed and turned pale in turns.

Before he could offer any explanation, Punonin changed his target: "Mr. Aivazovsky, you are constantly caught between your family, mistresses, and illegitimate children. It must be so exhausting for you."

This made the top executives of Surgut Oil Company uneasy.

General Manager Maksirovich, who had not yet been called out, had to speak up: "Sir, we are discussing the future of the Surgut oil field. Let's not bring up these irrelevant matters."

"Irrelevant?" Punonin sneered. "Luxury cars, villas, mistresses—which of them isn't related to money? Where did you get your money? Have you forgotten? Do you need me to help you remember?"

Maksirovich's face flushed red and then turned pale. If a real investigation were to be conducted, almost no leader of a Russian state-owned enterprise could withstand scrutiny.

In a country where even the lowest-ranking clerk has to accept chocolates and perfume to avoid deliberately making things difficult, who doesn't have problems? Everyone has issues when they're in this environment.

“You guessed right.” Punonin said bluntly, “Насмутугремятмолоты，Заодногобараанавсех-βарановпугают。

These two sentences, translated directly into Chinese, mean that in times of chaos, a hammer is struck to frighten all the rams by punishing one of them.

It's similar to using harsh punishments in chaotic times, or making an example of someone to warn others.

He smiled slightly and said meaningfully, "I don't intend to treat you as the chosen ram."

He stretched out his hand and said, "Look, we were having a good talk. We should work together to lift up the Surgut oil field and make it shine tomorrow."

He didn't make any threats, but everyone understood his unspoken meaning.

If you don't cooperate, then you may not see the sun rise tomorrow.

When a scholar encounters a soldier, reason is useless.

What could they say under the threat of a barrage of gun barrels?

General Manager Maksirovich had no choice but to nod reluctantly: "Sir, this is like selling out the first half of our lives, it's like taking half our lives."

Punonin was ruthless: "A person can survive with only one kidney, let alone half a life. Hurry up, my gentlemen, the sun in Surgut is really stingy; it might set at any time."

“Sir, you’re really pushing us to our limits,” Maksirovich complained, expressing his dissatisfaction. “30 million US dollars, 30 million US dollars in exchange for 10% of the shares.”

Ivanov finally spoke up: "Sir, you're ripping us off. Are you planning to use 30 million US dollars to give bonuses to the oil field workers?"

Based on the exchange rate of US$110 million for 40.12% of the shares, that would be US$27.4177 million.

Ignoring the implied threat in his words, Maxilovich banged on the table and emphasized, "Sir, it was you who used despicable means to drive us out of the auction, otherwise our oil field shares would never have been sold so cheaply."

As a result, Punonin immediately seized on the flaw in his words and asked with great interest, "Oh? So, the money you prepared is not just $88 million, but $120.36 million?"

At this, Major Klevoseev and the others who had been watching the commotion on the sidelines immediately perked up.

Good heavens! In the blink of an eye, an extra $32.36 million was made. How much of that will the Surgut tax police get?

Maksirovich broke out in a cold sweat and awkwardly emphasized, "That's not what I meant."

Punoning casually toyed with his lighter, raising his eyebrows slightly: "Oh, so you mean $88 million corresponds to 40.12% of the shares?"

He nodded, and with the mental acuity of a math olympiad participant, gave the mental calculation: "So, 10% of the shares corresponds to $21,934,197. Okay—"

He glanced back at Ivanov and said, "Give them a round number, $22 million."

As a result, Major Klevosev, blinded by greed, blurted out, "No way, this is an extra $70,000!"

Ivanov laughed out loud: "Alright, since you've said so, Major, then I'll donate the extra $70,000 to the Surgut Tax Police Department to thank the brave tax police officers for their outstanding contributions to economic development and peace."

The oil company executives were nearly driven mad with rage.

You're really good at playing the good guy, using our money to be a good person.

However, the tax police major general had already looked up at his watch for the second time, clearly quite impatient.

Without the support of state coercive institutions, the high-ranking officials naturally lacked the confidence to continue their head-on confrontation. They could only reluctantly nod and acknowledge this figure.

Several people were already planning to immigrate overseas as soon as they received their share of the money.

So that this stern-faced tax police major general won't be dragged out again to play the role of the unfortunate ram if he can't find a suitable candidate later, or if he's too lazy to look for one.

Next, the professionals took the stage, and their movements were so fast that even Wang Xiao felt dazzled.

Everyone has their own area of ​​expertise!

Thanks to their efficient work, Wang Xiao and his colleagues were able to board the plane back to Moscow before sunset.

This time, Suvagut's airport remained open even though it was still snowing.

Are you kidding me? Is the Russian fighting spirit just a boast? A country that's covered in snow and ice for most of the year wouldn't close its airport so easily.

Perhaps in the future, those who could previously close it off at will will no longer have that power.

As winter grows colder and the snowfall intensifies, it will eventually cover up the filth and grease on the ground.

The plane arrived in Moscow at nightfall.

Punoning had a lot of work to finish, and without even having time to say a few polite words, he hurriedly said goodbye and left.

Before leaving, he at least remembered to make a promise: "If anything happens, call me anytime. Don't do any more surprise attacks."

Take this trip to the Surgut oil field, for example. If he hadn't happened to be in Moscow at the time and the plane hadn't been grounded, what would they have done? Would they have given up on the oil field?

Wang Xiao thought to himself, "It's as if they don't have their own plane and Ivanov can't contact anyone else for help."

However, since we've accepted their favor, we can't just abandon them after we've served our purpose.

She and Ivanov were both sycophants, praising Punonin to the skies.

If the tax police major general hadn't been so busy with official duties, the two of them could have showered each other with compliments all night long without repeating themselves.

Finally, when Punoning left, the corners of his mouth were twitching so much that even the AK could no longer be suppressed.

Lyuba watched from the side, chuckling to herself. Sure enough, every monkey has its own way of being chained up, and he really falls for this trick.

When they turned around again, the two businessmen, who had fully provided emotional value to the big boss, immediately looked dejected.

They should be the ones to earn that money!

Those who don't believe this logic, try it for yourselves. Constantly giving others emotional value is really, really tiring.

Before they could finish complaining, another car rushed to the airport. The people getting out of the car were sweating profusely in the cool autumn breeze of Moscow: "Boss, the auction committee is blocking us, so our qualifications are questionable and we can't bid for Yukos."

What does Yukos do? Simply put, it's an oil company engaged in oil-related industries, founded in 1993.

It is considered an important part of the Wuzhou Group's petroleum planning.

Everything was prepared perfectly; after returning from Suvagut, they focused on this auction.

How did it suddenly become a problem with their qualifications?

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