Today is definitely a good day for Zyuganov. This is something that both Major General Zyuganov himself and his subordinates, as well as more than a dozen mid-level officers of all sizes, have deeply experienced.
The border control had just called, saying that Zhao Xiaohai's truck had successfully cleared customs. What did this mean? This meant that the final payment of 150,000 rubles would be received.
The God of Wealth, the real God of Wealth. The entire military officer group had almost the same opinion of Zhao Xiaohai. Well, it wasn't just Zhao Xiaohai; his younger brother, Li Qiang, was also quite good. Just look at those two brothers. One had established a hugely profitable trade route in China in less than a month, while the other had simply held a company-building reception in the Soviet Union, only to have those arrogant French bank capitalists hound him, desperately begging for a loan.
What is a magical power? This is what they call a magical power. Zyuganov had heard about the American military system before, but at that time he still didn't believe that a company like Morgan Stanley could bear 40% of the expenses of the entire US Pacific Fleet. Now that the facts were before him, he couldn't help but believe it.
Now it seems like the original decision to partner with Zhao Xiaohai, a Chinese man, was the right one. Think about it: all we had to do was offer these businessmen some favorable terms, and we could have solved our financial problems through them. Wouldn't such a partnership be quite advantageous? The idea of military-business collusion being against the law, or of it involving the theft of state assets, was all bullshit. Comrade "Xiao Zhao" was right. What is the foundation of a nation? The army! Without it, how can a nation protect its wealth? Therefore, supplying the army is the top priority, the one that must be considered. Are we really going to prioritize these vast tax revenues over those filthy politicians who only know how to talk? Nonsense!
Well, Xiao Zhao is a good comrade. Everyone can reach a consensus on this point without even having to discuss it at an internal Party Committee meeting. And for such a good comrade, the military seems to need to provide him with better development opportunities. After all, if his career grows, it will also benefit the military, so it's a win-win situation for everyone.
Standing on the steps of the command building, Major General Zyuganov, chomping on a fine Cuban cigar, felt a sense of satisfaction. Speaking of cigars, Cubans were the real deal. The smoke was sharp but not overpowering, dry but not astringent, with a lingering aftertaste. The domestically produced cigars supplied to the troops were incomparable to this. Zyuganov wondered how he could have ever been so fond of such inferior domestic cigars... Alas, the past was too painful to recall.
"What's going on? Why haven't they arrived yet?" The anxious colonel staff officer standing next to Zyuganov was obviously getting a little impatient. He looked up at the sun in the sky, then at the watch on his wrist, and muttered to himself.
"What's the matter?" Zyuganov turned around, glanced at his confidant, and said with a smile, "Are you tired of waiting? Or are you worried that Xiao Zhao has forgotten what you asked?"
God knows when "Mr. Zhao" became "Xiao Zhao" in the mouths of these generals and colonels, but everyone knows it tacitly and no one raises this issue.
"Hey, you know, today is Lisina's birthday. The little one has been pestering me to buy her a piano for a long time. God knows when she became obsessed with this kind of thing. I also asked people about it. A piano here costs tens of thousands of rubles. With our salary, we can't afford it. Last time I heard Xiao Zhao mention that the price of pianos in China is very low, about a few thousand yuan, so I asked him to buy one for me, so as to get rid of the little one's pestering. Haha, my old bones can't stand the torment of that kid." Zyuganov shook his head and smiled.
The colonel smiled and said nothing. He didn't believe you could buy a piano for just a few thousand dollars in China. Xiao Zhao was just being polite, and you, an old man, actually believed him. But in matters like this, no one bothered to expose them. It was just one of us, so let's not dwell on each other's actions. After all, that wouldn't benefit anyone.
Before the smile on Zyuganov's face faded, the checkpoint at the entrance of the military camp in the distance rose up, and then a sky blue double-trailer container truck slowly drove into the division headquarters compound.
"Hey, here you come." The colonel's face lit up, he pointed at the truck and said with a smile.
"What's going on with Xiao Zhao?" Zyuganov frowned and said, "Why did he drive the truck here?"
"Haha, young people are bound to be a little rash. I'll just remind him later," said the colonel, a confidant, who was quite tolerant. He smiled and said, "Let's go and see what this kid is up to."
The moment the truck entered the military compound, Zhao Xiaohai saw the large group of people standing under the headquarters building. How did he feel at that moment? Honestly, he would be lying if he said he didn't feel comfortable. In the Soviet Far East, even if the prefectural party secretary came in person, these people might not come out to greet him, let alone an ordinary foreign businessman like him. Of course, he also understood why they valued him so much. It was for no other reason than the benefits he could bring to them. To put it bluntly, it was all about money.
Look at those two overflowing containers. What's inside? It's not Zhao Xiaohai's trade goods, but gifts he's specially purchased: cigars and a piano for Major General Zyuganov, a Sony stereo for Chief of Staff Major General Kilchenko, an evening gown and perfume for Colonel Bakno's new wife... Besides that, there are boxes and boxes of cigarettes and red wine to be distributed. Where did all this stuff come from? It all required colorful banknotes. As Sofia had said, Zhao Xiaohai had spent almost all of his profits from nearly a month of trading on these things, leaving little for himself.
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