Chapter 334 Aladdin's Lamp (Bug Fix): You will get what you want.
Before leaving the presidential office in the Kremlin, Ivanov tied his scarf, turned back, hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Sir, I know I'm being very presumptuous, but please restrain yourself and drink less. Because your body belongs not only to yourself, but also to all of Russia."
The president seemed to be getting tipsy; leaning back in his chair, he slurred, "Does Russia really need me?"
“Of course,” Ivanov blurted out, then paused for a moment, realizing his mistake, and continued, “Russia needs you. Russia cannot afford any more turmoil.”
After he said it, he felt at ease.
Indeed, a president slumped in a chair, drunk, is hardly a qualified head of state.
Or to put it more objectively, he can't even guarantee the most basic dignity.
On August 31st of this year, while attending a commemoration of the German withdrawal in Berlin, he got drunk and grabbed the conductor's baton, attempting to direct the band.
The television signal transmitted this scene to all parts of the world.
In other words, their president made a huge fool of himself on the world stage.
Ivanov felt ashamed.
However, Russia truly cannot afford to descend into chaos any further. Even a fallen giant, clinging to life, is better than one torn apart.
Just as bad order is better than no order at all.
The drunken president was asleep, snoring loudly. The office reeked of alcohol.
The snow outside the window fell layer upon layer, and it was still falling.
Snowflakes silently watched everything inside the window, as if the window separated two worlds.
They are like two sides of a coin, inseparable from each other.
Ivanov quietly left the room and walked down the steps of the Kremlin.
The snow on the ground no longer resembled its pristine state when it fell—tracks and footprints crisscrossed into mottled gray-black patterns, and the melting snow mixed with mud gleamed oily under the leaden sky; just like the ashes that filled the sky above the Kuznetsk steel plant.
Even though the new snow saw all this, it still fell to the ground with an almost pious attitude, covering the damaged and dirty traces.
The messy mud, scattered cigarette butts, and black tire tracks and footprints were gradually swallowed up by the fluffy white snow, as if a dusty mirror was being re-plated with a silver edge.
Unfortunately, this didn't last long. Cars sped by, pedestrians carefully left their footprints, and the fresh snow was once again polluted and filthy, a cycle that repeated itself.
Only the fluffy snow piled up on the onion-domed roofs of Red Square and in the shadows of the palace walls, existing in a world inaccessible to ordinary people, can maintain their pristine white appearance with an almost sacred air.
Ivanov glanced at the black snow beneath his feet, then at the rooftops of the Kremlin, and silently got into his high-class bulletproof limousine.
The driver asked him twice before he finally answered, "To the container market."
Why? Because at this time, Wang Xiao is at the container market.
It's getting cold, and snow is falling heavily. Are the antifreeze measures in place for the newly built hospital in the container market? She should at least take a look.
The hospital was packed with people.
Moscow now has two healthcare systems.
One set is for wealthy people like Wang Xiao. As long as they need it, the rubles and US dollars they pay can guarantee that they can get the best medical resources at any time.
The other option is for the poor; those who cannot afford the expensive care fees are left to rely entirely on the Moscow healthcare system and wait day after day.
Because of the limited number of hospital beds, the government has not added a single new bed to hospitals since the collapse of the Soviet Union.
Therefore, the newly built container hospital is a lifeline for merchants and customers in the market, as well as for the poor in the surrounding area, providing them with a thin but warm comfort in this cold Moscow winter.
Ivanov entered this kind of hospital.
How much cold wind and snow can a thin sheet of iron really block? Most of the warmth should come from the breath of people and the body heat radiating from the huddled crowd.
There were blonde-haired, blue-eyed Slavs, black-eyed, black-haired Asians, as well as dark-skinned Chechens and Arabs.
They exhaled warm carbon dioxide and emitted a body temperature of thirty-seven degrees Celsius.
Wang Xiao watched as Ivanov walked towards him, his shoulders and head covered in snowflakes, making him look like Santa Claus.
She was truly helpless. "Brother, didn't you even shake the snow off your clothes before you came in?"
It's cold outside, but it doesn't matter.
The snow will melt when the heating is on inside the house.
She gestured for Ivanov to lower his head and brush the snow off him.
Ivanov lowered his voice as he bowed his head: "The president refused to approve the TV station and asked me to make everyone forget the Kremlin's defeat in Chechnya first."
While brushing snow off him, Wang Xiao listened to his explanation of the whole story, then casually remarked, "Is it just to make everyone forget about this for now?"
After removing the snow from his clothes, Ivanov nodded: "Yes, he wouldn't give me a chicken, he demanded eggs instead."
The Kremlin is incredibly lenient with foolish officials, yet so harsh on businessmen who genuinely want to get things done.
Wang Xiao brushed the snow off the end of his scarf, not minding it: "It's alright. Even without a TV station, we can still hold the auditions. Open auditions, anyone who wants to sing can register on the spot. It will last for ten days, and everyone can participate during these ten days."
She thought for a moment and tried hard to recall how the Super Girl auditions progressed: "Three hundred to one hundred, one hundred and fifty, fifty to ten, and the last ten qualified to participate in a week-long selection competition."
"Each time you advance, the winner will receive a corresponding reward. Gloves, thermos cups, scarves, boots, fleece clothing and down jackets, and even portable music players—these are all things that people can use right now, and they can all be used as prizes."
The assistant had already started taking notes on the boss's plan, and seized the opportunity to ask, "When does the competition start?"
"They'll run ads on TV, radio, and newspapers for three days straight, and then the auditions will officially begin. The ads will continue for the ten-day audition period. The intensity of the advertising will be the same as the amount of advertising MMM did back then."
Wang Xiao simply poached people, saying, "Look around, find the people who planned and filmed the advertisement back then, and use them if you can."
Ivanov was quite worried.
Of course, it wasn't because he had high moral standards, strong likes and dislikes, or that he hated MMM stock, that he blacklisted the people who planned and filmed the advertisements as well.
Instead—
After the ten-day auditions, the weekly selection competition will be broadcast on television. They don't even have their own TV station yet.
How will they handle this situation then?
“Why are we ending this?” Wang Xiao raised his eyebrows. “The competition has only just begun. Go tell the President that our preliminary rounds are about to end, and all Muscovites, all Russians, are talking about our competition. We need a television station to showcase their talent on the week-long selection stage.”
Xiao Gao and Xiao Zhao suddenly understood; this was about making the deed done first, turning it into a fait accompli.
Many projects in China started this way: they were launched first, and once they achieved results, the local government helped them complete the necessary procedures.
I can't just not help make up for it. The work has already been done, the baby has been born, how can you take it all back?
Besides, this is a good thing for the local area as well.
Ivanov, however, was not particularly happy. Instead, he remained worried: "What if people aren't interested in the competition? I mean, not everyone loves singing and dancing, and not everyone loves watching singing and dancing."
Wang Xiao remained confident: "It's alright, the competition is the competition, it won't affect our other activities."
She pointed to the wind and snow outside the window, "Look, it's all frozen solid outside, perfect for building snowmen, making ice sculptures, and having an ice sculpture festival."
Moscow has a tradition of ice sculpture art. Even during the Soviet era, starting in the early 1980s, Muscovites held ice and snow festivals in parks, featuring both snow and ice sculptures.
"Let's go big this time. We'll sponsor the competition, and the winners will receive prize money in addition to certificates. We'll organize it under the name of the container market. Culture provides the platform, and the economy takes center stage. The ice and snow festival is a great opportunity to attract investment."
Wang Xiao instructed Ivanov, "When it comes to attracting investment, you can't bypass the Moscow government. Tell Mayor Luzhkov that the Snow Festival needs his strong support. Moscow also needs the Snow Festival to stabilize capital and give everyone confidence to invest here."
In fact, the impact of the Kremlin's failed operation in Chechnya on Moscow was minimal for ordinary citizens.
Even if a war really breaks out, it won't be fought in Moscow. Even if there's a raging fire down below, it won't affect people's ability to eat, earn money, or sleep.
What truly shook Moscow was its severe undermining of foreign investors' confidence.
A turbulent government, a weak government, makes it difficult for people to have the confidence to invest money in it.
Therefore, even though the Kremlin's Chechen campaign was a crushing defeat, the government had to turn the tragedy into a celebration so that everyone would believe that the small setback was insignificant.
Moscow can still keep playing music and dancing.
The boss kept coming up with proposals, and the assistant's pen was practically smoking from writing so much on the notebook.
Looking at his closest companion, Ivanov suddenly blurted out, "Your Majesty, are you Aladdin's lamp?"
Any problem or trouble that comes her way can be easily resolved.
It's as if the word "difficulty" doesn't exist in her dictionary.
Wang Xiao extended his hand to him, smiling broadly: "That's right! So, my dear Alibaba, what troubles do you have that you want me to solve?"
She pointed to her head and shook her hand. "Look, we have chickens, so we don't have to worry about them not laying eggs."
From the corridor outside the house came the clucking of chickens, accompanied by the doctor's despairing growl: "I told you to make chicken soup for him to drink, to give him nutrition, not to bring the chicken to the hospital."
The patient's family retorted confidently, "We don't know if this kind of chicken is suitable; we need to show it to you first."
Ivanov couldn't help but laugh when he heard the commotion outside.
With that smile, much of the worry in his eyes dissipated, and he was at least able to sigh and look out the window as he spoke: "I can't find anyone who can bear all of this."
The wind and snow outside gradually subsided, and snowflakes fell gently.
His voice also gently reached Wang Xiao's ears: "He was drunk and asked if Russia really needed him. I said yes."
A look that seemed to be both crying and laughing appeared on his face. "When I gave an affirmative answer, I suddenly realized that there was no one. In such a vast country as Russia, with so many people, so many politicians and officials, I couldn't find a single person who could support Russia."
When he realized this, immense sorrow, like a blizzard, crashed down on him.
He didn't even know how he left the Kremlin.
This is his tragedy, and also Russia's tragedy.
Instead of joining him in gazing sadly out the window at the trees, Wang Xiao dismissed it, saying, "Besides him, no one else has ever been the president of Russia."
Ivanov was forcibly pulled out of his sadness and stared at him in astonishment.
"What I mean is, you'll never know how a war will turn out if you only talk about it on paper. And unless you become the master of the Kremlin, who knows what you can achieve as president?"
Wang Xiao used an advertising slogan: "Anything is possible."
But before Ivanov could get excited, she poured cold water on him, saying, "Of course, it's also possible that if you don't work, you'll never know how big a mess you can make."
As she finished speaking, a cry of alarm came from outside: "Chicken! Chicken! Catch that chicken!"
It turned out that a patient's family member had brought a chicken to the doctor for identification, but the chicken flew away because they couldn't hold it properly, and a chicken chase ensued.
Upon seeing this, Ivanov burst out laughing, then locked the door without hesitation, determined not to get caught in the crossfire, and gloated to himself for a long time.
Tsk, so this is what happened to the Slavs not liking to smile.
After laughing, Ivanov continued, "I told the president that we can export culture, let Russian stars influence the world, and increase Russia's influence."
Wang Xiao nodded and handed him a South African cherry: "Sure, Slavs are so good-looking, that's an advantage."
Red beans grow in the south, and Slavs produce supermodels. They are natural-born stars, such promising talents.
Ivan happened to be bringing documents for his boss to sign when he heard this and couldn't help but emphasize, "Art, our Slavic advantage lies in art."
They start by talking about appearance, making it seem like Slavs are shallow.
Wang Xiao glanced at the executive who had grown up to be unattractive. Well, it's okay. Slavs have a short lifespan, but their flowers are still beautiful.
No one can be good-looking forever, but there will always be good-looking people.
She nodded perfunctorily: "That's right. With good looks and a lot of artistic talent, there's a good chance of becoming famous all over the world."
Haha, a pretty face grows rice.
At his peak, how many people cared whether Leonardo DiCaprio's acting was good or not?
Maximize your strengths; only with brocade can you add the finishing touch.
The clucking of chickens came from outside again, but this time, the clucking did not convey the joy of running towards freedom, but the fear of being strangled by fate.
The door opened, and Ivanov saw Punonin grabbing the chicken by the neck.
The latter looked disgusted: "Look, are you planning to move the vegetable market to the hospital?"
Ivanov was rebuffed and retorted bluntly, "If you think this hospital is shabby, why did you come here?"
Punoning, baring his back teeth, immediately threatened, "What do you think I could be here for? I'm a tax police officer."
Upon hearing the words "tax police," the vendors nearby immediately backed away.
Yura, who followed them in, was completely exasperated. Couldn't they just stop all day long?
He uttered a pleading yet helpless voice: "Vlamikil."
The latter then tied the chicken wings together, tossed them to the patient's family, and swaggered into the room as if he were the master of the house.
Yura had to cling to Ivanov's arm and act as a firefighter: "Alright, alright, we came here specifically to ask Miss Wang some questions."
Even after closing the door, Ivanov didn't stop, his tone still harsh: "Didn't you ask enough questions at the villa this morning? Did you think I wasn't here? What are you trying to do by deliberately choosing this time to come over?"
Yura's head was about to explode. Vladimir was really something, threatening Ivan with tax checks at the drop of a hat. No wonder Ivan was so easily angered.
He had no choice but to act as a peacemaker: "No, we're just eager to ask."
Ivanov seemed completely oblivious to the principle of knowing when to stop, instead pressing further: "If you're in such a hurry, why don't you just make a phone call? Or has our Major General become so marginalized that he can't guarantee his phone won't be tapped?"
“Because there’s no need.” Punonin was truly fed up with his sarcastic remarks. “It doesn’t matter whether you’re here or not, and we weren’t planning on asking you any questions anyway.”
Wang Xiao, annoyed by their noise, said, "Alright, alright, sir, if you have any other questions, please ask them directly."
She didn't have the time or energy to listen to them arguing.
“Industry.” Punonin ignored Ivanov and stared directly at Wang Xiao. “You say you’re trying to maintain Russia’s industrial spark. How can you prove that?”
Outside the window, the snow was white and pristine. The tax police major general standing in front of the window was dressed in a uniform, the dark blue contrasting with the snow-white. His well-defined facial features and bright blue eyes made him truly deserving of the description "tough and handsome".
Those with a penchant for uniforms will be absolutely thrilled.
But Wang Xiao really had no interest in looking at him; she just wanted to facepalm.
Dude, is such a simple question worth making a special trip in this snowy weather? Even a domineering CEO wouldn't have as much free time as you!
To an uninformed person, they might think that one or all of you have a crush on me and are trying to find a reason to see me.
“Steel, or more specifically, steel production capacity,” Wang Xiao explained dryly. “In modern industry, steel production capacity is fundamental. Only by ensuring steel production capacity can we build the foundation of industry.”
Ivanov chimed in irritably, "Didn't you see what we've been doing? We're in China finding orders for the Kuznetsk steel plant to ensure it doesn't shut down. We make three-wheeled vehicles and simple cars, and steel is the most common material used in those. Even lathes are primarily made from steel."
Two people, four eyes—all just decorations on their faces!
Punonin was not moved by their good intentions. Instead, he pressed on, asking, "Then why don't you expand your clothing and footwear business? I know you have factories on the farm, but they're too small. Why don't you expand them? Expanding would provide more jobs for workers. Don't say there's no market demand; I've always known exactly how much cargo is shipped out of the container market every day."
This was yet another subtle threat, a threat that his status as a tax police major general allowed him to utter without hesitation.
Wang Xiao rolled her eyes inwardly, pretending not to have heard.
She explained gently, "I've already said this: maximize our advantages. The Soviet Union's heavy industry was as heavy as its light industry. When the industrial system collapses, we must concentrate our efforts on preserving our advantageous industries."
Punonin refused to accept it; he stood by the window like a mountain, blocking most of the sunlight from the snow.
"That's not a reason. If I remember correctly, it hasn't been long since China abolished cloth rationing. Your garment industry is also weak, so it's not an advantage for you."
He warned the Eastern woman in front of him, "Don't try to fool people with this. Everyone has to go through the process of going from nothing to something, from weak to strong. If we don't develop when we're weak, then Russia's industry will never see hope and will never have a future."
Wang Xiao really wanted to roll her eyes.
Anyone can say politically correct things. But they need to be practical. Meaningless, pretty words are just empty talk!
“Okay, I’ll tell you why now.” Wang Xiao pointed in the direction of the Kuznetsk Steel Plant. “Russia has a lot of iron and coal mines. Once the steel is produced, we can sell it and guarantee that we will keep getting orders. Right now, the whole world is doing infrastructure construction, and we must seize this opportunity.”
Punonin immediately put what he had just learned into practice: "But you can also do both, and both should be strong."
Ha, so he's obviously studied China's economic reforms?
Wang Xiao shook his head decisively: "Can't catch him."
She pointed to Yura's down jacket, "Take this jacket as an example, the cost of making down jackets in China will always be lower than in Russia."
Not wanting to be interrupted again, she gestured, "Let me finish. It's not just because China has a large population and a large amount of so-called cheap labor, but more importantly, China has the conditions to form a complete industrial chain for ducks."
She counted on her fingers, "In China, a single duck can be divided into countless sub-industries for operation."
"Duck feathers can be divided into down and feathers. The former can be used to make down products, while the latter can be used to make feather powder."
"Duck meat can be made into braised duck, salted duck, and roast duck. Duck heads, duck tongues, and duck wings can also be sold separately, including duck necks."
Ivanov nodded in agreement, indicating that he could testify: "In Wuhan, China, I saw some people who specialize in selling duck necks, and the price of duck necks is higher than that of duck meat."
Wang Xiao continued, "And then there are the duck's innards. Duck intestines can be used in hot pot, braised dishes, or barbecue. Duck gizzards can be made into salted goods or braised dishes. Again, they are more expensive than duck meat."
She counted on her fingers one by one, "You can do the math. We can process a single duck into so many industries. This means that there isn't a single part that can't make money. Its value is fully utilized, and the unit price of each item can be kept to a minimum, including the down feathers."
"As you all know, whether it's a down jacket or a down comforter, the most valuable part is the down. If we can keep the price of down to the lowest possible level, our prices will have a competitive advantage."
Wang Xiao bluntly stated, "As businessmen, we cannot compromise our own interests; we will absolutely make the most cost-effective choice."
Punoning opened his mouth, as if he wanted to emphasize something else.
Wang Xiao made a stop gesture: "It's impossible. Russia doesn't have the conditions to do it right now. Because your dietary habits determine that you don't have much interest in these highly processed products, such as braised duck heads and duck tongues."
“Even if you are interested, making these things requires a lot of spices. Russia’s climate makes it very expensive to grow spices here.”
Wang Xiao couldn't help but complain again, "So why don't you guys play to your strengths and avoid your weaknesses? Can't you just make the most of your advantages? We're doing a great job, so why do you have to come and criticize us?"
"Khrushchev planted corn." Ivanov didn't hold back at all for his friend, adding insult to injury, "That's how our officials are, criticizing the Soviet Union while inheriting its bad habits."
Wang Xiao wholeheartedly agreed with this statement.
She's said it countless times: Russia has no advantage in developing light industry.
As a result, the two people ignored it and kept asking the same questions over and over again.
Punonin warned Ivanov: "You are now a member of parliament and an official in Moscow."
Yura quickly stepped in front of Ivanov to act as a mediator, preventing the latter from arguing with Vladimir.
He persisted: "So, can't we develop our own light industry? Can't we wear clothes that we produce ourselves?"
Job opportunities are crucial; light industry requires a large workforce.
This is important for Russia, which is facing a severe unemployment problem.
“Of course not,” Wang Xiao kindly offered advice. “Russia can develop its own brands and then find contract manufacturers. Many European and American brands do this, including Barbie dolls, whose main production lines are in China. Aren’t you trying to learn from Europe and America? Why not learn this?”
Punonin glanced at her and suddenly said, "You will get what you want."
With that, he turned and walked away.
Wang Xiao and Ivanov were still baffled. What did "getting what they wanted" mean? Hey, buddy, don't be so self-righteous!
Yura jogged to catch up with Punonin and got into the car. Only then did he have a chance to ask, panting, "Are you really planning to cooperate with them and let China extend its reach into our military industry?"
Punoning started the car, and thankfully, the car hadn't been outside for too long, so they didn't have to wait for the engine to warm up.
As the car drove off, the tax police major general finally spoke: "Yura, do you know how the Soviet Union collapsed?"
Yura replied without hesitation: "Because the Soviet Union is completely rotten."
“No, no, no, don’t say these things.” Punonin shook his head. “It’s China. China has sided with the United States.”
He then felt this statement was inaccurate and continued to revise it, "Do you remember when China fought Vietnam?"
Huh? Yura was even more confused.
Yes, of course he knows.
To put it simply, China's war against Vietnam was a huge embarrassment for the Soviet Union, because at the time, Vietnam was backed by the Soviet Union.
"Why did China fight for so long?" Punonin seemed to be talking to himself. "They could have just turned India's capital from Delhi to New Delhi and stopped, just like they did with India."
Yura held her breath for a moment.
That damn Indian country managed to turn an invasion into a defense of its capital; it's truly bizarre.
Oh, and it also wants to renege on its debt to Russia!
Instead of following his line of thought, Punonin continued to ask and answer his own question: "They don't fight quickly, they fight in shifts."
As the car drove through the streets of Moscow, everything in front of us and along the roadside was a vast expanse of white, so white it hurt our eyes.
"The Sino-Vietnamese border conflict forced Vietnam to maintain an army of 1.2 million men year-round, with 23% of eligible men having to enlist and 15% of the annual budget going towards the war. Moreover, the people were struggling to survive."
He rattled off a series of numbers, saying, "Even in 1985, we had to call on the soldiers on the front lines to save food, because every kilogram of military rations they saved could keep a child alive for three more days."
Yura fell silent, suddenly realizing just how cruel war could be to small nations.
"But what did China lose? Guns and ammunition? No, they had a ten-year history of preparing for war and famine. Back then, they had just as many weapons as we do now, and they could use the battlefield as a display of their military equipment."
Punonin almost laughed as he spoke, "As for the army, their troops rotate through battles, practically treating the battlefield as a training ground."
Finally, a forest appeared ahead; at least it was no longer a lonely, white expanse.
Punonin smiled when he saw the forest, but his smile was full of bitterness.
“They didn’t lose anything; on the contrary, they enhanced their international standing.”
"Did you see that? In the 1980s they started selling large quantities of weapons. That's the benefit that the Sino-Mountain War brought them."
Yura was stunned. He knew little about military affairs and was not particularly interested in them; he had never even considered the connection between the two.
Punonin had to remind his naive friend: "Arms sales are less about selling weapons themselves and more about selling the world's recognition of a country's strength. And the most effective way to demonstrate a country's strength is through war."
If he weren't driving, Punoning would have lit a cigarette for himself.
Only the bitterness of tobacco could forcefully suppress the bitterness in his heart.
Now, his voice hoarse with bitterness, he said, "The border conflicts between the two countries changed the world order. Ten days after the war ended, Egypt reconciled with Israel. Pro-American forces in Afghanistan also seized power, so we—"
He paused, then changed a word, "That's why the Soviet Union had no choice but to enter the Afghan battlefield; otherwise, other countries that were allied with us would have rebelled."
After he said it, he realized it was wrong and changed it again: "countries that are dependent on the Soviet Union."
But regardless of which version of events is used, it doesn't change one fact.
That was the war that China fought in the late 1970s, which not only crippled Vietnam and dashed its hopes for economic development, but also drained the Soviet Union dry.
Yura was shocked but also confused: "Are we discussing this issue now? We're talking about the Soviet military industry."
With one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other raised, Punonin said, "I mean, the Chinese play an open game; everything is done openly, there's no sneaking around. Maybe she's right, maybe we can trust her political wisdom."
Yura, sitting in the passenger seat, was about to go crazy: "Vlamikil, what nonsense are you talking about?"
Looking at the swirling snow ahead, Punonin said, "Am I wrong? When has she ever been wrong in her assessment of the political situation? She has far greater insight and analytical ability than most of our government officials."
How tragic that one day, they actually had to consult a businessman in their own field.
It's terrifying that a businessman could possess such political acumen.
Or is it that all Chinese people possess such terrifying political wisdom?
Yura watched him turn the steering wheel and couldn't help but ask in confusion, "Hey! Vladimir, where are you going?"
"Kremlin, I need to speak with the president."
What should we talk about?
Punonin stared ahead, his eyes like black holes: "He wants to turn the war against Chechnya into the war in Afghanistan, or into a two-mountain war."
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