Chapter 370 Auction: You hate privilege because you haven't enjoyed it.
Perhaps it was the long summer days in Moscow that prevented the president from taking long naps and forced him to expend more energy on his work; in any case, this time, unexpectedly, he did not dawdle but readily agreed to the request from Wuzhou Oil Company.
His response was so swift and decisive that even Yura was amazed.
As a typical liberal official, what he disliked most about the president was that the president was too hesitant and not decisive enough in economic reforms.
He hitched a ride with Ivanov on the way to the auction, keeping a close eye on his old friend: "Tell me honestly, Ivanov, how did you threaten our President? I must remind you, my friend, he's not our uncle, and he's not someone to be trifled with."
Ivanov didn't give him any face, simply rolling his eyes and refusing to answer his stupid question.
Wang Xiao, adhering to the principle of valuing harmony, spoke slowly and deliberately: "Sir, what strange things are you saying? How could we possibly threaten the president? We are here to help the president solve his problems."
Her right shoulder injury had not fully healed, so when she was in the car, she mostly leaned her left side against Lyuba's chest to avoid aggravating her shoulder injury if the car suddenly braked and swayed.
This posture made her look like a lazy cat, a cat sunbathing.
Her voice was as warm as the summer sun: "If you were to ask who in Russia most wants the auction to proceed as scheduled, it would undoubtedly be our President. What benefit would postponing the auction bring him?"
She raised the index finger of her freely movable left hand and shook it. "No, not at all. On the contrary, it's all bad. If the auction of Siberian Oil Company is postponed, no one will think it's because the company itself lacks appeal. This isn't an ordinary factory burdened with debt. Everyone will just think that the businessmen have lost faith in the president, and that the next master of the Kremlin will be Gennady Zyuganov, the chairman of the Communist Party of the Russian Federation."
She smiled slightly. "My dear sir, if it comes to that, who do you think the voters will cast their ballots for?"
Yura's expression changed instantly.
He understands the masses too well; they seem to have no brains and are always easily swayed.
If public opinion believes that Zyuganov will be elected, then without a doubt, they will cast their votes for Zyuganov without any consideration, like headless flies.
This is really a headache.
When will the Russian people truly embrace the ideas of freedom and democracy?
Yura smirked: "In that case, the President should thank you."
Wang Xiao spoke frankly, playing with the ribbon on Liuba's clothes with his fingers, and said with a smile, "You're welcome! When it comes to our friends, we always try to see things from their perspective and fully consider their interests. We would never harm our friends or do anything to put them in a difficult position."
The sunlight streaming through the dense tree-lined path outside the window filtered out bright spots that danced on her face, making her features appear to shift between light and shadow, obscuring her true appearance.
Yura murmured involuntarily, "You are terrifying, Your Majesty, you are terrifying."
A person can get others to follow her ideas and be grateful for her arrangements.
Isn't this person scary?
Yura nodded, once again giving her affirmative assessment: "Your Majesty, you are a truly terrifying woman."
Looking back on every encounter they've had since they met, she truly has done just that.
Wang Xiao smiled, a genuine smile: "I'm so glad, sir. To praise a woman as terrible is the highest praise one can give her."
The car stopped in front of the National Property Committee building, and Yura paused slightly.
Before he could even gather his thoughts, Wang Xiao, with the help and protection of his bodyguards, had already stepped out of the car.
Before closing the car door, she smiled slightly at Yura, her gaze deep and unfathomable. "So, sir, do you tremble with fear at the sight of this terrifying woman?"
Yura jumped up and hit her head.
For no apparent reason, he felt as if the car seat had suddenly been electrified, starting from his tailbone and moving upwards, making him dizzy and lightheaded.
He was utterly disheveled and scrambled out of the car. Seeing Ivanov laughing, he became even more furious: "You're still laughing? How dare you laugh! You're finished, Ivanov. Look what a terrible woman you've found!"
He was heartbroken, “And you will never have the chance to marry another lady again. Because no lady would allow her husband to have someone who would die for her.”
Ivanov turned his head from his wheelchair and looked at him strangely: "Are you jealous of me, Yura, my friend?"
Yura was baffled: "Why would I be jealous of you?"
Yes, yes, Ivan is indeed rolling in money.
But he himself is not short of money.
As a third-generation member of the elite and a current high-ranking official in the Russian government, how could he be short of money? What could he possibly have to be jealous of Ivanov for?
“You’re jealous that I have the ability to love, while you don’t,” Ivanov said earnestly, with a touch of pity for his friend’s deficiency. “You can’t even find a lover who would give her life for you. How utterly incapable you are of the talent for love.”
Yura was about to jump up and down again: "What a load of bull! I never want this kind of talent in my life."
Ivanov let out a long sigh, his eyes full of regret: "How boring your life must be."
Yura ignored him and strode forward.
The State Property Committee building is located near Manezhnaya Square in Moscow, and from a high vantage point, you can easily see the Kremlin.
Because this place is less than 1 kilometer away from the president's office.
Wang Xiao wondered if the choice of this auction venue held any hidden meaning.
It subtly informs everyone involved that every step of the auction is under the direct watch of the Kremlin.
Now, it is Punonin who is monitoring all of this in place of the president.
Today, his identity is not that of a tax police major general, but rather the commander of the Ministry of the Interior.
To be honest, this was the first time in Wang Xiao's life, apart from the college entrance examination, that he had ever seen such a large-scale operation outside of a military operation site.
Can you believe it? Masked special forces were deployed around the building, and armored vehicles were parked all around the plaza.
Wang Xiao turned around, looking left and right. It felt like the last time he witnessed such a large-scale event was on Children's Day, June 1st, when the container market was attacked by Chechen kidnappers.
While undergoing the examination, she jokingly teased Punonin, "Major General, you didn't also arrange for snipers to keep watch, did you?"
Punonin, dressed in full military uniform and looking imposing, merely glanced at her coldly: "How do you know there isn't one?"
Wang Xiao's neck stiffened instantly.
It's just an auction, it shouldn't have come to this, right?
Punoning said meaningfully, "Madam, you've pushed this auction forward with all your might, don't you know what it means?"
Yura chimed in, "What does she know? She shouldn't even be here. Look at her, what kind of auction does she look like that?"
Even Ivanov, who was in a wheelchair, was stronger than her.
Wang Xiao rolled her eyes and shook her left hand: "I can use this hand to hold up the sign."
They didn't linger at the entrance; after going through security, they entered the building.
Unlike most of the Soviet heritage inherited by Russia, the State Administration Committee building is a typical example of 19th-century Neoclassical architecture.
The corridor was narrow and dark. She looked up at the wall and felt that there used to be picture frames hanging there.
Ivanov followed her gaze and sighed softly: "There used to be portraits of Lenin and Stalin hanging here."
Wang Xiao gave a soft "oh," and said, "It's good that it's removed."
Otherwise, these two leaders, one who created the Soviet Union and the other who made it powerful, would probably vomit blood on the spot if they saw their children selling off their ancestral land.
The auction was held in a conference room, decorated like a small courtroom.
A deep red carpet, a long dark wood table, and a slightly raised platform directly in front, upon which sits a solitary lectern.
There were fewer than ten people scattered around the meeting room, maintaining a cautious distance from each other, and the atmosphere was as oppressive as if a storm was about to break.
Wang Xiao sighed inwardly. Russians really don't like to laugh, and they really don't like to socialize.
There were no small talk, no conversation, only the rustling of papers turning and the occasional suppressed cough; even the arrival of newcomers didn't elicit a second glance from them.
It was completely out of place with the blue sky, white clouds, and bright sunshine outside the window.
Wang Xiao herself did not enter the auction room because all the people sitting there were white, and her East Asian face was too conspicuous; there was no need for her to steal the spotlight.
She and Yura sat together in the observation deck on the side.
The latter, as a representative of the cabinet, was responsible for overseeing the entire auction.
Anatoly Kazakov, chairman of the State Property Committee, presided over the auction.
After everyone was seated, he hurriedly entered the conference room, stood directly behind the podium, and his face was as cold and stern as a judge delivering a verdict in court.
Without a single greeting or opening statement, he grabbed a document and began reading it verbatim.
The auction rules and the subject matter—a 51% stake in Siberian Oil Company—were read aloud in a clear but unusually fast tone.
Wang Xiao believes his Russian proficiency is quite good.
She can not only communicate with Russians in daily life, but she can even understand Russian newspapers and professional documents.
Even so, she still felt that her hearing was being challenged.
Brother, what's the rush you're making? Are you catching a train or a plane?
Every sound was like a bullet fired from a machine gun, leaving no time for thought or even a moment's respite.
The bidders who had been somewhat prepared looked bewildered and surprised, clearly thrown off balance by the sudden "fast-forward" pace.
Zakharov ignored them and read out the numbers expressionlessly: "Starting bid, one hundred million US dollars."
He was like a speech machine, his voice devoid of any emotion, yet his gaze was incredibly sharp. After quickly scanning the area, he issued the command, "Start the bidding now."
Someone immediately reacted and raised the price on the spot: "Akinmilieldetliziatmilionovdollarov".
Translated into Chinese, that's 103 million US dollars.
Look how complicated it is to express numbers in Russia.
In Russian, it's also: одинмиллиардтридцатьмиллионовдолларов, a really long string.
No sooner had one bid been raised than another followed, this time by an additional $300,000.
According to the rules of this auction, each bid must be at least US$300,000.
"One hundred and five million US dollars," Ivanov shouted, interrupting the crowd.
Kazakov's gaze lingered on his face for a fleeting moment, so quickly it was almost imperceptible.
As the auctioneer, he did not inquire about higher bids or conduct any symbolic countdown, as if he had been waiting for a long time and was already impatient, wanting only to end the auction quickly.
"One hundred and five million, once."
"One hundred and five million, twice."
"One hundred and five million, sold!"
The gavel fell, crisp and short, with a cold, procedural quality. The entire process, from the announcement of the start to the fall of the gavel, lasted an unbelievable seventeen minutes.
The massive Siberian Oil Company's 51% stake was thus settled for a mere five million US dollars premium, and came under Ivanov's name.
That's too fast.
It was so fast it felt like a formality, and a hasty one at that, with the organizers not taking it seriously.
The rules were so fast that the other potential competitors in the audience didn't even have time to fully digest them, let alone raise their placards.
Yura opened her mouth, but ultimately said nothing, her eyes filled with a brief moment of bewilderment.
In fact, he does not support this auction method.
Exchanging loans for equity is fine, but it shouldn't be done this way. There's so much insider trading involved, so much that even if he covered his eyes, he couldn't pretend it didn't exist.
But what can the government do? If these assets aren't auctioned off quickly, they will become weapons for the "red factory directors" and tools for supporting the rise of the Communist Party of the Russian Federation.
My God, hasn't the Communist Party already wreaked havoc on this country enough? Haven't the people suffered enough?
No, no, no, only a fool would want the Soviet Union to make a comeback.
In 1993, he still wondered if the Russian Federation was truly inferior to the Soviet Union.
Now, he no longer wants to.
There's no point in dwelling on things that are already in the past.
He strengthened his resolve, turned to Wang Xiao with a smile, and extended his hand: "Congratulations."
The reporter also smiled and extended his hand.
She congratulated Ivanov on successfully acquiring the shares of Siberian Oil Company and inquired about his work plans after taking over.
"Upgrade!" Ivanov, still sitting in his wheelchair, waved his arms decisively. "First, upgrade the living standards of the workers and ensure their quality of life. In fact, we have already arranged for people to rent farms near the oil fields and refineries to grow vegetables and raise livestock to ensure the quality of logistical supplies for the workers."
Suddenly, a representative from Alfa Bank, who was also participating in the auction, quipped, "Mr. Ivanov, it seems you already knew you would become the owner of Siberian Oil Company."
This statement was like tearing down the window, instantly slapping him in the face.
Ivanov did not recognize the other person.
He was acquainted with Friedman, the head of Alfa Bank, but the latter did not attend the auction in person.
Yura frowned. What was this so-called auction representative up to? Was he trying to sabotage the auction?
He instinctively reached out to help his friend out of the predicament.
Wang Xiao gently tugged at his sleeve and whispered to stop him, "No need."
How could Ivanov possibly be unable to handle a small-scale situation of this caliber?
Sure enough, her business partner smiled at the questioner: "Wouldn't Alfa Bank, after winning the bid for Siberian Oil Company, try to improve the lives of its employees? I think that's the first thing all the companies and banks that participated in the auction would consider. So, regardless of whether we win the oil company or not, farms that provide logistical support for the company are indispensable. If we can't operate them, we can still provide logistical support for other winning bidders."
He nodded slightly to the representative of Alfa Bank, "If your bank subsequently auctions off other companies and needs logistical support, you can contact Wuzhou Group at any time. We have extensive experience in supplying farms, agricultural products, and by-products, and we guarantee high quality at reasonable prices."
The Alfa Bank representative's face immediately fell, and he hurriedly nodded and left.
Wang Xiao proudly raised her chin.
See, she said he could handle it.
The reporter couldn't stop smiling; she really liked the young entrepreneur she was interviewing.
Whether or not he can actually do what he says, at least the fact that he can think of ways to improve the lives of employees means that he has at least considered this issue.
This is a very rare and excellent quality.
The reporter then smiled and continued, "Besides the employees' lives, what about production? What are your plans for Siberian Oil Company's future production?"
“Increase investment in technology,” Ivanov said confidently. “The oilfield’s extraction equipment hasn’t been updated for years, and we need to introduce new equipment to improve extraction efficiency. The same goes for refineries; we must adopt new technologies to improve the quality of the oil we process. And I promise that we will find partners in Russia as much as possible to produce or assemble this equipment, thus promoting the development of our own manufacturing industry!”
The reporter pressed further, "Then these must require a significant financial investment, right?"
Ivanov nodded: "Yes, at least for the next three years, we don't expect Siberian Oil Company to make much money for the group. In our plan, its profits will be used to pay employee salaries, improve their lives, and upgrade the company's technology and equipment. Only in this way can a virtuous cycle be formed."
The reporter dutifully continued to ask: "Is it necessary? Everyone knows that oil companies make money and can easily make a lot of money by selling oil. Why would you invest more capital? The oil production base is still producing oil, and the refinery is currently the largest and most advanced refinery in our country. It can generate a lot of economic benefits right now."
“That won’t do.” Ivanov shook his head, speaking firmly to the camera, “Ladies and gentlemen, Russia is not one of those small African or South American countries that can only survive by exporting raw materials! We are a great nation with a deep industrial foundation and countless highly educated elites! Our intellectual resources, our engineers and scientists, our great workers are our priceless treasures!”
His eyes shone brightly, as if he were delivering a campaign speech: "If we are merely satisfied with selling crude oil and minerals, it would be a huge waste of this talent and an irresponsible act towards the future of the country! Only by regaining our foothold in manufacturing and achieving true, independent, and brilliant success can our national economy gain a solid and sustainable foundation and truly move towards prosperity! Siberian Oil Company will be an important step on this road to revival!"
Wang Xiao reminded Yura, "This interview should be heavily publicized to set the tone for your auction. You are holding this auction to revitalize Russian industry, stimulate economic development, and invigorate the market."
Yura paused for a moment before realizing what was happening, then hurriedly nodded.
He has almost forgotten that the Soviet Union was once the greatest country in the world, and has forgotten its glorious history and great achievements.
Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, Moscow's many misfortunes have made him almost forget that Russia is also a superpower, not a weak country that is constantly bullied and whose bankers are ignored when seeking foreign investment.
Ivanov concluded definitively: "In my view, Russia's financial industry is merely an embellishment to industry and agriculture. Our group established a bank simply to facilitate the payment of employees' salaries. We never intended to make a fortune through the financial industry. I prefer things produced from the land and from the factories."
He nodded to the reporter, "Thank you for the interview."
Staff members stepped forward and announced that the media interview session had ended.
The bodyguard quickly pushed Ivanov downstairs.
As Wang Xiao exited the main gate, he subconsciously turned around and glanced at the building.
It's over. This equity-for-loan auction has come to an abrupt end.
They went down the steps and out of the Ministry of Internal Affairs' cordon. Before they could even get into the car, an angry man ran up to them.
Wang Xiao didn't recognize Berezovsky at first, until she saw his sun-tanned bald head and suddenly realized, "Oh, it's him."
Berezovsky was furious and reached out to poke Ivanov's head.
Even after being stopped by the bodyguards, he continued to shout and curse: "Thief, you despicable thief! I built Siberian Oil Company from scratch! I put in so much effort, I painstakingly built up all the connections, I built the entire company bit by bit. You shameless robber!"
He had already secured the funds to purchase Siberian Oil Company yesterday, with the help of Smolensky.
But it was too late. According to regulations, he had to inject the funds into the central bank three days before the auction began.
He hoped the president could postpone the auction, but the president told him that the specifics of the auction were to be handled by Chubais, and that the Kremlin would not interfere with the normal work of the government.
Berezovsky then went to see Chubais, with whom he had some acquaintance.
However, this time, Chubais also rejected his request, on the grounds that Siberian Oil Company had already found enough companies to participate in the auction, and there was no need to postpone the auction.
See, that's what these damn officials are like.
When they are needed, they disappear faster than anyone else.
Looking at the blushing, cursing Biezovsky, Wang Xiao had only one thought in his mind: He's a mathematician after all; he didn't utter a single swear word after all that cursing.
What's so dirty about thieves and robbers? If she were in charge, she could shut them down in a heartbeat.
However, Ivanov believed that such a small matter did not require her personal intervention.
"Your company? Mr. Berezovsky, did you carry it for ten months and give birth to it?"
Ivanov sneered, “The Omsk oil refinery has been operating since the Soviet era, built by generations of engineers and workers. The Siberian oil fields were explored by geologists and developed by workers. When they existed, you were still a math teacher. Your so-called 'establishment' is nothing more than slapping a new label on these already existing behemoths, saying ‘Siberian Oil Company.’ If establishing a company were that simple, then everyone would be Rockefeller!”
"Why?" Berezovsky roared. "Why are you going against me? I don't think I've done anything to wrong you."
"Is that so?" Ivanov stood up from his wheelchair, leaning on his cane, and looked down at him. "When you were in the Sparrow Mountain Club, like vultures circling the fat piece of the Sakhalin No. 1 project, plotting how to tear it apart and devour it, did you ever think that there was no enmity between us?"
When this topic comes up, he can't suppress his anger, his eyes like knives. "In 1993, when the American and Japanese consortia withdrew, when the Sakhalin project needed funding and partners, and was like a thorny wasteland, where were you? If any one of you had shown even the slightest interest or sincerity at that time, the door would have been open to you! We would have shared the risks and the benefits!"
"But you didn't! You only want to seize and harvest the land after others have taken the risks to cultivate it into fertile fields! You didn't think about my life or death when you made your move, and now you expect me to consider yours?"
Berezovsky subconsciously emphasized: "It has nothing to do with me. I've already said, Ivan, I have never touched the Sakhalin project."
"But you know, you didn't stop it; you acquiesced to it all happening!"
Ivanov's gaze was icy. "We both serve the president, and we even co-own Channel One. Your not being on my side means you're already on my opposite side!"
He ignored Berezovsky and headed towards the car with his cane.
The driver was quick-witted; seeing this, he immediately drove over, turned the steering wheel, and forced Berezovsky to back up, otherwise the tires would have run over his feet.
Berezovsky took several steps back, then suddenly realized what was happening and rushed forward, frantically pounding on the car window.
As Punonin was about to leave, he frowned upon seeing this: "What are you doing, Mr. Berezovsky? Please calm down."
To hell with calming down! Berezovsky was going crazy.
These people, these damned third-generation reds, they're all in cahoots, they've been opposing him at every turn since the All-Russian Automobile Union stock exchange.
He pretended not to hear Punonin's words, forcing the car window to roll down before yelling, "Don't be too happy yet, Ivan! The Siberian Oil Company hasn't even been established to this day, it has no legal person status. How can a company that doesn't even exist be auctioned off?"
His eyes were venomous, spitting fire outwards.
If he can't have it, no one else can either.
"I want to expose to the Russian people that you are engaging in absurd insider deals!"
Wang Xiao thought of that saying: many people hate privileges because they are not able to enjoy them.
When it comes to insider trading, someone like Benezovsky is a prime example.
This time, he just failed, and he became the victim?
Ivanov smiled, and his assistant took a document out of his briefcase and unfolded it, pointing it out the window.
It is a presidential decree.
“Oh, Mr. Berezovsky, thank you for your kind reminder.” Ivanov smiled at him. “Yesterday, the President remembered that the order to establish the Siberian Oil Company had not yet been signed, so he signed it immediately.”
Berezovsky was like a captain who had been doused with a bucket of ice water, but he didn't know it.
He went to the Kremlin yesterday, and no one told him that such a thing had happened.
Moscow summers are not hot, but they are certainly not cold either.
Especially today, with the sun shining brightly, it feels warm and cozy on the skin. This is a perfect time for Muscovites to bask in the sun.
But Berezovsky could not feel the warmth.
As if confirming his suspicions, Ivanov chuckled softly, like a devil's whisper: "My dear Boris, those 'well-intentioned reminders' circulating lately—well, about foreign capital being advised against participating in the auctions because the Communist Party of the Russian Federation would renationalize all enterprises if it came to power—have deterred many who were initially interested in the auctions and greatly shaken market confidence in His Excellency the President's reform policies. You should know better than I the source and the driving force behind these rumors, right?"
Berezovsky's lips trembled, and he instinctively wanted to deny it again.
It has nothing to do with him; he really didn't do anything that stupid.
Ivanov gestured for silence, stopping his rebuttal: "Of course, Boris, you're a smart man and wouldn't get involved in such a foolish thing. But guess what the President would think if he knew that his most trusted friend, dear Boris, was aware that these divisive remarks were spreading everywhere, yet he didn't warn him or stop them immediately, but instead allowed them to fester, and might even have fueled them?"
He sighed heavily. "I'm really afraid the president will be furious."
Of course, there is another possibility: that Berezovsky was completely unaware of the rumors.
That's even worse.
As the head of Channel One, his lack of even this basic news sensitivity only demonstrates his incompetence.
Why would the president support an incompetent guy with no connections? He's not even qualified to be a mascot.
The car window was rolled up again, and the driver immediately released the clutch.
The scenery outside the window is ever-changing, much like the businessmen of Russia during its economic transition.
You may make a dazzling debut today, but you could easily be left behind tomorrow.
This stage will never lack people who are desperate to get on it.
————————
[Eating popcorn] Although it sounds unbelievable, Ye signed the order to establish Siberian Oil Company on September 29, 1995. The controlling stake in Siberian Oil Company was acquired through a loan-for-shares auction, but the auction was scheduled for September 28, 1995. That's right, at the time of the auction, the company wasn't even officially established yet. [Chin resting on hand]
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
