Chapter 321 Rising Star (Bug Fix): The factory belongs to the workers
Secretary Fang blushed deeply and could only manage an awkward laugh.
Fortunately, Jiangdong's high school wasn't entirely without appeal. Amidst the laughter of the crowd, a woman managed to squeeze to the front and shouted at the top of her lungs, "Boss, when you talk about taking the high school entrance exam, do you mean taking it with an urban household registration?"
Secretary Fang quickly nodded: "Sure, sure, you can take the exam in the city. You can take the exam in the city where you invested in the building."
The old woman's face lit up with joy, and she turned around and called out, "Third brother, Qingqing, come here! The leader said that the kids can take the high school entrance exam in the city!"
Ivanov, unusually punctual, left work at the ZIL truck factory and made a special trip to the container market canteen for dinner. He's now obsessed with the canteen's cold noodles, having a bowl almost every day.
As soon as he entered the canteen, he saw seven or eight people rushing towards Secretary Fang with gleaming eyes, like hungry wolves in the wilderness spotting their prey, each grabbing an investment application form.
They were afraid that if they were even a second too slow, they would miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Ivanov had to admit that he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of jealousy.
As a businessman, who wouldn't envy such smooth investment attraction?
He joked, "Looks like it's really a hot commodity."
Luckily, one of the women holding the forms understood Russian and immediately chimed in excitedly, "Oh, boss, you don't know, it can reduce your score by twenty points on the high school entrance exam!"
Ivanov was completely bewildered and instinctively looked at Wang Xiao: "What, twenty points?"
Wang Xiao explained: "It means that the admission score for rural students taking the high school entrance exam is 20 points higher than that for urban students."
These merchants are originally from Jiangdong, and are naturally in a hellish college entrance examination mode.
"What?" Ivanov couldn't believe his ears. "Why? Is it because the city's education level is particularly poor? That can't be!"
He's been to China before, including relatively economically developed areas like Jiangdong and Jiangbei. Perhaps the conditions in cities are significantly better than in rural areas.
Wang Xiao smiled but did not answer his questions.
Ivanov couldn't accept it. After eating a bowl of cold noodles, seeing the merchants who were overjoyed that their children could score 20 points less on the test, even the cold noodles he had eaten felt like a lump in his stomach.
“This is terrible!” he complained. “Wang, you are too cruel to the farmers! This has nothing to do with the system.”
He emphasized, "Even during the Soviet era, we never did anything like this. How could city students bully children from a collective farm like that? That's absolutely impossible!"
In a healthy society, educational equity is the most fundamental requirement.
The current situation, where educational resources are not being allocated to areas with poor conditions, but rather the opposite has been reversed, is simply absurd.
Secretary Fang could understand some Russian, and with the help of a translator, it would be inappropriate for him to pretend he hadn't heard Ivanov's complaints.
After all, policies are made by government officials; how can a businessman explain them?
“Rural high schools also need to survive,” Secretary Fang said. “If rural high schools want to continue operating, they need to ensure the quality of their students, so there are requirements for the students’ scores on the high school entrance exam.”
Ivanov couldn't accept this explanation and insisted on one point: "Don't urban high schools have any requirements for their students? Don't they have the pressure to survive? Why is the pressure so great in rural high schools? Why can't students take the entrance exams for urban high schools? You won't let farmers move to the city, and you won't even let their children move there?"
Secretary Fang had no choice but to continue explaining, "High school entrance exams are divided by region, and the policies vary from place to place. Urban areas recruit students within the urban area, while counties recruit students within their respective counties. This way, children can attend high school as close to home as possible, which is convenient in all aspects. However, there are fewer high schools in each county than in the urban area, so scarcity drives up the admission scores."
"Does going to high school in the county town mean you're closer to home?" Ivanov shook his head. "I've been to the countryside east of the river."
What he observed was that almost all rural high schools were concentrated in the county seat, with only a few towns having high schools. At least half of the high school students had to live on campus.
What are the essential differences for high school students between boarding at school in the county town and boarding at school in the city?
Secretary Fang sighed, "But if we don't set regional enrollment restrictions, then all rural students will want to apply to urban high schools. If rural high schools can't guarantee the quality of their students, they will shrink rapidly and may even be merged or disappear. This will lead to fewer and fewer rural high schools, making it increasingly difficult for rural students to get into high school, creating a vicious cycle."
Ivanov nodded, stirring the shaved ice with his spoon. The cafeteria lights shone on the shaved ice, reflecting a bizarre and wonderful world.
“I understand.” He said coldly, “Those in power always have their reasons, always have a long-term vision, and always act in your best interests. So farmers and their children should be grateful for the officials’ good intentions, even if they always have to walk a more difficult path than city dwellers.”
The nights in Moscow in August are not sweltering at all; in fact, they are cool and comfortable, best described as crisp and clear autumn skies.
But at this moment, at least in this corner of the container market canteen, the air seemed to freeze.
Wang Xiao had to kick his foot and whisper, "Ivanov."
The person whose name was called nodded hastily and apologized perfunctorily: "I'm sorry, madam, I'm not familiar with your policies, and I spoke recklessly."
Secretary Fang held the teacup between his fingers, paused for a moment, and then spoke: "When Soviet tractors were already driving into wheat fields, we were still using wooden plows to turn the soil... It takes time for industry to support agriculture. The things we need to do are also many, many things."
Ivanov seemed to accept the explanation, yet also seemed completely indifferent, having no intention of pursuing the matter further. He simply nodded, maintaining a semblance of peace, and continued eating his noodle soup.
But this peace was only superficial, because when the other traders finished their meals, wiped their mouths, and came to Secretary Fang with their documents to talk about the investment projects they had chosen, Ivanov asked with a curious look, "Do your children also want to go to high school in Jiangdong City?"
The second sister waved her hand and said, "What high school or not? What else can we invest in if not this?"
She pointed to the chaotic scene in the news report on TV, "Could it be that we're investing in MMM stock?"
Ivanov's mouth snapped open as if he'd been punched.
He was just using the glory of the Soviet Union to criticize the Jiangdong government.
Russia's chaotic financial situation then turned his back on him.
The second sister didn't care about the boss's fragile heart; she was just secretly relieved.
Honestly, if MMM's stock hadn't crashed, people wouldn't have been able to make up their minds to invest in buildings in Jiangdong.
After all, MMM is a really huge company. Its legal capital is 10 trillion rubles. It is the largest private company in Russia, even larger than Gazprom, which was once chaired by the current Russian Prime Minister Chernomyrdin.
I never imagined such a big company could collapse so easily.
Don't say it's a castle in the air; even the Russians themselves know that in Russia, the economy is closely linked to politics.
As long as the political system doesn't collapse, the economy it represents will never collapse.
She couldn't resist getting gossipy and asked her boss, "Is Chubais behind MMM Company? He lost to Luzhkov, so MMM stock couldn't hold up either?"
Ivanov stared in astonishment, forgetting his shattered heart: "What? Why would you ask that?"
He subconsciously looked at Wang Xiao, who shrugged and spread her hands; it was the first time she had ever heard of such a thing.
The second sister was the first to react with a look of "No way, you guys haven't even heard of this?"
"That's what the Russians say. If there wasn't a big shot backing them, how could MMM have developed so quickly?"
That sounds reasonable, but the problem is that the world is just a giant makeshift operation.
What you find unbelievable may simply be because the person is incredibly daring.
"I haven't heard of it." Wang Xiao shook his head, determined not to become an accomplice in spreading rumors.
Although Chubais was a terrible deputy prime minister and made a complete mess of financial reforms.
But we can't just label someone as dirty and stinky because they've fallen on hard times.
The second sister failed to uncover any earth-shattering gossip, and could only smack her lips in disappointment before heading off to look at new real estate developments.
The investment promotion conference for the container market is progressing very well, and the enthusiastic atmosphere transcends the cool breeze of the Moscow night, reaching even the mayor's desk.
Mrs. Luzhiko sat in her study, keeping abreast of market developments.
He looked at the report in his hand and laughed: "It seems he hates all officials equally."
The secretary's gaze swept over the words on the report, and she chuckled, jokingly saying, "Those who don't run businesses don't dislike officials."
The mayor laughed even harder, slapping the armrest of his chair: "Yes, yes, there's no one more annoying than officials."
Recalling his past, he sighed, "When I was managing the vegetable base, I wished all the officials in charge were deaf and blind, so they wouldn't jump out."
What kind of official is the best? An official who doesn't exist.
Only in this way will they never jump out and pretend to know everything, point fingers and try to turn you into their puppet.
Luzhkov sighed, "How obnoxious we are."
The secretary smiled awkwardly, instinctively trying to find an excuse: "Perhaps he doesn't dislike officials, but is just unhappy that the secretary of Jiangdong Province is trying to attract investment to his territory."
To be honest, he was a little envious.
Moscow has its share of unfinished buildings, and the entire Russian Federation has far too many abandoned projects.
During the Soviet era, he personally experienced two instances where construction was suddenly halted halfway through.
As for why it was halted, even with his current status and access to a vast amount of archival material, he still couldn't explain it clearly.
He didn't want to figure it out anymore; he just wanted to revitalize these unfinished projects, otherwise the initial investment would be a huge waste.
He was truly astonished by the Chinese. A provincial party secretary, under the guise of a state visit, actually went to Moscow to lure unscrupulous investors into investing in their province's unfinished buildings.
Luzhkov's gaze lingered on the word "unfinished building," and he sighed after a long pause: "That's China's good fortune; they always have so many officials willing to get things done."
Unlike in Russia, where so many intelligent people waste their energy on pointless verbal battles.
The secretary, emboldened, voiced her idea: "Perhaps we could do that too?"
There are too few talented individuals like Ivanov; he cannot possibly save every factory one by one.
Furthermore, what Moscow needs to save is far more than just its factories. Poor urban development and stagnant infrastructure are problems that urgently need to be addressed.
If people from Jiangdong can go to Moscow and find middlemen to solve their problems, why can't they?
The mayor waved his hand, not responding to the question.
He put down the report and continued, drawing his conclusions about Ivanov: "But he has to learn how to deal with this bunch of annoying guys. Otherwise—"
The mayor leaned back, stretching his limbs as he tried to move. "How can he get the arms and legs of Moscow's industry moving too?"
So on the afternoon of August 4th, after Ivanov had a simple lunch, he was having a heated discussion with engineers at the ZIL truck factory about how to install and debug the Suzuki Fifty production line when he received a call from the mayor.
"Handsome young man, please change into some clean clothes, and it would be best if you could take a shower, then get ready to come with me to the Kremlin."
Ivanov instinctively replied, "Sir, I don't have time to visit the Kremlin."
The mayor laughed: "No, it's not a visit. Young man, His Excellency the President wishes to meet you."
Ivanov was taken aback.
From the moment he decided to run for councilor, he and Wang discussed countless times how to embark on a political career.
He chose Luzhkov as his guide, and the two of them even developed a plan specifically for the mayor.
But he didn't expect things to progress so quickly.
Are we taking him to the president so soon? Is the mayor really that short-staffed?
The answer to the question finally became clear at 3 p.m. when Ivanov met Punonin, who had also come to see the president, at the Kremlin.
It seems he has once again become a weapon, used to strike at Punonin and the cabinet behind him.
Punonin looked worse than when Ivanov had seen him a few days earlier in the mayor’s study.
His eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark circles under his eyes, indicating that he hadn't been sleeping well.
Upon seeing Ivanov, the tax police major general's first words were: "Ivanov, I hope you can give up, pull back from the brink, and not harm Russia's interests."
Ivanov looked at him and suddenly thought of the victims of the MMM stock market crash.
A significant number of them, after the stock market crashed, not only failed to cut their losses in time, but instead went on to buy new stocks that MMM had acquired.
These people even helped the culprits who caused their bankruptcy, accusing the government of deliberately persecuting MMM Company and coveting its assets, which led to the company's predicament.
However, this predicament is only temporary, and MMM will soon regain its former glory.
What's the difference between Punoning now and these people? They've been blindfolded, they're stuck in a rut, they're going down a dead end, they've lost their minds.
Ivanov glanced at him but didn't say anything.
This time, the mayor didn't stand idly by. Instead, he took the initiative to help Ivanov out of the predicament, looking at Punonin with displeasure: "Sir, you're working so hard. You should rest when you need to. Don't try to manage everything. This isn't your business."
Punonin felt the same anger as Chubais.
Look, this person treats Moscow as his own territory, completely disregarding Russia's national interests for a little bit of petty gain.
"Sir, as a tax police officer, I have a duty to protect Russia's interests."
The mayor's response was to smile and casually remark, "Of course."
Punonin punched air.
A smartly dressed staff member came out. Ivanov didn't know his exact identity, but he was clearly of high status. He simply nodded politely to the waiting guests, then turned to Luzhkov and smiled, "Please follow me."
The mayor of Moscow nodded slightly to the business representative he had selected, who immediately followed suit.
When he left, Ivanov didn't give Punonin a second glance.
Similarly, he did not pay attention to the Kremlin's decor and furnishings.
For most Muscovites, the Kremlin is not a mysterious place, as it has been open to the public since 1955.
Ivanov had visited many times when he was a child, but he had absolutely no curiosity about it.
His attention was entirely focused on the president sitting in the chair.
The country's new Tsar was leaning back in his chair, seemingly taking a nap in the afternoon.
But Ivanov realized almost instantly that he was actually drunk.
Russians all know that their president is an alcoholic.
The way the president exhaled when he greeted the mayor of Moscow proved this point.
It has the smell of alcohol, a strong smell of alcohol.
Good heavens, no wonder the president never meets with guests in the morning. He can't wake up in the morning.
Ivanov held his breath as the mayor introduced himself to the president: "He is a young man who gets things done, not a financier, but a businessman who organizes businesses and produces goods in a down-to-earth manner."
Luzhkov remarked with a sigh, "He doesn't even have a Swiss bank account, nor does he own a foreign villa or motorboat."
His statement implies that he has thoroughly investigated Ivanov's personal circumstances.
This is actually an invasion of Ivanov's personal privacy, especially his bank accounts.
But at this moment, the young businessman seemed not to understand this point, showing no anger whatsoever, and simply sat quietly on the sofa, dutifully playing the role of a novice listener.
Fortunately, the president was not aloof. He drunkenly expressed his enthusiasm: "Great, our country needs people who get things done."
He even stood up from his chair and paced around the office, as if searching for something. "A person who gets things done, Yuri, someone who gets things done just like you."
The mayor replied politely, "Of course, I will do my best to get things done, and I will try my best to find more people who can do things."
The meeting with the president lasted less than fifteen minutes in total.
The tall president expressed his anticipation for the three-wheeled vehicle production line, enthusiastically stating that he would like to drive one to a farm to try it out, as he comes from a genuine farming family.
But apart from that, the president did not bring up any other topics.
There was no mention of the visit of the Jiangdong Provincial Government delegation, nor was there any mention of the agreement that Moscow wanted to sign with the Jiangdong Provincial Government.
The two finished their coffee and two small snacks, then ended their afternoon tea and said goodbye.
When they came out, Ivanov glanced around the room discreetly, but when he didn't see Punonin, he didn't ask anyone a question.
His silence may have led the mayor to misunderstand.
Upon leaving the Kremlin, the latter sighed softly: "Young man, please believe me, our President is a good man."
Ivanov curled the corners of his mouth: "Of course, the people will always make the right choice."
The mayor shook his head, glanced back at the Kremlin, as if sighing, "It's been very difficult for him. He's surrounded by so many people who deceive him. It's so hard for him to see and hear the real world. Ivan—"
He turned his head back. "But we all need to understand one thing: he is the only hope for maintaining the country's security. He is not xenophobic, and he won't be like those stupid and wicked guys who would say anything stupid or do anything bad just to please voters."
His gaze was fixed ahead, as if he were muttering to himself, "Russia cannot afford any more turmoil. Only a moderate president can maintain stability. A country without peace cannot carry out production and construction."
Ivanov followed his gaze and looked at the rowan trees by the roadside.
This tree, known as the "Russian Tree," is laden with bright red fruit in Moscow's August weather, resembling glittering red stars or tiny lanterns.
In any case, there is always hope.
Ivanov smiled: "Of course, no Russian wants the country to descend into turmoil."
As he said this, he seemed to have forgotten that he was still waiting for the outbreak of the Chechen war so that he could sell the military vehicles from the ZIL truck factory smoothly.
The guests at the Kremlin have left, and those who are still waiting have not been received.
Because the president needs rest.
This incident itself already demonstrates the president's attitude.
Sometimes, even the tax police major general suspected that his president was a severe alcoholic, his brain ruined by soaking in vodka.
Otherwise, why does he always do such short-sighted and foolish things, completely disregarding the future?
Punonin did not have a fit of anger in the Kremlin, but instead politely took his leave and left.
He slowly put on his gloves, walked out of the Kremlin, and got into his car.
Sitting in the back row, Yura looked worried: "Vlamikil, why don't we just let this go? You see, the mayor is a scientist, he's not ignorant. He should know what he should and shouldn't give."
Good heavens, things have progressed to this point, the Moscow government has already signed an agreement with Jiangdong, it will be extremely difficult for them to stop it.
Why did Luzhkov bring Ivan to meet the president? It was to demonstrate to them that he had the president's support.
Damn it, the president met with Ivan but not Vladimir.
Do you think others who witnessed this don't know what to do?
This country has a pitifully small number of officials who can actually get things done, but plenty of leaders who know how to read people's expressions and cater to their preferences.
Everyone who wants to benefit from the president will now be on Luzhkov's side.
No matter how hard you struggle, it will be to no avail.
Punonin gripped the steering wheel with his gloved hands and narrowed his eyes slightly: "They're dreaming. They've forgotten that technology belongs to the factory, and the factory belongs to the workers, not government bureaucrats."
Yura looked utterly bewildered: "Vlamikil, what are you doing?"
“Tell our dear friend, dear Ivan—”
Major General Punonin asked meaningfully, "What is right? What is wrong?"
Did they think that being received by the president meant a smooth road ahead?
How naive!
If politics were that simple, then merchants would have been the ones ruling the country for thousands of years.
The next day, Punonin presented his lavish gift.
The Red Revolutionary Machine Tool Factory, a large Moscow factory designated by the mayor to export technology to the Jiangdong region, saw a worker demonstration.
They protested and firmly opposed the city government's traitorous actions.
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I don't know what's wrong with this chapter; Doubao and deepseek both declined to comment. I'll just post it here for everyone to take a look. [Let me see] I'm going out to play now; I need to cheer myself up before I can continue writing.
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