Chapter 379 What do you know?: So what do you know?
Wang Xiao had never imagined that the nights in Moscow could be so long.
She even suspected that the winter solstice in Russia had moved earlier, from December to October, otherwise why would the sun not rise for so long?
Finally, dawn broke. The two, who had barely slept all night, couldn't stand it any longer and hurriedly got up.
That damn Vladimir, he just dumped them in the White House and then nothing happened.
They didn't receive a single message throughout the long night.
However, they dared not inquire around late at night, fearing that they might accidentally offend someone and become the chicken that scared the monkey.
They ate the fried dough sticks that their assistant had bought haphazardly. These were a popular snack in Moscow recently, but locals usually eat them with white sugar, kind of like donuts.
Wang Xiao and Ivanov did not choose this unconventional way of eating, but instead swallowed it whole with milk.
Before they left, they went out of their way to be kind and prepared breakfast for the White House staff who had stayed up all night.
Good heavens, they don't even know what time they went to bed last night. Anyway, they didn't leave this building at all. It was just a makeshift night.
As Wang Xiao greeted the people and left, looking at the tired faces of her secretary and her colleagues, only one sentence came to mind: The harder you work, the more heartbroken you become.
Russia's privatization process truly lives up to this description.
Unfortunately, the feeling of sympathy that had just surfaced was quickly dispelled by anxiety.
Their future is uncertain, and the president's fate is unknown. Where do they get the extra compassion to sympathize with others? They should leave now.
We need to find out as soon as possible whether the president is dead or alive!
The streets of Moscow are bustling with activity in October.
People rush out to embrace the warm and generous sun before winter arrives.
The streets were bustling with people, all hurrying along, except for the beggars who stood still, like NPCs from Moscow in 1995. The medals hanging on the chests of the veterans were a testament to their status.
Occasionally, passersby would hurry by and toss in rubles. The light banknotes swirled around, making Wang Xiao worry that they would be blown away by the late autumn wind.
However, the veteran begging remained calm and didn't even reach out to press down on the beggar.
Or to be more specific, their reaction was indifference, not only towards the begging bowl in front of them, but also towards the waves of noise coming from all directions.
Several ZIL trucks equipped with loudspeakers were painted a striking red and displayed huge banners: Остановитеграбеж! ГолосуйтезаКПРФ! (Stop looting! Vote for the Communist Party of the Russian Federation!)
The impassioned speaker stood on the truck bed, waving his fists and denouncing "the traitorous acts of the Chubais."
A crowd gathered around, mostly middle-aged and elderly people and workers dressed simply with worried expressions.
They listened intently, occasionally letting out shouts of approval or heavy sighs.
Leaflets were handed out to pedestrians like snowflakes, printed with Zyuganov's serious face and his promise to "restore social justice".
As the car drove through the crowd, Wang Xiao subconsciously glanced back at the begging veteran on the street.
Russian Communist Party leaflets also flew to them.
However, the veterans merely glanced at it indifferently before turning their heads away without looking at it at all.
Fortunately, the Communist Party of the Russian Federation may not need their support, or perhaps, compared to other emerging forces, they are already outdated.
Look, the Soviet Union had no shortage of people who mourned it.
Long queues have formed in front of Lenin's Mausoleum, which is now only open on weekends. Almost every time it is open, many people come specifically to pay their respects.
This has become a regular sight in Moscow.
What truly embodies the resurgence of communist ideology in Moscow is the flowers adorning the tombstones of the Soviet leaders' busts behind Lenin's Mausoleum and at the foot of the Kremlin wall.
Flowers were placed in every place that people on the bus could see, from Brezhnev, Andropov, and Chernenko to Dzerzhinsky and others.
Among them, the tombstone that received the most flowers was Stalin's.
A young woman in her early twenties was reciting a poem with deep emotion in front of the grave.
She may have received professional training; she had excellent pronunciation and a very powerful voice: "One day, people will call your name again, remember your achievements, and be grateful for everything you did for the people. Dear Comrade Stalin, rest in peace!"
Ivanov rubbed his forehead; he now even hoped that the president had returned to his country villa to rest, or was simply unconscious.
Otherwise, if he saw the surging red tide on the street and heard people singing praises to the deceased red giant, wouldn't his heart disease, which had finally calmed down, probably flare up again?
But he had no idea where the president was, so he could only try his luck at the Kremlin and see what the atmosphere was like.
The car drove a little further and finally stopped in front of the Kremlin.
Before getting off the bus, Wang Xiao was still encouraging Ivanov: "It's okay, just come back quickly if you can't find out the situation."
Why? Because no news is bad news.
At such a sensitive time, if the president is safe and sound, the Kremlin, as long as it still has a head on its neck, will make a big announcement to the world that the president is in good health.
Ivanov nodded heavily, opened the door, and got out of the car.
Only he could handle this matter. The fact that the king's foreign face was showing up at this time would easily make people sensitive.
He had barely gotten out of the car when a black sedan screeched to a halt next to him.
Because of the sudden stop, the intense friction even caused the tires to smell burnt, but the car owner was completely unaware and hurriedly jumped out of the car.
Just as he was about to rush towards the Kremlin, he subconsciously turned back, his gaze locking onto Ivanov, and he looked surprised: "Ivanov, what brings you here? It's the weekend!"
Ivanov met Berezovsky's gaze, pursed his lips, frowned, and remained silent.
His brain was spinning rapidly.
Why is Berezovsky here? As he said, it's the weekend.
Was he here because he'd heard some rumors and wanted to verify them? Or, as the president's confidant, did he already know what happened last night and was deliberately asking to find out if he knew anything?
It was obvious that Ivanov understood he shouldn't know what had happened last night.
His relationship with Punonin dictated that if he knew anything, it could only be information that Punonin had revealed to him.
At this delicate and sensitive moment, if this situation is confirmed, it could very likely cause trouble for Punoning.
Ivanov opened his mouth, ready to make an excuse.
The car door opened again, and Wang Xiao got out of the back seat, her face full of anger, and spoke first: "So what if it's the weekend? That Koch guy is simply insane! He actually asked for a sack of documents in 48 hours."
She even complained to the Mediterranean-haired man across from her, "Mr. Berezovsky, do you think the State Property Management Committee has gone mad? Do they even follow the rules? Do they have any sense of reason?"
Berezovsky was speechless for a moment. He felt that women were indeed the most unreasonable creatures in the world, strange creatures who always felt that others should stand on their side.
Has she forgotten? They just snatched the Siberian Oil Company from him!
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say they were mortal enemies, yet they could still greet each other when they met, which was entirely due to the social etiquette maintained by the upbringing of respectable people.
When did he become their close friend? He can even discuss such serious and important topics with them?!
Wang Xiao, however, seemed to have finally found an outlet for his anger, which had been raging for days and nights without sleep. Without thinking twice, he vented his anger on everyone he could: "He's the director of the National Property Management Committee, yet he's being unreasonable. His superior, our dear Deputy Prime Minister Mr. Chubais, is nowhere to be found, and he won't rescind the 48-hour deadline. What can we do? What other options do we have besides seeking justice from our President?"
Berezovsky was stunned by his barrage of words, which were like firecrackers going off.
Good heavens, he really doesn't like dealing with strong women. They speak so fast and sharply, their voices like awls, piercing your temples and eardrums, making you unable to bear it for even a second longer, and you just want to run away as fast as you can.
But Berezovsky was good at patience; otherwise, he wouldn't be able to stand calmly in front of Ivanov and greet him.
So even though he was very impatient, he still gave Wang Xiao a helpless smile: "Miss Wang, people who do things will always make all sorts of mistakes."
"That wasn't an oversight; it was a blatant trampling of privatization!"
The exhaustion and fatigue seemed to have triggered Wang Xiao's nervousness, and her voice rose, "We have every reason to believe that the Russian Federation government has no intention of privatization at all. They just want to turn state property into government property. They've found a white glove for themselves, or you could say a steward, to prevent the people from having any say."
The more she spoke, the more convinced she became of herself. "Just as Mr. Koch said, a businessman is only responsible for the source of his money and is loyal to the money from which it came. Khodorkovsky's money came from the Treasury Department; he was the Treasury Department's steward! The so-called privatization was nothing but a scam!"
Berezovsky was shocked and hurriedly stopped Wang Xiao: "Miss Wang, you can't just spout nonsense!"
The Kremlin is now in turmoil, its privatization policies are widely criticized, but it still has a loyal following.
The only reason the people support it is that, no matter how it is distributed, it has at least taken the property from the state and handed it over to the people.
As for who the people are? That's not important. What's important is that the country has lost these assets.
Yes, this is Russia after the collapse of the Soviet Union. People's hatred and fear of the Soviet Union manifested specifically as hatred for the country itself.
They firmly believe that the weaker the nation, the stronger its people can be.
If it were said at this point that the property resulting from privatization would still belong to the state, it would inevitably provoke anger among these loyal supporters. For the already precarious Kremlin, this would undoubtedly be a heavy blow.
Unfortunately, emotional women don't care about the big picture; they only care about their own interests and cling to the issue: "I'm talking nonsense? They're clearly the ones acting recklessly. No, the President must give Ivan justice today."
Then, as if remembering something, she politely asked Berezovsky, "Sir, what brings you here today? Don't beat Ivan to it; let the president see Ivan first. We can't afford to waste 48 hours."
Now it was Berezovsky's turn to be speechless. He didn't know how to respond appropriately, so he could only chuckle and say, "I'm not here to see the President; I have other matters to attend to. Besides—"
He blinked, pointed to the sun overhead, and said with a hint of humor, "It's still so early, and it's the weekend. Are you sure Ivan wants to see the president now?"
There is an unwritten rule in the Kremlin that the president will never work, even on weekday mornings, because he is too drunk to wake up.
Wang Xiao choked, then his face filled with anger again, like a child throwing a tantrum: "Anyway, we don't care anymore, we'll just wait here. If the President doesn't give us justice, we won't leave."
As she spoke, she reached out and grabbed Ivanov's arm, "Come on, let's go complain to the president!"
Berezovsky felt sorry for Ivanov. Good heavens! Socialism really can't produce a woman with a good temper. Even though this woman comes from East Asia, she is still a bomb that could explode at any time.
He even regretted greeting Ivanov first; aside from the noise giving him a headache, he hadn't gotten any useful information.
"Alright, alright! I can hear you arguing from far away."
Punonin descended the Kremlin steps and walked up to Ivanov. Staring at his friend, the one who was actually speaking was Wang Xiao, "So noisy so early in the morning, don't you feel your throat getting dry?"
Ivanov was shocked and quickly hugged Wang Xiao, who was about to explode: "Alright, alright, Wang, Vladimir didn't mean that."
To prevent Wang Xiao from roaring out loud, he even reached out and covered her mouth.
Berezovsky thought his move was absolutely brilliant; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to find an opportunity to speak with the de facto head of the NKVD amidst the barrage of verbal attacks: "Mr. Punonin, may I ask the President..."
"Nonsense! Have you forgotten it's the weekend?" Punonin seemed to hate everyone's noise. "Where else could the President be but on vacation in the suburbs?"
Then he started complaining about ignorant people, "Why do you come to the president all day long for trivial matters? Is our president a judge? He's so busy every day, how can he still adjudicate your cases?"
Wang Xiao bit Ivanov's hand, and when the other man cried out in pain and had to let go, he finally found his tongue and retorted to Punonin: "Then what do you suggest we do? The officials in charge are all biased and unreasonable. What else can we do besides complaining to his superiors?"
"Koch's superior is also Chubais, so if you need to find someone, you should go to Chubais."
Wang Xiao scoffed: "They're all in cahoots."
"Shut up!" Punonin, like an elder brother who could no longer tolerate his unreasonable sister-in-law, could only turn around and scold his younger brother, "Ivan, you really give me a headache."
Seeing that Wang Xiao was about to explode again, the self-conscious Punoning had no choice but to back down, "Alright, alright, I'll go with you to find Chubais, okay? If he's being unreasonable, I'll help you argue, alright?"
As a result, Wang Xiao even complained to him: "You are a military general, you may not be able to argue with the civil officials."
Pronin, unable to bear it any longer, turned to leave: "Fine, I don't care anymore."
Ivanov quickly reached out and hugged him: "Alright, alright, my dear Vladimir, Yukos Oil Company, you must help us."
As he spoke, he forcefully dragged the person into his luxury car.
Berezovsky watched the car drive away, and his confidant whispered beside him, "Sir, what about them...?"
Berezovsky shook his head and said nothing.
What could he say? In truth, he knew nothing at all.
Everyone says he's a favorite of the president, as if he's some kind of extraordinary person.
But he himself knew all too well just how insignificant this celebrity really was.
He still doesn't know the president's situation. He has far too little; he needs more.
The car that drove away remained silent.
Once on the bus, Punonin became like a silent clam, using his hard shell to reject all probing, even from his close friends.
Ivanov could only sigh heavily, helpless: "Vlamik, we know you are disciplined, and we believe you would never tell us anything involving state secrets. But please also believe us, we have no intention of spying on anything we shouldn't know. The only thing we need to know is, what should we do when you have a need?"
He pointed to the ZIL truck outside the window, where the Communist Party representative was still giving a passionate speech in the truck bed.
Although the surrounding noise made it difficult for those in the car to hear what he was saying, the cheers and enthusiastic expressions of the audience clearly showed that his speech was very popular with his supporters.
Ivanov sighed again: "Russia is in danger right now. Any change could lead to national disaster. So, Vladimir, we need to know what you want to do and what we can do for you, so that we don't misunderstand each other at a crucial moment and make things worse."
“No need,” Punonin said firmly. “You don’t need to do anything right now.”
He probably felt that this expression was not quite appropriate, so he added, "You just need to do your own thing."
Wang Xiao and Ivanov exchanged bewildered glances. What were they supposed to do now? The Yukos company's affairs were stuck, and without strong external intervention, they simply couldn't move forward.
However, Punonin had fallen into deep thought.
At this moment, in his world, Yukos Oil Company, a massive enterprise with tens of thousands of workers, is probably just a trivial matter.
It felt like a mountain was pressing down on him, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.
As the car turned the corner, he suddenly spoke: "Ivan, would you abandon Russia? I mean..."
“Absolutely not!” Ivanov interrupted him without hesitation, blurting out, “Without Russia, I am nothing.”
Everything he has is given to him by Russia. His so-called intelligence and hard work are all built on the foundation provided by Russia.
Without Russia, everything he possesses is a sandcastle, easily destroyed by the casual influx of seawater without even a raging storm.
Punonin's lips curled up, seemingly in pleasure. But the heavy pressure prevented him from laughing out loud, and he could only let out a long sigh: "Remember what you said, Ivan, don't give up, never give up on our motherland."
Ivanov nodded frantically, then tentatively asked, "Vlamikl, how is he?"
Punonin shook his head again, his tone resolute: "Nothing, nothing at all."
Then he abruptly changed the subject, “Fire those drunks. They won’t create any wealth for the oil fields or the factories. They’ll only mess everything up.”
Ivanov didn't know if he was being sarcastic or implying something, so he could only give a vague answer: "Of course, if they violate labor discipline, are absent from work for extended periods, or are late or leave early, they will definitely be dismissed according to the regulations."
To demonstrate his resolve, he added, "Those who dare to cover it up will also be punished in the same way."
Punoning sighed, looking at his friend with mixed emotions: "You're still too soft-hearted."
Then he turned to Wang Xiao and complained, "Why didn't you teach him to be more hard-hearted?"
He swallowed the rest of his words: "Even half of what you have would be fine."
Wang Xiao retorted confidently, "If I harden his heart, what am I supposed to do if he hardens his heart towards me?"
Punonin was stunned for a moment before nodding: "That's true."
How terrible would it be if Ivanov also became a hard-hearted person?
As Yura said, perhaps one day, Russia's reforms will leave them all unrecognizable and penniless.
But even at that time, they still had someone they could trust, someone who would help them, and that was Ivan.
He is their conscience.
The car took Punonin to the tax police headquarters. As he got out of the car, he reminded the people in the car, "Go home early and don't wander around."
Wang Xiao boldly emphasized, "48 hours. Koch only gave us 48 hours. We haven't planned to give up on Yukos yet."
Punonin paused for a moment before remembering this: "Don't worry, Chubais doesn't have time for this right now, he won't wait until 48 hours."
His words were vague, but when Ivanov pressed him for details, he became a mute.
Ivanov, feeling helpless, could only tell him, "Go to sleep. You need to get some sleep now."
Punonin made a gesture to indicate that he had heard, and then strode forward.
Perhaps it was because he was on his own turf and had drawn on some silent strength, but Wang Xiao felt that his back straightened up a bit.
The car started up again, and Ivanov leaned heavily back in his seat, muttering to himself, "What happened?"
The situation is probably not good, otherwise Punonin wouldn't have said that he should fire the alcoholic directly.
Ha! If we're talking about the most famous drunkard in this country, it has to be their president.
But perhaps the situation isn't so bad.
Wang Xiao muttered to himself, "Otherwise, he wouldn't have told us not to do anything."
Perhaps Punonin wouldn't have had such ambitions a year ago, but the honors he gained from the Chechen wars were enough to fuel his political ambitions to grow wildly.
But now they can't rule out the possibility that Punonin will decide to exclude them and act alone.
Perhaps it was his elder brotherly personality that made him unwilling to involve his friends in danger.
Perhaps it was his vigilance as a politician that made him unwilling to be easily bound or coerced.
Overwhelmed by a profound sense of powerlessness, the luxury car seemed like a small boat adrift in a raging storm.
Brother Wang even strangely understood why online novel rules do not allow political content?
That's a restriction! It's clearly protecting the transmigrators! This is just too damn grueling!
"Sleep, sleep!" She felt her heart couldn't take it anymore and made a decisive decision. "We all need to get a good night's sleep."
When I woke up, the sun was almost sinking into the Moscow River. Outside the window, there were large patches of orange-yellow, as if night had fallen and the bedside lamp was lit in orange-yellow.
Wang Xiao held the ice cream and ate it sporadically.
October in Moscow is definitely not the best season for ice cream.
In the past, Ivanov would have definitely nagged, and might even have threatened to complain to Ms. Chen Yanqiu, telling her: "Wang is disobedient, eating ice cream in this freezing weather."
But now, Ivanov didn't care anymore. After all, he had escaped death so many times and his future was uncertain. What was wrong with eating a couple more bites of ice cream?
If life is full of limitations, what's the point of living?
Wang Xiao swallowed a mouthful of cold ice cream, and taking advantage of the chill that made him shiver, he began to make plans: "Whether Punoning tries to recruit us or not, we have to prepare in advance."
She began to list out the plans one by one and discussed their feasibility with Ivanov.
Xiao Gao and Xiao Zhao exchanged bewildered glances, wondering if they should cover their ears. It seemed inappropriate for them to be listening to this.
Wang Xiao and Ivanov talked one after another, until the sun, which had been floating in Moscow, sank to the bottom.
Ivanov gritted his teeth, determined to go all the way: "Then this is the only way."
Just as he was about to launch into a passionate speech, the phone rang, and a familiar voice came from the other end: "Mr. Ivanov, the President has heard that you wish to meet him and has invited you to dinner with him."
Ivanov was startled, and only three words came to his mind: Hongmen Banquet.
No, he was self-aware. He wasn't at Liu Bang's level, and he never intended to target the president. The president wouldn't want to be the King of Chu, would he?
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[Fanfan] Good morning, let's eat!
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