Chapter 119 We Must Survive (Bug Fix): What's the Oil and Gas Field Like?
Whether Wang Xiao was judging others by his own petty standards and making malicious assumptions about high-ranking government officials is hard to say.
But she was right about one thing: the ruble continued to fall.
By the time the harvest season ended, the ruble's exchange rate had fallen to 400 rubles for one dollar.
It hasn't even been a year yet, and it's already fallen this much.
In newspapers and on television, some economists believe that the ruble's plunge is related to the issuance of privatization securities.
Wait a minute, didn't we say back in June that the privatization securities with a face value of 10,000 rubles wouldn't be issued until December? Why are they being issued so hastily in the fall?
Oh, because His Excellency the President has changed his mind again.
On August 14, he announced in "On the Implementation of the Privatization Securities System in the Russian Federation" that the privatization securities system would be implemented starting October 1.
Oh no, something's not right again.
According to regulations, privatization securities cannot be used as a means of payment for goods or services, and cannot be spent like money.
Even if the Russian Federation issues more privatized securities, it shouldn't cause the ruble to depreciate.
It's not money, so it doesn't affect currency circulation.
Well, according to regulations, treasury bonds cannot be used as cash, nor can they be bought and sold privately.
If the order were truly enforced, then how did the first wave of entrepreneurs in 1988 make their fortunes by reselling treasury bonds?
In fact, many Russian citizens have no idea what the purpose of privatized securities is.
Or, even though they know that they can use these securities to buy all state property and shares of joint-stock companies, citizens do not trust the government's promises.
Or perhaps, despite believing in its value, they are short of funds and have no choice but to quickly convert it into supplies they urgently need.
In short, many people still treat it like money.
As for how much it's worth? That's a world of difference.
According to the results of a reporter's investigation published in the 43rd issue of the Moscow News Weekly on October 25th:
At Kursky Station, each privatization security could be sold for 150,000 rubles.
In Khabarovsk, its value is even more outrageous; one ticket can be exchanged for two Toyota cars. Note that this isn't a cheap Lada, but a beautiful Toyota.
Of course, not everyone can sell privatized securities at a high price.
A reporter from this weekly newspaper managed to negotiate a discount and exchange two bottles of vodka, each worth 220 rubles, for a privatization security.
Isn't that outrageous? But what's even more outrageous is that it's said to be only worth a bottle of vodka in rural areas.
Faced with such a huge price difference, more and more people are joining the ranks of those reselling privatization securities.
Since many of these transactions involve goods, the currency naturally takes on the role of money. With more money circulating in the market, devaluation is only natural.
Whether this statement is right or wrong, devaluation is devaluation.
Wang Xiao put away the newspaper and stood on the edge of a field in Siberia.
Indeed, even though Zhimen Airport and Xiaozhou Airport are located next to rural areas, Wang Xiao has witnessed countless spring plantings and autumn harvests.
But when faced with such vast fields, she was still deeply moved, and with the high, blue sky, it felt like she was in a painting.
She has now discovered that the genes of the Chinese people are truly amazing.
Even though she didn't go into the fields and just observed from the beginning, she still felt overjoyed.
Under the sunlight, vast fields of farmland had long since turned from green to yellow, gleaming with a golden light.
At the edge of the field, rows of combine harvesters were lined up straight.
With the village chief's shout of "Start harvesting!", the combine harvester roared into the fields, harvesting and threshing in one go.
Cough cough, Wang Xiao quickly ran to the back.
Good heavens, this dust is unbearable!
The elderly women nearby burst into laughter: "Oh dear, boss, don't you find it too pungent?"
They helped out here, and after the combine harvester finished harvesting a field, they went down to pick up the beans.
Russians do not have the habit of eating tofu. They mainly grow soybeans for oil extraction, and the remaining soybean meal is an important source of feed for livestock.
Chinese farmers don't care about these things; they come from the south and are used to eating rapeseed oil.
They collected the beans to grind into soy milk and make tofu.
This way, those who stay to grow crops in greenhouses won't have to worry about not being able to eat tofu in the winter.
The Russians next to me were particularly curious: Can this be eaten as a dish?
The person asking the question was only in his early thirties, which is quite rare in rural Russia these days.
After all, most young people have gone to the city, and few are willing to stay and farm.
But in this farm, there are quite a few people like him who are young and have received higher education.
They all brought their families with them, fleeing from other republics of the former Soviet Union back to Russia.
They had no choice but to come back; the severe ethnic hostility made it impossible for them to continue living by pretending to be deaf and dumb.
When I got home, I didn't dare to draw the curtains, let alone look out the window.
Single women are afraid to enter stores.
Even more outrageous, shop clerks would refuse to give bread to Russians, bluntly stating to their faces that they would rather feed it to pigs than sell it to them.
Most importantly, all the factories were ostracizing Russian experts and technicians, forcing them to do heavy manual labor and denying their value.
Even children face discrimination when attending school in these republics and have to pay higher tuition fees.
All these factors combined forced everyone to quickly sell their assets at rock-bottom prices and return to Russia.
Even though many of them had lived in the republic since their grandparents' generation and married locals, they still had no choice but to do so.
The Chinese farmers sympathized with their plight and warmly said, "Of course you can cook it, it's delicious! Look at the Mapo Tofu recipe on TV, it's made with this. When you make the tofu, come over to our house for a meal!"
Some people even enthusiastically recommended it: "This soy milk tastes better than cow's milk; you can drink it like cow's milk."
Don't assume that living on a farm means you'll have fresh milk to drink every day; you still have to pay for it.
After this was said, more Russians went down to the fields to pick beans.
The Chinese farmers don't care either.
Anyway, there's so much land, and with just these few people, it's impossible for them to pick it all up.
It's good if more people come to pick them up; otherwise, the beans will be wasted.
Unlike wheat and rice, soybeans cannot be directly fed to chickens and ducks in the fields.
It would be so upsetting if it were ruined.
Wang Xiao also went down to the field and picked a small handful of soybeans, and couldn't resist putting on woolen gloves.
The temperature in Moscow dropped quickly. Even with the sun shining brightly overhead, the Siberian winds blowing in late October made it quite unbearable for her.
Wang Xiao asked some veteran workers from the neighboring farm, "What's the grain purchase price this year? Has it gone up?"
The old woman immediately retorted irritably, "Whatever, we absolutely won't sell it."
The people around him chimed in, "That's right, absolutely not, we can't sell it."
Some people complained indignantly, "If we sell now, we don't even know what the price will be when we want to buy it back."
As expected, the devaluation of the ruble had serious consequences. It not only caused prices to soar in the market, but also led farmers to hoard their grain instead of selling it.
Didn't Russian farmers stage strikes in August and September, emphasizing that they would not sell any agricultural or livestock products if the government did not address their demands?
In fact, this is unrealistic.
For example, if you don't sell milk, it will spoil, and you'll have to throw it away.
For example, eggs can only be stored for a limited time, and you still have to sell them when the time comes.
Take poultry and livestock for example. They don't grow up eating only air and dew. They open their mouths and cry out for feed every day.
If you don't sell when you should, you'll understand what it means to suffer terribly when the Russian winter comes.
Oh, of course, farmers can also choose to slaughter poultry and livestock, process them into pickled foods, and store them for a period of time.
However, vegetables and fruits are a different story; they still need to be sold.
Of all agricultural and livestock products, grain is the easiest to store and has the lowest storage cost.
To date, the government has not met the demands made by farmers during their strike. In addition, the price scissors between agricultural and industrial products are widening, and farm workers' income is generally only one-half to one-third of that of industrial workers. Without a sense of security, how can farmers dare to sell their grain?
Therefore, even though the weather was favorable in 1992 and Russia's grain production increased compared to the previous year, the country still quickly fell into a food crisis.
According to media reports, only 13 regions in Russia are currently self-sufficient, 22 regions are only partially self-sufficient, and more than 30 regions are not self-sufficient at all.
The government is urging farmers to sell their produce, but even collective farms with procurement quotas are trying to retain their grain.
Because everyone was terrified.
What was the grain purchase price last autumn?
When planting began this spring, and farmers needed to purchase fertilizers, pesticides, and a large amount of agricultural products, how much did prices rise?
They sold the grain when 400 rubles could be exchanged for 1 US dollar.
So by next spring, will 1 US dollar be worth 800 rubles?
As a result, everyone's money was reduced by half. Farmers are just poor, not stupid; it's no wonder they're unwilling to sell.
The elderly women at the farm also advised Wang Xiao, "You shouldn't sell them either, or you'll definitely suffer a loss."
The person next to him nodded in agreement: "Yes, yes, don't sell it. Anyway, you Chinese have everything, you don't need to exchange money to buy things."
Then someone approached her and asked if they could exchange their grain for other things.
The Chinese farmer next to her immediately chimed in, "What do you want? I'll bring it to you later."
Sigh, they've become like the educated youth who were sent to the countryside back then. When they arrived in the countryside, the villagers had nothing and wanted them to bring everything from the city.
If you bring it to someone and solve their big problem, everyone's relationship will naturally become harmonious.
If you're aloof and look down on everyone, then naturally no one will pay attention to you.
It's amazing how the human language system works. Many villagers here are illiterate, but that doesn't stop them from communicating smoothly with the locals in just a few months.
Seeing that they were communicating quite well through gestures and analogies, Wang Xiao simply withdrew quietly and let them talk on their own.
A Russian woman in her thirties or forties approached her and asked, "Are your factories in China hiring? What positions are needed?"
Wang Xiao retorted, "Who needs to find a job, you?"
“No, it’s my husband. He used to be a senior engineer, but now he works as a welder.”
Wang Xiao understood that finding jobs would be a major problem for so many engineering and technical personnel returning to Russia from the former republics.
Just like when the educated youth returned to the city, there were still a lot of people in the city who were unemployed, so where were they going to find so many jobs to place the new people?
Thankfully, there are still so many abandoned collective farms, which at least allows the government to reluctantly take people in.
But forget about quality of life for now, and finding a job in your field is basically impossible.
Wang Xiao made a direct request: "A resume. Make me a complete resume, and I'll have someone ask around for it."
She thought for a moment and added, "If anyone else is looking for a job, they should also prepare a resume, and write it in detail, especially about their strengths and achievements. I mean their work performance and which projects they have completed."
Those empty honors are basically of no value to her.
The Russian woman secretly breathed a sigh of relief and immediately nodded in assurance: "Okay, okay, my husband will definitely prepare the resume."
They finally had the opportunity to find a proper job, and the whole family would be happy even if it meant going to China.
Her uncle, who had been an expert who aided China, said that although China was poor, it was very friendly to the Soviets and always made sure to supply them with everything they needed.
Besides, she doesn't feel that China is poor at all now.
In this farm, the Chinese people she met all lived quite lavishly.
They have meat in almost every meal.
Their work clothes, hats, masks, and gloves are always provided to them on time.
They eat fresh fruit and can eat half a watermelon by themselves.
What she meant was that even before the farm's watermelons were ripe, they could eat watermelons imported from abroad.
Besides, they have both color TVs and radios.
Good heavens, when her family left Kazakhstan, they were not allowed to take the television and other valuables with them; they had to be sold off cheaply.
It was a complete fire sale; the money they got wasn't even enough to bribe the police.
Now, her family doesn't have the means to spend millions of rubles to buy or build a house, so they can only live in an abandoned log cabin.
They couldn't even afford light bulbs if the people at Huaxia Farm didn't help them.
Not to mention valuable items like color TVs.
Wang Xiao reminded her, "If you're going to work in China, you'd better learn some Chinese. It will make communication easier."
She emphasized, "Very few people can speak Chinese; they learn English in school."
She had to bring this up.
Because of the Soviet Union's powerful influence at the time, people in Eastern Europe and former republics learned Russian, which gave Russians a strange illusion—that everyone should be able to speak Russian.
The Russian woman blushed.
She and her husband were kicked out of the factory in Tajikistan, partly because they didn't understand Tajik and were even less able to take exams in Tajik.
As a result, the Tajiks just laughed at them and mocked them, saying, "Why did the Tajiks have to take the exam in Russian back then? Why can't the Russians do the opposite now?"
Is Russian inherently superior to Tajik?
Get lost, you noble Russians.
Now that Wang Xiao is asking her to learn Mandarin, she's naturally embarrassed.
Wang Xiao couldn't care less about all that.
Times have changed. If Russian technicians were to work in China now, they would absolutely not receive the same treatment as the experts who aided China back then.
If they don't adjust their mindset, they won't feel comfortable living in China.
Wang Xiao picked enough soybeans to make enough soy milk for eight people before coming out of the field.
She decided that she would use the soybean pulp left over from making soy milk to make face masks.
The Siberian wind was so rough that she felt she was blowing two degrees rougher.
Wang Xiao returned to the farm's activity center, which they had also funded to renovate.
There are billiard tables, ping-pong tables, and color TVs inside.
The first two are specifically designed for Chinese people, but in rural towns, billiards is a quintessential trendy activity. Billiard halls attract all the fashionable young people.
The color TV was specifically for the Russians on the farm, who generally couldn't afford to buy one, so it was a good opportunity for them to gather together and watch TV.
At this moment, everyone was still busy picking beans, and the activity center was empty except for Ivanov, who was talking to someone with his bodyguards.
Speak of the devil and he appears.
Amidst this panic over the food crisis, some people actually approached Ivanov, hoping he could sell grain to the country.
The visitor was a friend of a friend of Ivanov. He first praised Ivanov's courage and greatness in actively engaging in agriculture, then showered him with compliments, and finally stated the purpose of his visit.
Sell your grain, brother. You can also sell your sheep, chickens, ducks, and pigs.
I believe you will receive everyone's gratitude.
You are doing a great thing.
Unfortunately, while Ivanov's face beamed with joy, his mouth refused without hesitation: "No, no, no, sir, I'm sorry, we're exporting these."
The government official looked astonished: "How can grain be exported? No, no, no, this is absolutely not allowed."
Ivanov said in a serious tone, "This is stipulated in the contract, we have already filed it, and the Chinese Embassy also has a memorandum."
The official seemed to realize then that the businessmen in front of him included not only Russians but also Chinese.
Ivanov sighed, "We have to export. I have to admit one thing: I never imagined that farming would cost so much money."
Buying farm machinery, fertilizer, and pesticides, and hiring people to do the work all cost money. The first thing I think about every day when I open my eyes is money, money, money.
Money was taken from my pocket, one sum at a time, with no end in sight.
The government promised subsidies to us farmers, but I haven't seen any of them today.
My accountant told me that it would take at least three to five years before I could make any money.
I have so many loans on my hands, I don't know how I'm going to pay them back to the banks.
Well, officials have heard similar complaints from farmers countless times. They are completely oblivious to their debts and have no reaction whatsoever.
He could even emphasize, "You shouldn't be worried about money. Everyone knows how profitable Huaxia Commercial Street is."
Ivanov sneered: "Do you want me to give you a breakdown of how much tax I have to pay? Eighty percent of the profits go to taxes. And I still have to pay the salaries of so many employees."
Indeed, sir, even the Tsar wouldn't dare collect so much tax.
You say the Soviet Union drove out one Tsar and brought in a bunch of Tsars, so what is it now?
The official had to change the subject: "Where do you plan to export them to?"
This is a very presumptuous question, and they could easily refuse to answer it.
However, Wang Xiaojun was frank and open: "We plan to export the rice to Japan and China."
Japan? Well, the Japanese might indeed import rice.
But China, China has no shortage of food.
The Chinese are so skilled at farming that they have more grain than they can eat; their only worry is not being able to sell it.
However, the official didn't say it that directly. Instead, he chose a rather tricky point: "It's not cost-effective for you to export rice to China. As far as I know, the price of rice is about the same in the two countries."
Wang Xiao smiled, quite admiring of the official.
Because it's obvious they have knowledge, or at least they did their homework before coming.
In any of these respects, it demonstrates that he is a responsible civil servant.
But while she admired him, she would still refute him when necessary.
"You're talking about ordinary rice, but the rice we grow is green and organic food, it's high-end rice."
Wang Xiao said seriously, "The rice exported to China is sold to rich people, and it sells for $3 per kilogram."
The official gasped, feeling as if he were hearing a fairy tale. How could Chinese rice be so expensive? Who would buy such rice?
Wang Xiao smiled and said, "People who are willing to spend more money to improve their quality of life. People in the top 5% of income. China has a population of one billion, and fifty million of them buy our rice. Our production is far from enough."
That's actually a lie.
In fact, part of the rice shipped to China was supplied to high-end restaurants.
People who are willing to pay a high price for king crab are more likely to eat high-quality rice.
Ten yuan a pound of rice is nothing to them; they are eating for the sake of quality of life.
Before she transmigrated into the book, she ate rice that cost 30 yuan per kilogram.
The first crop of this organic agricultural product, ratooning rice, yields 500 jin (250 catties) per mu (0.067 hectares), but the second crop yields only 200 jin (100 catties) per mu.
But the rice that followed was so delicious that even at 30 yuan per kilogram, it was still in short supply. Anyway, most people couldn't eat more than 10 kilograms of rice a month.
Another portion of the rice was given as New Year's benefits to the factory's employees, with each person receiving 10 jin (5 catties).
The welfare work is handled by the labor union. Chairman Chen Yanqiu has already become one with all the labor union chairmen who save money, let alone those in large factories.
A large factory can employ tens of thousands of people, and the entire factory area can easily consume the rice production of a farm.
Everyone really welcomed it.
After all, in the past six months, with the country's vigorous promotion of economic development, the big factory has been doing quite well.
Factories that have secured large loans are not stingy with spending 100 yuan to add this benefit for their employees.
Truly, the sun and the earth don't lie.
Grains grown in the high latitudes of the black soil region do indeed taste good. Like high-quality rice from Northeast China, they are the kind of food you can enjoy without even eating any side dishes.
Wang Xiao sincerely praised the wonders of the black soil and enthusiastically suggested to the officials: "In the future, we can develop in this direction and specialize in exporting high-quality rice."
She was speaking the absolute truth from the bottom of her heart.
Russia seems completely unaware of this, and despite the large market for Northeast rice in China, they haven't followed suit.
Thirty years later, Wang Xiao still hadn't seen Russian rice in the supermarket.
Indeed, given their unique advantages, they have a very promising future if they develop in this direction.
However, the officials had no interest in exporting rice; they wanted to intercept all the grain.
"What about wheat? Wheat doesn't need to be exported, right?"
As for rice, well, as far as he knew, they didn't grow much rice.
Apart from soybeans and potatoes, wheat still holds the dominant position.
Wang Xiao smiled and said sincerely, "The wheat here has a really strong aroma, it's very popular. Many of my friends have already come and made reservations."
Then she changed the subject, "The rest we'll export to Romania. As you should know, Romania has suffered from drought this year, resulting in a severe reduction in grain production and a large food shortage."
They're really going to flip the table.
The official couldn't help but want to roar: They lack food, but don't we?
He held back for a long time, but finally couldn't bear it any longer and focused his fire on Ivanov: "Is your so-called growing grain for the Russian people just a gimmick to fool people? Aren't you ashamed?"
Ivanov was baffled: "Why should I feel ashamed?"
He pointed outside, “We have renovated schools and kindergartens so that people returning home can also send their children to school.”
We replaced the light bulbs at the hospital so that doctors and nurses no longer had to operate in the dark.
The farm was able to complete the harvest thanks to the harvester we lent out.
We also built factories so that people could work and supplement their income.
We are currently spending more than we earn, and we worry every day about where the money will come from.
I really don't know what kind of standpoint you're on when you're nitpicking and criticizing us.
Isn't ensuring people's livelihood their responsibility?
We pay so much tax, and we still have to work for the government at a loss? Is it reasonable for businessmen to bear the responsibilities of the government?
What respectable country in the world could do such a thing?
Fearing the talks would break down, the official tried to ease the tension: "Hey, buddy, please don't be angry. I'm doing this for your sake. The leu, the Romanian leu, is unreliable too; it's depreciating just as fast as the ruble."
Ivanov felt a little sorry for him. Exporting grain was a foreign trade route, so who would buy lei? Of course, they would want US dollars, or German marks if they wanted.
The pound sterling is not as strong as the German mark.
He put it another way: "Even without foreign exchange, we can still get what we want from them. For example, materials for building greenhouses. If we sell grain in Russia, we have to pay to import these things."
The official emphasized, "We can also trade things. Whatever you want in exchange, we'll find it."
Ivanov shook his head: "Forget it, we've already traded everything we could. What we need now is abroad. I'm sorry, sir, we need to survive; we can't live by shouting slogans."
The official pressed on, asking, "Can you tell me exactly what you need?"
“There’s nothing we need,” Ivanov said with a forced smile. “After all, it’s common knowledge that the country lacks nothing but artillery and tanks. I’m not an arms dealer, what use would I have for those? Tell me, besides exporting oil and natural gas, what else can we exchange for money?”
Wang Xiao suddenly seemed interested and asked with great interest, "Oil, natural gas, why don't you just trade your oil and gas fields for it? Only with these can we guarantee that we'll get the money."
The official was startled.
The privatization of state property has indeed been put on the agenda, but progress has been very slow, and it is still far from the privatization of oil and gas fields.
Besides, the oil and gas fields aren't his own little plot of land; how could he possibly have the ability to exchange them for grain?
Ivanov seemed to agree with the idea, nodding in approval: "Yes, yes, let's trade oil and gas fields for it. After all, there aren't many things that can serve as hard currency more than food."
Wang Xiao was still discussing with Ivanov: "Have oil prices gone up yet? What about natural gas prices?"
As the discussion progressed, their stance became very clear: they had lost much interest in communicating with the officials.
They have their own warehouses and grain processing plants, and they are not in a hurry to sell to the outside world; they have plenty of time to process the goods slowly.
The government is the one in a hurry. Its foreign exchange reserves are severely insufficient, and it simply does not have the capacity to import grain on a large scale.
But if farmers hoard their grain and refuse to sell, how will others survive?
The official left with a worried expression, feeling that the matter concerning the oil and gas field was highly unreliable.
But apart from reporting it to his superiors, he couldn't find any other effective solutions.
Good heavens, capitalists are just like that.
No matter how sweet their words are, in reality, all they care about is money.
When Ivanov saw the person off, he thoughtfully wished them a safe journey.
They've already made their demands; whether they accept them or not is up to them.
Siberia has abundant oil and gas resources, but many areas lack food. Skipping this one doesn't mean we're not interested in the next one.
What they need to do now is to stay calm, continue with their work, and absolutely not rush things.
After the last field was harvested and the farmers finished packing up, some of them had to return to China.
Farms in Siberia mainly grow grains, and the greenhouses are much smaller, so not everyone needs to stay on-site.
Besides, having been away from home for so long, they wanted to go back and visit.
The owners also left the farm. Wang Xiao and Ivanov were truly nonchalant, showing no intention of staying to wait for news. They left as soon as they were told to, displaying an extremely high level of composure.
In late autumn, Moscow is ablaze with colors, like an oil painting.
It's no exaggeration to say that any photo you take with your camera can be used as a cover.
At the very last moment of autumn, this city reached its peak of beauty.
The car drove through the streets of Moscow, passing by men and women dressed in colorful clothes.
Everyone was impeccably dressed, and it was impossible to tell that the country was facing a severe economic crisis.
Only the elderly begging on street corners remind those who see them that, while they are intentionally or unintentionally ignoring it, many people are already struggling to make ends meet, or even have no means of survival.
As the car stopped to wait for pedestrians to cross, Ivanov kept his eyes fixed on the old woman with a headscarf.
The driver rolled down the window when a knock came in. He saw a boy who looked to be about eleven or twelve years old, a primary school student, leaning in and smiling ingratiatingly at them: "Sir, would you like a hamburger? It's really not appropriate for a gentleman as respectable as you and a lady as beautiful as you to stand in the cold wind. It's my pleasure to serve you."
Wang Xiao looked up and realized that their car was parked across from a McDonald's.
Ivanov asked Wang Xiao, "Would you like a hamburger?"
"Two hundred rubles, just two hundred rubles, and a steaming hot hamburger will be delivered to you."
This doesn't mean the hamburger is worth two hundred rubles.
That's the price of rye bread.
A 200-ruble hamburger? McDonald's is here to do business, not charity.
Ivanov took out some money and gave the boy an extra two hundred rubles, gesturing to him, "Take this to that old woman."
The boy's eyes darted around, and he pushed another boy, who was slightly younger than him and about eight or nine years old, to the car window, loudly assuring him, "Okay, sir, I'll be back soon."
With that, he took off running.
Wang Xiao looked at the little boy who had been left behind, both amused and exasperated. Was this considered a hostage being held as collateral?
She asked curiously, "How many trips do you make every day?"
"Twenty trips, sometimes twenty on a good day." The little boy was very proud. "Our service is the best, and everyone likes to ask us to run errands."
This means they earn at least four thousand rubles a day.
Good heavens, the driver couldn't help but shake his head. These days, many adults only earn this much money in a month, or even less.
Wang Xiao praised them, saying, "You guys are really capable."
The little boy became even more smug: "Our business will be even better when it gets colder. Respectable people like you shouldn't be out in the cold wind. Just sit comfortably in your car and we'll deliver everything to you."
Just then, a gust of wind blew up, and he shrank his neck, then muttered, "I need to buy a down jacket. I have to get a down jacket today."
His brother ran back after buying the hamburgers, handing them to the customer with a big smile.
Faced with his younger brother's request, he complained, "Why do you want everything? I just bought you a hamburger yesterday."
The younger brother jumped up and down, shouting, "I want one! I want a down jacket from China! All my friends have one, and I want one too. Otherwise, I won't come out to work with you next time!"
The voices gradually faded into the distance.
Then the two children met a boy who was seventeen or eighteen years old. The older boy obediently took out his rubles, counted out a few, and handed them to the older boy.
“This is the fee they handed over, 1,000 rubles,” Sergei sighed. “There are these groups on every street near McDonald’s. The older kids are in charge of setting prices and preventing their underlings from arguing.”
The driver gasped: "1,000 rubles! These little brats did nothing and got 1,000 rubles for nothing!"
Sergei smiled and shook his head: "They also have to pay tribute, otherwise no one will protect them."
As if to prove his point, a burly man in a black leather jacket appeared next to the seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy and took a roll of rubles from him.
"They were called men, the elite force of the Mafia."
Sergei said this with a sarcastic tone.
That's right, the legendary and mysterious Mafia actually mainly earns its income by collecting protection money.
They receive commissions for negotiating with the police, who may then receive several thousand rubles in return.
Ivanov scoffed: "The police are the most passionate about these kinds of things."
Sergei spoke on behalf of the police: "They have no choice; they are severely understaffed. In a sense, the presence of these men also helps maintain order in the city."
Whether this order is good or bad.
But in the end, good order is better than bad order, and bad order is better than no order.
The situation has already become like this, what else can be done?
Wang Xiao racked his brains and finally found a point to praise: "At least these kids are trying to work and earn money, instead of going around in groups of three or five and just robbing each other."
During the Chinese New Year, members of their Huaxia tour group even suffered some mishaps.
Instead of being comforted, Ivanov gritted his teeth and said, "These brats must have skipped class. Is it time for school to let out yet?"
The driver chuckled, "These days, even school teachers are busy looking for part-time jobs, so they're all getting out of school earlier than ever."
What can we do? It can only get worse.
Ivanov remained expressionless.
However, when children came by later and asked him to wipe their cars, he did not refuse.
The payment for washing the car this time was also two hundred rubles.
However, this money is obviously much harder to earn.
Three boys, aged eleven or twelve, carrying buckets and rags, worked for almost half an hour, their hands turning as red as carrots from the cold, before finally finishing the task.
When the money was handed to them, all three of them smiled happily: "Thank you, and good luck to you."
After the car drove away, Wang Xiao turned around and saw them still happily bumping arms with each other.
This money is really hard to earn.
The only advantage is that there aren't any older kids collecting commissions from them yet.
If Wang Xiao's intuition told her that this period of freedom wouldn't last long.
Soon, children and men will flock to the scene.
This terrible, chaotic order seems endless.
The car was parked on the commercial street. As soon as the door opened and Wang Xiao hadn't even gotten out, a vendor came over to hawk his wares: "Want some privatization securities? 20,000 rubles, only 20,000 rubles now."
Ivanov said impatiently, "No need."
Is he crazy? He spent 20,000 rubles? He could have gone to the countryside and collected them; with 20,000 rubles, he could have gotten a hundred of these privatization securities.
As Wang Xiao got out of the car and went upstairs with Ivanov, the latter suddenly asked, "Wang, do you think the economy will develop if we can handle privatized securities fairly, justly, and openly?"
His question was a bit of a jumbled mess, but Wang Xiao still got it and gave a direct negative answer: "Impossible."
"Why? So that everyone can have equal access to state property."
Wang Xiao was both amused and exasperated: "Are we just going to sit around and do nothing? The means of production can only create wealth through labor. If everyone has a quota of 10,000, and everyone receives dividends through this quota, then who will think of ways to make money?"
Are you crazy? All that hard work, risk, and effort, and in the end, all the money I make is split between me and the guy next to me who doesn't care about anything.
Am I crazy to go through all this trouble?
Don't underestimate human laziness; everyone prefers an easy life. Technological progress is precisely because humans are lazy enough.
She couldn't help but complain, "I don't understand what kind of idiot came up with this idea. Haven't we suffered enough from the 'iron rice bowl' system? What's the fundamental difference between this distribution model and the 'iron rice bowl' system?"
I believe that no one who can sit in a high position is stupid, no matter how smart they are.
All I can say is that the people who came up with this plan are inherently evil. They just want a plausible excuse to brazenly seize state property.
Ivanov muttered to himself, "What should be done? How can Russia be saved?"
Marx seems to have left this question unanswered, given that the Soviet Union had already collapsed.
What about God? Can God give instructions?
"Stop dreaming." Wang Xiao dispelled his wishful thinking. "What God wants is offerings, not for you to cause him trouble."
What are you thinking about?
If burning incense and praying to Buddha could solve problems, there's no such thing as a free lunch.
Wang Xiao grabbed the newspaper and started reading it from beginning to end. The farm was quite remote, and much of the information had already passed through his hands.
Doing business in Russia right now requires constant attention to gather all sorts of information, otherwise you might accidentally step on a landmine.
She had just opened a newspaper when she seemed to hear a roar coming from the shop downstairs.
She looked up and saw her assistant in the office rush downstairs to find out what was going on.
Less than five minutes later, he ran back and reported to his boss with a look of utter dismay: "A customer bought a fake down jacket outside, couldn't find the seller, and came here to cause trouble."
He really didn't know what to say. He believed that the wronged should be held accountable, and that he should go to the place where he bought it to settle the score.
You can't expect the central bank that issues currency to exchange counterfeit money for real money just because you received counterfeit money.
If such a good thing existed in the world, he would be laughing in his sleep.
Unexpectedly, the boss didn't take it lightly like he did. Instead, he stood up, his face serious: "Fake down jacket? What kind of fake down jacket? Did you buy it from a Chinese person?"
The bodyguard was taken aback, but still answered honestly, "It seems to have chicken feathers stuffed in it. I bought it from a Chinese merchant at the free market."
Damn it!
Wang Xiao was about to explode.
She took every precaution she could, fearing that her compatriots would be disloyal and seek their own death.
As it turns out, these guys are truly hopeless; they can only ever see the petty gains right in front of them.
In an instant, Wang Xiao only wanted the Moscow police to lock all these bad apples up in jail.
————————
In 1992, Chinese down jackets were very popular in the Russian market. However, their reputation quickly soured, and by 1993, they were practically unsellable.
Furthermore, Russia's privatization process can be described as a complete mess.
This is probably a common problem; all public property is sold off cheaply to pre-selected individuals.
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