Chapter 375 We Are Allies (Bug Fix): The President Will Welcome Us
Businessmen are the most pragmatic and profit-driven group in the world, oh, and perhaps we could also add politicians to that list.
In short, businessmen prioritize profit.
In the morning, everyone can be tense and backstabbing each other; in the evening, they can sit together happily, raising their glasses and having a great time.
The wind outside was like a lost child in a great forest, rushing aimlessly through the darkness, not knowing when it would find a way out.
Inside, the adults were comfortably immersed in the warm fragrance, so comfortable that they could easily take a nap and fall asleep.
Wang Xiao genuinely thought that the CEO of Surgut Oil Company was a smart man, and he really knew how to handle people.
For example, the dinner we had at the company cafeteria today consisted of cold sour fish, braised beef with potatoes, and borscht. Even the drinks were a kind of alcoholic beverage made from rye bread.
There was no black caviar pyramid, no French-style baked lobster, no roasted reindeer spine with black truffle, and no premium vodka or imported red wine.
So this steaming hot dinner, even under the watchful eyes of three generations of oil workers—old, middle-aged, and young—in the canteen, didn't seem ridiculous or out of place.
After the polite greetings and mutual flattery (so Russians can't say nice things? Just throw them in their face!), all that's left is to get down to business.
The general manager of Surgut Oil Company made it clear that yesterday's shooting at the Workers' Cultural Palace was a complete accident.
The meaning of this "unexpected" is not to say that the gunman was not arranged by them.
According to the oil company, the shooting was a spontaneous act, a voluntary armed response by veteran oil workers to resist the Siberian mafia's encroachment on the Surgut oil field.
The general manager repeatedly emphasized, "We really didn't target you, ladies and gentlemen! We never expected you to come. Look how strong the wind is, how heavy the snow is, even the airport is closed. How were we supposed to know you would come?"
He spoke from the bottom of his heart.
If Surgut Oil Company had known that these Muscovites were backed by the head of the tax police, they would never have dared to confront them so directly.
He also subtly complained, "If we hadn't been forced to leave early yesterday, this accident wouldn't have happened."
Oh, that's why they used their cunning to have the workers carry away the top executives of Surgut Oil Company, so much so that the latter didn't even attend the auction.
Wang Xiao remained silent, her eyes glancing intermittently at the propaganda poster across the street that proclaimed "Glory to Oil Workers." The Russian letters on it were a bit blurry, but she could still make out the words: Продолжимдвигатьсявпередккоммунизму.
We continue onward toward communism.
For a moment, it seemed as if the Soviet Union was still here.
Ivanov remained silent, staring quietly at the general manager of the Surgut Oil Company, his hand seemingly unconsciously stroking the wine glass he held.
"Alright, alright!" General Manager Maksimovich seemed unable to bear it any longer and reluctantly apologized, "In any case, it was our mistake, and we apologize to you."
Punonin glanced at Ivanov, whose attitude was equally reluctant: "Alright, sir, let's not talk about that anymore. Let's get to our work. I need to know when the oil field will start supplying oil to Siberia?"
Maksirovich, who had been feigning pain and frustration, now had his brows furrowed deeply: "Sir, my esteemed sir, please give the Surgut oil field a way out. Our workers are only receiving basic wages now. If we continue to supply Siberian oil, then all the workers will be left to starve."
It's not that the Siberians are more shameless than those oil thieves in Moscow; they wouldn't even pay a single kopek for their goods.
Rather, it is the financial difficulties in the Siberian region that have become so severe that they are no longer sustainable.
Apart from oil and gas companies and mining companies, almost all companies are unable to secure orders.
The few companies that still manage to secure orders are unable to produce qualified products due to the disruption of the supply chain. These valuable orders are essentially worthless to them.
Against the backdrop of the ruble's continued depreciation, this production predicament has led to triangular debt, like a python tightly coiled around the necks of local government agencies and enterprises, making it difficult for everyone to breathe.
Siberia needs oil and natural gas, but they don't have the money to pay for them.
To be honest, Maksirovich sympathized with them. In Siberia, without oil and natural gas, these unfortunate people would simply freeze to death.
But as the general manager of the oil field, he certainly had to consider the survival of the oil field first.
If even basic wages cannot be paid, then everyone will starve to death.
From yesterday to today, the head of the Surgut oil field, who was full of ambition and determination, has barely slept a wink and is completely exhausted.
He raised his hands, rubbed his face vigorously, and repeated, "Sir, we have more than 50,000 employees who need to survive."
“Barter.” Ivanov removed his hand from his wine glass and tapped the table lightly. “We’ll trade oil and natural gas for food—grain, meat, dairy products, anything. At least that will keep everyone alive.”
He thought for a moment and added, "Make a list of machinery, equipment, parts, lubricants, catalysts, corrosion inhibitors, and other things that the oil field can use, and try to exchange them with them. If they don't provide the goods, the oil field will directly cut off the oil and gas supply."
He smiled meaningfully and said, "Sir, you should be very good at these tasks."
Maksirovich kept a straight face and did not deny it.
With the Ministry of the Interior and the tax police taking action simultaneously, the fact that the oil field was secretly exchanging oil and gas for goods with other regions was hardly a secret.
He showed no shame whatsoever.
The payments from the Moscow oil export company were slow to arrive in their accounts. If they didn't find a way to save themselves, they would have been blown to bits by the Siberian winds long ago.
But that's not enough.
Maksirovich shook his head: "No, sir, the oil field and tens of thousands of workers can't live on this alone. There are too many things that can't be exchanged for it. We need money. Only rubles and dollars can keep the oil field running normally and allow the workers to truly survive."
Punoning frowned slightly; this was clearly putting someone in a difficult position.
If the oil field's predicament were so easy to solve, it wouldn't have been put up for auction.
Although there are rumors that the government-led privatization auctions are selling off state assets at bargain prices.
In reality, despite their considerable value, most of these companies are indeed facing production difficulties. Even companies like oil and gas fields and mines, which have no trouble selling their products, often have their workers owed wages.
Otherwise, there wouldn't be so many demonstrations and protests by oil workers and miners.
He considered whether he should clear his throat to warn the Shulgut Oil Company not to go too far.
He has already been very lenient with them. If he didn't want to cause a larger conflict, he would have shown them what harsh measures are.
As a result, Ivanov did not think that Maksilovich's request was difficult at all. Instead, he nodded and said, "Sir, you've hit the nail on the head. That's what I was thinking too. That's why we need to export our oil and gas."
The oil company executives at the dinner table were getting a little impatient.
Good heavens, after all that rambling, it's all just nonsense!
Does the Surgut oil field not export its oil and gas? It has been exporting all along! They just don't see the money in it.
Yes, yes, there are payments. But what can that little bit of money do? It's not even enough to pay the workers' wages.
At this point, they forgot how they had intercepted the returned funds and lined their own pockets.
Now their eyes and hearts are filled with anger towards the Moscow Oil Export Company.
“So we’re going to bypass Moscow.” Ivanov’s gaze swept intently over the old foxes and cunning men opposite him. “If they don’t pay us, we won’t let them export our oil and gas.”
The oil workers present were speechless.
Good heavens! Indeed, young people coming to power only make things worse.
Because these guys, whose beards barely grow long, really don't understand anything.
“We don’t have export rights!” Maxilovich was speechless. “Sir, since you also run an oil company, don’t you know this? Export rights, our necks are held by export rights.”
Ivanov laughed, casually throwing out a sentence that exploded like a thunderclap, leaving everyone at the table speechless: "Yes, I do. Wuzhou Oil Company has export rights."
Why would that happen?
Prior to the Sakhalin-1 project, the oil fields on Sakhalin Island produced oil for use in Siberia and were not exported.
In 1993, with American and Japanese capital withdrawing one after another, the Russian federal government, in order to retain foreign investment, smoothly promote the Sakhalin project, and attract more foreign investment to Russia, gave Wuzhou Oil Company, the first company to take the plunge, many preferential policies.
Export rights are one of them.
The government at the time estimated that if the Sakhalin-1 project produced oil and gas, the output would go east to East Asia.
There is no conflict between the existing Russian oil fields and the pipelines that connect to Central Asia, Eastern Europe, and other former CIS countries.
However, the Russian federal government has never taken a meticulous approach to its work.
Even though that's how it's planned, when it comes to putting it into official documents, it's very careless and doesn't restrict export rights at all.
"The oil and gas from the Surgut oil field can be exported to Europe through the export rights of Wuzhou Company."
Seeing the expressions on the faces of the crowd—some more surprised than pleased, others more pleased than surprised—Ivanov smiled slightly, placed both hands on the table, leaned forward, and scanned each face with his gaze. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I have shown my sincerity; this is a gift I have given to the Surgut Oil Company. Now, shouldn’t you all return the favor?”
Across from him, a high-ranking executive from the oil company laughed out loud: "Mr. Ivanov, you already have the Surgut oil field, what other gifts could possibly please you?"
God, the right to export!
It can be said that one of the important means by which the Russian federal central government controls local areas is export rights.
These cunning, shrewd, and corrupt parasites exploit local interests by using export rights.
He actually has export rights!
With this, what else is there to fear?
Ivanov smiled slightly.
In Suvagut, the nights come early in October, and the lights in the canteen are not bright, probably to create an atmosphere.
For a fleeting moment, Punoning even vaguely saw Wang Xiao's shadow on the face of his childhood friend.
They look remarkably alike.
Punoning subconsciously looked at Wang Xiao again, who was as quiet as a shadow.
She did nothing but listen to the conversation at the dinner table.
But as long as she was there, Punonin couldn't ignore her presence.
But the next second, the tax police major general’s attention was diverted because he heard Ivanov’s request: “Shares, my dear gentlemen, you can give me your shares as a gift.”
Ivanov smiled. "Of course, I won't delay payment; I'll pay for it myself."
At the dinner table, the oil company's top executives could no longer laugh.
The oldest among them cleared his throat and reminded Ivanov, "Sir, you already own the most shares, 40.12%."
“That’s not enough,” Ivanov stated bluntly. “I don’t want to work so hard only to end up with the oil company not being the one in charge.”
He tapped his fingers on the table and announced a number, "10%, sir. I need you to provide me with another 10% of the stock. I believe you have it."
Maksirovich frowned and firmly shook his head in refusal: "No, sir. We promise we won't cause trouble, but we can't hand the guns to you and leave the oil field with no chance to fight back."
He stared at Ivanov. "It's not that we don't trust you, sir, but we need a minimum guarantee that you won't exploit the oilfield workers to get your money back as quickly as possible to pay off the debts you incurred for buying the oilfield shares."
Although the oil field is barely surviving, at least everyone can still eat.
If that day really comes, everyone will probably starve to death.
Wang Xiao kept his eyes down and sighed silently to himself: No country lacks smart people, let alone highly educated talents who grew up in the Soviet Union. How could they not see through it?
Oligarchs, or rather bankers, will stop at nothing to raise funds to buy high-quality companies such as oil fields and mines at low prices; some may even resort to usury.
Under such pressure to repay loans, once they get their hands on the prize they desire, just like officials in ancient times who bought their way into office, they will definitely try every means to squeeze every last drop of profit out of them in order to make enough money.
If the head of Suagot Oil Company can see this, are the Kremlin and cabinet officials collectively so lacking in intelligence that they are completely unaware of this?
No, it won't happen.
They're not stupid, they're just plain bad.
They were like emperors who sold official positions and titles, completely disregarding the lives of ordinary people.
Ivanov looked back at Maksilovich and retorted directly, "That's exactly what I'm worried about. Don't worry, I have no repayment pressure. My shareholders and investors are long-term thinkers; they won't short-sightedly exploit the situation and don't care about short-term gains or losses."
“You’re only saying you don’t have repayment pressure right now,” Maksirovich retorted. “But you won’t stop. Siberian Oil Company, Surgut Oil Field, what’s next? Sir, we’re business people too. We understand one thing: how much money you have and how much cash you can come up with are not the same thing at all.”
Wang Xiao glanced at the former head of Surgut Oil Company with surprise. "You're quite impressive, buddy, for being able to foresee future risks."
Maksilovich then raised another potential concern: "Furthermore, it's still hard to say whether our oil and gas exports will proceed smoothly. Moscow may not be so easy to talk to."
This is a challenge to their authority!
If everyone follows suit, who will feed these bloodsucking fleas in the future?
Ivanov laughed, saying meaningfully, "My sir, do you think His Excellency the President would welcome these parasites? No, the President's interests are always with the people's. The Russian people despise vampires, and the President despises them just as much."
The air was filled with the rich aroma of stewed beef and potatoes, and the whistling wind outside the window made the smell of beef even more enticing.
Even Maxilovich, who wasn't hungry, subconsciously swallowed, his voice slightly hoarse: "Sir, what do you mean by that?"
Punonin also subconsciously wanted to rub his temples. Ivan had been hanging out with Chinese people for a long time and had picked up their bad habits, like not speaking like a human being and not explaining things clearly. You had to figure everything out yourself.
If the result is good, it means you have good comprehension.
If the outcome is bad, it'll be like, "Hey, I told you so long ago, why didn't you understand?"
Now, with Maxilovich pressing his face against him, Ivanov's words remained incoherent: "Sir, we all hate corrupt officials, we hate parasites who abuse their power for personal gain, we hate gluttons who ignore the suffering of the people—"
His gaze swept over the group of people, until they were all beginning to suspect that he was making veiled accusations, before he finally made his conclusion: "The President is the same as us. We are comrades in the same trench, and we share a common enemy."
Maksirovich was a genuinely intelligent man and quickly grasped the unspoken meaning: the president needed them, he needed these rebels, he needed these local forces to stand on the president's side to confront the Moscow bureaucracy.
Ha! The rise of the Communist Party of the Russian Federation has put enormous pressure on the Kremlin.
Therefore, the leader of the Russian Federation government needs to win over new supporters to block the rise of the Communist Party of the Russian Federation.
They used workers as guns to drive out outsiders.
Now they too will become this gun, held in the president's hand, to challenge the authority of the old bureaucrats in the oil system, to seize their power, and to steal their money for the president.
But how will the president actually receive the money?
Maksirovich instinctively looked at Punonin.
Wang Xiao watched from the side, filled with mixed emotions.
Look, there are smart people everywhere. They grasped the key points so quickly.
The tax police major general nodded reservedly to the general manager of Surgut Oil Company: "We will send people to be stationed in the company's finance department."
The oil company's top executives all turned pale. Good heavens, tax police were watching their finances. How was the company supposed to survive?
Punonin smiled slightly: "Gentlemen, we will collect taxes fairly and will not increase various exorbitant taxes. But—"
His gaze suddenly sharpened. "If anyone tries to cause trouble, challenges the federal government's tax authority, or disrupts the normal production of oil companies, we will not be lenient."
A person with blood on their hands, once they are filled with murderous intent, can be described as brimming with killing intent.
Even Major Klevoseev was horrified, let alone the pampered oil company leaders at the table, who instinctively shook their heads, saying, "No, no."
Punonin slowly wiped his mouth, his amiable demeanor returning: "That's wonderful. I believe that with the concerted efforts of all three parties, the future of the Surgut oil field will only get better and better."
He had to admit that Ivan's suggestion to station tax police at Surgut Oil Company was a huge gift to him.
From then on, the tax police truly took root in Surgut.
In the future, Surgut will also become his voter base.
Therefore, at this moment, he is happy to protect Ivanov.
He put down the handkerchief he was wiping his mouth with, and emphasized with a friendly smile: "Gentlemen, since what you're worried about won't happen, why not transfer 10% of the shares to Ivanov as soon as possible? The sooner this is settled, the sooner everyone can settle down and get production under control."
Unfortunately, even with the guarantee of the tax police major general, the transfer of 10% of the shares is no small matter. It's not something that can be decided on the spot after drinking a couple of cups of wine made from rye bread.
Maksirovich, speaking on behalf of his colleagues, said: "Sir, we need to look for stocks. In fact, we don't have any stocks on hand."
Punoning had already begun putting on gloves and a hat, his movements methodical and his voice unhurried: "Gentlemen, I believe in your abilities, and I believe you will find the stock tomorrow."
He glanced at his watch, nodded, and looked at everyone with trust in his eyes. "We should be leaving tomorrow afternoon. I believe all the work will be completed by then."
Maksirovich's face turned ashen; this was simply too much.
Unfortunately, his guests had all stood up, some wearing hats, some wearing masks, and others tightening their scarves around their necks, and walked out without hesitation.
As soon as they stepped outside, everyone was taken aback.
Have you ever seen the Red Army statues sculpted by wind and snow in the wilderness in World War II movies?
What appears before them now is...
Workers, oil workers, thousands upon thousands of oil workers, stood densely packed outside the company canteen, silently waiting for their distinguished guests to finish their sumptuous dinner.
They stood silently in the snow, letting the snow cover them layer by layer.
The old man leading the group was clutching a bottle of liquor, clearly having drunk quite a bit to keep warm, so his voice reeked of alcohol: "Sir, my esteemed sir, will you fire us? Will you fire this burden in your eyes?"
The others remained silent, only pairs of eyes silently watching Ivanov in the darkness.
Who owns the oil field is no longer important to them, because that's something they can't control.
Their only concern now is their jobs. Even if their wages are cut and life gets harder every day, as long as they have jobs, they won't starve.
They would only truly be in despair if they lost their jobs.
Ivanov looked at him, then at the many workers, and finally shook his head: "No, I will not fire anyone."
Everyone eagerly pressed, "Really?"
“Really.” Ivanov emphasized again, then left his gaze on the bottle, making no attempt to hide his disgust. “I just want to advise you to drink less. If you still want to collect your retirement pensions, then stop drinking. Otherwise, you might get drunk and freeze to death outside one day, saving me a retirement pension.”
The people at the front burst into laughter. Good heavens, this boss actually thought of giving them retirement pensions?
Someone nodded haphazardly: "Of course, of course, the prohibition on alcohol."
As he spoke, he didn't forget to take a sip of wine.
Wang Xiao adjusted her scarf again, pretending not to see it.
What could she say?
Russia's alcoholism problem is a global issue that has remained unresolved despite numerous prohibitions.
They've already done more than enough by reminding us about retirement pensions.
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[Pat on head] Good morning! [Food emoji]
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