Chapter 266 Even High Mountains Are Nothing More Than That (Bug Fix): It's Never Just Milk and Bread
The wheelchair was carried downstairs, and as they reached the door, Wang Xiao subconsciously looked up at the sky.
It was pitch black; the stars seemed veiled in a gray mist, and the moon was nowhere to be seen.
She sighed softly and muttered to herself, "So there's no moon."
Xiao Gao and Xiao Zhao felt that their boss was too busy to think straight. It was the 27th of the twelfth lunar month, almost Chinese New Year! Where was the moon? If they wanted to see the moon, they should at least wait until the 15th of the first lunar month.
So here's the question: if there's no moon, what was that incredibly bright light she saw in the upstairs corridor, shining through the skylight and refracted by the snow?
Wang Xiao looked around. The lights in the Ministry of Science and Technology compound weren't particularly dazzling. It was already late, and the streetlights were just the usual ones shaped like white magnolias.
It can illuminate the outline of the road, but it's not very bright.
Suddenly, her gaze was drawn to the cold white halo in front of her; it was a jeep with military license plates.
Her gaze instinctively followed the beam of the car headlights, eventually landing on the air vent of the technology department. It was the xenon headlights of the military vehicle, refracted by the snow, shining through the window frame into the corridor, illuminating the floor tiles and the old five-pointed star.
In an instant, Wang Xiao felt incredibly regretful that she was a person with absolutely no literary talent, so she was completely unable to describe her inner feelings and emotional fluctuations.
She blurted out, "Even without the moon, the car headlights can still illuminate the five-pointed star."
The general, whose shoulder was adorned with the stars of his rank, stared blankly at her pointing at the car lights, completely unable to comprehend the meaning behind her seemingly nonsensical words.
But just half a second later, he yelled at the top of his lungs, "Are you blind? Get over here right now!"
The soldiers waiting by the car rushed over, one on each side, to lift Wang Xiao's wheelchair.
Xiao Gao and Xiao Zhao were startled and immediately said, "No need, brothers, we'll do it."
But the general insisted: "How can soldiers just stand by and watch? Take it away immediately."
Tsk, cultured people always speak in such flowery language, saying things like "it can still light up even without the moon," and pointing at their military vehicles, isn't she just trying to get them to lift her up?
Oh well, it's alright. She's a woman and it's inconvenient for her to be in a wheelchair. It's no problem for them to lend a hand.
Director Song from the Ministry of Science and Technology personally saw them out, and upon seeing this, he also offered a self-criticism: "Our steps are poorly designed; there should be a ramp to make it easier for wheelchairs to get up and down."
The general immediately agreed: "Indeed."
Wang Xiao's inner monologue: Hehe, I'm not the only one who lacks literary talent and can't grasp subtle metaphors and symbols. I really don't need to feel guilty.
So she was steadily lifted into his black Volga sedan by the two soldiers, and then politely thanked them.
After the car door closed, she didn't forget to nod and wave goodbye to the general who was walking towards the military jeep.
The car sped all the way to the Changgong Hotel.
Before the driver had even brought the car to a complete stop, two doormen came over to help carry the luggage.
According to the standards of high-end hotels catering to foreign guests, guests' luggage cannot be placed on the ground; it must be carried from the trunk into the room.
But upon seeing Wang Xiao sitting in a wheelchair, the quick-witted doorman immediately switched to helping push the wheelchair.
It must be said that this upscale international hotel lives up to its name; the doorman even used a wheelchair-assisted skateboard.
However, both Xiao Gao and Xiao Zhao were alarmed. They felt that it was one thing for two active junior colleagues to take their jobs in the Ministry of Science and Technology compound, but it was really unacceptable for the doorman to do their work as well.
"No need, no need, we'll do it ourselves."
The doorman, who had been refused, readily complied and immediately replied in Chinese with a beaming smile: "Okay."
As he spoke, he had already helped his colleague lift the luggage from the trunk and put it on the trolley.
Wang Xiao smiled at the blond, blue-eyed, high-nosed doorman and asked in Russian, "Russian or Ukrainian?"
Although his Chinese is quite fluent, his pronunciation is just a bit stiff, but there's an indescribable Russian accent in his words.
The doorman was slightly surprised, but still answered with a smile, "Russia, I'm from Russia."
Wang Xiao smiled and nodded: "When did you come to Beijing?"
As she was pushed through the hotel entrance, Yang Tao took out 10 yuan and handed it to another Huaxia doorman: "Please, have some tea."
The doorman seemed used to this treatment, accepting the gift with a smile: "Thank you."
The blond, blue-eyed Russian doorman named Aris accompanied Wang Xiao with a smile all the way through the check-in process, until he was escorted to his room.
His tipping standards were much higher than his colleagues', and Yang Tao directly handed him 50 yuan: "Thank you for your hard work."
Aris's smile was brighter than the lights that had just been turned on in the guest room. He thanked him politely, then bowed and left.
As soon as the guest room door closed, Wang Xiao leaned back on the soft leather sofa and gently touched the blooming protea in the vase with her fingers.
Excellent, Zhao Qing has secured the qualification to supply special imported flowers for high-end international hotels.
The boss was quite satisfied with her subordinate's hard work and nodded; but when she sat up straight, she began to torment another subordinate: "Yang Tao, tell me your opinion on Aris."
The clock on the wall has already struck nine o'clock in the evening.
Even after a day of working like a beast of burden, a laborer still can't rest, or even relax for a moment, and has to force his CPU to run at high speed: "He is smart, knows his own strengths, and is also able to humble himself."
According to Aris, he came to Beijing this year—well, it should be last year—after graduating from university in 1993 to look for opportunities.
He originally wanted to start a business, but he was cheated and left penniless, so he had to find a job.
He happened to see a notice in English that the hotel was hiring a doorman, so he applied.
Yang Tao racked her brains to analyze: "He is tall, handsome, and white. For a hotel, having such a doorman is a business card in itself, so they are willing to hire him. He is a college graduate working in the service industry, and the fact that he can put aside his pride shows that he is not a rigid person."
Don't be fooled by the fact that doormen can collect tips and receive foreign exchange subsidies, making their income quite substantial; however, as a service position, and one that is quite appearance- and age-dependent, they are generally not highly regarded by technical or managerial staff.
In this situation, as a college graduate, his ability to accept his job in Beijing with equanimity demonstrates at least good mental fortitude.
Wang Xiao did not comment on her analysis, but instead played with the apples in the fruit bowl, which were also a South African specialty, Kai apples.
Whether the apple tastes good or not is another matter; what's amazing is its aroma, which exudes a strong fragrance similar to citrus and pineapple.
As Wang Xiao held the apple to his nose and inhaled its rich aroma, he continued, "So, what do you think the future holds for Aris?"
“He should take advantage of his time as a doorman and now a hotel employee to study hard. If he wants to move into a technical or management position in the future, he might still have a good career path,” Yang Tao added cautiously. “After all, he can’t be a doorman forever.”
She couldn't help but let her imagination run wild. Could it be that the boss had taken a liking to Aris and was considering him as a management trainee? Would he send him to Boss Zhao's company as a supervisor once the hotel in Pudong was completed?
It's not impossible.
It just so happens that he had worked at Changgong Hotel, one of the most upscale hotels catering to foreign guests in Beijing. From groundbreaking to opening, a hotel typically takes at least two years, which is roughly enough time for him to learn and grow.
Wang Xiao put down the Kai apple and started playing with the mango instead. This was a Tanzanian specialty, air-freighted to China along with cashews. It perfectly filled the gap in the high-end fruit market during winter.
The boss casually remarked, "What if he doesn't learn it?"
Yang Tao paused for a moment, then blurted out, "Not learning?"
Working as a doorman forever? That's impossible.
Doormen are usually young men around 20 years old; there are no doormen over 25.
Besides, Russians age more easily. Don't be fooled by Aris's current model-like appearance; in less than two years, he'll probably look terrible.
Wang Xiao smelled the aroma of mangoes and chuckled softly, "Being a doorman is too easy money. Here, the tips you receive in a day could easily equal someone else's monthly salary. As the saying goes, people laugh at poverty but not prostitution. Quick money can easily destroy a person's correct self-perception and understanding."
Yang Tao quickly picked up where the boss left off: "I understand. It's like boiling a frog in lukewarm water. By the time you realize it, it's too late to jump out."
Her summary was quite good, but the boss made it clear that he wouldn't let his subordinates pass easily, and started to make things difficult for her again: "Can't get out of this? Then think carefully about what he'll do when he gets kicked out of the hotel?"
Before Yang Tao could even catch her breath, everything went black, and another day of burning her inner energy ensued: "He can do business again. Most of the people staying at Changgong are high-level business people. He's worked here for several years, and through this exposure, he should have learned the ways of doing business. After all—"
Yang Tao took a deep breath before adding, "If he wants to get more tips, he has to be good at reading people and reacting quickly."
Wang Xiao laughed, put down the mango, leaned back, and posed another difficult question: "What if he hasn't studied it? What if he only focuses on trivial details and has never cared about business?"
Yang Tao is really going crazy. She doesn't learn this or that. Is Aris just wasting his life?
Who gave him the courage? Even civil servants in Moscow are worried about not getting paid, as they don't have a secure job.
"Think about it carefully." Wang Xiao wiped his hands with a hot towel. "What will he do then? What will he do when he only smiles at the customers?"
Yang Tao's CPU was really about to burn out; she couldn't even spit out the strange-tasting Laoshan white flower snake water she drank.
Yes, this water is particularly popular among overseas Chinese in Southeast Asia, and it's also very well-received by Hong Kong businessmen. The fact that Changgong regularly keeps it on hand indicates that a significant number of its guests are from Hong Kong and Southeast Asia.
While she wished she had two more heads, Mr. Wang had already turned on his Panasonic color TV and started doing moxibustion while listening to the background noise.
When I saw the traditional Chinese medicine doctor today, he said that sitting for long periods of time can easily lead to poor blood circulation, and that I should sit in a seated position to improve the blockage.
Amidst the rich aroma of mugwort, Yang Tao's gaze swept over the image of Shanghai on television.
The male and female protagonists are having a meal, and a gray-haired waiter is serving them.
Yang Tao had a sudden inspiration: "He can work as a waiter in a Western restaurant. The age requirement for waiters in Western restaurants is not as high as that for doormen. He is white, a college graduate, and has experience working in high-end international hotels like Changgong. Getting a job at a Western restaurant will not be a problem for him. He can also bring all his brothers and sisters with him. The restaurant's waiters will all be foreigners, which will be a unique feature."
Yes, in today's fervent climate of traveling abroad, being able to enjoy the services of foreigners, especially white people, can generate an indescribable sense of superiority and pleasure for customers.
What truly motivates customers to pay for high-end service is the sense of pleasure and superiority it provides.
Wang Xiao smiled, still not commenting on her analysis, but only looking at Yang Tao: "I have high expectations for you, and they will only get higher, because the R&D center in Beijing is very important."
"From now on, you must learn to recognize, utilize, and analyze people; you cannot afford to be lax in the slightest."
"I've chosen your general, and I don't want to be wrong about it."
Yang Tao felt a rush of heat to her head, her face flushed red with excitement.
"Boss... I... I will definitely do my job well."
Her nose stung, and she felt an urge to cry.
She felt that her hard work, even the most strenuous efforts, had paid off; her boss had seen what she had done.
Wang Xiao nodded: "Alright, go back and get some rest."
As for herself, it's true that she puts on a face mask before bed and calls Ivanov to let him know she's safe.
Beijing time is five hours ahead of Moscow time. At this moment, Ivanov is comfortably lounging in his executive chair, waiting for the beautiful evening.
Wang Xiao told him she was safe, and Ivanov suddenly asked her, "Wang, look out your window. Isn't the moonlight beautiful tonight? I've always wanted to see the moon from your window; I always felt it was clearer than from my own room."
Wang Xiao felt a sense of powerlessness when engaging in human-computer interaction.
Hehe, the moonlight is beautiful tonight, a quote from Natsume Soseki.
"I've always wanted to see the moon from your window." — Fan Liuyuan's teasing remark to Bai Liusu.
Is this how you cobble together AI?
"Today is the 27th of the twelfth lunar month, and the moon won't be visible in Beijing tonight. It's not even 5 a.m. in Moscow now, so there probably won't be a moon either. Speak plainly!"
“Alright.” Ivanov dejectedly put away his painstakingly prepared notes and got down to business. “I went to visit the Academy of Sciences…”
Before he could finish speaking, the office door was suddenly pushed open.
The oak door panel slammed against the wall with a loud "bang".
"Ivanov, you bastard! What have you done?!"
Even through the phone line, Wang Xiao could feel Major General Punonin's face, as fiery as Godzilla, appearing before him.
Without hesitation, she slammed down the phone and firmly stated her philosophy: "Boys have to grow up and experience the storms of life on their own in order to thrive."
Brave Ivan, fearless in the face of difficulties, keep it up! ヾ(°°)
As for her, as his partner, since she had already finished the moxibustion and applied a face mask, of course she should go to bed.
Despite the 5-hour time difference and the distance of 5,843 kilometers, Ivanov, who was in Moscow, really didn't want to be brave.
He dodged the tax police major general's first punch in a flustered manner, trying to get away with it: "Hey, my friend, let me explain, I haven't done anything lately."
"I didn't do it!" Punonin's anger was like a nuclear explosion. "While I was dealing with the Romanian people, what were you doing at the Academy of Sciences and the Institute of Microelectronics?"
Ivanov dodged and weaved, desperately trying to escape the beatings under the cover of Nikolai and his bodyguards, all the while trying to prove his innocence: "I'm doing this for the future of Russia, for my motherland and my people!"
"Motherland? People?" Punonin slammed his fist on the porcelain screen, his fist burning as if he were a sunflower, and fine cracks appeared under his fist.
However, the pain in his fist did not lessen Punonin's anger even slightly. "Don't tell me that every dollar you earn, 30 cents of it goes into milk and bread in the Moscow market!"
"The milk and bread have been poisoned! Do you know what you can build with these blueprints you've obtained? They're missile chips that can shoot down Tu-160s! They're shells aimed at the heart of Russia, shells that will dig the grave for all of Russia!"
Punonin was even angrier and more sorrowful than when he had previously misunderstood Ivanov as a drug lord and human trafficker. "You pig, you brainless pig! Without the dignity of the Russian nation, where does the dignity of the Russian people come from? None at all, not even if you are richer than a country!"
Hiding behind a heavy bookcase, Ivanov, under the cover of four bodyguards, shouted: "You think I'm selling off the Soviet Union's legacy for a pittance? God, you actually think that?"
"Otherwise what?" Punonin, heartbroken, found the golf club behind the door and swung it at Ivanov, who was being protected by layers of bodyguards. "Then we'll trade our military technology for cheap black bread. There's no idiot like you in the world!"
Ivanov hid behind the curtains again, refusing to peek out. As a result, the golf clubs that were swung at him were blocked by the soft curtains, turning even the hardest steel into silk.
“Otherwise?” he mimicked Pronin’s tone. “Treat it like waste paper and let it rot in a Russian safe? Ha! You have no shame! This is the legacy of the Soviet Union! If you can’t inherit it, why did you kill the Soviet Union?”
Punonin swung his club hard, lifting the curtain and sending it hurtling towards the blue-and-white porcelain vase on the high table. The vase rolled to the floor, miraculously cushioned by the Georgian carpet, without shattering.
But this made Punonin even angrier: "Who said it has to become waste paper? We can..."
"We can sell it for a better price, right?" Ivanov said with a mocking expression. "To the United States or to South Korea?"
He spread his hands, revealing deep disappointment. "Look, you are powerless to inherit everything from the Soviet Union. All you can think of besides turning it into scrap metal and waste paper is to sell it for a good price."
"The Soviet Union is dead. The technological legacy it left behind is its child. You killed the Soviet Union and took everything from it, but you never thought about letting its child grow up. You only intend to starve this child to death, or simply sell it off."
Punonin was furious at his shameless accusation: "We betrayed Soviet technology? It was you! You betrayed it! In the contract with the Institute of Microelectronics, you betrayed Soviet chips!"
Ivanov suddenly erupted in fury, even peeking out from behind the curtains: "You know it's Soviet technology? I've never sold it out! I'm giving it a new lease on life! Using China's factories and markets to give it a new lease on life!"
Taking advantage of the moment, Punonin swung his golf club, furious: "We don't need that! Rebirth is our own rebirth!"
“Where can we be reborn?” Ivanov looked sad. “Of the three pillars of Soviet chip manufacturing—the Moscow Design Bureau, the Kiev wafer fab, and the Minsk packaging plant—what do we have left? Without downstream factories, the blueprints from the design bureau are just waste paper.”
Unfortunately, Punonin's heart was colder and harder than the ice of Moscow: "That's still better than handing over weapons to China!"
"If it's sent to Europe, America, Japan, and South Korea, then everything will be fine?" Ivanov stared at him, then suddenly deflated. "Now I finally understand what Wang meant. We Russians are just so naive and hypocritical."
Punoning paused for a moment, then subconsciously emphasized, "They make civilian products..."
"Then why can't China use it for civilian purposes?" Ivanov pointed to the contract. "It says 'civilian' in black and white, why can't you see that?"
Punoning roared, "Do you think everyone is as stupid as you? Once chip technology reaches China, will it really only be used for civilian purposes? Don't their military industries need it?"
"Then our military industry doesn't need it either?" Ivanov roared. "Our military industry can only cling to the legacy of the Soviet Union, waiting for all the aircraft carriers, nuclear submarines, planes, and artillery to become scrap metal? Don't they need to evolve and upgrade?"
He pointed forcefully at the blueprints, "Yes, I'm not stupid. I know perfectly well that they will become China's airplanes and cannons, but at the same time, they can also become our own airplanes and cannons! This is our only way out!"
Punoning froze, gripping his golf club and panting heavily. It took him a full three seconds before he asked incredulously, "Does she know?"
Ivanov looked at him as if he were an idiot: "Of course, she's not stupid! The factory sends data back to the R&D center, where our Russian semiconductor experts solve the problems. Science has no borders, but scientists do. How could we not feed the upgraded technology back into the Russian military industry?"
Punonin couldn't believe his ears: "She's gone mad? She's going to great lengths to help Russia develop its military industry? God, don't tell me she's really in love with you."
Nothing in the world, except love, can make a frighteningly shrewd woman foolish and blind.
A sudden surge of deep disappointment welled up within him.
Strickland in "The Moon and Sixpence" was absolutely right: Women's minds are pathetic! All they know is love.
Ivanov's disappointment was even stronger than his: "So that's all you can see things this way."
He looked intently at the man in front of him.
This was his childhood idol, a mountain that stood tall throughout his adolescence, a mountain he could never reach.
Punonin is still very young, not yet 40 years old, and is recognized as a rising star among the government's top officials.
But at this moment, as Ivanov looked at him, he thought of Belikov from Chekhov's story—the man in a case.
His thinking was terribly limited, his vision was unbelievably narrow, and his eyes could no longer see the future.
Punonin pressed, "Otherwise? Why would she do something so stupid?"
"Ha! You actually think it's stupid? This is a brilliant idea! Otherwise, why would Russian scientists, these patriotic scientists, serve China? For cheap bread and milk? Then why don't these brilliant minds go to America or South Korea?"
"They did it for their motherland, for the future of Russia! Unlike you, who do nothing but boast and shout slogans. Of course—"
He sneered, "It's all for their own sake. Everyone, including you, just wants to package up their early lives, the glorious early lives of the Soviet Union, and sell them for a good price. Only she, only we, know that they were living, breathing, creative people who could have created even more glory!"
"At our R&D center, they can unleash the brilliance of the second half of their lives!"
Ivanov gasped for breath, “The Kremlin owes them, and we will repay them.”
Punonin's eyes were bloodshot as she stared at him intently: "So, she's not afraid that Russia's military industry will reach new heights? She's not afraid at all?"
"Why be afraid? Even before China had the atomic bomb, it dared to attack the United Nations and break ties with the Soviet Union." Ivanov shook his head. "Those who take the torch only need to run faster than it goes out. This is true for China, and even more so for Russia."
He raised his eyes again. "Besides, the Soviet Union never died because of its backward military industry."
The ones who are truly lagging behind are people, those in high positions.
He thought he truly understood why the king wasn't afraid.
Because she had no filter, she knew better than him what kind of people were in charge of Russia.
Even with the most advanced weapons, they can still destroy themselves.
But he had no other choice.
He reached out and stroked the sunflower screen, which was covered in cracks and had been struck by golf clubs, creating a spiderweb-like pattern. He gently instructed his assistant, "Fix it."
This was the greatest effort he, as a Russian, could make for his homeland.
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morning!
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