Chapter 374 Long Live the Great Unity of the People of the World: Have You Fighted for Him?
Ivanov’s words came fast and urgent, like a machine gun firing at the crowd.
The oil workers, who were originally filled with righteous indignation, were also stunned by his roar and shouts. For a moment, the small square fell into an eerie silence, with only the Siberian cold wind howling.
The foreman's face was flushed red from the wind, and his shouts were sharp and piercing as the wind blew them away: "So you mean the money from selling the oil field has nothing to do with us?"
Ha, that's utterly ridiculous.
Without their labor, Surgut would be a wasteland, a complete dead zone.
They gave life to the machinery and equipment, they drilled the first oil well, and they created a miracle on the Siberian wilderness!
Unfortunately, the wind in Surgut was too biting. He was standing right in the wind, and when he opened his mouth, a mouthful of wind blew the words he was about to say back down his throat.
Ivanov wouldn't wait for him to catch his breath before giving a firm and decisive answer: "It's alright! I'm not buying your shares!"
Taking advantage of being sheltered from the wind, he let his voice, carried by the gale, lash out at the workers, "It's like two brothers building a house together. The elder brother provides the land, timber, steel bars, bricks, cement, and other raw materials, while the younger brother is responsible for building the house. Then the house belongs to both brothers. Now the elder brother has sold me his share of the house, so of course I give my money to the elder brother."
Silence fell over the small square once again.
From a theoretical perspective, the Soviet Union, a country with a highly developed heavy industry and abundant forests, had no shortage of timber, steel bars, and cement.
But those who grew up in the planned economy era understand a basic principle: let alone steel and cement, even if you wanted to make yourself a small stool, without a plan, no one would sell you boards and nails.
On the contrary, since everyone has the strength to assemble these rare raw materials into houses, they are not so valuable.
Ivanov snapped at me, "Are you going to rob your own brother of the money he got from selling his house?"
The lead worker coughed for a long time, choked by the wind, before finally regaining his tongue and managing to speak: "Without us, there would be no oil field! What conquered this frozen land was the wisdom and sweat of the workers!"
"Do you know what it's like to have a drill bit stuck in permafrost at -45 degrees Celsius? It was us, young men even younger than you at the time, who took turns using blowtorches to heat it up and steam to melt it, working continuously for 72 hours! The engineers were on the drilling platform, swinging sledgehammers alongside us!"
"Do you know how our dormitories were built? In winter, the soil was frozen harder than iron, and heavy machinery couldn't get in at all. It was our commando team that used explosives to blast open the frozen soil and dug the foundation with shovels and picks! We oil workers went down from the drilling platform to move bricks and build walls!"
"Yes, yes, we received a free education at the school; the petroleum academy taught us a lot. But all that knowledge was a blank slate in the face of the Siberian permafrost! We improved the mud formula to prevent wellbore freezing, and we invented the 'steam-fused casing method'! These experiences were later written into the entire alliance's drilling manual!"
He roared one after another, shouting out his anger and sorrow, "We are the most loyal and proud builders and guardians of the oilfield!"
Ivanov did not interrupt him or refute him. Instead, after he finished speaking, he nodded seriously: "So the country recognizes your contributions and has given you shares."
He held up a megaphone and raised his voice, "If you want to sell your shares to me, I warmly welcome it. I'll buy them even if it means taking on debt."
The October wind cut like a knife across everyone's faces, and many people looked bewildered.
What kind of shares do they have? Are they privatization warrants?
Good heavens, it was just a piece of paper; they replaced it with vodka sometime ago.
Those who exchanged early managed to get 10 or 20 bottles, but later on, one or two bottles of vodka could be exchanged for a voucher.
Everyone says it's useless. In fact, nobody knows what it's good for.
Now you're telling them that the thin piece of paper was useful?
Looking at the bewildered faces around them, Wang Xiao silently lowered his head and sighed inwardly: It's no use.
Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the core objective of all reforms by the federal government has not been to solve economic difficulties, but to prevent the resurgence of communism. For this, they have been willing to destroy everything.
Privatization of warrants is just one of the methods used.
Ivanov nodded politely to the workers: "Since you don't have any shares to sell me, I'll be leaving now."
When Ning was sculpting the base of the sculpture, he slipped and almost fell flat on his face because the snow on the base had frozen into ice.
Fortunately, as the boss, his bodyguards kept a close eye on his movements and helped him up at the crucial moment.
The stunned workers seemed to suddenly realize what was happening, and shouted at the top of their lungs, "What about us? What about our wages and bonuses?"
Ivanov steadied himself, his face expressionless: "I don't know. I have never been in arrears with employee wages. Your wages and bonuses are not owed to me."
He silently prayed in his heart: Your suffering was never caused by me.
The cold wind grew stronger, pushing him forward. As he passed the leading worker, the latter blurted out, "No, the oil field belongs to the Soviet motherland! The country belongs to us, and we belong to the country! It's that country that is one with us, not this country that treats us as a burden and abandons us! That is our country, the country that shares our joys and sorrows, our honor and disgrace!"
His voice grew louder and louder, until it finally turned back into a roar.
So, what right does the country have to sell its shares in the oil field? What does everything about the oil field have to do with it?
Ivanov paused slightly, looking at him calmly: "So when the country you admired fell, did you fight for it?"
All the cold seemed to penetrate the thick cotton coat in that instant, seeping into the old worker's lungs without leaving a trace.
His body trembled violently, and he clutched his head in agony, letting out a heart-wrenching howl like a ravaged beast of the wilderness.
His legs couldn't even withstand the weight, his knees buckled, and he knelt heavily on the ground.
Before anyone knew it, snow began to fall again above Surgut, densely covering the ground like grains of salt.
Unfortunately, the snow kept falling, layer after layer, but it's unclear when it will finally cover the filth on the ground.
"Let's go!" Punonin didn't even bother to give the gathered workers a threatening look; he simply stepped forward.
The workers, who were originally like an impregnable fortress, using their chests and arms to build a silent Great Wall to stop outsiders from trying to escape without paying, seemed to have been paralyzed.
When people approached them, they instinctively took a step back, and no one tried to stop them.
Punoning's journey to the car can be described as completely unimpeded.
Once they got in the vehicle, there was no unexpected turn of events, such as the workers surrounding the jeep and angrily overturning it.
The oil workers gathered in the square seemed to have long been frozen in place, becoming like the Lenin statue behind them, now devoid of Pravda, silently watching the outsiders who bought their oil fields drive away.
"Very good!" As soon as the car drove out of the oil company's gate, Punonin could not suppress his excitement. Like a gratified old father, he rarely praised, "You spoke very well today."
There was no sophistry or tantrums; the counterattack was logically sound, forceful, and entirely based on reason and evidence.
It seems that what Andrei reported to him earlier, that Ivan, with his silver tongue, managed to persuade the workers to turn against him and attack the leaders of the Surgut Oil Company, was not a fabrication by Andrei, who simply transferred Wang Xiao's moment of glory to Ivan.
Of course, the elder brother, who carried the weight of a general on his shoulders, still glanced at the East Asian woman beside Ivan with mixed feelings.
The old Chinese saying is truly insightful: "One who stays near vermilion gets stained red, and one who stays near ink gets stained black."
Whether it's red or black, Ivan at least learned her shrewdness.
This should be considered a good thing, shouldn't it?
Compared to Punonin's delight, Ivanov's reaction was much more subdued.
He just leaned lazily against the car seat, making a sound like "hmm" through his nostrils, looking quite arrogant.
Punonin seemed to see his son's feigned composure and complete indifference when he got a rare high score and was praised by his family; he couldn't help but find it amusing.
He shook his head, no longer provoking the little boy.
Even if a man is over 30, if he has not yet settled down and taken on the responsibilities of a family, he can only be considered a little boy who has never grown up.
At this moment, the little boy who never grew up in his eyes wasn't looking at him, but at the street scene outside the window.
A simple handwritten poster, or more precisely, a notice, was pasted on the wall outside the Workers' Cultural Palace, indicating that a movie would be shown at the Cultural Palace that evening.
Perhaps due to copyright issues, or perhaps because the source material cannot be found, the film being shown here tonight is the old American film "Gone with the Wind".
Both Xiao Gao and Xiao Zhao suspected that the person who selected the films was acting entirely out of personal preference.
They simply couldn't imagine that oil workers would enjoy watching the sticky, gooey "Gone with the Wind."
Good heavens! If you're going to show an American movie, then show an American movie, even something like "Top Gun" would be great.
Punonin didn't pay attention to what movie the Workers' Cultural Palace was going to show; he just thought Ivan was being a bit too pretentious.
Like all parents with a perverse sense of humor, he couldn't help but want to expose the deep-seated secrets of this brat.
As the car turned, leaving the state-run store behind, Punoning deliberately called out Wang Xiao's name: "How was it? Miss Wang, was his performance passable?"
Wang Xiao gave a thumbs up, not hesitating to praise: "Of course, great, absolutely fantastic!"
Ivanov finally stopped keeping a straight face and glanced at Wang Xiao suspiciously: "Really?"
Seeing the latter nod vigorously, his voice grew even more resentful: "If it's true, then next time you encounter danger, shouldn't you ask me for help first?"
Everyone on the bus looked surprised.
Four months have passed since the kidnapping at the container market, but it's unbelievable that Mr. Ivanov still hasn't gotten over it.
He was like a male beast that was not trusted by the females, desperately and clumsily trying to show his strength and reliability so that the females would trust him and be willing to rely on him.
Punonin felt for a moment that he was a loser, a grown man who just followed a woman around, spending all his time trying to figure out what she was thinking in order to show off.
For a moment, he felt it was perfectly normal. What man in his courtship period isn't a peacock displaying its plumage?
From a male perspective, it's truly unbearable to watch.
However, who in this car would care about what this older brother thinks?
Wang Xiao, both amused and exasperated, reached out and patted Ivanov's head, his voice rising, "Because you are my secret weapon, my trump card. Why would I easily reveal you before the very end?"
She sighed softly, "You have no idea how important you are to me."
Ivanov rested his head on her shoulder and mumbled, "I can be more important, important all the time."
Punonin no longer looks in the rearview mirror; he even wants to plug his ears now.
Why would he go out of his way to start something like this? It's like he's asking for trouble.
Good heavens, he never knew Ivan could be so disgusting!
What's choking him, or is his throat filled with a jar of honey? His voice is so thick and sticky, it makes you want to punch him after just one sentence.
So as soon as the jeep returned to the tax police station, Punonin jumped out of the car and strode to the conference room to call a meeting.
They were busy most of last night, flexing their muscles and resorting to violence.
Now that the operation has come to an end, it's time to sit down and have a proper talk.
As for the rest of the people who don't need to attend meetings, they can just take care of themselves.
Punoning isn't a kindergarten teacher; does she expect her to supervise them?
Ivanov seemed to be really addicted to clinging, and even after getting off the car, he wouldn't let go of Wang Xiao's hand.
The tax police were all in a meeting, while the assistants from Wuzhou Company were busy processing documents, and even the bodyguards were exchanging tactical ideas and sharing their experiences.
Only the boss, the most useless piece of trash in the world, can still sit in the only rocking chair in the activity room, staring blankly at the snow scene outside the window.
“Cheer up.” Wang Xiao reached out and covered Ivanov’s eyes, sighing softly, “Ashley Wilkes certainly didn’t manage the lumberjacks well, but managing workers is a very complex undertaking.”
Deeply influenced by Southern aristocratic culture and filled with romanticism, Ashley, who excelled in intellectual pursuits such as literature and history, completely lacked pragmatic business acumen and decisiveness. He didn't know how to maintain production through profit-driven motives and institutional management.
His unrealistic tolerance for workers' laziness and deception led to lax discipline and a complete breakdown in the logging camp's production.
In a sense, this is not much different from the production predicament faced by Soviet state-owned enterprises.
Ivanov let out a deep sigh, almost as if his soul were whispering: "God, how did you know? Your Majesty, only you know."
He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it repeatedly, "Your Majesty, how did you know?"
No one knew, not even Punoning, who claimed to have watched him grow up and even changed his diapers.
Wang Xiao sat down next to him without taking it seriously: "Otherwise, why are you staring at 'Gone with the Wind'?"
Having just left the oil company and just ended a confrontation with the oil workers, what else could he think of when he saw the poster for "Gone with the Wind" besides Ashley's failure in managing the logging camp?
"It can't be that bad—"
She joked, "You're not thinking about how many times Scarlett has been married, are you?"
Ivanov was taken aback and asked dumbfoundedly, "How many times exactly?"
He had read the novel and seen the movie, but he couldn't recall it at the moment. Perhaps it was because the detail was so insignificant.
“Three times.” Wang Xiao laughed out loud.
The fact that Scarlett Johansson can enter into a marriage with a clear purpose each time is enough to make her a ruthless person.
Ivanov twitched the corner of his mouth; he genuinely didn't care about the detail, and hearing it was just that—hearing it.
The curtains were drawn back, and his gaze was fixed on the view outside the window.
However, because the heating was on inside the house, the temperature difference between the inside and outside of the window caused tiny water droplets to condense on the glass, making it look like a white mist.
He sighed softly, "I really wish they would hit me. I would be happier if they came up to me and beat me up."
However, the oil workers in Shulgut did nothing; they simply gathered together to try to stop him from leaving, without taking any violent action from beginning to end.
Just like the night the hammer and sickle flag fell from the Kremlin, the people gathered in Red Square were silent, silent as bystanders even though they were part of it.
Just like the numerous marches and demonstrations that have taken place on the streets of Moscow in recent years, some people chant slogans, some set up roadblocks, and some distribute leaflets. Everyone seems to be having a great time, but that's about it.
There was no bloodshed, no sacrifice, no violent conflict; every punch was delivered slowly and deliberately, leaving his chest and the cellular fluid of every cell in his body churning with unvented resentment.
"Why don't they hit me?" Ivanov's face was a mixture of pain and sorrow. "Since they've identified me as a robber, a robber who stole the oil field's property, why don't they teach the robber a lesson?"
Wang Xiao interrupted him, forcefully pulling him out of his rut: "Because the Soviet Union trained workers who were knowledgeable, cultured, and capable of thinking; they weren't unreasonable people."
She stared into his eyes and emphasized earnestly, word by word, "The reason they are so easily used as pawns and repeatedly exploited is not because they are brainless, but because their deep-seated, trampled anger and despair drive them to shout in protest."
She sighed, "It's not that they don't understand that oil field development requires national investment."
People who grew up under the Soviet education system have a deep-seated belief that everything belongs to the state. How could they possibly believe that oil fields are unrelated to the state?
Faced with a severe survival crisis and immense injustice, they could grasp nothing and had nothing left for them.
They instinctively grasped at the last moral weapon, "labor creates value," and desperately brandished it in an attempt to stop what they perceived as the enemy.
Even if this weapon is distorted or misused, it is still their desperate defense of their own value and an angry severance of ties with the country that betrayed them.
Wang Xiao muttered to herself, "They were taught to be reasonable, but the principles of this era are no longer on their side."
To put it bluntly, the core driving force of violent revolution is the rejection of the existing system and the desire to use the most extreme violent means to destroy these so-called rules and principles.
Resisting while in shackles is pointless.
Everything must be earned through one's own efforts; no problem can be solved by shouting slogans or holding rallies.
The room was quiet, with the radiators humming intermittently.
Ivanov also felt ridiculous and pathetic. Look, there are still people who want to be beaten.
He rushed out, pulled out $100, stopped the worker, and said: "Punch me."
He'll surely get his wish and be turned into mincemeat.
Moreover, if the workers really riot, how will they handle the situation?
Are we really going to let Punonin use armored vehicles to crush all the rioting workers into mincemeat?
Another October Revolution?
Haha, the timing is so coincidental.
"Don't think about it." Wang Xiao reached out and vigorously rubbed his face, her voice carrying a seductive quality. "Do you remember what's hanging on the right side of Tiananmen Square?"
Before Ivanov could even begin to recall anything—in fact, as an old Russian who couldn't read Chinese characters, he couldn't remember anything either.
Wang Xiaoxian gave the answer: "Long live the great unity of the people of the world!"
She cupped Ivanov's face in her hands and earnestly emphasized, "I firmly believe that this is the common destiny of mankind. No matter which country or ethnicity we come from, we will eventually move towards the same goal."
Ivanov was completely devastated, like a child desperately needing affirmation from an adult: "Really?"
Wang Xiao's childhood can be described as broken and miserable, so the first child she raised after she became an adult and had the means was herself.
She knew all too well what a frightened child needed, and she nodded firmly: "Of course."
She added, "The original plaque on the right read 'Long Live the Central People's Government,' but it was only in 1950 that Chairman Mao proposed changing it to 'Long Live the Great Unity of the People of the World.' He had a vision that spanned a century; when had he ever made a mistake?"
Ivanov began to feel annoyed again, and couldn't help but feel envious: "You guys are so lucky, you've only run into smart people."
Wang Xiao corrected him earnestly: "No, it's that we're really lucky! Long live the great unity of the people of the world! Humanity is a community with a shared future. Having them is our good fortune!"
She pinched Ivanov's cheek again and gently comforted him, "Alright, alright, let's not talk about that. Let's think about how to run the farm and shops here."
Material incentives and institutional management are always the only way to maintain and expand production.
Especially in this land where communist ideology has been swept away by the Siberian cold winds, if you don't give people real bread, milk, and beef stew with potatoes, are you going to just paint them a pie in the sky?
Ivanov forced himself to stay awake and nodded, "Alright, alright."
There was a knock at the door. Although Captain Andrei was portrayed as a hero "seriously wounded," given that his wounds had already scabbed over, he still had to work, at least in place of his superior, to call the two men for dinner.
Once at the dinner table, Punonin, holding a boiled potato, admonished them: "Alright, let's leave it at that for today. Don't forget, you'll still have to rely on the Surgut oil field together in the future."
Ah, so that means that in the time before lunch, the tax police major general reached a new agreement with the top management of Surgut Oil Company regarding how to conclude the matter concerning the sudden worker uprising.
It seems that both the tax police and the Ministry of the Interior have received substantial benefits.
Ivanov looked at Punonin's face repeatedly, until Punonin, exasperated by the scrutiny, exclaimed, "Ivan! I promise, if they dare to cause trouble again, I will cooperate with your actions at any time."
The person whose name was called then raised their chin arrogantly and reluctantly said, "Okay."
Actually, they didn't want to get into a fight with Surgut Oil Company, since everyone was now in the same boat.
Now they have a common enemy – the Moscow Oil Export Company, which has seized control of oil exports.
Those bastards, taking their oil but not paying them, are the truly heinous criminals.
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