Chapter 444: Breaking the Ice in the Fog City

The morning in London Financial City is awakened by the muffled bells of St. Paul's Cathedral in the distance and the sound of a street sweeper rolling over the slick road.

Zhou Wenbin stands at the window of his club lodging room, watching the time‑worn stone buildings under the lead‑gray dawn.

After last night's drizzle, the street glistens with a cold sheen.

He holds a cup of black coffee, unsweetened and unmilked, its bitter taste keeping him perfectly alert.

Hui Tingdun's side responded to the new proposal faster than expected.

But it is also more complicated.

"In principle they accept the framework we proposed: 'rapid capital injection' and 'retain the local core team.'"

Gu Zhixing whispered the latest developments at breakfast, wiping his mouth corner with a napkin, "But regarding the definition of non‑performing assets and the rights to carve them out, they have put forward new conditions."

"What conditions?" Zhou Wenbin puts down his coffee cup.

"They demand that all assets classified as 'suspect' or 'loss' must undergo a final assessment by a third‑party audit firm designated by the Bank of England. Moreover, the carve‑out process must be overseen by a 'Supervisory Committee' they lead, which has the authority to veto any specific disposal method."

Gu Zhixing furrows his brow, "It's like putting handcuffs on us while handing the key to someone else."

Luo Boan adds: "Also, regarding the gold pricing seat. They propose that within the next three years, the representative Wanshang Bank stations at that seat must include a senior figure recognized by London Financial City as a 'co‑representative,' jointly signing the daily pricing."

Zhou Wenbin listens in silence.

The fog outside seems to seep into the room, bringing a chill.

This is no longer a simple business negotiation; it feels like a precise power‑balancing game.

The other side, while conceding, carefully lays fences, aiming to use your capital and capability yet ensuring you don't 'lose control,' nor damage the rules and face they consider sacrosanct.

"They want the horse to run but not eat grass, and still strap it with the reins they know," a hometown saying flashes through Zhou Wenbin's mind, a faint sneer curling his lips.

"What is our bottom line?" Zhou Wenbin asks.

"General Manager Li's directive is clear."

Gu Zhixing lowers his voice, "We must obtain the bank's control rights and final disposition rights. That's the core. The gold seat can accept transitional 'guidance,' but it cannot be permanently subject to others."

Zhou Wenbin nods, his gaze sharpening: "Then we negotiate. Third‑party audits are acceptable, but the evaluation criteria must be mutually confirmed in writing beforehand, not arbitrarily interpreted later. A 'Supervisory Committee' can be formed, but Wanshang must hold an equal number of seats, and major decisions require approval from more than two‑thirds of the committee, not a single veto from them."

He pauses: "As for the gold seat's 'co‑representative,' the term can be discussed—one year, at most two. Moreover, we must have the right to propose and veto the candidate. We cannot accept a person biased against us sitting beside us dictating."

Gu Zhixing and Luo Boan exchange a glance, each seeing the other's caution.

These terms are extremely tough, almost directly challenging the control the other side seeks to retain.

"The talks could break down," Luo Boan warns.

"It won't."

Zhou Wenbin shakes his head, his tone firm, "They want to settle this faster than us. The stalemate with West Pacific Bank's quote was due to their refusal to budge on similar control clauses. We offered a more flexible capital plan, which they need. Now they are testing our bottom line, trying to trade the smallest 'sovereignty' concession for the greatest benefit. As long as we hold our core interests and show we have the confidence and alternative plan to walk away at any moment, they will compromise."

His analysis is as cold as a scalpel.

"Alternative plan?" Gu Zhixing asks, puzzled.

Zhou Wenbin smiles, not answering directly.

Some cards must be held in hand to exert the greatest deterrence.

The negotiation resumes in a more modern conference room in the Financial City.

The atmosphere is noticeably tenser than when they were in the club.

When Gu Zhixing, representing Wanshang, clearly and firmly presented the revised terms, Charles Hui Tingdun's complexion sank at a visibly rapid pace. The Bank of England observer beside him also halted his pen.

"Mr. Gu, Mr. Zhou,"

Hui Tingdun's voice remains cultured, but the previous composure is gone, "These demands… are highly unexpected. They seem inconsistent with the cooperative and locally‑compliant stance you previously expressed."

"Mr. Hui Tingdun,"

Zhou Wenbin takes the floor, his tone calm yet unequivocal, "It is precisely because of our sincere intent to cooperate and follow the rules that we set these clear boundaries. Transparent rules are the foundation of long‑term cooperation. Vague authorizations and unilateral supervision will only sow seeds of dispute for future operations, which is detrimental to Matthew Bank's reconstruction and to preserving the reputation of the London market. We believe the Bank of England also wishes to see a new Matthew Bank with clear responsibilities and stable operations, not an institution mired in internal conflict."

He pauses, staring directly at them: "As for the gold seat, we respect its tradition and professionalism. A brief transition arrangement ensures seamless handover and knowledge transfer. Ultimately, we need the ability and trust to exercise duties independently. If this basic trust cannot be built within two years, perhaps it shows we are not suitable partners."

At this point, the cards are on the table.

The conference room is so quiet one can hear the faint airflow from the air‑conditioning vent.

Hui Tingdun lightly taps his finger on the smooth tabletop, a habit when he is deep in thought.

Zhou Wenbin knows the pressure has already been transmitted.

As the bank negotiations entered a delicate stalemate, He Xiao's "talent mining" program unexpectedly saw a glimmer of hope.

He avoided the massive factories and design centers with their noses in the air, and following Zhou Wenbin's guidance, privately approached several "disappointed" technical talents through headhunters and industry associations.

One of them was named James Whitaker.

He had been a chassis tuning engineer at Jaguar Land Rover, contributing to several classic models, exceptionally talented yet notoriously hard‑headed; after publicly criticizing management for sacrificing handling quality for cost and being "marginalized," he retired disillusioned, now holed up in his own garage in suburban Coventry, tinkering with aftermarket parts.

The first time He Xiao knocked, he was shut out.

The old man, hearing He Xiao's halting English explanation through the crack, tossed out, "I don't work on Asian toy cars," and slammed the door shut.

He Xiao was not discouraged.

The next day he returned, bringing a packet of herbal ointment bought in Chinatown, said to ease joint pain—he'd learned the old man suffered rheumatism. Still not allowed inside, but he left the package at the doorstep.

The third day, he carried a self‑drawn sketchbook of the Wanshang Automobile Industrial Park plan and the chassis concept for its first sedan, wrapped in plastic to keep it dry, and left it at the door.

The fourth day, the rain was heavy.

He Xiao brought nothing, only an umbrella, and stood across the quiet street from James's house for nearly an hour, watching the vine‑covered old house.

As he was about to leave, the garage door suddenly creaked open.

James Whitaker, wearing oil‑stained work trousers, stood in the doorway, holding He Xiao's sketchbook, rain droplets clear on the cover.

"Kid," the old man's hoarse voice said, "come in."

"Tell me clearly about these fanciful ideas and that damned herbal ointment."

He Xiao suppressed his exhilaration and followed into the garage.

It was essentially a mechanic's paradise and a disaster site alike, with tools, parts, blueprints, and half‑finished models piled everywhere, the air thick with metal, oil and the scent of old books.

James flipped through He Xiao's sketch, his fingers tapping heavily on some lines: "Here! The suspension geometry is completely wrong! Do you think you're designing a handcart?"

"And this material specification! You're planning to use ordinary steel? Do you know what torsional rigidity is?"

The old man's criticism was merciless, droplets of spit almost spraying onto He Xiao's face.

But He Xiao's eyes lit up as he listened.

It wasn't because he was being scolded, but because each of the old man's criticisms precisely pointed out the problems on his drawings that he felt were off but couldn't articulate. This is someone who truly knows their stuff!

He absorbed it like a sponge, occasionally raising his own questions, and even arguing with the old man over certain technical details, completely forgetting the other's age and experience.

When the argument grew heated, both men's faces flushed red.

Finally, James suddenly stopped, looking at the Eastern young man before him who had been scolded bloody by him yet still had fiery eyes and dared to rebut, and fell silent for a moment.

"You... really want to build a good car in the East?" he asked, his tone for the first time devoid of mockery.

"Not one." He Xiao earnestly corrected, pointing at the sketch, "It's the first one. Our boss says, either don't do it, or do it right—make something that can stand the test of time. We need people who truly know their stuff, not here to gild the lily, but to start from scratch together and build the framework."

James remained silent for a long time, merely stroking his white-stubble beard, his gaze sweeping over the tools and semi-finished products in the garage that had accompanied him for many years.

He saw the fire in He Xiao's eyes, something he had also felt in his youth but that had long been extinguished by bureaucracy and short-sighted decisions.

"Salary." The old man said dryly.

He Xiao named a figure, twice James's pre-retirement annual salary, plus project bonuses and housing arrangements in Shenzhen.

The old man's eyelid twitched.

"Besides," He Xiao added, "you can move all the 'treasures' in this garage over; the company will cover the moving costs. Over there they'll give you a larger independent workspace. Also, if you have trusted old comrades whose skills have been buried, they can come too. Our boss said, technology knows no borders, good craftsmen deserve respect."

James turned his body, fiddling with a cold wrench for a long while.

"I need time to consider." He finally said, but his tone had already loosened.

"Of course!" He Xiao knew not to press too hard, "This is my contact information. Besides, this herbal ointment..." he pointed to the packet on the table, "It really works; my friend's grandfather uses this."

James grunted and said nothing.

But when He Xiao left, the old man unexpectedly saw him to the garage door.

The rain had stopped, and a patch of bleak blue showed in the sky.

When Zhou Wenbin received He Xiao's excited phone report, the bank negotiations had just gone through a round of lengthy wrangling and were temporarily recessed.

"Uncle Zhou! There's a chance! Old Mr. James has loosened up! He's practically a walking chassis dictionary!"

He Xiao, excited on the other end of the phone, spoke incoherently: "He also promised to introduce me to two engine experts who used to work in Birmingham, both unemployed at home after factory closures!"

"Well done." Zhou Wenbin praised, a hint of smile appearing on his face that had been tense for days. He Xiao's perseverance and frankness could sometimes break through the defenses of those old-school technical talents. "Stay in touch, but don't rush. Respect his pace. At the same time, follow up on the other talent leads he mentioned."

After hanging up, Zhou Wenbin's mood lightened a bit.

On the automobile side, this counts as finding a possible breakthrough. Talent is like a seed; with the first one, it may attract a whole batch.

And on the bank side...

He looked out the window, the glass curtain wall of the financial district reflecting cold light under the overcast sky.

Whittington needed time to digest their hardness, and perhaps also needed to seek instructions from higher up.

This is a contest of patience and will.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, China.

Wanshang "Morning Star II" computer donation plan is quietly unfolding.

The first batch of fifty computers, together with matching printers and the "Wanshang Now we need to output lines: English DOS system" and "WPS office software" installation disks, were packed neatly and sent to the computing centers of several top universities in Beijing, as well as the information centers of ministries such as the State Planning Commission and the Science and Technology Commission.

The donation ceremony was low-key, without a grand press conference.

But the effect was surprisingly good.

For these research units and government agencies, computers are scarce valuable assets. A reliable computer equipped with Now we need to output lines: English processing software can greatly boost the efficiency of data processing and document drafting.

The director of Peking University's Computing Center, Director Wang, an old professor with thick glasses, after trying it out eagerly grabbed the hand of a Wanshang staff member: "Great! This input method is very handy! The WPS software is far more convenient than the editing tools we used to use! Writing papers and organizing data will be much easier from now on! You've sent charcoal in the snow!"

A section chief of the State Planning Commission, after trying the spreadsheet calculation software, immediately demanded the information center write a report to apply for additional procurement of a batch, for use in economic data aggregation and analysis across the country.

Li Ping'an's strategy is taking effect.

The "Morning Star" is not just a machine; it came bearing a "solution" to meet actual office and research needs, quickly establishing reputation and trust among the most influential user groups.

More importantly, through these donations and trials, Wanshang's technical team could directly engage with the demands and feedback of China's top-tier users, accumulating valuable first-hand data for the R&D of next-generation products.

A few days later, the deadlock in London's negotiations was finally broken.

What broke the deadlock was not a concession from either side, but a fax from Hong Kong.

The fax contained a summary of a strategic cooperation memorandum recently signed between Wanshang Bank and one of Japan's three major securities firms, stating that the two sides would deepen cooperation in the Asian bond market and precious metals trading, and discuss jointly establishing an investment fund, among other matters.

This fax "coincidentally" was seen by an aide of the British side, whom Robin Beran "unintentionally" allowed to see it during a break in the negotiations.

The information quickly reached Whittington and the Bank of England observer.

They immediately realized that Wanshang Bank was not only the option of Matthew Bank.

If the conditions on the London side are too harsh, they can completely turn to Asia domestically or cooperate with other European institutions, after all, their core capital and business foundation lie in the East.

But this burden of Matthew Bank still remains in the hands of the Bank of England, and the longer it drags on, the greater the political and public opinion risks may become.

When the negotiations resumed, Whittington's attitude underwent a subtle yet significant change.

Regarding the "Supervisory Committee" veto power clause, it was amended to "submit major disagreements to arbitration".

Regarding the term of the gold seat "co-representative," it was finally set at eighteen months, and the nominee must be jointly approved by both sides.

Although there are still disputes over some details, the core obstacle has been eliminated.

Zhou Wenbin knew that this fax was precisely the demonstrative display of the "contingency plan" Li Ping'an had mentioned.

"To subdue the enemy without fighting is the pinnacle of excellence." This ancient Eastern wisdom, on the negotiation table of London's financial district, has been confirmed in such a modern way.

Shenzhen, headquarters of the Wanxiang Group.

Li Ping'an almost simultaneously received three progress reports.

Zhou Wenbin's encrypted fax about the breakthrough in the bank negotiations and the imminent entry into the final agreement drafting stage.

He Xiao's phone call about successfully contacting James Whitaker and other European automotive technical talents, and about deepening those ties.

And a report from the domestic team about the enthusiastic reception of the "Qimingxing" computer in universities and ministries, having received initial government procurement intentions.

He stood before the office's huge floor-to-ceiling window, looking down on the still-busy Pingshan Industrial Park in the twilight.

Lights began to glow, outlining the shapes of the factories and R&D buildings, like the skeleton of a giant beast just awakening.

Europe's financial fulcrum is about to be placed.

The automotive industry's "stone from another mountain" is knocking at the door.

A foothold in the domestic informatization market has quietly been built.

Three matters, seemingly independent, yet on his chessboard they echo each other, together weaving an ever-larger net.

Banks provide the channel for capital flow and credit.

Automobiles represent the strength and brand of high-end manufacturing.

Computers are the hub for entering the future information era and connecting all demands.

The road is still long.

The London agreement has not yet been signed, automotive talent has not yet been won over, and the computer market has just been opened.

But the direction is now clear, and steps have been taken.

Outside the window the night deepens, yet the industrial park's lights grow brighter, merging into an ocean of light.

That is a future being illuminated by sweat, wisdom, and capital, full of hope.

Li Ping'an turned around, his gaze falling on the family photo on the desk.

In the photo, Lin Xueqing smiles gently, the children's eyes bright.

His struggle is not merely for a business empire.

It is also to secure, in this tumultuous era, a more solid and autonomous future for his family and for the land beneath his feet.

The night is gentle, the road ahead promising.