Chapter 335: Finance as the Spear, Industry as the Shield!

Zhang Rongfeng clutched the document, feeling he was not holding a stack of paper but a volcano about to erupt.

He practically walked out of the conference room hand and foot together, the corridor lights falling on his face and casting an abnormal flush. Only when cold air rushed into his collar did he shiver, and the wildly beating heart in his chest steadied a little.

Go to the Minister's Office!

He clenched his fist, his steps quick and urgent, his leather shoes striking the terrazzo floor with a crisp "dadā" sound, like drums heralding an imminent charge.

Zhang Jianshen's office was on the top floor; along the way, Zhang Rongfeng met several acquaintances who greeted him warmly, but he merely nodded perfunctorily, his mind fixed on one thought—faster, even faster!

Dong dong dong.

Enter.

Inside the office, Zhang Jianshen, wearing reading glasses, was reviewing documents. He looked up, saw Zhang Rongfeng, and, slightly surprised, said, "Rongfeng? It's so late—any emergency?"

Zhang Rongfeng could not utter a word; he placed the document from his arms onto Zhang Jianshen's spacious desk with a reverent, almost pilgrim‑like gesture, his hands gently laid.

His hand trembled, causing the edges of the document to quiver subtly.

Zhang Jianshen's gaze tightened as he set his pen down. He knew Zhang Rongfeng, the Deputy Director-General who had served with him for years—always steady and capable, never before had he shown such a loss of composure.

His eyes fell on the cover of the document.

'A Guideline Draft for Foreign Economic Development Over the Next Ten Years.'

A very ordinary title.

But when he saw the line beneath, the overall goal penned in red by Lu Qingshan, his pupils suddenly contracted.

"Using finance as the spear and industry as the shield, in ten years carve a new economic map for the nation on the International Market!"

The office was eerily silent, only Zhang Rongfeng's heavy breathing breaking the hush.

Zhang Jianshen said nothing, slowly turning to the first page. He read swiftly, almost ten lines at a glance, his fingertips sliding over the paper with a faint "shasha" rustle.

Zhang Rongfeng stood nearby, his palms slick with sweat. Time felt never so long; each second seemed like being fried in hot oil.

This thing is astonishingly radical! It overturns every previous stability‑seeking strategy, its words exuding a swagger that dares to proclaim a new heaven and earth, bristling with decisive, ruthless vigor!

Will the department agree? Will Zhang Jianshen dare to sign?

Ten minutes later, Zhang Jianshen reached the final page, seeing the dense annotations and revisions. He closed the file, shut his eyes, leaned against the chair back, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the desk.

Ta… ta… ta…

Each tap felt as if it struck the tip of Zhang Rongfeng's heart.

After an indeterminate stretch, Zhang Jianshen opened his eyes; there was no shock or hesitation that Zhang Rongfeng expected, only a bottomless calm.

He picked up the Red-headed Pen on the desk, snapped off its cap without hesitation, and flamboyantly wrote several large characters on the document's front page.

When finished, he pushed the document back.

"Take it."

Zhang Rongfeng craned his neck, almost lunging onto the desk, his gaze glued to those characters as if by adhesive.

"Agreed. Forward to the team members for review; the Foreign Trade Department may, at its discretion, prepare the plan."

No lengthy directives, no repeated deliberations—just these simple, direct words!

A surge of electricity shot from Zhang Rongfeng's tailbone up to his brain, making his hair stand on end! He jerked his head toward Zhang Jianshen, opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.

He understood.

The newly arrived Director Lu Qingshan is not a Crossing River Fierce Dragon at all; he himself is part of this sky! Behind him stand people equal to Zhang Jianshen, even taller than Zhang Jianshen! They have long reached a certain consensus!

"What are you still dazing about?" Zhang Jianshen glanced at him, "Comrade Lu Qingshan should still be waiting for news."

"Yes! Yes! I'm going right away!"

Zhang Rongfeng snapped out of his reverie, grabbed the document, turned and sprinted toward the exit, halted abruptly at the doorway, turned back, and bowed deeply to Zhang Jianshen.

This time, he was no longer a subordinate to a superior, but a witness, showing respect to the pioneer.

…

When Zhang Rongfeng returned to the department with the ink‑scented directive document, it was already nine p. m.

The entire Foreign Trade Department was brightly lit; not a single person had left work.

In the conference room, Director Lu Qingshan leaned back in his chair with eyes closed, while others whispered discussions, each face radiating excitement and anticipation.

When Zhang Rongfeng entered, everyone's gaze snapped onto him with a 'shua' sound.

Zhang Rongfeng said nothing, simply hurried to Director Lu Qingshan, flipped the document to the front page, and handed it over.

Lu Qingshan opened his eyes, scanned the directive, his face showing no surprise, only a faint nod.

"Good."

He stood up and surveyed the room.

"Everyone, let's convene."

Those three words sounded like an order.

The atmosphere in the conference room instantly turned grim and fierce.

"First division: responsible for intelligence gathering and policy analysis of the Europe Market, with particular focus on Germany's manufacturing sector and the United Kingdom's financial trends. I want a detailed report within a month, precise down to the equity structure and cash‑flow status of each key enterprise."

"Second division, North America Market. Your task is heavier; I want you to uncover the details of the Financial Giant Sharks on Wall Street—their investment habits, trading styles, even the psychological weaknesses of their traders! In three months, I expect results!"

"Third division…"

Lu Qingshan's voice was not loud, yet it reached each person's ears clearly.

He didn't need to consult the script; the massive plan was already etched in his mind. He called out one name after another—bureau chiefs, division heads—breaking down the guideline draft item by item, assigning responsibility, even specifying exact deadlines, leaving no ambiguity.

Among the department's over thirty mid‑level cadres, out of more than ninety staff, almost everyone was assigned a specific task.

Some wore hesitant expressions, feeling the tasks were overly daunting.

Lu Qingshan merely glanced at him, "Difficulty?"

The person, unnerved by his gaze, forced himself to speak, "Director, the timeline is too tight; a month to grasp the depths of Germany's manufacturing sector, this…"

"Can't finish?" Lu Qingshan cut him off, "Then bring someone who can. I don't keep idle people, nor do I keep waste."

The entire conference room fell dead silent.

Everyone was shaken by the iron‑blooded aura radiating from Lu Qingshan.