Chapter 342: One Hundred Million a Year! Governor, Please Betray!

Lehaus's pupils suddenly contracted, as if a needle had sharply pierced them. In his blue eyes that had read countless people, a look mixed with astonishment, absurdity, and even a hint of offended anger appeared for the first time. He hadn't expected that the young man before him would overturn the card table in such a naked, direct way!

"Mr. Lu, your ambition is larger than I imagined," he leaned back on the sofa, forcibly suppressing the huge shock in his heart, regaining the composure belonging to the Imperial Governor, but his voice now carried a barely perceptible stiffness.

"This is not ambition, it is sincerity."

Lu Qingshan gently pushed a thin envelope to the center of the table. The motion was neither hurried nor slow, yet it seemed to shift an invisible mountain range, weighing on everyone's heart in the room.

"To express my confidence in Hong Kong Island's future prosperity, and my support for Governor (His Excellency)'s outstanding leadership, I, together with my Xinghan Group, am willing to provide the Hong Kong Island government with an unconditional political donation."

Lehaus remained still, merely staring at the envelope, the muscles at the corner of his eye twitching imperceptibly. How much money can an envelope hold? Five hundred thousand? One million? For a politician of his rank, it's merely a drop in the bucket.

Lu Qingshan saw through his thoughts and continued, his voice not loud but like five siege hammers striking Lehaus's heart!

"One hundred million Hong Kong dollars per year."

Those five words were spoken by Lu Qingshan lightly as if discussing the weather, yet they thundered through the reception hall like a bolt of lightning!

The reception hall fell eerily silent, even the rustle of leaves outside the window was clearly audible. Lu Qingjun stood aside, feeling his heart gripped by an invisible giant hand, nearly ceasing to beat.

His mind did not go blank; instead, it instantly began frantic calculations!

One hundred million a year?

Ten years equals one billion!

That sum is almost one‑tenth of the Imperial Governor's Office's annual budget!

This is no longer a political donation; it's using money to openly buy the entire Imperial Governor's Office's will! He's gone mad!

Lehaus's breathing instantly grew heavy and scorching.

His hands, crossed and resting on his knees, clenched their knuckles from overexertion, nails digging deep into his palms, yet he felt no pain at all.

His brain also raced wildly; the politician's instinct instantly calculated the terrifying power behind that money—it could fill the fiscal deficit that had plagued him for a long time, could launch the new airport project he had long coveted but shelved for lack of funds, and could let him write an unprecedented, richly highlighted entry in his London performance report!

That sum could, after his return to London, let him knock open the door of Downing Street that he had long gazed at, yet always separated by a pane of glass!

This is an achievement he cannot refuse! It is a golden staircase to the pinnacle of power!

"These funds will be used to support Hong Kong Island's municipal construction, public welfare, and to reward the Royal Police who faithfully uphold Hong Kong Island's security," Lu Qingshan added with a smile, each word like a devil's whisper, striking precisely where Lehaus most desired.

"Mr. Lu, you are... astonishingly generous," Lehaus's voice became extremely hoarse; he felt his throat as if ground by Sahara sand, each syllable painfully strained.

"I have only one small request," Lu Qingshan finally laid his cards on the table, revealing his sharpest fang.

"Please, speak."

"I hope the Imperial Governor's Office can, in your name, issue an official press release to be published in the London Times. The content is simple: to welcome the establishment of the Victoria Opportunity Fund and to invite capital from around the world to jointly partake in the grand undertaking of building Hong Kong Island's future."

Lehaus fell silent.

He stared intently at Lu Qingshan, his blue eyes filled with scrutiny, calculation, and intense weighing.

He instantly understood! Lu Qingshan was not bribing him; he was kidnapping him!

With a golden chain of one hundred million Hong Kong dollars, bind him, bind the entire Imperial Governor's Office firmly to his warship that is about to sail toward London! He is not borrowing his own hand; he is borrowing the official credibility the British Empire has built over a century, to officially endorse his fund and the war he is about to launch!

This is a step of such vicious, such insane, ultimate gambit!

If he agrees, it would be tantamount to covertly standing opposite Jardine Matheson and Swire, betraying the British Empire's core interests!

Yet the lure of that hundred million, like a devil's whisper, kept echoing in his ear, tearing at his last restraint and loyalty as Imperial Governor.

An indeterminate amount of time passed, feeling as long as a century. Lehaus finally exhaled a slow puff of foul breath, as if it carried away the last vestige of his old‑imperial pride.

He picked up the thin envelope without opening it, merely rubbing it with his fingertips, feeling the scorching weight that transcended the paper itself, enough to alter destiny.

He lifted his head, his face once again forming the politician's trademark, flawless smile, though beneath that smile hid a trace of greed and resolve even he himself had not yet noticed.

"Mr. Lu, for Hong Kong Island's prosperous stability, I think there are many areas where we can cooperate deeply."

"Tomorrow afternoon, you can check the financial section of the London Times."

…

Leaving the Imperial Governor's Office, boarding the return car, Lu Qingjun still felt weightless, as if walking on clouds.

"Brother... brother! He... he just agreed like that? That's one hundred million a year! We just got thirty billion from the citizens, and now we fling out a hundred million as an annual fee? This... this deal..." he stammered, feeling his tongue could not straighten.

Lu Qingshan leaned against the seat, watching the street scene rush backward outside the window, a meaning‑laden smile appearing on his face.

"Qingjun, remember this. Loyalty bought with money is the least valuable, yet sometimes the most effective. Moreover, I'm not buying his loyalty."

"What is that?"

"What I'm buying is a ticket," Lu Qingshan said, looking at his brother, his gaze sharp. "A ticket bearing the British Empire's official certification, so that every London capitalist finds no flaw and even champions us! With a cost of one hundred million, we can lever a battlefield that could reach hundreds of billions in the future. Tell me, is this ticket expensive?"

The afternoon of the next day, the top floor of the Xinghan Building.

Wang Yuyun clutched a freshly faxed newspaper copy from London, practically sprinting into the office. She tried to control her demeanor, but her trembling voice betrayed her excitement.

"Boss! The London Times... has published it! Front page! The most prominent spot on the front page!"

Lu Qingshan took the newspaper; the most prominent spot on the front page was Governor Lehaus's press release welcoming the Victoria Opportunity Fund, accompanied by a photo of Lehaus himself, smiling affably and full of vigor.

He looked at the newspaper and couldn't help but laugh.

"Look, this Governor (His Excellency) still has strong execution power, huh."

He set the newspaper down, stood up, and walked to the massive floor‑to‑ceiling window, overlooking the entire Victoria Harbour.

The sea breeze brushed, and the sunlight was just right.

"The shells are loaded, the audience is in place, even the stage curtain has been pulled back for us."

He turned, looking at Lu Qingjun and Wang Yuyun with faces of fervent devotion, his voice still calm, but beneath that calm surged a towering passion about to erupt!

"Send out the notice, finish all preparations."

He paused, his gaze seeming to pierce time and space, seeing the lamp in the Capital City waiting for his return, seeing the Ten-year Agreement written in the nation's name. His voice suddenly became immensely resolute, resonating with the clang of steel and iron horses:

"We shall set out! To London!"