Chapter 472: State Secret Order: March into the Global Arms Industry!

On the balcony corner, Lu Qingshan held the phone, behind him his family's laughter and chatter under the glittering night, and at his ear came Zhang Rongfeng's voice from the encrypted line in the Capital City, steady yet with an uncontainable surge of excitement.

"Director Lu, your move of pulling the rug from under the pot is nothing short of a divine stroke!" Zhang Rongfeng's voice was full of heartfelt admiration, "The White House's 'Thorn Extraction Operation' document hasn't even dried its ink, and it's already dead in the womb! I watched this morning's live news conference; the joint spokespersons of the U. S. Commerce Department and the Finance Ministry had faces uglier than the pickles left in our cafeteria for three days! The manuscript in their hands trembled like leaves in an autumn wind, repeatedly emphasizing that the U. S. side is committed to safeguarding a 'free, fair' global trade environment, and expressing 'serious concern' over any actions that might trigger commodity price fluctuations. I think they're not concerned—they're having a heart attack!"

Zhang Rongfeng paused, his excited tone settling into a more solemn one: "I'm calling you to convey the latest directives from Old Chen and the department. Over in the United States, because of what you did, their attention has completely shifted to the Soviet Union. The Soviet Union's economy is a mess right now; the previously passive détente with the United States has suddenly become tense again. According to the intelligence we have, frictions between the two sides are escalating sharply in every field, with a strong possibility of returning to the peak of the Cold War."

Lu Qingshan listened quietly, his gaze fixed on the Tianxing ferry slowly sailing on the distant sea, its specks of light like beating pulses. In his mind, the agreement signed jointly by the old European aristocracy in the Geneva Castle instantly flashed.

"Old Chen and several senior officials mean that this is a once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity," Zhang Rongfeng's voice dropped even lower, with a faint hiss of electricity, "See if we can find a way to link up with the military‑industrial technology projects on both the U. S. and Soviet sides. We ask for nothing else, focusing on learning with sales as a supplement. The storm you stirred in New York and London last time was a total victory, but the foreign‑exchange inflow takes time. Yet the country's next five‑year plan is already laid out, with demand for rice everywhere, and the foreign‑exchange shortfall is simply too large."

"Understood," Lu Qingshan replied with just three words, calm yet as heavy as Mount Tai.

He knew in his heart that the state had shouldered enormous pressure to support his overseas operations. Now it was his turn to give back. And the military‑industrial shares held by the European "Partner" are his best Door‑knocking Brick.

"Good! With those words, we can rest easy!" Zhang Rongfeng sighed with relief, "You first spend time with your family; the specifics can be discussed in detail when you return to the Capital City."

The call ended.

Lu Qingshan didn't turn around immediately; he remained standing in the corner, the sea breeze tugging at the hem of his shirt. His mind was racing.

The U. S. –Soviet rivalry, the arms race. For others it's a crisis; for him it's a massive business opportunity. Britain's Rolls‑Royce, Germany's Rheinmetal, France's Dassault… behind each of these military‑industrial giants is the shadow of those "founding Partner" figures. Now is the time to let the legacies of these old‑brand empires contribute a bit of "insignificant" power to Huaxia's rise.

A cold, barely perceptible curve lifted the corner of his mouth.

"Dad, eat the shrimp!" Lu Xiaoxue held up a perfectly peeled boiled shrimp still tinged with her mother's worried, hot‑blown saliva, waddling on her short legs toward him, her red‑cheeked little face tilted up, big eyes full of anticipation.

The cold in Lu Qingshan's eyes instantly melted into spring water; he crouched, smiled, opened his mouth, and swallowed the shrimp—its sweet flesh mingled with a milky aroma—together with his daughter's saliva, then scooped his daughter into his arms and planted a firm kiss on her chubby little face.

"Delicious! The shrimp our Xiao Xue peels is the best in the world!"

"Hehe…" Lu Xiaoxue giggled as his beard‑scratched chin tickled her, laughing in his arms like a happy little dolphin.

The family happily finished their midnight snack and returned to their respective rooms.

Lu Qingyuan and Lu Qinghe, the two brothers, couldn't sleep; on the balcony, under Victoria Harbour's night glow, each lit a cigarette.

"Big brother, you said we're heading back tomorrow—where should we start with our family's business?" Lu Qinghe, the deputy county chief, was at a loss now; the shocks he'd taken these past few days outweighed everything of the past ten years combined.

Lu Qingyuan took a deep drag, watching the myriad lights of Hong Kong Island in the distance, the cigarette tip flickering uncertainly in the night.

"Start with the people," he exhaled a smoke ring, his voice as steady as the ground beneath his feet. "Second brother handed us a massive family enterprise, but money and projects alone aren't enough; we need people who can shoulder responsibilities. When we return, first bring the elders from the factories in Shanwan and the capable youngsters from the specialty markets across the regions to the Capital City for unified training. We need our own Huangpu Military Academy, we need our own troops!"

Lu Qinghe's eyes lit up at the words, and he gave a firm nod.

In the bedroom, Lin Yue'e had already washed Xiao Xue and soothed her to sleep. She returned to the main hall, saw Lu Qingshan sitting on the sofa, and rose to pour him a cup of warm water.

"Still thinking about the company?" she asked softly, reaching out to undo the top button of his shirt so he could relax a bit.

"Hmm, just a few minor things," Lu Qingshan said, gripping her hand, pulling her into his arms, his chin resting against her forehead, inhaling her familiar fragrance.

"Brother‑in‑law, is there some trouble?" Lin Yueqiang, who had appeared at the doorway at some point, held a half‑eaten platter of roast goose, oil still on his mouth, a curious‑baby look on his face, "Is another European friend about to send us something? I tell you, that Ferrari is great, much faster than our Liberation trucks! How about we ask them to send another one?"

Lu Qingshan gave him a helpless, half‑laughing, half‑crying look.

"It's not about sending things," he thought for a moment, then chose a way Lin Yueqiang could understand, "Someone wants to treat us to a meal, but we have to earn the money for it ourselves."

Lin Yueqiang nodded vaguely, finding the matter a bit convoluted, and simply went back to tackling the roast meat and lager, muttering, "Having to earn the money for a meal? That's so… embarrassing…"

It was late at night; Lu Qingshan lay in bed, unable to sleep. He picked up the Satellite Phone he never left behind and dialed a New York number.

The call was answered almost instantly, and on the other end came David Cohen's wildly energetic roar.

"Boss! You finally remembered me! Did you know that the whole Wall Street now calls me the 'Caffeine Tyrant'? The Starbucks owner called me eight times, crying like a three‑hundred‑pound child, begging me to sell him some coffee beans. He said if this keeps up, his shop will have to rename itself 'House of Plain Water'! I told him to come to you—not because you dislike coffee, but because you want to stockpile some beans!"

"David," Lu Qingshan interrupted his performance, "I have a new assignment for you."

"You tell me, boss! Even if you ask me to replace the Statue of Liberty's torch with a bottle of our Xinghan herbal drink, I'll handle it perfectly!"

"Help me check: recently, between the Pentagon and the Kremlin Palace, whose arms orders are the largest, what they sold, and to whom."

On the other end, David's breathing vanished in an instant, the silence so deep you could hear the drum‑like thudding of his heart stopping and then wildly reviving.

After a full five seconds, he finally asked in a dream‑like, trembling voice tinged with sobs, "B‑Boss… we… aren't we a financial company with ideals and ethics? You… what are you doing? Are we… are we supposed to start selling tanks now? That's… that's illegal, right?!"

"No," Lu Qingshan's voice was unusually clear and icy in the quiet night, "We don't sell."

He paused, then said each word as if delivering a judicial verdict:

"We only handle… collection."