Chapter 491: Century Deal: Trading the Soviet Union's Collapse for Huaxia's Rise

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Reagan's cigar hovered in midair, a piece of ash fell onto the expensive carpet.

"Young man, arrogance and confidence are separated by only a hair's breadth." David Rockefeller twirled the gold ring on his hand, his old eyes looking at him like a monkey unaware of the sky, "Bring down the Soviet Union? Just you? Do you know how many billions of military spending we burn each year to curb that polar bear?"

Lu Qingshan ignored the taunt, sat back down, and tossed the two‑mao bag of Da Qian Men onto the table.

"The Soviet Union is a giant, that's true. But this giant has a fatal flaw—specialization." Lu Qingshan held up two fingers, "One leg is heavy‑industry armaments, the other leg is oil. Though these legs look robust now, they're actually very osteoporotic."

"My friend in the Middle East, that Prince Saleman, has already agreed with me." Lu Qingshan's tone was flat, as if stating today's vegetable price, "Once the moment comes, Saudi Arabia will turn the oil valve to the maximum. We will push the international oil price from the current thirty US Dollars down below ten US Dollars."

A gasp rose in the conference room.

Pierre Morgan frowned, "Ten US Dollars? Then the Soviet Union's extraction cost line…"

"Pierce straight through," Lu Qingshan continued, "Seventy percent of the Soviet Union's foreign exchange comes from oil sales. If oil prices are halved, their finances will hemorrhage. At that point, Xinghan Group will cooperate with everyone, draining their remaining foreign‑exchange reserves through grain trade and dumping of light industrial goods. A superpower that can't even afford bread—how far do you think its tanks can still roll?"

Reagan's eyes lit up, the glow of a hunter seeing a trap spring.

"But that's not enough." Lu Qingshan leaned forward, staring at Reagan, "Mr. President, I heard your staff is planning something called the 'Strategic Defense Initiative'? Or, more colloquially, the 'Star Wars' plan?"

Reagan's coffee cup jolted violently, brown liquid splashed out.

Kissinger even took off his glasses outright, staring intently at Lu Qingshan. This is a White House top secret, not even passed by Congress—how does this Huaxia man know about it?

"Don't be nervous, I'm not planting a bug in the White House," Lu Qingshan chuckled, "I just want to suggest you hype this plan even bigger, even more mystic. Tell the world that America will build laser weapons, will build space warships, will dominate the stratosphere, will occupy the Moon. The Soviet people's prideful character will certainly follow. Lure their last bit of national power into this bottomless pit."

Reagan took a deep breath, finally dropped his presidential demeanor, looked seriously at the young man before him, "Lu, you're a devil. But I have to say, I like this plan."

"As for Germany…" Lu Qingshan walked to the map, drew a line where the Berlin Wall stood, "East Germany's days are hard now. If we apply pressure on the west and give a sweetener on the east, once the Soviet Union falls, that wall can be toppled with just a gust of wind. A unified Germany would spend ten years just digesting Europe's mess, leaving no energy to challenge US Dollar hegemony. This is an excellent upside for everyone here."

Several conglomerate tycoons began whispering to each other.

They don't care about politics, but they care about money. If the Soviet Union collapses, that massive energy, mineral, and military‑industrial technology becomes unclaimed fatty meat, a century‑long feast.

"I agree with Lu's view," Kissinger suddenly spoke, the old fox clearly having tallied the numbers, "Xinghan Group's performance in Angola proves their execution capability. Mr. President, this deal is profitable."

Reagan remained silent for a full two minutes.

"Good." Reagan slapped the table, "The gamble is set. But this is too big, it must be monitored. The CIA must be involved throughout…"

"No." Lu Qingshan cut him off, his voice cold and hard, "We are Partners, not a hierarchy. Xinghan Group does not accept any form of monitoring. I have my channels, you have your means; we each work separately, maintain good communication, and split the loot at the end."

Beck was about to lose his temper when Reagan raised his hand to stop him.

"Fine." Reagan stared at Lu Qingshan, "But we need to sign an agreement. A top‑secret agreement."

Half an hour later, the White House underground vault.

A document titled "Dawn Agreement" lay on the table. No official heading, no national emblem, only densely packed clauses and a profit exchange capable of reshaping the world order.

Lu Qingshan held a fountain pen, and before signing, suddenly pointed to one clause: "This needs to be changed."

"What?" Beck asked impatiently.

"To cripple the Soviet Union, I need to flood them with massive cheap industrial goods. But present-day Huaxia's technological base is too thin, production efficiency can't keep up," Lu Qingshan said earnestly, "Therefore, I want America to lift export restrictions on certain high‑tech fields for Huaxia. Including chip‑manufacturing equipment, high‑precision machine tools, and civilian aerospace engine technology."

"That's impossible!" a representative of the Rockefeller family leapt up, "That's aiding the enemy! The Bar Tong Accord is right there!"

"What aid the enemy? This is 'to do a good job, one must first sharpen the tools'," Lu Qingshan tossed the pen, "Without these equipments, what will I use to produce enough goods to crush the ruble system? Rely on hand‑crafting? Or do you all want to go to the Soviet Union to sell shirts?"

He looked at the greedy old men, a cold smile at the corner of his mouth, "You can't catch a wolf without sacrificing a child. This bit of equipment compared to the dividends of the Soviet Union's collapse is nothing."

The conglomerate tycoons stared at each other. Faced with huge profit temptation, the so‑called "technology blockade" looked so pale. After all, it's "civilian" technology; as long as it can kill the Soviet Union, why not give some outdated chip equipment?

"Sign." Pierre Morgan gritted his teeth, "Give it to him."

Lu Qingshan made a sweeping stroke, signing his name.

At that moment, he knew in his heart that he had used the Soviet Union's fate to get Huaxia a fast‑track ticket to industrial modernization.

With the business concluded, the atmosphere suddenly relaxed.

At the White House's private dinner, glasses were raised and exchanged.

A young scion of the Rockefeller family, seemingly displeased with Lu Qingshan's arrogance in the conference room, approached holding a glass of pure whiskey.

"Mr. Lu, I heard Easterners have good drinking capacity?" the young man provocatively swirled his glass, "This is Kentucky's finest bourbon, dare you take a shot?"

Lu Qingshan looked at the amber liquid and smiled.

During the years he was sent to work in Changbai Mountain, those were days of drinking hot knives to warm up. Competing in drinking with those educated youths, when had Lu Qingshan ever lost?

"Since we're friends, let's skip the glasses." Lu Qingshan casually grabbed a 750‑ml bottle of whiskey from the table, "Shall we just chug?"

The young man froze, his face instantly turning pork‑liver color.

"What, you scared?" Lu Qingshan didn't waste words, tipped his head and downed it.

Glug glug.

The spicy liquor rolled down his throat like a fire line. In less than a minute, the empty bottle slammed onto the table with a "bang". Lu Qingshan's expression unchanged, his eyes a bit brighter.

"Your turn."

The young man looked at the empty bottle, his legs went weak. Around him, several second‑generation heirs of the conglomerates who had wanted to watch a joke now were all silent as if chilled, their gazes at Lu Qingshan like at a monster.

This is no merchant, it's a hero straight out of Liangshan.

The dinner ended, Washington's night breeze was mildly cool.

Ye Ning followed behind Lu Qingshan, watching his boss's upright silhouette, eyes full of stars.

"Boss, you just… were so cool," Ye Ning stammered excitedly, "Do you know what that agreement we just signed means? We've not only gotten a Federal Reserve entry ticket, but also retrieved technologies that have been blocked for over thirty years! If the home front finds out, they'll have to erect a monument for you!"

"Erecting a monument can wait; I still want to live a few more years," Lu Qingshan tightened his overcoat collar, "Ye Ning, notify Li Zhi'an in London, and the line in Moscow."

He stopped, stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, gazing at the brightly lit Capitol Hill in the distance.

"Plan activated. Begin Short Selling the ruble, massively acquire Soviet heavy‑industry bonds. Remember, act fast, look cool."

"Understood!"

Lu Qingshan pulled a cigarette from his pocket, just as he was about to light it, his private mobile suddenly vibrated.

It was an encrypted number, known by no more than five people.

He answered the call, saying nothing.

A crackle of electricity came through the earpiece, followed by an old, gloomy English spoken with a heavy Russian accent.

"Mr. Lu, good evening."

Lu Qingshan's finger paused on the lighter: "Who is this?"

"You're a clever businessman; your performance in Washington was spectacular." The voice sounded as if it came from the Siberian ice fields, carrying a chill, "But you think, by putting the Soviet Union on the table as a sacrifice, we really can't see it?"

"KGB?" Lu Qingshan lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, letting the smoke circle his lungs.

"We're watching you. Whether you're in Angola or Washington," the voice threatened, "don't think that having Americans behind you guarantees everything. Some games, if you lose, you lose your head."

Lu Qingshan looked at the massive Lincoln statue in the night, a contemptuous smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Watching me?"

He exhaled a smoke ring into the phone, his voice calm enough to be frightening.

"Then keep your eyes wide open and watch. Watch how I nail the final coffin nail onto your decaying empire."

After speaking, he hung up, removed the phone battery, and tossed it casually into the trash can beside him.

"Let's go, Ye Ning."

"Where to?"

"Back home. There's a big project waiting at the house to start." Lu Qingshan strode down the steps, "Since we have the blueprints and equipment, our chip plant and engine plant should start smoking soon."