Chapter 510: This Struggle Is for the Nation, This Hand‑over Is for the Backbone

In early winter, the Capital City's mist had not yet cleared, and a thin frost coated the glazed tiles behind the red walls.

Lu Qingshan's red‑flag car bearing civilian plates passed three checkpoints and slowly stopped before an unassuming gray‑brick building. No sign hung there, but everyone who came and went knew that whatever was decided in that conference room— even a sneeze— would make the whole nation catch a cold.

The conference room had no heating, so it felt a little chilly. The long table was packed on both sides— besides Old Chen, several senior military officials bearing star‑rank medals, and the heads of the Development and Reform Commission and the Energy Ministry.

No one spoke; only the faint clink of teacup lids.

Lu Qingshan pushed the door open, holding a thin black folder. He wasn't in a suit, just draped in a black coat he hadn't had time to change out of, looking slightly out of place yet exuding a commanding aura.

"Everyone here?" Old Chen pointed to the empty seat on the left. "Sit. We've all been waiting to see the loot list you 'snatched' on this trip."

Lu Qingshan said nothing, handed the folder to the nearby confidential secretary, and signaled to project it onto the big screen.

The first slide lit up.

It was a world map, with dozens of points marked in red.

"These are two rich iron ore deposits in Australia's Piraeus region, grade over 62%, with extremely low extraction cost. This is Chile's Atacama Salt Lake, the world's largest lithium reserve. And here's the copper‑cobalt belt in the Democratic Republic of Congo."

Lu Qingshan's voice was flat, as if reciting a menu: "The controlling stakes of these mines are currently held by several offshore companies under the Xinghan Group. The agreement runs for ninety‑nine years."

The minister of industry's pen "clack" dropped onto the table. He stared at the lithium data, his eyes bulging. While everyone else still watches coal and oil, Lu Qingshan has already seized the lifeline of the future battery industry.

Before anyone could digest it, the second slide flipped over.

It was a diagram of the military‑industrial and shipping network.

"The full set of upgraded schematics from the Sukhoi Design Bureau, including the avionics source code. The 'Power Tsar' engine production line from Ukraine's Motor Sich. And operating rights for twelve strategic ports worldwide, including Darwin Port and Piraeus Port."

"Charge!"

An elderly general with silver hair sprang up so violently he knocked his chair over. He trembled, pointing at the screen's retrofit plan for the vessel "Varyag," his lips quivering for a long moment before he finally rendered a proper military salute.

"With this… our navy could shave off decades of development!" the old general's eyes reddened.

The third slide follows: a long‑term energy agreement between the Middle East and Russia.

"For the next fifty years, regardless of how international oil prices swing, our oil and gas will always be twenty percent below market price, locked in." Lu Qingshan tapped the table. "This hard currency was exchanged for grain and light industrial goods."

The conference room fell into dead silence.

This isn't business; it's digging up someone else's ancestral tomb and hauling all the burial goods back to our own backyard.

At that moment, a middle‑aged official in glasses in the corner adjusted his frames, his voice a little cold: "Director Lu, this list is indeed astonishing. But I must ask, the legal ownership of these assets now— does it reside with the Xinghan Group or with the state?"

The atmosphere froze instantly.

The man is Zhao Bureau Chief, in charge of disciplinary review, famed for his iron‑clad impartiality.

"If these strategic lifelines are all in the hands of a private conglomerate…" Zhao Bureau Chief fixes his gaze on Lu Qingshan. "Then does Xinghan Group become a nation within a nation? Is this another form of a 'independent kingdom'? Director Lu, the state can't bear that risk."

Those words are too heavy— practically a heart‑rending accusation.

Old Chen's expression darkened; just as he was about to speak, Lu Qingshan smiled.

He smiled lightly as a cloud, even pulling a cigarette case from his pocket, not lighting it, just twirling it in his hand.

"Zhao Bureau Chief, your concerns are justified." Lu Qingshan pulls a seemingly ordinary USB drive and a thick stack of legal documents stamped with the Xinghan Group's Official Seal, gently placing them at the center of the table.

"So I'm here today not to show off, but to hand over the keys."

Lu Qingshan stands, both hands braced on the table edge, his gaze sweeping every person present.

"Effective immediately, all Xinghan Group entities that touch national strategic security— energy, military industry, heavy industry, infrastructure, minerals— will be transferred to the state free of charge. I'll help set up a new state‑controlled central enterprise; I've already named it 'Huaxia Holding Group.'"

"I'll retain only three sectors: financial investment, high‑tech R&D, and consumer goods." Lu Qingshan shrugs. "The hard bones go to the state; my teeth aren't strong enough, I'll just fund the front and weave the tech net. As for those jars and cans, they were meant for the family anyway— there's no logic in a son splitting assets from his father."

The room is so quiet you could hear a heartbeat.

Tens of trillions in assets— wealth that could rival a nation, power that generations of people could never even dream of.

He just tossed it out so lightly?

Zhao Bureau Chief was stunned, mouth agape, unable to close it for a long moment. He'd rehearsed a barrage of rebukes, now all collapsed inside; his face flushed bright red with shame.

"Snap!"

Old Chen slammed his palm onto the table, sending tea splashing everywhere.

"Great! 'There's no reason for a son to split the family estate!'" the old man's eyes glistened, pointing at Lu Qingshan. "What's this called? It's called a peerless national hero! From now on, anyone who dares to gossip behind our backs that Qing Shan is building an independent kingdom— I'll be the first to refuse!"

Old Chen immediately signed off: "'Huaxia Holding' is to be established at once, fully state‑owned. But Lu Qingshan must be appointed lifelong honorary chairman with a veto vote. The operating team stays unchanged— the same Xinghan elite— professional matters handled by professionals!"

Just as the signing ceremony was about to begin, the conference room doors were burst open.

Ye Ning rushed in clutching an encrypted phone, her face ashen, too startled to even knock.

"Boss! Something's happened!"

She handed the phone to Lu Qingshan, voice urgent: "Just now, the U. S. CIA together with several major conglomerates abruptly cut off the SWIFT settlement channel for all Xinghan Group overseas accounts. Moreover, the batch of lithography machines and precision lathes slated for transfer has been remotely locked! The Americans triggered a back‑door routine—a 'self‑destruct command'!"

A stir rippled through the room.

"These foreign devils! They're trying to kill the fish and burn the net!" the old general shouted, slamming his hat onto the table.

If the equipment turns to scrap and the funds freeze, this earth‑shaking deal becomes a joke.

Lu Qingshan took the call, his face showing no panic, only a look as if watching a fool.

"Why panic."

He pulled from the inner pocket of his briefcase a black, brick‑shaped satellite communicator. It looks crude, but it's a newly developed prototype of a domestic encrypted satellite phone.

"Three years ago I already prepared for this." Lu Qingshan dials a number and presses speaker.

On the other end, a cascade of keyboard clicks, then a young, excited voice: "Boss, the fish took the bait. The U. S. just launched the lock‑down command, but our 'Great Wall' system intercepted it. The domestic control chips and cracking modules we swapped in are now running fine. Also, our independent internal settlement system is live; funds aren't moving through SWIFT but through the Huaxia Currency autonomous settlement system— the money's already credited."

Lu Qingshan says calmly into the phone: "Since they want to play, we'll play along. Tell the rare‑earth supplier to halt shipments of special permanent‑magnet materials and deep‑processed titanium alloy to Boeing and Lockheed Martin in the U. S. Reason? Just say the production line is under maintenance for a year or so."

"Got it!"

He hangs up, looks at the stunned executives, spreads his hands: "The Americans are using an old almanac. They think they've locked my throat, but they've actually stuck their own hands into a crocodile's mouth."

Ten minutes later.

The secure phone inside the red walls rang.

It was the White House calling.

The operator covered the microphone, reporting in a strange expression: "Chief, over in the United States… their tone is very soft, saying it's a misunderstanding, that it's a system malfunction, hoping we can restore the rare‑earth supply as soon as possible, and they also asked whether Mr. Lu can take a call…"

"Tell them Mr. Lu is busy signing, he has no time," Old Chen said, waving his hand authoritatively, "Let them wait!"

The signing pen lands on the paper, making a rustling sound.

As Lu Qingshan's final stroke fell, this earth‑shaking Settlement involving trillions of assets, enough to alter the world order, settled amid a silent thunder.

……

Night, Fuqiang Hutong.

The wind outside blew tightly, but inside the house it was warm.

Lu Qingshan sat on a small horse saddle, with an enamel basin in front of him, helping Lin Yue'e peel garlic.

Lin Yue'e looked at her husband's hands, which had just signed a trillion‑plus deal, now clumsily handling garlic skins, feeling a mix of emotions.

"Qing Shan, that's several trillion…," she set the rolled dough down and asked softly, "You just handed it all away—do you really not feel any pang at all?"

Lu Qingshan tossed a peeled garlic clove into the bowl, looked up at the courtyard.

Lu Xiao Xue was wearing a thick cotton coat, shaking her head and swaying as she recited a Tang poem: "Go go go, the goose tilts its neck toward the heavens and sings…," while Jin Hu lay beside her, boredly yawning.

"What's there to feel sorry about?" Lu Qingshan laughed, his wrinkles at the corners of his eyes full of tenderness, "Wife, you must know, money is just something to spend. Having more is just numbers, even a disaster. Those hard bones, carrying them is too heavy on a person; that's what the nation should bear."

He reached out and grasped Lin Yue'e's flour‑dusted hand: "Take the mountain off and let the nation bear it, then I can free my hands to hug you and your mother properly. Moreover, what we have left in our hands is enough for Xiao Xue to be a little princess for ten lifetimes."

Lin Yue'e's eyes reddened, and she glared at him petulantly: "You're the only one who can talk like that."

At that moment, the black phone on the windowsill began vibrating again.

Lu Qingshan sighed: "Looks like this dumpling meal won't be peaceful again."

He answered, and on the other end came the anxious voice of Crown Prince Saleman, with noisy alarms in the background.

"Lu! My friend! Something huge happened! The American carrier battle group entered the Persian Gulf! They claim to be searching for weapons of mass destruction, want to impose financial sanctions on us, and even freeze our US Dollar accounts!"

Lu Qingshan's gaze hardened; the domestic warmth of the man moments before vanished, replaced by a chilling, domineering aura.

He stood up, walked to the window, and stared at the pitch‑black night outside.

"Don't be afraid, Saleman."

Lu Qingshan's voice was deep and powerful, like a bell in the dark night: "Petro‑Dollar hegemony? They've wielded that scythe for too long; it's time to roll up the blade."

"Send your finance minister to the Capital City tomorrow. We won't discuss the US Dollar any more."

Lu Qingshan looked at the faint glimmer in the east, a cold smile curling at his mouth.

"Let's talk about the 'Petro‑Huaxia Currency'."