Chapter 995: London Atmosphere

“Brother Zhao, are we going in?”

Bai Tiecheng glanced at Zhao Weidong and hesitantly asked that question.

They’d been waiting a long time; several groups had already gone inside the restaurant.

Either go in or leave—standing here in this pitch-dark night, what’s the point?

It’s not that they cared about the difference, but mainly because the restaurant’s entrance was right there, and if someone saw them standing around, they’d think they were beggars.

Besides, the sun’s already set—it’s freezing!

Think about it: it’s the dead of winter, the coldest days of the year; even if you’re wearing a wool coat, standing on the street for an hour is unbearable.

The others were stomping their feet and hugging their arms from the cold; Bai Tiecheng was dressed too lightly and couldn’t take it anymore.

Zhao Weidong’s eyes remained fixed on the brightly lit restaurant across the street—his gaze held hesitation, fear, and mostly hatred.

He still remembered October, when he’d just returned from the frontier, full of pride and the talk of the town.

But who could’ve guessed that just because he’d glanced at him in the crowd, he got beaten like this?

Zhao Weidong didn’t think Zuo Jie had that much influence to warrant Li Er Bala stepping in for him.

In his mind, street thugs would treat you well if they liked you, but if they wanted to beat you, even a single glance was enough.

He firmly believed this—his last beating had nothing to do with fighting Zuo Jie; it was pure bad luck.

Zuo Jie?

Zuo Jie didn’t have that kind of clout; he’d been beaten plenty before, yet no one ever stood up for him.

So grudges have a source, debts have an owner—he fell where he fell, and he’d rise where he fell.

Street toughs live for face; without reputation or standing, who’d follow you?

Over the past few months, he’d truly hardened his resolve, deliberately avoiding Zuo Jie, remembering every blow, and learning nearly everything about this Red Star International Hotel.

Whenever he had free time, he’d come over to circle the area, sometimes sitting across the street and watching for long stretches.

They say hatred blinds people; Zhao Weidong had gone a bit too far down this path, but if he didn’t do this, his influence was already shattered, finished.

“What I lost, I’ll take back—bit by bit!”

Zhao Weidong flicked the cigarette from his fingers, shook his head, and said: “Come on, follow me—let’s see what this International Hotel really is!”

Bai Tiecheng followed behind, called over a few brothers smoking nearby, gesturing for them to hurry up.

Finally moving—otherwise they’d freeze to death standing there.

He had no real grasp of Zhao Weidong’s words—what was lost, what to take back? Just go already!

Do you think they’ll bring it to you if you don’t go?

As far as Bai Tiecheng was concerned, Zhao Weidong leading them to pick a fight was completely justified.

He was a minor tough, someone with name and face in this city—so they just beat him up and that’s it?

Today they must reclaim their status, must restore their face!

They beat our asses, but they shamed Brother Zhao!

In truth, these kids like Bai Tiecheng still lacked depth—they only saw the surface.

Beyond reclaiming face and settling scores, Zhao Weidong wanted to stir up some trouble.

He’d been back over three months; he couldn’t say he’d accomplished nothing, but he might as well have been doing nothing.

To restore the kids’ prestige and influence, he needed to ride the wind blowing down from above.

Only when you light the fire will they keep fanning it—and only then can you reap the benefits.

The Great Study Movement had been going on for over half a year; the initial dreams and passions had cooled into reality and self-interest.

The authorities were using them, and they, too, needed to leverage the momentum to secure real gains.

“Colluding in evil” wasn’t quite right—they preferred to call it mutual reinforcement.

He’d already been to the Great Northwest, endured hardship and suffering; now he could either climb up using the kids’ influence to become a committee deputy or something similar,

Or make some money and enjoy life while still young.

Today, coming here, he’d made up his mind—he’d heard many foreigners had moved in, apparently holding some kind of event.

He didn’t care about that, but the foreigners themselves—he thought he could make something of it.

Zhao Weidong had inquired: this Red Star International Hotel had once been the Six Nations Hotel, owned by the Red Star Steel Plant.

From “!

If he could cause chaos, or spark discussion among the toughs and the kids, and get everyone to burn this place down—wouldn’t that create some real content?

Even if the fire didn’t catch, he’d still stir up trouble, to avenge the humiliation he suffered here on October 1st.

He’d also considered the possibility of being beaten again—or worse punishment.

In these past three months, he hadn’t just been loafing around—he’d made some preparations.

At least he’d regained his status as a kid, reestablished some influence within the toughs’ circle.

They kicked open their bikes and crashed over to the front of the International Hotel.

First, they parked in the lot; Zhao Weidong generously paid for everyone’s parking tickets.

But before the attendant, he had to show his determination and authority.

Eyes locked on the hotel lobby, he tossed two Mao notes onto the table and sneered: “Watch the bikes—or I’ll break your legs!”

Without even glancing at the attendant’s expression, he led the group into the courtyard.

The parking attendant was an old man; seeing the kids’ arrogance, he sighed helplessly and chose to avoid trouble, afraid to provoke them.

Since last year, anyone on the street wearing a green uniform with a leather armband was off-limits.

Not just him—even high-ranking cadres had been beaten by them countless times.

So, the bikes had to be watched—otherwise, they really might break your legs.

You think these kids are this brazen in Beijing?

Yeah! That’s exactly how brazen they are!

You didn’t see it, I didn’t see it, even Li Xuewu rarely sees it—because if he did, people would die.

Zhao Weidong led the way, Bai Tiecheng, Xie Qianjin, and others trailed behind swinging clubs, walking with a swagger that recognized no kin or friend.

The hotel courtyard wasn’t small, but during construction, they’d considered street visibility, so you had to turn a corner to reach the main entrance.

Seeing this group swaggering in, the receptionist grabbed the intercom and alerted security.

Zhou Yao, on duty nearby, received the alert and walked out with the security chief.

“What do you want?”

“To eat!”

Bai Tiecheng knew his role as a subordinate—some things weren’t for the boss to say.

Seeing the other side had mustered their men, he puffed out his chest and replied with the same empty words.

Zhou Yao squinted at them, decided not to engage, nodded to the security chief, and turned to walk away.

Bai Tiecheng, seeing the girl “retreat,” actually thought she was afraid—now he stepped forward to clear the way.

He was truly bold; the entrance was right ahead, and he raised his hand to shove aside the guards so Brother Zhao could pass.

But he didn’t expect these five or six guards to be so tough—they shoved him back with one palm.

Who was Bai Tiecheng?

This kid was a hothead; he’d only followed Zhao Weidong for a short while, but he’d also returned from the Great Northwest.

The difference from Zhao Weidong? He’d stayed longer—over two years.

So why was he Zhao Weidong’s lackey?

Obviously—Zhao Weidong stayed six months, he stayed over two years; his background and power were clearly weaker.

He hadn’t witnessed the kids’ exploits in Beijing firsthand, but he’d heard plenty—he knew the bold prospered, the timid starved.

So when the guards resisted and showed disrespect, his violent nature erupted—he shook his arm, and a fork slipped out; gritting his teeth, glaring, he lunged to stab the bastards before him.

Though it was pitch dark, the hotel entrance was well-lit; the guards were watching closely. A flash of silver appeared, and the guards all reached for their waists.

Here, we must explain the steel plant’s security equipment—otherwise these kids wouldn’t even know why they got beaten.

The predecessor of this hotel, the Six Nations Hotel, had hosted progressive teachers and students from other regions; its security level then remains unchanged today.

That means: wool winter caps, military overcoats, black military boots, armed belts around the waist, with real .54 caliber holsters and ammunition boxes, plus handcuffs and other gear.

Seeing these men armed and ready, would the guards tolerate them?

Pistols were drawn from their belts before Bai Tiecheng could even charge—the barrels pressed against his forehead.

Beyond seven steps, the gun is fast; within seven steps, it’s faster and deadlier.

Dare you move?

The security chief’s eyes hardened—he looked ready to detain them all.

Zhao Weidong’s heart lurched; he placed his hand on Bai Tiecheng’s shoulder, stopping him from acting rashly.

Actually, this gesture was unnecessary—he could clearly feel Bai Tiecheng trembling.

How could he not tremble? Try having a gun pressed to your forehead!

Usually, in factories or schools, armed guards carry long rifles.

Especially in peacetime, the rifles have no bullets.

But look at these men—Zhao Weidong nearly passed out right there.

Guards carrying pistols, daring to draw them in this situation, with smooth, professional movements—not inferior to the guards in their own courtyard.

Of course—special security duties demand professionalism.

The steel plant’s security department had several units that trained rigorously: the escort team, patrol squad, security division, etc.

Gate guards with live ammo, patrol guards with live ammo, security teams on duty with live ammo—you dare to cause trouble, we won’t hesitate to shoot you.

“Go play somewhere else; we don’t serve you here.”

The security captain controlled the situation with perfect restraint—if this had been ordinary times, he would have acted already.

But today was different: the foreign business delegation from Yangcheng was finishing their training today, and the factory management committee director would soon lead the factory leadership to the evening banquet.

If they took these brats, stirred up trouble outside, it would be more trouble than it was worth.

Especially with people from the Waishi Force and Diaocha Force watching right here—any problem would become a major one.

So, expulsion became the best solution.

“Aren’t you a restaurant?”

Xie Qianjin wasn’t afraid of them resorting to force—he looked up at the neon sign above and sneered: “Is this how you run your business?”

“Or?”

He laughed mockingly: “Afraid we can’t pay? Or is this place just a capitalist den?”

“I’ll say it one more time.”

The security captain refused to engage—he’d been specially trained for this duty.

No matter what the other side said, he only repeated: “You are not welcome here. Leave immediately.”

“Fuck!”

Xie Qianjin curled his lip, grabbed the barrel of Bai Tiecheng’s gun, pressed it against his own forehead, and glared: “I’m eating here today—dare you shoot me?”

He’d already thought it through: they hadn’t started trouble—just came in to eat. If they really fired, it’d be a real incident.

As for the weapon Bai Tiecheng held, they could always explain it away later.

You shoot me over a fork? What kind of logic is that?

The security captain tilted his chin, squinting as Xie Qianjin marched forward with the gun pressed to his head.

“You don’t want trouble—so don’t make things harder for yourself...”

“Hey! Today, I’m just not happy!”

Xie Qianjin took another step forward, staring at him: “I’m hungry. I want to eat!”

“You want to eat, huh?”

At some point, Zhou Yao had returned—perhaps she’d seen the weapons drawn.

The leaders were coming soon, and the issue wasn’t resolved—this was like rubbing salt in her wound.

So as she spoke, she stepped forward, shoved the security guard aside, and slapped Xie Qianjin hard across the face.

SLAP!

That slap rang out loud!

Even the parking attendant heard it—he was sneaking glances now.

“Think you’ve got some face, do you?”

Zhou Yao’s face was cold. After slapping Xie Qianjin, she shoved Bai Tiecheng aside and jabbed her finger at Zhao Weidong’s nose: “You’re looking for trouble, aren’t you?”

“I just want to eat~”

Zhao Weidong leaned back slightly, trying to avoid the finger poking his nose.

Clean-cut short hair, crisp uniform, strikingly sharp—especially now, with her stern glare, she radiated the spirit of a female hero.

But he had no time to admire her aura—Zhou Yao’s slap had stunned Xie Qianjin, and he was stunned too.

But Zhou Yao didn’t let up—she jabbed her finger at his chest: “If you’re looking for trouble, there’s plenty of space behind—let’s spar!”

As she spoke, her icy gaze swept over everyone, especially lingering on Bai Tiecheng’s fork—she sneered: “You’re trying to assault with a weapon?”

Then she added coldly: “If you’re here to hand us a reward, I’ll gladly take it.”

“My brother’s hungry. He’s confused.”

Zhao Weidong slung an arm around Bai Tiecheng’s shoulder and grinned: “We just wanted to eat—no trouble at all.”

“You’re joking with me, right?”

Zhou Yao glared at him: “Leave now. Don’t force me to act.”

“Comrade Zhou!”

The team leader from the Diaocha Force stepped out of the lobby—wearing a Zhongshan suit, short haircut, looking sharp and efficient.

He walked over and asked: “Problem?”

But Zhou Yao didn’t answer—she looked at Zhao Weidong, her eyes asking a question.

Meaning: You’re hungry, want to eat—want to talk to them? See if the Diaocha Force’s meal tastes better.

Zhao Weidong wasn’t blind—he’d seen the badge on the man’s chest. His smile vanished.

“Fine, if we can’t eat, we’ll go somewhere else.”

He surrendered firmly, grabbed Xie Qianjin and Bai Tiecheng, and backed away: “Sorry for the disturbance. Comrade Zhou, right? Let’s chat another time.”

He chatted like an old acquaintance, turned, pulled the two along, and hurried off with the others toward the gate.

They’d arrived with arrogance—they left in panic.

The Diaocha Force officer walked slowly, glanced at Zhou Yao, then smiled faintly: “Looks like someone’s trying to stir up trouble.”

Zhou Yao raised an eyebrow, turned toward the gate—her mission today was to ensure the factory banquet ran smoothly.

As for other layers of issues, she couldn’t control them—and had no power to.

Only after watching them leave did she turn back and tell the security captain: “Assign two plainclothes posts at the gate. Don’t let anything happen again.”

“Yes.”

The security captain felt embarrassed—he was supposed to handle this himself, yet Zhou Ke needed to clean up his mess.

Especially that reckless gun-drawing—too impulsive. It risked disrupting the event and made them look like fools.

Zhou Yao didn’t scold him further—she nodded to the Diaocha Force officer and walked into the lobby.

The Diaocha Force officer smiled, gave the security captain a quick look, then followed inside.

“Fuck!”

The security captain was furious—rotations were every ten days, and security personnel were always shifting—why did trouble have to happen on his watch?

The leaders hadn’t said anything—but they definitely held resentment.

During operations, leaders never openly scolded in front of outsiders—this single remark was already a serious reprimand.

He waved his hand, led the guards toward the gate, to see if those brats had left.

Of course they’d left—how could they stay with the Diaocha Force present?

Never mind the rest—the guards had beaten them, the female officer had cursed them—they had every reason to cause trouble.

But the Diaocha Force? Untouchable. The event here might involve hidden connections or stakes.

Their fathers wouldn’t dare act—how much less them?

As for Xie Qianjin getting slapped—he himself didn’t care.

When they retrieved their bikes and left, Xie Qianjin joked: “Next time I land in a powerful department, let a female cop handle me.”

A hooligan must have the nerve to be shameless—otherwise, how could he survive in society?

Zhao Weidong didn’t feel humiliated tonight—he’d come to test his judgment.

Lucky he came—if he’d barged in blindly, he’d have lost at least half his life.

He’d already uncovered some things: the chaos during the Six Nations Restaurant’s eviction, the incidents involving progressive students from other regions.

Basically just looking for trouble—he never imagined foreigners lived here, or that the Diaocha Force was present.

Today’s incident made one thing clear: these foreigners weren’t as simple as they seemed—there might be deeper ties.

Just as they were leaving, Zhao Weidong and the others had barely spoken two words when several cars pulled up.

They thought of hiding—but the cars didn’t slow down, turning straight into the courtyard.

He couldn’t let go—he stood at the gate, watching.

What he saw stopped him cold—it was someone, or rather, a lost youth.

A dozen beautiful young girls stepped out of the cars, laughing as they hurried toward the side building. Zhao Weidong recognized several.

Most striking was Zhou Miaomiao—transformed beyond recognition.

An indescribable maturity, an unnamable charm—he froze for a moment.

Was this really the girl who once followed him around playing? How had she become so...?

“Aren’t you leaving?”

The security captain stepped out, face cold: “If you’ve got guts, come back tomorrow—we’ll talk properly.”

“Who said we’re leaving? We just saw someone we know!”

Zhao Weidong slipped into his usual banter, gesturing toward the side building: “Can I go in to see someone? Just me.”

“Who? I’ll call them for you.”

The security captain’s eyes narrowed slightly—he thought: if there’s a connection, that’s better.

He wasn’t afraid they’d find someone to cause trouble—he was afraid they had no known ties.

If they found the person, this whole mess wasn’t the security team’s problem—it was that person who’d drawn these bastards in.

Then how to handle it? A total mess.

Zhao Weidong understood his meaning, clicked his tongue, and felt it was pointless.

“Boring. Let’s go.”

He waved to Xie Qianjin and the others: “Second floor of Dongfeng Restaurant—I’m treating you!”

Xie Qianjin and the others shot the security captain a glare, hopped on their bikes, and pedaled off into the distance.

In front of the International Hotel, relative calm returned once more.

Why is it called relative peace?

As the moment drew near, the entrance door to the hall opened, and hot air gushed out, forming a cloud of mist at the threshold.

Guards emerged from inside and spread out, taking up strategic positions to prevent problems from recurring.

The guards at the entrance stretched their necks to look, and when they saw the factory’s convoy approaching, they ran to deliver the news to the compound.

Zhang Songying and the others had already stepped out ahead, eagerly awaiting, their gazes fixed on the gate.

Soon, a familiar command vehicle led the way, followed closely by Director Li’s Volga M24, then Vice Director Jing’s Shanghai, and the cars of other factory leaders.

Though not large, the convoy still arrived at the gate with considerable presence.

Guards quickly took their assigned positions and helped the leaders open their car doors.

Li Xuewu had ridden with Li Huai De ; now he stepped out from the other side, looked up at the night view of the International Hotel, and smiled at Li Huai De as he got out: “Quite beautiful.”

Li Huai De heard Zhang Songying’s greeting; he first glanced at the building’s night scene, following Li Xuewu’s comment, then turned to Zhang Songying and shook her hand.

“Comrades, you’ve worked hard.”

“It’s our duty; we dare not speak of hardship.”

Zhang Songying was perfectly suited for this post, especially after a year of training—her interpersonal skills had grown increasingly polished.

After smilingly replying to Li Huai De , she glanced at Li Xuewu, briefly outlined the building’s conditions, and invited the leaders inside.

Compared to the factory’s guesthouse, the International Hotel’s conditions were vastly superior.

Whether the marble-floored lobby or the lighting and service within the hall, everything exuded an air of elegance and grandeur.

Otherwise, why would foreign businessmen, upon arriving in Jingcheng, choose to move here instead of staying with the Waishi Force’s reception facilities?

First, it’s close to the workplace; second, its living conditions are excellent, its service facilities complete, and its service philosophy far more advanced.

In all of Jingcheng, few places offered hot water around the clock or car pickup services.

Li Xuewu walked beside the factory leaders, smiling as he observed the hospitality and decor inside the hall.

Today’s event meant the decorations and layout naturally followed the theme.

The display boards and posters used during the factory’s car promotion were reused here.

The text and images mainly highlighted the rolling mill’s formidable strength and heritage—from production capacity to humanistic spirit—boasting loudly.

To be fair, the propaganda department had made real progress thanks to Li Xuewu’s several initiatives; at least they no longer stuck white squares on red paper and wrote black characters.

From the moment they entered, led by Zhang Songying, the leaders walked toward the reception room, handing their overcoats to accompanying staff along the way.

The supervisory cadres from the Waishi Force and Diaocha Force who came to assist were also waiting inside the hall.

Under Zhang Songying’s introduction, they shook hands with Li Huai De and with the supervisory leader Li Xuewu, thus making acquaintance.

They were heading to the reception room to meet the foreign businessmen; the Waishi and Diaocha personnel were merely here to make an appearance, to assert their presence.

After a brief handshake, without delaying their steps, they slipped away.

Li Huai De chatted lightly with Zhang Songying ahead, commenting on the elegance and grandeur of the staff’s uniforms, which suited the times well.

The blue uniforms, especially the neck scarves and small leather shoes, had a strong sense of fashion and greatly enhanced service quality.

Hearing Li Huai De praise the service, Zhang Songying smiled and explained that the International Hotel’s waitstaff were currently studying foreign languages under the organization of the Waishi Force.

“Oh? Really?”

Li Huai De feigned surprise appropriately, then smiled and glanced at Shao Qi, nodding: “Responding to the call of progress, you in service roles must keep up!”

“We’re following your lead.”

Zhang Songying reached the reception room door, gestured inward; the half-open door swung fully open, revealing many foreign businessmen already seated.

“Ladies and gentlemen, friends, our factory’s Director Li, accompanied by other leaders, has come to visit you.”

Actually, “visit” was inappropriate; guests had come from afar. Out of respect for the foreign businessmen, “meet” would be better, reflecting equal status.

But you sing the song of the mountain you’re on.

This was the rolling mill; naturally, the rolling mill’s leaders were in charge, and the first words of the evening set the tone.

Still, the translators beside the foreign businessmen were provided by the Waishi Force—they knew how to translate without provoking offense.

In this era, foreign affairs work mostly followed this pattern: you say your thing, I say mine.

For truly international negotiations, unless a public statement was needed, internal propaganda always favored one’s own side.

Years ago, the battle Li Xuewu fought—we all know we won, drove the enemy out of our territory, crushed their arrogance, and seized countless equipment.

But do you know how the Indians portrayed it?

You can guess: yes, they claimed victory.

That’s how bizarre, how twisted the propaganda was.

Now, since Li Huai De was receiving them as host, he could say whatever he liked.

The foreign businessmen were also courteous; after Li Huai De and the others entered, they all rose, and under Waishi Force’s arrangement, each shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with the approaching rolling mill leaders.

The Waishi Force’s reception officer stood beside Li Huai De , introducing each guest’s identity and brief details.

Li Huai De first shook hands, exchanged a few polite words, then moved to the next.

Behind him, Gu Weijie repeated his actions, but spoke differently.

Cheng Kaiyuan, Jing Yunnong, Xue Zhifu, and others followed suit in turn.

For this foreign affairs event, Li Huai De generously invited Cheng Kaiyuan to attend.

It was one of his few foreign engagements recently, clearly demonstrating Director Li’s “special care” for him.

The foreign businessmen present included not only the commercial delegation from Yangcheng, but also Andrew, the Italian partner from the rolling mill’s shipbuilding cooperation.

Also present was Momoko Tachibana, representative of the Japanese office, partner in the rolling mill’s hardware and electronics industries.

It was a simple meeting—after shaking hands around, everyone was already fairly familiar.

The rolling mill had only a few leaders; the foreign businessmen numbered over ten, with their accompanying staff seated in a circle outside.

First, Vice Director Li Xuewu, responsible for trade coordination, gave a brief welcome introduction.

He spoke casually, asking each guest about their journey here, while also expressing regret that he and Director Li had not attended the welcome banquet.

He tactfully avoided mentioning the past half-month’s ideological training, assuming everyone was numb to it by now.

But this training wasn’t arranged by the rolling mill—it was carried out by the Waishi Force per directives from above.

So the rolling mill need not apologize, nor show any hint of such meaning.

Everyone understood without saying it: I won’t ask, you won’t mention—this past half-month was just a journey of fatigue, a time to rest and recuperate.

Others at the meeting still felt a bit tense, afraid of saying the wrong thing.

But Andrew, already familiar with the rolling mill, began chatting with Nagis about his experiences inland, breaking the group’s reserve.

Both were Italian, already acquainted; with their conversation started, others followed suit.

The translator was explaining to Li Huai De what they were saying; he spoke half a beat behind, but today he was host, so when he spoke, all other translators had to synchronize their translations.

Thus, the meeting’s topics remained under Li Huai De ’s control, and, under Li Xuewu’s deliberate guidance, maintained a light and pleasant atmosphere.

After a little over half an hour, once the initial awkwardness and unfamiliarity had largely faded, Shao Qi signaled Zhang Songying to invite the leaders and foreign guests to the dining hall.

Foreigners understood etiquette; they knew guests followed the host’s lead. Li Huai De walked ahead, chatting with Andrew.

Behind them, a loose procession formed, with factory leaders each engaging one or two foreign businessmen—still courteous and proper.

The dinner was held in the banquet hall, the International Hotel’s largest multipurpose room.

Marble flooring, walls adorned with ink paintings, green plants and functional cabinets in the corners.

One end of the banquet hall was decorated with slogans and red flags, distinctly of the era.

The dinner used a long circular table; porcelain was uniformly white, elegant and solemn.

Each seat was marked with identifying text corresponding to the guest’s status.

Cleverly, the rolling mill leaders were interspersed among the foreign guests, fully reflecting a spirit of harmonious cooperation.

The responsible officers from the Waishi and Diaocha Forces were invited to attend, but the Diaocha Force’s officer, being cautious, did not come.

The Waishi Force’s officer did attend, sitting at the very end, appearing very cooperative.

Li Xuewu should have sat at the end, but when he entered, he found his seat was right beside Li Huai De .

That was easy to understand—likely Li Huai De had specifically instructed the Weiban to arrange it so.

He was the head of trade and coordination; during foreign affairs events, he needed to be ready to communicate at all times.

Especially since Li Xuewu knew more foreign languages, making communication with foreign businessmen easier.

Today’s seating was mixed, with no hierarchy, so his placement drew no attention.

After everyone sat down, they noticed dishes had already begun arriving: a cold buffet platter.

Although today’s menu was meant to be Chinese, the chefs still respected the guests’ dietary habits, making subtle adjustments.

Today’s head chef had mobilized every core asset of the rolling mill.

Master Qian, Shazhu, and Master Shang each displayed their skills—quality over quantity, truly elevating the banquet’s standard.

Ding~ Ding~

Following dining etiquette and prior preparation, as the cold buffet arrived, Vice Director Jing Yunnong, representing the rolling mill, delivered the opening speech.

Jing Yunnong was also talented and capable; her fluent, standard London accent immediately stunned many in the room.

Li Xuewu listened attentively; the speech draft from the bureau was naturally excellent.

You didn’t need to scrutinize word choice—just listening to the meaning and tone revealed the depth.

Naturally, Vice Director Jing’s speech earned applause from everyone present.

Her slender, aloof demeanor, delicate gold-rimmed glasses, paired with a lady’s blouse and gray plaid trousers, made her impossible not to notice—and admire.

Even Li Xuewu thought: next time, I must try English mode—I’ve never experienced London charm.

After the rolling mill leaders spoke, it was the foreign representatives’ turn.

First was Nagis, organizer of the commercial delegation and the first foreign businessman Li Xuewu had invited.

He was somewhat emotional at today’s banquet, confronted with such a radically different reception compared to the past half-month’s coldness—the rolling mill had given them an entirely different experience.

This was inevitable; for the first half-month, the Waishi Force and Investigation Department had been responsible for hosting them, and the other side merely saw foreign merchants coming to the mainland as troublemakers.

The rolling mill, however, saw things differently—they viewed these people as fellow countrymen, come to deliver pigs, cattle, and sheep.

How could one not treat the God of Wealth well? As long as cooperation was possible, as long as money was coming in, even if Li Huai De had to take the stage and sing a song, he’d be willing.

After Najishi finished speaking, everyone in the hall applauded again, and service staff began serving hot dishes.

Andrew, as the third representative and the foreign merchant who had reached a cooperation agreement with the rolling mill, then delivered his speech.

He began with the local customs and culture of the mainland, recounting amusing stories from their cooperation, and within a few sentences, significantly eased the awkward atmosphere.

When he mentioned cooperation in Yingcheng, he even named Li Xuewu, speaking of their communication during cooperation—setting an example for the foreign merchants present.

Li Xuewu responded enthusiastically; when Andrew finished speaking and stepped down, he shook his hand and embraced him warmly.

This old man was highly cooperative with the factory’s promotional needs, greatly reducing these foreign merchants’ cautious attitudes toward cooperation on the mainland.

Not only was he willing to give him an embrace—even these performative gestures of friendship, if he had to hug Tao Gu Huirixiang, he wouldn’t care; he was ready to sacrifice everything for the factory.

These intimate gestures and casual modes of conversation allowed other foreign merchants to see a friendship-like reality of cooperation.

Of course, they were all old hands—they wouldn’t be fooled by such displays.

But at least it showed that Andrew had made some breakthrough in his cooperation with the mainland.

From Najishi and Andrew’s conversation, it was clear he was a powerful merchant, unlikely to endorse a single factory on the mainland.

Thus, once the banquet officially began, the foreign merchants, with the help of interpreters, began conversing with nearby rolling mill leaders.

Some interpreters were provided by the Waishi Force; the rolling mill itself arranged others through Huaqing University.

They mainly feared the Waishi Force interpreters were too cautious and might fail to express certain issues clearly.

Business cooperation admits no room for carelessness—a single decimal point could cause losses of hundreds of millions.

Of course, no business matters would be discussed at today’s banquet; the focus was entirely on local customs, romance, and leisure.

Today’s meeting was solely to foster emotional bonds, laying the groundwork for upcoming negotiations.

The rolling mill was the host—it needed to give the guests time to become familiar and understand.

Following Li Xuewu’s instructions, the Foreign Affairs Office had designed a very relaxed reception process.

After today’s banquet, there would be no talks tomorrow; in fact, they were given half a month for tourism—to climb the Great Wall, visit the Forbidden City, and taste Chinese cuisine.

The goal was simply to leave these people with a certain impression of the mainland, facilitating future equal negotiations.

These people had come out of curiosity about the mainland, hoping to uncover its trade potential.

If they were dealt with strictly on business terms, their excessive caution would hinder major project discussions.

Li Xuewu even considered arranging for them to experience the joy of a public bathhouse—but after searching all of Jingcheng, no bathhouse dared host so many foreign guests.

It would likely cause a great deal of trouble.

Still, the great bathing culture was truly worth experiencing—far richer and more colorful than the hot springs on the other side.

Of course, if you meant to throw in a few women for Aimei , the mainland naturally couldn’t match the antics of the little devils.

The mainland emphasized cultural symbolism and drew from deeper roots.

For instance, during the banquet, as they ate and chatted, if no one brought up trade, then no one did—instead, they spoke only of international affairs and future prospects.

After the meal, they were not taken upstairs, but guided by the Foreign Affairs Office to a small auditorium.

Isn’t watching folk dances and songs more enjoyable than soaking in a bathhouse with women?

What is ethnic is distinctive!

Li Huai De was like a child who couldn’t leave his father, always lacking confidence when facing these foreigners.

When arranging seats, Li Xuewu noticed he was seated again beside him—was he afraid of looking foolish during the performance?