**Chapter 844: Aiding the Soviet Union (1)**

The train from Seoul blew its whistle as it crossed the Sino-Korean Border Bridge. By then, the Korean passengers had already crowded the windows, excitedly taking in the scenery outside.

The Yalu River was not particularly wide, and the railway bridge was only 944.2 meters long. Even at a modest speed, the train took only a few minutes to cross. The port city of Dandong on the Chinese side unfolded before the Korean travelers.

Yun Taeda, a Level 3 Technician in the assembly workshop of the Korean branch of China's Forever Bicycle Company, was visiting China for the first time. Seeing a Chinese city with his own eyes for the first time, he actually felt a bit of disappointment. Admiration for China within the Korean People's Republic had been rising steadily over the past decade; ordinary Koreans' calendars were filled with pictures of grand Chinese architecture or beautiful landscapes. Chinese people working in Korea lived much more affluent lives than the locals.

After the war broke out, news of the Asian Allied Forces' invincibility constantly reached home. Yun's classmates who had joined the Allied forces sent letters every month, and those military families would buy food, clothing, or daily necessities with the government allowances they received.

In Yun's mind, China was a glitzy, polished country. While Dandong was indeed more advanced than most Korean cities, it couldn't compare to the capital, Seoul, or even the major city of Pyongyang. This inevitably left Yun somewhat disappointed.

"Dandong... is like this, then." The colleague in the seat opposite, Kim Tae-soo, spoke with a clear note of disappointment.

Hearing this, Yun felt somewhat relieved. It seemed he wasn't the only one who thought so.

A middle-aged man across the aisle laughed at their words. "Kid, Dandong is just a border city; what did you expect? By the way, where are you two headed?"

Before Yun could speak, Kim Tae-soo answered proudly, "To Shenyang for company training."

"Oh?! Which joint venture are you from?" the man asked with surprise.

Kim replied immediately, "The Forever Company."

The middle-aged man nodded. "That's a good company. My family bought a Forever and a Phoenix."

Hearing that the man had two bicycles at home, Kim instantly tucked away his pride and spoke respectfully: "Sir, why are you going to China?"

"I'm going to Shenyang for a bit of business," the man laughed.

Seeing that this middle-aged Korean was well-dressed, wore a watch on his left wrist, and reportedly had two bicycles, Yun Taeda immediately became respectful. But before they could chat further, Yun's gaze was drawn to the scenery outside. It was a vast plain, with block after block of farmland stretching beyond the horizon.

For a moment, Yun truly understood what it meant to be a great power. Northern Korea was mountainous, and while the south was flatter, it was still hilly; one could see the end of any field with a single glance. Yun was mesmerized by the seemingly endless fields and the golden waves of wheat within them. He couldn't look away.

Hours later, the train entered the outskirts of Shenyang. As block after block of buildings came into view, Yun felt elated. Before coming to China, his mood had been akin to a pilgrimage. He had feared that Chinese cities wouldn't be grand and prosperous, that the country wouldn't be beautiful and happy. The stronger China was, the more secure Yun felt. as an employee of a Chinese-invested enterprise in Korea, he viewed Chinese power as his backing.

As the train came to a stop, the group of young men hurried off. Soon, Yun followed the crowd onto the wide, flat platform. Once he found his footing, he suddenly remembered he had been so excited that he hadn't said goodbye to the middle-aged "uncle." But just then, several tall female railway workers in uniform stepped forward to direct the crowd toward the exit.

There were no women that tall in Korea; Yun's attention was immediately captured by them, and the matter of the uncle was forgotten.

Only after Yun and the others had entered the exit passage did the middle-aged Korean man step off the train. Two Koreans were already waiting on the platform; as soon as they saw him, they bowed. "Chairman Lee, did you encounter any trouble on the way?"

The man was Lee Byung-chul, Chairman of the Korean Samsung Corporation. Though only 32, he was a veteran of the business world. In Korea, 32 was already entering the "uncle" category. Lee laughed, "I took the train this time specifically to see the security situation in China. Don't worry."

"Chairman, the car is outside; please follow us," the Samsung representative in China said hurriedly.

Samsung was a rising giant in Korea. Lee Byung-chul had graduated from the business school at Waseda University in Japan and had secured Japanese investment through his Waseda connections as early as 1931. Shrewd and naturally gifted in business, he had seized almost every opportunity over the past eleven years, becoming one of Korea's leading metallurgical giants and expanding into construction and shipbuilding. A man like him could cause a stir in Korea just by stamping his foot.

In China, however, Lee Byung-chul was very low-key. He exited the station like any other traveler and got into a car in the distant parking lot, heading straight for the Shenyang SASAC (State-owned Assets Supervision and Administration Commission) office building. This building had once been the headquarters of the Northeast Government, and the elevator shafts reserved back then had long since been fitted with elevators. Taking the elevator to the fourth floor, Lee knocked on a door.

Soon, someone opened it. After a brief exchange, the man sitting at the desk inside realized it was Lee Byung-chul and hurried to greet him. "Lee-kun, why did you just show up? You should have called; I would have sent a car for you."

Lee laughed. "Jing-kun, between old classmates, what need is there for that?"

Talking as they went, they entered the office. Within the current Japanese Mitsui Syndicate, one branch of the family had changed their surname to "Jing." For Japan, such branch name changes were not uncommon. And this "Jing" branch was a prominent one within the Mitsui family.

In 1916, Mitsui Yasuhiro, the future leader of the syndicate, had decided to invest in He Rui. He Rui was not stingy and allowed the Mitsui family to send personnel to work in the joint-venture bank between the Northeast Government and the Mitsui Syndicate. Back then, a cover identity was arranged: the new Mr. "Jing" was a cousin of Wu Youping.

For twenty-six years, the several members of the Jing family truly wished to be Chinese. Now, the Deputy Director of the Planning Bureau of the Northeast SASAC, Jing Xiangyang, was the second generation of the family, also a graduate of Waseda University and a classmate of Lee Byung-chul.

The two old classmates didn't reunite for nostalgia; Lee inquired about the issue of exports to the Soviet Union. China, Japan, and Korea were the first nations to form the Asian Coal and Steel Community, one of whose primary tasks was military—especially now, as Korea utilized its rich iron ore reserves not only to export to China and Japan but also to vigorously build its own steel enterprises.

With China's decision to aid the Soviet Union, exports of metal products to the USSR would surely increase significantly. For a Korean enterprise, how could such an opportunity be missed? Lee had come to China personally to use his old classmate's connections to learn more about the specifics of these exports.

Jing Xiangyang didn't mislead his old friend. After hearing Lee's purpose, he replied immediately, "The policy from above is a three-year credit line for the Soviets. Can your company accept such a long recovery period for its funds?"

Lee nodded. "In Korea, we can take our orders to the bank for loans; I'm not worried about the cash flow. What I don't understand is: does the Celestial Empire truly intend for the Soviets to pay them back?"

Jing knew his classmate was extremely sharp in business, and now he had a direct understanding of what "sharp" meant. There was a rumor within SASAC that the Central Government didn't actually intend to force the Soviets to repay the debt for war materials. There was even talk that the government might agree to a 40-year interest-free repayment plan.

Given the scale of the war, China would inevitably provide an incredible amount of aid. An interest-free, 40-year plan was essentially giving it away.

Jing didn't answer that question. Seeing this, Lee asked another: "According to what I've heard, the accounts will only be settled after the war. I want to know what kind of payment timeline applies to these Soviet aid businesses."

"I don't know," Jing replied. He truly didn't know how the payments would work, and even if he did, he wouldn't tell Lee—that was organizational discipline.

Lee didn't mind. He continued, "The Celestial Empire has the stature of a great power; if the aid to the Soviets is essentially a gift, it won't be levied upon Korea. However, my Korea is also a 'Little China'; in such a matter of duty, how can we lag behind? Even if the Soviet aid business isn't profitable, Samsung is willing to undertake it. I'd like my old classmate's help in putting in a word for us."

Jing thought his old friend was truly extraordinary. "Taking a loss is a gain"—the profits from military orders during wartime were never as large as people imagined. Not just in China, but even in the West, what good ever came to those called war profiteers?

Accepting low or no profit now meant breaking into the Chinese supply chain. With the war situation highly favorable to China, there would be countless opportunities to make money after the war. What Lee sought was not a quick score today, but the ability to earn for a long time in the future.

Seeing his classmate's clear thinking and proper attitude, Jing asked, "You must have brought approvals from the Korean government and the Coal and Steel Community on this trip?"

Lee didn't answer but took several documents from his briefcase and laid them before Jing. Jing looked through them one by one, then said, "There's a bidding session coming up; why don't you attend?"

Having said this, Jing added a warning: "This isn't Korea; don't you dare go looking for people to pull strings."

Lee replied hurriedly, "The Celestial Empire's system is strict, and it's wartime besides. The current Emperor is a man of grand vision; how could he tolerate collusion between officials and businessmen? I would never cause trouble for the Empire or my old classmate."

Seeing Lee so sensible, Jing felt much more at ease. After seeing his friend out, Jing sat in his office, reflecting on his own fate.

Although born in Japan, Jing Xiangyang had come to China before starting primary school and had acquired Chinese citizenship. He attended the Shenyang No. 2 People's Primary School and Shenyang No. 1 Middle School. Over twenty years had passed; although he went back to Japan for Waseda University and his family arranged a Japanese wife for him, Jing found during his years at university that his Japanese self had been so frightened by Japanese culture and social atmosphere that he had no desire to be Japanese ever again.

China was a nation that valued rules, yet one could live there with perfectly normal and straightforward emotions. In Japan, everyone had to live according to the model society expected of them. Individual will was firmly suppressed by the social atmosphere, not daring to show any flair.

After living in China for so many years, Jing felt his "Chinese component" was far greater than his Japanese one. So when his great-uncle Mitsui Yasuhiro asked if he was willing to return to Japan and take back the Mitsui name, Jing had refused decisively. Facing the pressure his great-uncle projected, Jing had to say some pretty words: "My Jing family has always prioritized loyalty and duty—eating the master's grain and doing the master's business. Although I am now Chinese, the backbone of the Mitsui/Jing family must not be lost."

Once he had cleared that hurdle with his great-uncle, Jing reflected that he truly was Chinese. Only a Chinese would naturally take "loyalty and duty" as the root of being human. As for the Mitsui family, after 300 years of maneuvering among Japanese power-holders, they didn't have a shred of true loyalty.

Deep down, Jing felt a genuine loyalty to China, so why mention it further? Just thinking of himself as Chinese made him feel secure. Now, a trend of searching for Chinese ancestral ties was emerging in Japan; the two countries were so close, and historically there had always been Chinese residents in Japan who became Japanese. Jing felt that as someone with Chinese blood who had become a Chinese citizen again, there was nothing to worry about.

With these thoughts, Jing returned to his work. Seven or eight years ago, the Northeast—once China's strongest industrial region—had seen its economy struggle as the center of gravity shifted south. Since the war broke out, its economic fire had been fully restored. Now, with the Soviet-German war, the Northeast had received so many orders that its capacity had reached its limit. Consequently, the Northeast SASAC had submitted a report requesting increased investment.

The Central Government, however, believed the Northeast was currently too dependent on the war economy; once the war ended, its economy would inevitably suffer a major shock, so they were not inclined to invest there.

As Deputy Director of the Planning Bureau, Jing had to rack his brains to propose a rational plan to gain Central support. This request for investment was much like Lee Byung-chul's request to serve the Empire: if not 10 billion, 5 billion would do. If not 5 billion, then 1 billion. In short, they had to get *something*. It wasn't that the investment was so critical right now, but failing to get it now meant likely having no seat at the table in the future.

Inventing reasons was a hassle, and before he knew it, it was 8:00 PM. Seeing that it wasn't yet fully dark, Jing called his wife. Though she was a Japanese bride, after several years in China—especially in the hearty atmosphere of the Northeast—she had changed significantly. As soon as Jing called, she complained indignantly that their eldest son had caused trouble at school and she had been scolded by the teacher for half an hour.

Hearing this, Jing had no heart for overtime and told her, "I'm coming home right now to handle that little brat!"

On the way home, watching the brightly lit streets, he thought of his son likely standing in a corner with a bowl of water on his head as punishment, and his heart softened. He felt his boy wasn't bad, just a bit too clever, always wanting to get to the bottom of everything and often offending people without knowing it. *Well, I'll find out what happened first,* he thought.

As Jing's car passed an intersection, Yun Taeda and his Korean colleagues were waiting for a red light. Looking at the stream of cars—seeing more in this single afternoon than he had in his entire life—Yun felt this was truly the aura of the Celestial Empire. No wonder the colleagues who had been to headquarters for training always praised China so sincerely.

The light turned green, and the pedestrians crossed. The dinner was at a Hunan restaurant just across the street. Yun didn't go in immediately, but stopped at the door, trying to identify that elusive feeling he couldn't quite name. Just then, a scent wafted on the breeze, leading Yun to look toward the flowerbeds between the bike and car lanes, where a long row of flowers was in bloom.

In that moment of admiration, a spark of inspiration hit him: he understood why Shenyang felt so superior to Seoul. Seoul had developed fast in recent years, with many buildings along its streets similar in appearance to Shenyang's. The real difference wasn't the architecture, but the city's design.

In Seoul, buildings were packed tight against each other, with huts filling every gap. There was no room for flowers in those cramped spaces; even the few who grew them had to use their own indoor space.

Shenyang, from its inception, had been designed with ample public space. Flowers could bloom and trees could offer shade, providing a beautiful backdrop for the lives of all its people. Realizing this, Yun marveled in his heart: *The Celestial Empire... this is truly the Celestial Empire.*

The group ate until they were stuffed. The next day was a company tour, and the third was a collective meeting. At the meeting, the headquarters leadership announced that due to the massive number of Soviets entering the military, their bicycle enterprises lacked skilled engineers and technical workers. Therefore, the company had decided to select a group of volunteers to go to the Soviet Union to provide support. As it was overseas work, the allowance would follow the overseas standards.

Yun Taeda, who had never had the chance to go abroad until now, was even more intrigued by the prospect of going to the USSR. When the leadership mentioned the allowance standard, Yun felt Kim Tae-soo beside him move strangely. Turning, he saw Kim looking excited and already restless.

Kim's reaction wasn't surprising; by the standards of the Korean branch, the overseas allowance was double the base salary, making for triple pay in total. Yun decided he had to apply as well; besides the triple pay, there was the rare chance to go to a foreign country like the Soviet Union. On his normal salary, who knew when he could afford such a trip?

After the meeting, the application forms were brought in. Yun immediately went to get one, only to find that the Chinese employees hardly moved; among the Koreans, only five took forms. Yun didn't think much of it; fewer competitors meant a better chance for him.

Two days later, the exchange trip to headquarters ended. As he prepared to return to Korea with the others, Yun was called to the HR department. The official asked directly, "Master Yun, are you truly willing to go to the Soviet Union?"

"Yes! Smida!" Yun answered without hesitation.

"If you had to depart today, could you accept that?"

Yun reflected for a second and replied firmly, "Yes! Smida!"

Thus, the following day, after his first trip abroad, Yun Taeda experienced the unforgettable first flight of his life to another country.

The flight itself was an ordeal. The roar in the cabin made him uncomfortable, and even his excitement couldn't make him used to flying.

After flying for an unknown duration—during which Yun went from excitement to discomfort, then to numbness and a sleepiness he couldn't satisfy because of the noise—the plane finally landed.

This was the industrial zone east of the Urals. Thinking they had arrived, they were surprised to find that after only one day of rest, they were back on a plane. This time was better, and the plane finally landed in Moscow.

Moscow now looked like a soldier city, with swarms of troops throughout the urban area. Yun and the others passed them in their car, finally stopping in an open space within a factory.

Though he knew it was a bicycle factory, Yun felt something wasn't right. Korean bicycle companies were already somewhat backward compared to China's, yet Forever still used assembly lines centered on several conveyor belts.

Judging by the workshop's scale and layout, this Soviet factory clearly lacked the space for assembly-line production. Yun knew Russia was a powerful nation, and the USSR even more so than the Tsars, so he couldn't understand why such a large plant lacked assembly lines.

"Remember, everyone: there are many women working here. Many of them are likely 'military wives' whose husbands are at the front. You must not cause any trouble. During the war, breaking a military marriage could very well get you executed." The leader gave this humane reminder.

Yun felt the words were a bit redundant; he was here to work and make money. Once he had enough, he'd go back to Seoul, buy a house, and get a wife. There was no need to get involved with Russian women!

Soon the group got out of the car. The Forever Company representative leading them said they would tour the workshops first to prepare for starting work. Upon entering the first workshop, Yun saw a large group of foreign-looking women stand up to greet them. At that, his eyes fixed. Facing a crowd of blonde, blue-eyed foreign women, Yun completely forgot the leader's words from moments before.