World leaders utilized the occasion of He Rui’s funeral to discuss the future global order. They brought with them not only extensive diplomatic teams but also a massive influx of foreign media.

The most excited were not the journalists from distant Africa, but those from Europe, who had been barred from China for years by the war.

Stepping off their planes, many noted that the air quality seemed to have worsened compared to a few years prior. Severe air pollution was a standard accompaniment for any industrial nation of this era. While the Western media wrote a few articles on the subject, they didn't truly take it to heart. After all, the Western public was already constantly complaining about pollution at home; reports of similar conditions in China had little value in assuaging domestic sentiment.

Every media outlet had its specialty. Many rooted themselves in the fields of politics and economics, while others played to their strengths in human interest, travel, and local customs. Those focused on macro-level politics and economics clustered in the capital, while those with a more micro-level perspective fanned out across China's provinces, interviewing citizens and taking photographs. They aimed to introduce a version of China that was closer to the lives of ordinary people.

Western journalists who had previously visited the inland regions of Northwest China were astonished. When they had left a few years earlier, the cities of the interior had few multi-story buildings, consisting primarily of low-rise dwellings and limited in scale. Now, a few years later, they found themselves standing in the midst of modern metropolises.

Thousands upon thousands of apartment buildings seemed to have appeared out of thin air. In Europe, completing such a vast array of construction would take decades. American journalists—particularly those from New York—were more accepting of such changes. Since the 1920s, New York City had undergone its own massive construction boom, with skyscrapers rising to define the urban skyline.

The first wave of reports was dispatched. After describing the staggering transformations, both European and American media posed a question they deemed perfectly reasonable: "Exactly how much wealth did China plunder from the global war?"

Except for German and American papers, the Asian editions of all major Western newspapers had resumed publication in China. Louis, a journalist for *Le Figaro*, read through these reports and merely sighed without offering a comment.

Johnny, a journalist for *The Wall Street Journal* who had traveled with him to Yinchuan, finished reading the Chinese editions of the major European papers and remarked, "This isn't fair."

Louis knew Johnny was referring to the fact that *The Wall Street Journal* had not yet regained its right to distribute in China. Unable to resist teasing his colleague, Louis replied, "Do you think the monopoly is unfair, or the centralized system?"

Johnny rolled his eyes and answered crossly, "I have no desire to discuss these matters with you anymore."

Louis smiled and let the subject drop. A graduate of the economics department at the University of Marseille, he had found it difficult to secure work in economic departments because of the war. He had eventually gone to the University of Paris for a Master’s degree in politics, specializing in socialist thought.

Indeed, even during the Nazi occupation of Paris, Louis had sat in classrooms with his fellow students, learning communist and socialist theory from his professors.

In recent years, research into communist and socialist theory had diverged into two main factions: those studying Soviet social practice, and those studying Chinese practice. While pro-Soviet researchers tended to argue that the USSR truly inherited the fundamental spirit of Marxism, the pro-Chinese researchers—and most of the French academic community—viewed China as a genuinely socialist system. This faction believed the hallmark of entering the threshold of socialism was that the development of productivity was no longer a structural difficulty. The challenge of socialism lay in how to rationalize social relations to more effectively coordinate with that productive development.

Because of these ideals—and the fact that China was genuinely powerful and currently hammering the Great Powers—both Nazi Germany and the French fascists had confined themselves to mocking the study of Soviet socialism, not daring to lay a finger on the study of the Chinese version. At most, they increased their surveillance.

During his graduate studies, Louis had published several articles on China and met the classmate who would become his wife. After graduating from the University of Paris, he had joined *Le Figaro* and was eventually sent to China.

Louis had arrived in Yinchuan accompanied by the *Wall Street Journal* reporter. Johnny claimed to be a staunch supporter of capitalism, but through Louis’s analytical lens, he appeared to be merely an urban petty bourgeois who believed in free competition.

Whenever the subjects of monopoly or feudal privilege were raised, Johnny would jump like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, expressing his displeasure. A simultaneous love and hatred for monopoly capital and the privileged class were classic traits of the petty bourgeoisie.

Johnny pulled out one of Louis's articles from *Le Figaro* and asked, "Are you criticizing or praising here?"

The tradition of the Western media was to question and deny government—their own, and those of others. Overall, they tended to be more tolerant of foreign governments; only by praising a foreign state could they more fiercely criticize their own.

Now that China was the world hegemon, Western journalists would undoubtedly hammer the Chinese government, using magnifying glasses to find every flaw in Chinese society. This was the so-called "watchdog" power of the media. In the eyes of the Western press, one was only qualified to supervise the government by standing in opposition to it—and in private, acquiring benefits through deals with that same government.

Louis looked with a degree of pride at the title of his published article: *The Power to Define Corruption, and the Corruption of Political Systems vs. Systemic Corruption*. That his American colleague did not accept his views did not upset him; rather, it gave him a sense of intellectual superiority.

Through his university studies, Louis had discovered that once the proletariat, represented by figures like He Rui, seized power, they did not fear monopoly capital or feudal privilege. This was because New China had inherited China’s centralized system—a unitary system with the power to crush both monopoly capital and feudal remnants.

Only in a unitary, centralized state could the pursuit of becoming a bourgeois or privileged class truly be called "corruption." This was because it involved turning genuine public power to private use—a political degradation. If a government established an economic structure dependent on such privilege and monopoly, it was "systemic corruption."

With this confidence, Louis engaged Johnny. He explained his views, and while Johnny seemed to listen, he didn't truly understand. The United States, a federal system, was built upon the joint governance of feudal privilege and monopoly capitalists. Most social services were delivered through the operational channels of these two systems. Johnny could not imagine how America would function without them.

The discussion yielded no consensus, and Louis eventually gave up. He then answered Johnny’s original question: "Chinese civilization is at a higher level, so I am issuing a very serious warning to the Chinese government. I am not, as you think, merely praising them."

Johnny was unconvinced. He could not stomach the idea of Chinese civilizational superiority. Although he was forced to admit the New Chinese government possessed formidable war-making capabilities and that the Han were a valiant race of soldiers who matched those of any other nation, he would only admit China was strong—not that it was "ahead" in terms of level.

Louis didn't mind. He steered the conversation back to the reports of other journalists.

During the outbreak of the war, the West had described He Rui as a bloodthirsty tyrant or a puppet leader of a bloodthirsty Chinese mob. As the war progressed and China swept across the globe with irresistible force, such descriptions lost their audience. In Western culture, a leader like He Rui—possessing ten million troops and hammering the global powers—was a "Great Conqueror." Even if they were the ones being conquered, the Western public felt a sense of awe toward such a figure, pleading for him to show his "merciful" side toward them.

With the war nearing its end, only Belgium and Nazi Germany were still resisting. There was no longer any point in promoting He Rui's "brutality." Furthermore, with He Rui deceased, the "demon" narrative lacked a target.

Reluctance to continue the fight did not mean the Western media had no grievances regarding their defeat. Seeing China’s rapid development during the war, educated journalists naturally thought of colonial plunder. For five hundred years, that was how the European Great Powers had operated.

Beyond the plunder of occupied territories, some journalists with a better grounding in political economy recalled an article from *The Economist*.

When Western media left China in 1940, the country was in the midst of a massive infrastructure boom triggered by the 1937 economic crisis. Tunnels were being blasted through mountains, roads paved, and canals dug. China appeared to be one giant construction site. The cities that had seen their first phase of development after 1925, which had begun to look substantial, now seemed dirty and chaotic amidst the dust of the new works.

Based on their own national experiences, European scholars argued that the super-scale infrastructure projects of the Chinese government could only result in the largest "ghost cities" in human history. Several leading economists had collaborated on a data-heavy article for *The Economist*: "...China has a population of 700 million. Long-term poverty means this population simply cannot afford modern urban housing. According to Chinese government reports, the number of residential units under construction is over 20 million. When these units are completed, the Chinese government will have built a series of 'ghost mansions' on an unprecedented scale..."

Today, in 1945, the 20 million urban housing units promised by the Chinese government were complete. Beyond these residences were millions of industrial and commercial buildings.

To fill such a vast quantity of buildings and make them operationally viable required hundreds of millions of people with sufficient consumption power. Western journalists understood colonial plunder well; even at the height of their own plunder, they had never managed to extract such a vast amount of wealth.

Those journalists who considered themselves objective argued that while China had certainly plundered its colonies, it was impossible to have extracted so much wealth in such a short time.

They were certain the He Rui government had not adopted the Soviet model. Under the Soviet model, all property belonged to the state, which provided housing as a "welfare." The He Rui model was a "normal" one that Europeans understood: the state owned only a portion of fixed assets, while the majority were privately held.

Since the people lacked money yet possessed their own homes, they must be carrying massive debt. Based on Western experience, debt on the scale of tens of millions of units would inevitably lead to millions of bankruptcies.

As an American at the *Wall Street Journal*, Johnny agreed that China was headed for mass bankruptcy, for that was exactly what had happened at home. Over the twenty years since the Gilded Age of the 1920s, the US had chosen a path of developing domestic technology to replace European imports, achieving great success but also creating the terrible Great Depression.

Johnny did not believe Chinese civilization was more advanced than the West’s, let alone that the gap was one of different eras. Thus, he was convinced the Chinese economy would encounter the same problems—and that given the larger scale of Chinese investment, the eventual crisis would be far more violent than America’s.

Louis disagreed. "The scale of Chinese construction provides an incredibly vast application scenario for advanced technology," he answered. "The New Chinese government clearly recognized this and formulated its policies accordingly. Quantitative change leads to qualitative change. I believe China may have achieved a breakthrough."

At this level, the discussion became one of personal opinion. Johnny chose not to press further and turned the topic to interview techniques. He was eager to understand the Chinese public’s view on the economy—specifically their thoughts on He Rui’s round of infrastructure development.

As a *Wall Street Journal* reporter, Johnny felt that merely interviewing people about their opinions of He Rui would be too tedious. One could guess the answer: given his contribution to China, he would inevitably receive the highest praise. In America, if a President had achieved even a fraction of what He Rui had, he would be hailed as the greatest in history without question.

Louis agreed with Johnny’s direction but offered a piece of advice: "I suggest you try to get a Chinese person to treat you to dinner. Otherwise, you’re unlikely to get much of a response."

Johnny knew Louis was also new to China, so he didn't take the seemingly strange advice too seriously. As a journalist, he knew that a source who offered a meal was easier to interview, but he felt the difficulty and potential trouble were too high. He preferred his usual method of finding interviewees through recommendations.

By 10:00 AM, both men had their plans for the day and set out separately. Before leaving, Louis pinned a pre-prepared French flag emblem to his left chest.

The emblem was large and aesthetically questionable, making it very prominent. Louis strode down the streets amidst curious stares and whispered comments, taking photographs of everything he deemed valuable.

By noon, as he was looking for a place to eat, he heard someone at the door of a passing restaurant say, "A Frenchman? Is that a Frenchman?"

Louis stopped and smiled at the man, who appeared to be in his fifties. "That's right, I am French." He pointed to the emblem on his chest. "You're not mistaken; this is our national flag."

Embarrassed at being caught talking behind someone's back, the man laughed. "Have you eaten yet?"

Louis had never been to China, but he had studied the culture diligently. His wife held bachelor's degrees in both French and Chinese from the University of Paris. A conversation of this level was well within his capabilities.

The man was momentarily taken aback, then chuckled. "Heh. Let me treat you to lunch."

"Thank you very much," Louis replied without hesitation, stepping into the mutton shop. He didn't sit down immediately but went to the counter and bought a bottle of "Naked Fenjiu." His wife had told him that this was known as "ration liquor" in China. France, with its high alcohol consumption, had a similar concept.

Returning to the table, Louis opened the bottle and said frankly to the old man, "Let's drink this. I like this one."

The man studied Louis, the wariness in his eyes fading significantly. He smiled. "The mutton head meat here is delicious—it’s quite aromatic, though I don't know if you'll be able to handle it."

Louis laughed. "I've never tried it, but if you say so, it must be good. I'd like to try it."

Seeing that Louis was a good sport, the man turned to the owner and shouted, "One whole mutton head!"