The work of a national leader is to make judgments on the country's broad direction. Many assume this is not a difficult task—after all, is it not simply making choices?

Yet, making correct judgments about the future is anything but easy. As the saying goes: "Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated." Knowing one’s own capabilities and effectively organizing and deploying them is difficult enough. Understanding the situation of foreign powers and making correct projections is harder still.

The reason He Rui’s prestige was so absolute was that he possessed this dual knowledge to a degree far beyond the reach of most of his comrades. He led them according to his own perceptions, which sometimes felt to those following him like "a blind man riding a blind horse toward a deep pool at midnight."

Even the most outstanding of his comrades only reached an epiphany after the events had concluded, realizing: "So, that was it." Most required several debriefing sessions after the fact to even begin to grasp what had transpired.

And then, of course, there were those who never understood at all. They cared little for the substance of the events, concerning themselves only with the benefits success brought: power, status, and the rewards they felt they were entitled to as executors of his will. They were content to rest on their laurels—the very reason why "heroes of the revolution" so often became loathed in their later years.

Li Runshi understood this well. Thus, he explained his reasoning regarding France to his colleagues on the Military Commission. During his life, He Rui had never concealed his logic, his methodology, or his practice of analyzing specific problems individually. This was not for show, but to empower his comrades and the Chinese people through "knowledge diffusion," strengthening their individual initiative.

Only through the emergence of stronger comrades could the unfit be weeded out. Initially, Li had found He Rui’s approach ruthlessly cold. Now, however, he understood why He Rui had always accused him of being "too kind-hearted."

The current members of the Military Commission, having survived this constant process of selection, easily grasped Li’s reasoning. There were two reasons why the French Parliament refused to wade into the conflict against Germany.

The Vichy government, though established by major capitalists and reactionary capitulationists, had at least built a presidential system that appeared normal to other nations. The President was elected by the people and appointed the cabinet.

However, such a system appeared fundamentally abnormal to the French. French politics over the past few decades had been a chaotic mess, yet one consensus remained: the French political parties and the general political climate would not tolerate the emergence of another Napoleon.

To the French parties, a normal presidential system was synonymous with dictatorship—an evil order designed to oppress the people. Consequently, the Parliament was currently united in its opposition to the President.

In this atmosphere of confrontation, whenever the President moved to declare war on Germany, the Parliament stood firmly against him. Their excuses were easy to find: for instance, there was no reason for France to endure further casualties in a war.

The Parliament acted this way both internally and externally. Lacking the strength to overthrow the Vichy government on their own, they sought external intervention. At present, the only power capable of such a feat was China. Many French parties had attempted to contact China, hoping for He Rui’s support to dismantle the presidential system.

He Rui had ignored them. After his death, they turned to the Li Runshi government. While Li’s administration was highly experienced in driving out colonizers and establishing people's regimes, they had no experience—and saw no necessity—in overthrowing another nation’s legitimate government. Thus, they too rejected the French parties' overtures.

Spurned by China, the French parties could reach no consensus on cooperation with the Soviet Union either. They believed that Chinese operations in Europe required French support, and thus opposed any plan to dispatch troops against Germany as a way to maintain their leverage. This was why Li Runshi was confident the French Parliament would never approve an expedition.

To the Chinese, for whom a centralized government was a fundamental cultural pillar, the actions of the French Parliament looked suspiciously like treason.

Fortunately, the members of the Commission were well-traveled and sophisticated. After an effort to understand the situation, Xu Chengfeng sighed, "It feels like a child throwing a tantrum, doesn't it?"

The description resonated with the others. Li Runshi smiled. "Previously, when France's military strength was formidable, we called such behavior 'imperialist savagery and irrationality.' Now that our overall strength completely eclipses theirs, the same behavior looks like the petulant meddling of a child. In essence, there is no difference; it is simply the model inherent in their political tradition."

Most of the Commission members felt Li had hit the nail on the head. From this analytical perspective, the seemingly chaotic France became entirely manageable. The French parties thought that by not helping China, they could cause trouble for Beijing. China indeed disliked trouble, but its strength was now absolute. If they could resolve the issue without French aid, then the infighting among the French parties actually served to prevent further complications.

Seeing that a consensus had been reached, Li proceeded with further arrangements. China would continue to help Africa elevate its productivity, thereby significantly reducing the pressure on Chinese long-range logistics. Africa, in turn, would export materials to China, earning the funds to purchase Chinese industrial goods and services, creating a virtuous economic cycle.

After the Military Commission meeting, Li convened a high-level economic session of the State Council. He found his patience for economic work to be far inferior to He Rui’s. He Rui had been tireless when it came to economics; even the most tedious or ambiguous problems received a minute analysis and solution under his hand.

But Li felt himself lacking. For instance, in this meeting, he sought to finalize the internationalization of the Renminbi. Even though He Rui had laid out the broad direction long ago, Li found the actual implementation daunting.

Fortunately, he was not alone in his struggle. The Premier, the Vice Premiers, the Finance Minister, and the Governor of the Central Bank all felt the weight of the task.

These comrades possessed stellar resumes, yet little of their experience had been accumulated in an environment where the Chinese Yuan was a global currency. The Pound, the Dollar, the Franc—these were the world’s currencies. Compared to them, the Yuan was still in its infancy.

Li Runshi worked to suppress his internal anxiety, engaging his colleagues in analysis and discussion. By the time the session adjourned, he felt exhausted. Had he been making strategic or military judgments, he would have felt no fatigue, no matter the effort. He loved that field and possessed the capability for it.

Economics, however, was not his forte. As he sipped his tea, Li realized He Rui had never lied to him. During his life, He Rui had claimed to understand military affairs, politics, and economics. In his view, since the world was run by makeshift governments—a "choice of a general from among the cripples"—his economic capability ranked higher globally than his political skill, which in turn outranked his military skill.

When he first heard this, Li had thought He Rui was joking. Instinctively, everyone regarded He Rui as possessing a terrifying military genius.

Now, sitting in He Rui's chair, Li finally saw the truth. He Rui possessed world-class economic skill, which had allowed his government to build the powerful economic system that enabled China to win the Second World War.

If the Li Runshi government wished to build a New World Order, it had to possess the economic capability to operate that order. Otherwise, as the saying went: "When status exceeds virtue, disaster will surely follow."

Truly feeling the power of economics and the corresponding burden it imposed, Li decided that whenever he found the time, he would devote himself to the study of economic theory. He might not enjoy it, but he knew he had no choice.