German industrial expertise was of a high caliber. After China provided the technology for aerated bricks and the equipment to pulverize the masonry from the ruins, it took only two weeks for German firms to begin producing the required materials.

Marshal Cheng Ruofan was seated on a train headed for Frankfurt when he finished reading the latest intelligence on the American congressional struggle. The Confederates had proven surprisingly timid; faced with the Yankee threat of war, they had ultimately abandoned their demand for a new Constitution.

But the Yankees had paid a heavy price for their victory. The "Great Compromise" had resulted in a ruthless stripping of federal fiscal and diplomatic authority in favor of the states.

According to the latest intelligence, federal troops could now only be deployed in the event of a direct foreign invasion of the Union. Even if a declaration of war was passed by Congress, the federal wartime regulations would not apply to any state whose legislature did not explicitly vote to join the conflict.

The federal military budget could only be passed with the unanimous consent of the states; if a new budget failed to pass, the previous year’s funding levels would automatically be maintained.

Federal taxes followed a similar rule: they required approval from the individual state legislatures. If a state failed to pass the federal tax bill for the coming year, the federal government was forbidden from collecting taxes within its borders.

As for regional issues, they were to be managed by "Consultation Conferences" organized by the states of that region. The federal government’s role was reduced to providing staff to service these conferences as requested.

Cheng Ruofan could not help but sneer as he finished the report. The core of this arrangement was virtually identical to the "Federal Autonomy" model proposed by the southern rebels in China decades ago. In China, that movement had failed. But in America, federal power had been so thoroughly weakened that the nation was now closer to a loose confederation.

Setting the documents down, Cheng sighed. He was struck by the strength of the unifying forces within the United States—enough, it seemed, to prevent a total disintegration despite the hollowing out of the center.

He then found himself pondering He Rui’s policy regarding the four Black states in the Northwest. What role had He Rui intended for them in this as-yet-unfinalized compromise?

Whether the goal was to split America or merely to demonstrate that China would not personally foment secession elsewhere, such simplistic explanations felt inadequate to Cheng. He believed He Rui’s decision was intended to help Black Americans secure equal civil rights. Yet even this felt like it lacked depth. He Rui was not a man for mysticism, and over-analyzing him was unwise, yet Cheng truly wished to know the Chairman’s strategic judgment regarding the Black states.

Even if it were merely a test, He Rui was not one to drop a piece on the board without a range of contingencies in mind.

By the time the train ground to a halt, Cheng had still not found a satisfying answer. Flanked by his guards, he stepped onto the platform. Emerging from the unrecognizable wreckage of the station, he found a second motorcade already waiting.

The lead vehicle flew a sickle-and-hammer flag—the banner of the German Communist Party (KPD).

The KPD was an established force in Europe. Following the First World War, it had developed rapidly, briefly becoming the largest party in Germany.

However, its downfall at the hands of the Nazis was not merely due to its inability to offer immediate political solutions. The party had been riddled with Trotskyites. Trotsky’s theory of global revolution held that every nation should pursue its own revolution while the USSR exhausted itself providing support. In the event of a capitalist war, the Red Army would strike to defeat the European governments and establish a magnificent global socialist union.

In Cheng’s view, the KPD had been profoundly naive. Adopting the Trotskyite line had inevitably pitted them against Germany's own national interests. And since the Trotskyites themselves could never truly deliver on the promise of global revolution, their detachment from reality had allowed the Nazi Party to eliminate them with ease.

Cheng chose not to board the KPD vehicle, opting instead for his own car. Passing through endless fields of rubble, he reached his destination: a factory that continued to operate amidst the ruins.

The guards at the gate were stunned to find Marshal Cheng Ruofan arriving in person. They hurried inside to announce him. Before long, several locals accompanied by Chinese officials stationed in the city approached the motorcade.

Cheng studied the Germans. They were gaunt and efficient-looking, though hardly impressive in appearance. Their hands and sleeves were stained with oil—the mark of true workers.

The Chinese official, responsible for surveying enterprises across West Germany, saluted Cheng and spoke: "Marshal, these men are representatives of the local Autonomous Workers' Union."

Cheng nodded, his interest piqued. A significant portion of the firms in Frankfurt had been owned by die-hard Nazis. Many of these owners had either fled, been arrested, or committed suicide after the war, leaving the enterprises without leadership.

In some of these cases, the workers' unions had organized themselves to keep production running. Cheng was here to tour several of these firms.

Regarding these self-organized industrial enterprises, Cheng had already reached a decision: provided they were not too far out of line, they were to be promoted as models!

Cheng addressed the German workers standing beside the Chinese representative. "Good day."

The union members were clearly tense, yet they managed a calm reply: "Good day, Excellency."

Cheng smiled. *Well, they're nervous after all.* He continued in German: "Gentlemen, would you permit me to tour your factory?"