Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

Chapter 628 The Way to Get Rich

Upon hearing this, Victor paused, his fingers holding the cigar paused, and his light blue eyes narrowed slightly behind the smoke.

"Tell me more, Lu," he said, taking the cigar from his lips and adjusting himself to a more forward position on the sofa. "I'm all ears."

"Mr. Victor..." Lu Chen stood up and walked to the French windows.

The afternoon light had begun to slant, and the tributary of the Hudson River stretched out outside the window like a dark silver ribbon, while the primeval forest on the opposite bank rippled with ochre-red waves in the autumn wind. On the river, a lone waterbird flapped its wings and skimmed across the surface, leaving a shallow ripple.

"How much do you know about the Soviet Union?"

Victor frowned and placed the cigar on the rim of the ashtray.

"An empire on the verge of bankruptcy, oil prices have been falling for five years, foreign exchange reserves are depleted, and the mess in Afghanistan is still bleeding. Gorbachev did shout a few reform slogans at the Central Committee plenary session this year, but nobody took it seriously." He paused. "You mean... you're going to Moscow to do business?"

"It's not me going." Lu Chen turned around, his back to the window, the backlighting obscuring his face in shadow. "It's 'us' going."

Victor's eyebrows twitched.

"In January of this year, the Council of Ministers of the Soviet Union passed Resolutions No. 48 and 49." Lu Chen walked back to the sofa, picked up the cigar cutter on the coffee table, and slowly toyed with it in his hand. "The content of the resolutions is very simple: foreign capital is allowed to establish joint ventures in the Soviet Union. Apart from the requirement for shareholding ratio, the foreign party can serve as the chairman of the board, and profits can be remitted out—of course, through the official exchange rate."

"I know about this resolution, but my advisors scoff at it," Viktor lit a new cigar. "Nobody believes Gorbachev will actually open the door, and they're afraid the Soviets are playing a game of cat and mouse—letting you in today and kicking you out naked tomorrow."

"No, quite the opposite, I believe Gorbachev is serious," Lu Chen put the cigar cutter back on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa. "I received intelligence that next year, the Soviet Union will pass a new 'Cooperative Law.' This law will break taboos and allow private individuals—including foreigners—to establish cooperative banks within the Soviet Union."

A moment of silence fell over the drawing room. The firewood in the fireplace popped, sending sparks flying that hit the iron bars before falling back down.

"A cooperative bank? Gorbachev must be crazy!" Viktor's right hand clenched lightly on the sofa armrest. "You mean opening a private bank within the Soviet Union, accepting ruble deposits, and then—"

"Then convert it into US dollars," Lu Chen continued, his tone carrying a certain charm.

Victor stared intently at Lu Chen, then reached for the whiskey glass on the coffee table, took a sip, and put it back. The whole process was slow, as if he was buying himself time to think.

"Phew...please continue."

Lu Chen didn't stand on ceremony. He placed the cigar on the edge of the ashtray, leaned forward slightly, and clasped his hands on his knees.

"As is well known, there were two types of rubles in the Soviet economic system—allocated rubles and cash rubles. Allocated rubles existed only on the books between state-owned enterprises; they could not be withdrawn to pay salaries, used to buy things in stores, or exchanged for dollars on the black market. For factory directors of state-owned enterprises who held billions of allocated rubles, this money was visible but intangible and unspendable."

"But cash rubles are different. Cash rubles can be used to pay wages, buy imported cigarettes and jeans on the black market, and be exchanged for US dollars privately through foreign exchange dealers."

Victor's eyes lit up.

That's the instinctive reaction of a top financial predator who smells blood.

"I understand," he said in a low voice. "You plan to open a cooperative bank and then bring over those state-owned enterprise factory directors who have billions of allocated rubles in their hands, and have them deposit their allocated rubles into your bank."

“I said, not ‘I,’ it’s ‘we,’” Lu Chen picked up a cigar, took a puff, and said, “At that time, according to the current Soviet regulations, we will transfer the allocated rubles deposited by the state-owned enterprise to our registered ‘cooperatives’ or ‘external companies’ under the guise of ‘consulting service fees’ or ‘R&D bonuses,’ and legally withdraw them as cash rubles. Then, through the black market or by obtaining an import foreign exchange permit, we will exchange the cash rubles for US dollars, send them through Switzerland or Liechtenstein, and then back to our shell company accounts in Western Europe.”

Lu Chen stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray and looked up at Victor.

Victor remained silent for a long time, and then he suddenly laughed.

It wasn't the kind of light chuckle that ends quickly. It was a deep, unrestrained laugh that reverberated from the depths of his chest. The laughter echoed throughout the drawing room, even making the flames in the fireplace flicker.

"Lu," he said after a long pause, stopping his laughter. He clapped his hands on his thighs, leaned back into the sofa, and looked like a lion that had just finished enjoying its prey. "We've only been working together for less than ten minutes, and you've given me such a big surprise! I'm so touched."

"You're welcome." Lu Chen picked up his whiskey glass and took a sip. "However, this is only one leg to walk on. Since we're going to do business in the Soviet Union, we need to attach the other leg as well."

"That's right, joint ventures can't be left out either," Victor said with bright, piercing eyes. "Oil and gas exploration equipment, gold mining, and timber processing are all on Gorbachev's list of permitted joint ventures."

"We can set up shell companies in Frankfurt or Zurich and negotiate a joint venture with the Soviet Ministry of Heavy Industry. We will provide the equipment and technology, while the Soviets will provide the mining rights and workers. Once the minerals are extracted, the Soviet portion will remain in the Soviet Union, while our portion will be directly exported and listed on the London Metal Exchange."

"And then there's timber," Lu Chen added. "The price of Siberian larch and Scots pine in East Asia and Seoul is twenty times that of the Soviet Union. The joint venture timber mills only need to process the logs into boards, affix labels saying 'Joint Venture Export Product,' and the profits can be legally exported."

"Hoo—" Victor put a cigar in his mouth, stood up, and walked to the window. The clouds had lowered, a breeze had picked up on the river, and the water birds were gone.

"How large is the cash flow?"

“If managed properly, a cooperative bank can see an outflow of 15 to 20 billion rubles within three years. That’s roughly 2 to 3 billion US dollars at the black market exchange rate,” Lu Chen stood up, walked to the window, and stood next to Viktor. “And that’s just one bank. If you open three at the same time—in Moscow, Leningrad, and Novosibirsk—the figure will double.”

"As far as I know, the Soviet Union's foreign exchange reserves are now less than $60 billion."

"So we need to act quickly," Lu Chen turned to look at him. "Gorbachev's reforms won't last forever. Some people within the Soviet system are already calling him a traitor. Once the conservatives launch a counterattack or the economic collapse accelerates, this window of opportunity will close... Also, I plan to have the banks conduct another business simultaneously. Of course, we can discuss that another time."

Victor noticed the blank space at the end of the sentence, but he didn't ask about it.

After all, they'd only known each other for an hour. Some things would have to wait until they'd eaten together a few more times before discussing them.

"However, my dear Lu, a friendly reminder," Victor poured himself another half glass of whiskey, "there are two things you need to be aware of when doing business in the Soviet Union."

"Political risks and personal safety," Lu Chen replied crisply.

"Haha, you really have thought about all of this," Victor said, raising an eyebrow as he held the rim of his glass between his thumb and forefinger. "Don't worry about politics. Major General Filippov, the director of the KGB's Fifth Directorate, is a good friend of mine, and he's been planning for his retirement for a while now... I think we can find an opportunity to sit down and have a good talk with him."

"Okay." Upon hearing this name, Lu Chen appeared nonchalant on the surface, but inwardly he couldn't help but gasp in surprise.

It's important to know that the KGB's Fifth Directorate was specifically responsible for economic crimes and foreign trade supervision. It oversaw all foreign exchange transactions, joint venture approvals, and the issuance of border trade licenses throughout the Soviet Union.

The fact that Victor was able to produce this large Buddha statue so quietly is enough to demonstrate the terrifying power of the Morgan family.

Of course, this is also why Lu Chen was willing to cooperate with Morgan. After all, he had no roots or connections in the Soviet Union, and getting Morgan on his side would make things much easier.

"However, while the fifth game was a good fit, it's still not safe to rely on just one person."

"Simple. If you feel that's not safe enough, we can also bring in the top officials of the Ministry of Heavy Industry and the Foreign Trade Bank. Moscow's bureaucratic system is a closed loop—as long as you bring the three people in charge of approvals, foreign exchange, and law enforcement into the board of directors at the same time, the rest of the people will automatically become deaf and dumb."

Lu Chen nodded.

"As for the second aspect, things aren't very peaceful in the Soviet Union lately. Gangs and thieves are active, so our employees' personal security—" Victor shrugged, "...what's your opinion?"

"Just leave it to Jiahe Security," Lu Chen said, stubbing out his cigar in the ashtray. "I will assign a private security team to be responsible for the personal safety of our people within the Soviet Union."

"That's good." Upon hearing the name Jiahe Security, Victor's last concern was dispelled.

Today, Jiahe Security is no longer a small security team operating only in East Asia, but a mega-security company spanning five continents, employing tens of thousands of people, and even owning its own mercenary group. Not long ago, Tian Yangzhi was commissioned to secretly orchestrate and quell a coup in Africa, making him incredibly powerful and firmly establishing himself as a global leader in the PMC industry.

It even spearheaded an armed rebellion in Africa not long ago, making it arguably the leading company in the PMC sector.

"Very good. Now that the framework is set, there's only one last question." Victor shifted his posture, putting his leg down. "Under whose name should it be done? Morgan's or Golden Harvest's?"

"Qianning Capital," Lu Chen said, "just in case, Qianning Capital will set up a shell company in Northern Europe and sign the joint venture agreement in Moscow under the name of the shell company."

"Lu, I must say, as a partner, your caution is reassuring."

"There's no way around it; if we're not careful enough, someone will get hurt sooner or later."

Victor gave Lu Chen a deep look, then smiled and extended his right hand again.

"So...it's a pleasure working with you?"

"It's a pleasure working with you."

……

After the general direction was determined, the two continued to discuss some details. As their conversation deepened, evening soon arrived, and Victor took the opportunity to invite Lu Chen to dinner at the manor.

The restaurant is located on the east side of the first floor. The cuisine is French, and the restaurant employs a dedicated Michelin team. However, neither of them ate much, focusing instead on exchanging information.

At 8:30, the matter was finally settled, and Lu Chen got up to say goodbye.

Victor personally escorted him to the main building entrance. The November night breeze, carried by the river, was blowing in, mingling with moisture and the scent of withered leaves. The fountain on the lawn glowed with a dim yellow light in the night, and the bronze statue of Poseidon was half-lit and half-shadowed in the mist.

"Mr. Lu," Victor stopped on the steps, his coat collar fluttering slightly in the wind, "next time I come, I hope you'll stay a few more days. There are six Hanoverian Warmbloods in the manor's stables, and riding through the mangroves in the autumn is the only entertainment here."

"Thank you," Lu Chen said with a smile, buttoning up his coat. "I'll definitely do it next time!"

The burgundy Rolls-Royce slowly drove down the gravel road, its taillights fading into the night against the backdrop of the red maple forest.

Victor stood on the steps until the last Mercedes escort vehicle completely disappeared into the night before turning around and walking back into the hall.

He didn't go upstairs, but went straight into an inconspicuous little study next to the west corridor.

Only a green desk lamp was lit in the study. He picked up the black telephone on the table and dialed a number.

Soon, a hoarse and deep voice came from the other end: "Да".

"Dear Mr. Platonov, it's me. I have a question I need your help verifying," Viktor said. "Is the Soviet Union prepared to pass new legislation next year to allow the establishment of cooperative banks?"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone. Then, a hoarse voice uttered only one word: "Зачем? (Why are you concerned about this?)"

"My family is considering opening a cooperative in Moscow. Of course, a board seat will be reserved for you, but right now, I need you to sound out the sentiment in Moscow first."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then a hoarse voice said, "I'll check it out," and hung up.

Victor stood in front of his desk, holding the receiver, his gaze fixed on the darkness outside the window.

The wind on the river made the windowpane vibrate slightly. The Hudson River in the distance was completely invisible in the night, and only the sound of the water flowing through the bend could be faintly heard.

After a long silence, Victor chuckled softly.

"Heh... what an amazing guy."

In the distance, the gilded clock on the mantel struck nine times, each strike long and drawn out, like the pulse of this ancient manor itself, steady and unhurried, never ceasing.