When I went home for Chinese New Year, I spent a million times more money on my foreign wife.

The Trans-Siberian Railway.

Forty-seven special trains, one after another, rolled from the border of China across the permafrost zone and into the heart of Russia.

On each flatbed trailer, brand-new pickup trucks were neatly stacked.

The vehicle had a gray body with a matte finish, and the cargo bed was piled high with compressed ammunition boxes and military rations.

Ice City, Snow Palace International Global Center, top floor.

Chen Yue stared at the logistics dispatch screen in front of her, clutching the satellite phone in her hand.

"Longxiang Motors has completed its fourth batch of deliveries, with 120,000 vehicles already loaded onto the railway. Tieqi Heavy Industry completed its order three days ahead of schedule. Beidou Off-Road's final batch of 80,000 vehicles is currently undergoing armor coating treatment and will be dispatched within 48 hours."

On the other end of the phone was the general dispatcher of Longxiang Motors.

"Ms. Chen Yue, someone at customs is blocking our export permit—"

"Who blocked it?"

"A deputy director at the Northwest Port said that dual-use military and civilian vehicles require additional approval."

Chen Yue opened the contact list on the table and dialed another number.

Three minutes later, the deputy director was suspended from his post.

The approval was issued that very night.

-

Western Theater Command of the Russian Bear Country, Frontline Supply Station.

The first batch of 50,000 pickup trucks were unloaded from the railway hub and taken over by Ivan's team of drivers.

Ivan stood in the command tent of the supply depot, looking at the gray pickup trucks parked all over the open space outside.

"The truck's here, but we don't have enough drivers," Ivan yelled into the phone. "We had over six hundred drivers last month, and the rest are all in the hospital. What am I supposed to drive?"

The person on the other end of the phone was his logistics manager.

"Boss, the union has said they won't even take the job for triple pay. Seventeen of our last batch of heavy trucks were destroyed by missiles, and twenty-three drivers died. Nobody wants to go up there and die."

The tent flap was lifted.

A man in a black combat uniform walked in and slammed a list on the table.

"Mr. Ivan, three thousand retired soldiers have been transferred from the Black Kite Far East Region. All of them hold heavy vehicle driver's licenses and are to be on duty immediately."

Ivan picked up the list and glanced at it.

"These people—were they sent by Chen Yang?"

Mr. Chen said, "Whatever you lack, he will provide."

Ivan held the list in his hand and said nothing more.

-

Frontline highway.

The first convoy of pickup trucks—six hundred in total—entered the firefight zone at four in the morning.

The team leader was a former special forces instructor from Black Kite, codenamed "Iron Nail." He sat in the passenger seat of the first pickup truck, holding a walkie-talkie.

"All vehicles, maintain a distance of fifty meters and a speed of no less than eighty kilometers per hour. If you encounter artillery fire, do not stop, accelerate and rush through."

The convoy sped along the dirt road plowed by artillery shells.

Seventeen minutes later, the first anti-armor missile flew over.

The missile, trailing a plume of flame, slammed into the front of the ninth pickup truck in the middle of the convoy.

Explosion. Smoke and dust billowed.

There was a burst of noise on the walkie-talkie.

"Car number nine reporting! Car number nine reporting!"

Five seconds later, the sound of car number nine came from inside.

"Car number nine is fine! The hood is blown out of shape, the windshield is gone, but the car can still be driven! It's accelerating!"

Iron Nail picked up the binoculars and looked behind him.

In the dust, a large black patch appeared on the front of the No. 9 pickup truck, with half of the hood sticking up, but the four wheels were still turning, and the truck was even going faster than before.

The second missile landed at the rear of the convoy.

It hit the bed of the forty-first pickup truck.

Several ammunition boxes in the truck bed were blown away, but the vehicle's structure remained intact.

The driver cursed, turned the steering wheel thirty degrees to the left, and the pickup truck veered off the road and plunged into the mud beside it. The four-wheel drive system gripped the soft, wet ground, the wheels spun wildly, mud splashed everywhere, and the pickup truck climbed out of the mud pit and rejoined the convoy.

All 600 pickup trucks passed through the firefight zone.

Loss: zero.

-

In the command post in Kyiv, a NATO military advisor stared at the images transmitted back by the drone.

In the footage, a convoy of gray pickup trucks speeds through the mud, leaving only black marks after being hit by missiles, and the vehicles continue to drive as usual.

"That's impossible."

He pulled up the technical parameters of the Javelin missile and watched the footage again.

"The Javelin's armor-piercing capability is 800 millimeters of homogeneous steel, capable of penetrating the top armor of any currently serving main battle tank. How could a civilian pickup truck withstand it?"

The intelligence officer next to him handed him a report.

"We intercepted satellite images of railway transportation. The special trains coming from the direction of China were all loaded with these pickup trucks. The quantity... we compiled seven days' worth of satellite data."

"How many?"

"A conservative estimate is over one million vehicles."

The NATO advisor put the report down.

"One million pickup trucks that can't be penetrated."

He didn't say anything more.

-

Mo City, 1 Tver Street, manor.

Ivan rushed back from the front lines and pushed open the restaurant door.

Chen Yang and Katyusha were having breakfast. On the table were black caviar with toasted bread slices and a pot of black tea.

Ivan walked up to Chen Yang and bent his knees slightly.

"No." Chen Yang didn't look up, picking up a slice of bread. "If you kneel down, Katyusha will turn against me."

Katyusha, holding her teacup, glanced at her father.

Ivan straightened up and sat down at the table.

"The battle report from the front line is that six hundred pickup trucks passed through the fire zone and were hit by eleven anti-tank missiles. Not one was destroyed and not a single driver was killed."

Chen Yang spread black caviar on the bread and handed it to Katyusha.

"The supply line is open?"

"The route is open. The first batch of ammunition and fuel has been delivered to the front lines. Subsequent convoys are being organized and can run three batches per day."

"What about your natural gas pipeline maintenance equipment?"

"It will be delivered along with the second batch. The engineering team has already set off, and it is expected that the gas transmission capacity of the northern pipeline will be restored within a week."

"The pipeline is back online, and the LNG carriers on the Arctic route have arrived." Chen Yang took a bite of his bread. "Your energy export profits will triple next quarter."

Ivan clenched his fist.

"The money for these pickup trucks—"

"I told you you don't need to pay." Chen Yang wiped his hands. "The Arctic oil field under Katyusha's name lost 400,000 barrels of production last month due to the interruption of the shipping route. One barrel of crude oil is eighty US dollars, so 400,000 barrels is thirty-two million US dollars. The loss in one month is enough to buy 1,600 pickup trucks. I spent 20 billion to save the shipping route, and I made it back in six months."

Ivan opened his mouth.

"So when you gave me a million pickup trucks, wasn't that helping me?"

"I'm helping my wife earn money."

Katyusha put down her teacup and took the last piece of bread from Chen Yang's hand from the plate.

"Next time, just say you'll help me, don't go through all that trouble."

Chen Yang looked at the empty plate.

"Lei Zi, bring another breakfast."

Lei Zi's voice came from outside the door.

"Boss, we just got some fresh white sturgeon from the kitchen. Would you like to add it to our menu?"

"add."

Chen Yang pulled out a chair, stood up, and walked to the window.

My phone vibrated.

Chen Yue sent an encrypted message.

"Brother, the 47th special train has crossed the border. All one million pickup trucks have been delivered. The chairman of Longxiang Motors asked if we need to place any more orders?"

Chen Yang replied with a single word.

"Chase."

He put his phone in his pocket and looked out the window at the skyline of Mo City.