Did he trick the young marshal into becoming sworn brothers and then go south to Huangpu Military Ac

No less than two million US dollars!

In an era when a single silver dollar could buy a bag of flour, two million US dollars (equivalent to more than five million silver dollars) was a terrifying sum of money that could shake up the overall situation of the headquarters and equip several Soviet divisions.

Mr. Lian would get excited if he saw this money.

However, Sister Song actually managed to scrape together the money!

Of course, Lin Qi knew that the money mainly came not from the Song family, but from the Kong family.

Although the Kong family of Shanxi did not have much money, they were extremely famous, and Shanxi merchants were united and often engaged in large-scale financial transactions with each other.

However, he was not excited by the huge sum of money; instead, he despised the woman in front of him even more.

Selfish, greedy, and short-sighted.

How difficult is the situation in the South right now?

It was when he was most short of money. In order to raise funds, Zhang Jingjiang even sold several houses in Shanghai, but the woman in front of him was unmoved.

You have to understand, the entire Song family's fortunes are tied up here; it's a case of shared prosperity and shared ruin.

If the revolution succeeds, the Song family will directly become relatives of the emperor.

With such a promising political future right in front of her, this woman is still unwilling to give a single penny.

Lin Qi offered no opinion, lit a cigarette, and waited for what would happen next.

"This two million dollars is all tied up in your Wall Street plan. We will provide all the funding, and we will handle all the overseas accounts and wire transfer channels with Citibank and HSBC."

Sister Song stared at Lin Qi and presented her profit-sharing plan.

"As for the distribution of profits, Mr. Lin, you do not need to bear any risk of loss. All profits will be split 30/70."

Sister Song tapped her finger on the signature area of ​​the contract.

"Mr. Lin, you take 30%, and we, who contribute both money and effort, take 70%. Mr. Lin, a tenfold profit of two million US dollars—even at 30%, that's six million US dollars! This wealth is enough for you to do many things in these chaotic times!"

This was the bottom line she arrived at after careful calculation.

From a business perspective, the investor bears all the risks, so it's only natural that they take the lion's share.

Giving someone who only contributes ideas and brains a 30% cut is already the most generous treatment she has ever given in her life.

Sister Song looked at Lin Qi with confidence, waiting for him to show a look of surprise and delight before he readily signed his name on the contract.

however.

Lin Qihe didn't even glance at it.

Instead, he let out a soft, cold laugh, which sounded particularly jarring in the empty private room.

He stood up abruptly, gripped the armrests of the wooden chair with both hands, and pushed it backward with a sudden jerk. The chair legs scraped against the wooden floor, producing a sharp, teeth-grinding sound.

Then he turned around, without saying a word, and strode towards the door of the private room.

Sister Song's composure and confidence were instantly and completely shattered.

She panicked.

"Mr. Lin!"

Sister Song suddenly stood up, her knee slamming hard against the table leg. She winced in pain, but she didn't care. She walked around the round table and stood in front of Lin Qi with her arms outstretched.

"What do you mean by this?! No initial investment, just a brain and a few ideas, and you want 30% of the profits—six million US dollars! Do you think that's not enough?!"

Sister Song's voice was filled with confusion and anger.

Lin Qi stopped and looked down at the short-sighted woman in front of him.

"Not enough?"

His eyes revealed coldness and domineering power, and the aura he exuded was like a tiger unleashed from its cage.

"Madam Kong, it seems you haven't grasped the situation yet."

Lin Qi's voice hit Sister Song's face like ice shards.

"Without my mathematical model, without my guidance on when to buy and sell, your two million dollars would have been nothing more than a scrap of meat thrown into the meat grinder of Wall Street! It would have been nothing more than a piece of rotten meat to fill the tables of the Morgan and Rockefeller families!"

Lin Qi took a step closer, exuding an overwhelming sense of pressure.

"If it weren't for Madam and Brother Ziwen's influence, I would indeed agree to a 30/70 split, but the rules would have to be changed."

Lin Qi pronounced the verdict slowly and deliberately.

"I'll take 70%, and you'll take 30%!"

boom!

These words were like a bombshell, detonating right there in the private room.

Sister Song was stunned.

She was so shocked by this robber-like logic, which completely subverted the common sense of the capital market, that her brain went blank.

The person who provides the money gets a small share, while the person who provides the idea gets the big share?

This is absolutely ridiculous!

"You...you're insane..."

Sister Song's chest heaved violently, her voice trembling: "How much do you want?"

Lin Qi ignored her outburst and turned back to the mahogany table.

He extended his right index finger and tapped it heavily on the cover of the English contract.

"Fifty-fifty."

Lin Qi laid out his bottom line, leaving no room for negotiation.

"We'll split the profits in half; you take half, and I'll take half."

Song Ziwen opened his mouth, about to refute her using the unwritten rules of the financial industry.

Lin Qi raised his hand to interrupt him.

"The reason I agreed to concede to this extent and didn't insist on taking 70% is firstly because Brother Ziwen just recognized my mathematical model, and this appreciation is worth 10% of the profit."

As he spoke, he narrowed his eyes, and two chilling flames ignited in his pupils.

"Secondly, once I've earned this money, I don't intend to let it sit in the bank like a rotten number. I need your Song family to do something big for me."

Sister Song looked at him warily: "What's the big deal?"

Lin Qi placed his hands on the table and revealed his scheme word by word.

"I want you to use all your overseas connections to circumvent the arms embargoes imposed on our headquarters by the great powers!"

His voice grew louder and louder, accompanied by a metallic boom.

"In Europe, go to the French factories! In America, go to the Curtiss factory workshops! Smuggle them in through Hong Kong or Vietnam by disassembling them into agricultural machinery parts or postal transport vehicles!"

"I need you to help me buy fighter jets in bulk! I want to build my own air force!"

Dead silence.

The private room fell into a deathly silence.

The sound of the waves crashing against the embankment was deafening at that moment.

The Song siblings were stunned by the words "buying large quantities of fighter jets," their minds going completely blank.

In an era when even rifle bullets couldn't be manufactured in full, Lin Qi actually wanted to transcend time and go straight into building an air force.

Song Ziwen swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with difficulty. He stood up, supporting himself on the table, and asked in a trembling voice:

"Brother Taku...you...you bought so many fighter jets...what are you going to do with them?"

Lin Qizhi stood up and strode to the open wooden lattice window.

He stood with his hands behind his back, looking out at the ever-flowing, mighty Pearl River.

On the river, several gunboats flying foreign flags were sailing around ostentatiously.

A gust of river wind ruffled his short hair, and the long-suppressed flames in his eyes ignited completely at that moment, burning fiercely.

"What else can we do?"

Lin Qi suddenly turned around, opened his arms, as if to embrace the ravaged landscape.

"Arm me, first-generation Whampoa Military Academy graduate!"

The roar echoed in the private room, carrying an overbearing and arrogant tone.

"Once these wolf cubs, who've been through so much hardship, graduate, I will never let them go to their deaths in front of the enemy's heavy machine gun positions with their old, worn-out rifles!"

"I want to personally fly fighter jets over their heads! I want to tear a bloody path through the infantry with hundreds and thousands of tons of aerial bombs!"

"I will lead this iron army northward! A northern expedition to the Central Plains! I will blast those old warlords, who control their armies and prey on the people, along with their strongholds, to ashes!!!"

Song Ziwen's legs went weak, and she collapsed onto the hard wooden chair, her gold-rimmed glasses slipping down to the tip of her nose.

Sister Song took two steps back, her back pressed tightly against the cold wall, her face deathly pale.

madman.

This is a complete and utter war madman, disguised as a rational person.

He ran an arms factory, he impressed the elites of the Whampoa Military Academy, and he went to Wall Street to amass wealth.

All these calculations and meticulous planning were for this astonishing ultimate ambition!

This is not a business transaction; it's raising funds for a war that could change the fate of the nation!

This person's ambition has swelled to the point where it can devour the heavens and the earth!

On the table, the English contract that stipulated a two million dollar investment in Wall Street rustled in the river breeze.