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

Hearing that her eldest sister understood her, the third young lady's eyes immediately reddened; she rarely showed such an expression.

Outside, she was the aloof and unapproachable third young lady of the Song family.

In front of the lady, she was the little sister who could act cute and spoiled.

Only with her eldest sister could she see through everything, which made her feel less need to pretend.

"This man is the strongest I've ever seen in my life."

Sister Song said, "Marrying him is indeed the dream of any woman in the world."

Tears welled up in the third young lady's eyes.

"……but."

Sister Song tightened her grip on her hand.

"We can't do anything underhanded behind his back now."

"My contract with him is for one year. If he is displeased in any way during this year, not only will the principal of 2.3 million be lost, but the very foundation of our Song family in our base will be shaken."

The third young lady did not speak.

"The team sent to the US to investigate that fiancée must be withdrawn."

"For the next year, don't send anyone to investigate him, follow him, or monitor him, no matter how it itches you or how much you want to know if that so-called fiancée is real or not!"

Sister Song looked into her younger sister's eyes.

"Hold on."

"One year."

"Just endure this year."

"Wait until this year is over, until the money from Wall Street is in his pocket, until the Whampoa Military Academy graduates are trained, and until he has secured his position in the south."

Sister Song paused for a moment.

"Back then."

"Big sister, I'll help you myself."

"I'll help you and him get together."

The third young lady turned her face away and wiped away a tear that had fallen. Her voice was very soft.

"Big sister, do you keep your word?"

Sister Song smiled.

"Who has my eldest sister ever lied to in her life? Especially not her own younger sister."

The third young lady nodded emphatically.

"it is good."

"I'll listen to my older sister."

From July to August, the unrealized profits on Wall Street snowballed, and Kong Fanwei added to his position once a week, following the rhythm on Lin Qi's note.

RCA rose from 35 to 41.

General Motors raised its price from 83 to 92.

US steel surpasses 105.

DuPont Chemicals surged to 148.

By August, Kong Fanwei's liquidation statement showed a paper profit of 1.5 million on his initial investment of 2.3 million.

This amount far exceeded the one million that Lin Qi had originally promised for the first month.

After the Song siblings received Kong Fanwei's summary account, Song Ziwen paced back and forth in the study, his steps unsteady.

"Big sister..."

"Dr. Lin has exceeded the target."

"It was originally said to be one million, but now it's one and a half million."

Sister Song sat behind her desk with her eyes closed, then suddenly opened them a moment later.

"Prepare the car."

"Go to the Ishii Arsenal."

The office of the factory director of the Ishii plant.

Lin Qi was discussing the tempering process for a new batch of mortar bases with the workshop foreman.

On the table was a steel carbon content analysis table, next to which sat a half-cold cup of tea.

The craftsman, with his graying hair, gestured with a thin steel bar on the watch, his voice not loud:

"Director Lin, this batch uses material from Shanghai Baoxing Ironworks. The carbon content is more than 10% higher than the German batch. Do you think the tempering temperature should be reduced by 50 degrees?"

Lin Qina drew a correction curve on the analysis table with a pencil.

"Pressure it to 40 degrees."

"If the temperature is reduced to 50 degrees, the hardness cannot be increased, and the base cannot withstand repeated firing."

The master nodded, accepted the pencil markings, and turned to leave.

Just as I reached the door, Sister Song's Ford stopped.

Song Ziwen came in first, and seeing that no one was around, he couldn't hide his fierce expression:

"Brother Taku, you've exceeded the target!"

"It was originally said to be one million, now it's one million five hundred thousand."

Lin Qi looked up at him, then lowered his head to draw the curve.

"Um."

With just one "hmm," Song Ziwen froze on the spot.

"Brother Taku, aren't you excited?"

Lin Qi put down the pencil, looked up and smiled:

"Brother Ziwen."

"When I drew this curve, I had already factored in the 1.5 million figure for the first month."

Song Ziwen opened his mouth.

Sister Song walked in, pulled up a chair and sat down. She had dealt with Lin Qi a few times and was already used to his unwavering demeanor.

Upon entering the room, he cut straight to the point: "Mr. Lin, as previously agreed, the 750,000 is yours."

When do you plan to bring it up?

Lin Qi put the analysis tables together.

"today."

"Exchange everything for US dollar cash."

"Send a telegram to Seattle immediately and place an order with Boeing for fifty PW-9s."

"in addition……"

He pulled a folded English note from the drawer and pushed it in front of Sister Song.

"I need to trouble Madam Kong to do something for me."

Sister Song unfolded the note.

The Kong family's American and European branches were commissioned to publicly recruit retired World War I pilots, with the following conditions:

I. Priority will be given to retired officers from the former British Royal Flying Corps, French Army Air Corps, and United States Army Air Corps.

Second, the number of flight hours shall not be less than 250 hours, and the experience of actual combat operations shall not be less than one.

3. Monthly salary of US$500, one-year contract.

Fourth, additional bonuses will be awarded for each actual combat operation, with an extra $100 USD per operation.

5. The more the better.

Signed by: Lin Tuozhi

After reading it, Sister Song looked up and asked, "A monthly salary of five hundred US dollars?"

Lin Qi nodded.

Sister Song didn't answer immediately. She put the note on the table and gently pressed the number with her fingertip.

She understood better than anyone what that number meant.

In 1924, an average skilled worker in the United States earned between sixty and eighty dollars a month, a state police chief earned one hundred and twenty dollars, and an associate professor at an Ivy League university earned about two hundred dollars.

Five hundred a month, plus combat bonuses—few retired pilots could resist such a temptation, even knowing that the conditions in Asia were harsh.

Sister Song folded the note and put it into her crocodile skin handbag.

"I'll get the people in America and Europe moving immediately."

Song Ziwen added from the side:

"Brother Tuozhi, the Kong and Song families have used their connections in Europe and America. We estimate that a formal contract can be signed with Boeing in two to three weeks. As for recruiting pilots, I estimate that we can gather thirty to fifty people within two months."

Lin Qi nodded and said, "Two months is enough."

"The plane needs to land in the Pearl River Delta before the end of the year, and the pilots need to be in place by the end of October."

The Song siblings didn't stay long before taking their leave.

On the way back to the Grand Marshal's Mansion, Sister Song looked at the farmland passing by outside the window and suddenly smiled.

Song Ziwen: "Big sister, what are you laughing at?"

"I laugh at this Mr. Lin, who treats America like his own backyard."

"He can rattle off names like Boeing, Curtiss, Newport News, and Sopworth of Britain. He can also rattle off the salary standards for retired World War I pilots, which happens to be right up his alley."

Is he really the so-called overseas Chinese from San Francisco?

Song Ziwen was silent for a while: "Big sister, I advise you not to investigate this matter any further."

Sister Song turned to look at her younger brother, Song Ziwen, who said in a deep voice:

"My sister listened to you and withdrew her people from the US, so this matter is over."

"Our Kong and Song families only do business with him. Who he is and where he comes from is not important."

Sister Song remained silent for a long time before nodding.

The next two weeks.

The Kong family's Boston-based agent, Charles River Trust, officially placed an order with Boeing.

Fifty PW-9s, each costing $7,800, plus spare parts, transportation, and insurance, totaling $470,000.

Boeing had just secured a small order from the U.S. Army Air Corps and was worried about its production lines not being able to keep up with demand when it suddenly received a large order for fifty aircraft.

All workers at the Seattle factory are working overtime.

Meanwhile, the Kong and Song families in Europe began posting recruitment notices for male soldiers in veterans' associations in London, Paris, and Rome.

The release of GG caused a stir among veterans' associations.

Six years after the end of World War I, a large number of retired pilots who had once dominated the skies were raising chickens in the British countryside, selling used cars on the streets of Paris, and making wine in the Italian countryside.

Suddenly, an Eastern company appeared offering a monthly salary of $500, and the group went crazy.

In just one month, twelve people applied in London, seventeen in Paris, and a total of seventy-one were recruited from the United States.

All seventy-one retired World War I pilots signed contracts.

It is expected that by the end of October, the shipments will depart from the ports of Marseille and Los Angeles in three batches, transit through Hong Kong, and be transshipped to Guangzhou.

Lin Qi's nascent air force was quietly beginning to take shape.

Time flew by and it was already mid-August.

The sweltering heat of Guangzhou pressed down on the eaves of the Grand Marshal's Mansion, making the brick walls scorching hot. The gentleman's complexion grew increasingly sallow each day, yet he still persevered, reviewing official documents daily.

That morning, in the telegraph room of the Grand Marshal's Mansion, a secret telegram from Shanghai was placed on the desk of the confidential secretary by the telegraph operator.

The telegram was very short.

"Governor-General Lu of Zhejiang has secretly dispatched a representative south. The representative boarded the ship yesterday, disguised as a comprador for a foreign firm, and is expected to arrive in Guangdong in three days. He hopes you will express your opinion on his purpose."

The confidential secretary put the translated manuscript into an envelope, sealed it with a drop of sealing wax, and affixed his own copper seal. When the sealed telegram was delivered to the professor's study, the professor was drinking a bowl of medicine.

He brought the bowl to his lips and paused, glancing at the telegram sealed with red paint, a flicker in his eyes.

He put down the medicine, looked at it for a moment, and then ordered, "Go and invite Lord Liao."