Eagle, I don't want to form an alliance anymore.

It was clear that the Soviet Ministry of Foreign Affairs had come prepared; before the embassy had even issued an official document, the Soviet Ministry of Foreign Affairs had already released the prepared document:

According to Article 14 of the Agreement on the Administration of Foreign-Invested Enterprises in the Far Eastern Special Zones signed by China and the Soviet Union, foreign-invested enterprises operating in the Soviet Union, including Sino-foreign joint ventures and wholly foreign-owned enterprises, must comply with the Soviet Union's federal labor law and relevant regulations on workers' rights.

Fuyao (Far East) Co., Ltd.'s employment practices have been found by the Soviet labor inspection authorities to violate several articles of the Soviet labor law. The Soviet side demanded that the Chinese company immediately rectify its illegal practices.

After receiving this response, the Chinese counselor made a phone call to Beijing. The counselor had a personal relationship with Cao Dewang—not a shady one, but rather a relationship where Cao Dewang had facilitated his investments in the Soviet Union through the consulate general, and they had known each other for several years.

The counselor's first reaction was the same as the first secretary of the Far East Special Zone: to smooth things over, urging the Soviet side to relax their efforts and the factories to make concessions, so that everyone could take a step back.

However, the Soviet Union did not offer any room for compromise. Their stance was clear: the contract stipulated adherence to Soviet labor law, and the Chinese side had breached the contract first.

At the same time, the Soviet side proposed a condition that the Chinese side had not anticipated—allowing Chinese workers to bring their families to the Soviet Union and granting them temporary residence permits. If Chinese companies did not want them, the Soviet state-owned "705u.com-Reading Club" factory would take them in.

It is clear that the Soviet Union not only wanted to protect the rights of these Chinese workers, but also wanted to retain them.

China immediately began negotiations with the Soviet Union. If a large-scale migration of people were allowed, then the large number of unemployed and underemployed people in China at that time would inevitably flock to the Soviet Union. Where would China, as a socialist power, put its face? Would it have to admit that there was a large number of unemployed people?

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Let's rewind to a few hours earlier, inside the factory.

After scrambling and crawling along the ventilation ducts to the control room, Cao Dewang immediately did one thing: he summoned the factory's security team and the Chinese management team, demanding that they protect him and the safety of the office area.

Fuyao's security team consisted of twenty men, all brought from China and former military personnel. They did not carry guns (the Soviet Union did not allow security guards of foreign-owned enterprises to possess firearms), but they did have walkie-talkies, flashlights, and riot batons.

Cao Dewang gathered the security team and more than 20 Chinese managers in the factory's control room, which housed the factory's power control system, OGAS terminals, and office equipment.

"Hold this place and don't let any Soviet workers in!"

At the same time, he sent several foremen to the Chinese workers' dormitory: "Tell everyone not to run away with the Soviets. Anyone who runs away will never work for Fuyao again after returning to China!"

Most of the Chinese workers stayed in the dormitory building. Some foremen locked the Chinese workers' dormitories to prevent them from coming out. The workers did not know what was happening outside. They could only look out the window and see Soviet workers walking around in the factory area, security guards standing at the entrance of the control room, and forklifts blocking the main gate.

Soviet workers were not idle.

While Cao Dewang was gathering his security team, the Soviet strike command was also in action—they split into several groups and occupied several key workshops.

In the float glass workshop, the cutting workshop, and the annealing workshop, they immediately shut off the power to the production line and then stood at the workshop entrance to prevent anyone from entering and restarting the equipment.

The glass factory's production line cannot be stopped, because once it stops, the glass will solidify inside the machine, and it will be very difficult to clean it out.

While the standoff continued, posts on the forum were being updated.

[Real-time Updates] On-site Report from the Soviet Strike Command Center on the Workers' Strike at Fuyao Far East Factory

Posted at 2 PM.

Updated every 15 to 30 minutes thereafter.

14:00: The Soviets have taken control of the float glass workshop, cutting workshop, and decommissioning workshop. All production lines have stopped. Management and security forces retreated to the control room, while Chinese workers remained in their dormitories.

14:30: Cao Dewang issued another statement via the factory's public address system, demanding that Soviet workers immediately resume production. The Soviets ignored this.

14:45: Several Chinese workers climbed out of their dormitory windows and walked to the workshop entrance. They said they wanted to talk to the Soviets, and Soviet representatives were communicating with them.

15:00 PM: Lunchtime. Soviet workers ate their own bread and canned food in the workshop. We also delivered meals to the Chinese workers. I wonder what the management in the control room were eating. I hope they were eating shit.

15:30: The Far East Special Zone Management Committee arrived at the factory gate. Forklifts were still blocking the way, and the committee members shouted from outside, demanding to be allowed in. The Soviet said they could come in, but the Management Committee had to first recognize the legal status of the Soviet and the provisional party branch.

16:00: The management committee agreed to the conditions and provided a written guarantee, so we let them in. They first went to the control room to find Cao Dewang, and then came to the workshop to find the Soviet. They are currently in the process of mediation.

16:15: Cao Dewang's son arrived with another group of management personnel, and we let them in.

At five o'clock, a Far East Television interview van arrived at the factory gate, and reporters set up cameras outside. This live broadcast post became the most talked-about post on the Vicher Forum that day, with tens of thousands of replies pouring in: supportive, analytical, critical, and simply curious.

"Wow, that's awesome! To see such a powerful live broadcast of class struggle in my lifetime, even if my account gets banned the next second, it's worth the internet fee!"

After consulting with representatives sent by the management committee, Soviet workers began to address Chinese workers through leaflets and loudspeakers.

"The Soviet government has agreed that Chinese workers can bring their families to the Soviet Union. If you lose your jobs, you can obtain temporary residence permits in the Far East Special Zone. If Fuyao doesn't want you anymore, the Soviet state-owned '705u.com-Reading Club' factory will take you in, and your wages will not be lower than the standard for Soviet workers!"

The Chinese workers were discussing this in hushed tones in their dormitories.

"real or fake?"

"The Russian government can't be lying, right?"

"But what if Boss Cao complains to the Chinese authorities? What will we do when we get back?"

"Who said we were going back? The Russians said we don't have to go back. We can find other jobs here and bring our families over!"

"Yes, we Chinese are down-to-earth, hardworking, and can endure hardship. Where can't we work? The Russians will definitely want us!"

Xiao Chen stood at the window in the dormitory corridor, looking down at the Soviet workers. They were holding up a list of conditions written in Chinese—the handwriting was crooked, and a few words were misspelled, but the meaning was very clear.

He turned his head and looked at the hesitant, nervous faces in the corridor, unsure of what to do.

"Think about it, everyone. How much money is Boss Cao offering you? If the conditions the Soviets mentioned are true, what would you choose?"

silence.

Then there was an older worker, who looked to be in his forties, who was in charge of moving things around the factory.

"My wife farms at home and earns less than a thousand yuan a year. If I could bring her here... damn it!"

"Let's do it!"

...

Meanwhile, in the control room.

Cao Dewang is currently in a standoff with arbitration representatives sent by the Far East Special Economic Zone Management Committee.

The arbitration representative was a deputy director of the management committee, a classic example of a cautious, middle-aged man who didn't want to cause trouble. His purpose was mediation, but mediation required both parties to make concessions—and Cao Dewang was no longer willing to compromise at this point.

Cao Dewang looked out the window: Soviet workers had taken over the workshop, Chinese workers in the dormitory were restless, his phone had been cut off, his tires had been punctured, his door locks had been smashed with glass, and the factory had been shut down for more than 24 hours!

His losses have reached 50!

Cao Dewang's face turned ashen.

“What are you going to talk to them about?” Cao Dewang said to the arbitration representative. “This is my factory! I’ve invested tens of millions here. I bought the machines, I shipped the raw materials, I got the orders. Why can they destroy my property?”

"Tell those Soviet workers that if they dare to lay a hand on me, I'll shut down the factory."

The arbitration representative looked rather grim.

"I'll lay off everyone!" Cao Dewang's voice rose. "I'd rather smash all the machines and crush all the glass and dump it into the sea than leave any of these ungrateful wretches!"

The control room was silent for a second.

Cao Dewang's son, Cao Hui, had just returned from completing his MBA in the United States, and he loudly echoed from the side:

"Even if this matter is resolved peacefully, it's not over! These ungrateful bastards—we'll terminate their contracts one by one! The company will seek compensation from them! Losses from the production stoppage, damage to equipment, penalties for breach of orders... not a penny less!"

Cao Hui spoke loudly when he called someone a "cheapskate." Some of the other Chinese managers in the control room nodded, while others remained silent.

The translator shrugged; he had already turned on the broadcast button in the control room. He immediately translated Cao Dewang and his son's words into Russian and loudly relayed them to the arbitration representative.

The arbitrator blinked. This businessman in front of him was so arrogant, as if this were his hometown. He was really going to be put in a difficult position.

...

Every word translated was transmitted through the factory's loudspeaker system to the workshops, dormitories, and every corner of the factory.

The Soviet workers in the workshop heard it.

"I'd rather smash all the machines than leave any for the workers!" "Ungrateful bastards!" "Terminate their contracts one by one!"...

The air in the workshop seemed to freeze.

In the Soviet Union, a country where public ownership of the means of production was enshrined in the constitution, the threat of destroying the means of production was far more serious than withholding wages.

This is an ideological issue.

In the Soviet workers' mindset, means of production such as machines, equipment, and production lines did not belong to any one individual. They belonged to the collective of workers. Even in joint ventures, even if the investors were foreign, once those machines were installed on Soviet soil and operated by Soviet workers to produce products, they acquired a public nature.

In Cao Dewang's mind, this is a boss disposing of his own property; he can smash the machines he bought if he wants.

In the minds of Soviet workers, this was someone who had embezzled collective property and was threatening to destroy public wealth. You bought these machines with your money, that's true. But it is we, the workers, who made these machines produce value through our labor!

Without our labor, your machines are just a pile of scrap metal! Without workers for you, how will you earn money?!

Your threat to smash the machines is undermining our work!

The difference in understanding between the two sides quickly clashed, and the Soviet chairman stood up after listening to the broadcast.

"Comrades!" he said.

Everyone in the workshop was watching him.

"You heard that? He's going to smash the machines! He's going to destroy our means of production! He's calling us worthless!"

He looked around. Previously, some Soviet workers had opposed violence. They believed they should trust the government to intervene and resolve the issue through legal means.

A strike is acceptable, occupying the workshop is acceptable, but physical violence is not.

However, Cao Dewang's few words successfully burned away the last bit of patience of the moderates.

"Damn it, what are we waiting for?" a young Soviet worker stood up. "Wait until he really smashes the machine?"

"Comrades!" another man shouted, his voice echoing through the metal structure of the workshop.

"Down with this reactionary!"

"Hang him on a street lamp!"

"Comrades, follow me! Let's take him down!" "Long live the working class!"

The situation began to spiral out of control, and Soviet workers poured out of the workshop. They carried whatever they could find—hammers, wrenches, steel pipes. The militiamen immediately opened the security office's weapons cabinet, which was labeled:

"Open this cabinet when the Soviet is threatened."

They went to the dormitory building first, but the door was locked. The Soviet workers used pliers to cut the padlock chain and pushed the door open. The Chinese workers inside saw the Soviet workers pouring in, carrying hammers and wrenches, their faces showing an unyielding determination.

"Come with us, comrades," said the Soviet workers' representative. "Let's go now."

The Chinese workers hesitated for a few seconds. Perhaps it was because the conditions offered by the Soviets were indeed attractive, perhaps they had heard what Cao Dewang had just said on the radio, or perhaps it was simply instinctive at that moment to follow the majority.

In short, most of the Chinese workers followed the Soviet workers out of the country. A small number stayed in the dormitories; these were the most timid and unwilling to offend their bosses.

The rest of the people followed the Soviets toward the control room.

The control room door was an iron door, and a forklift was parked outside, its forks pointed at the door.

"Buzz—Boom!"

A Soviet worker sat in the driver's seat of a forklift and floored the accelerator. The forklift engine roared, and the forks slammed against the metal gate.

"Don't come any closer! I'm telling you, you've broken the law!" Cao Dewang's shout came from inside the door.

The door was deformed, one of the hinges was broken, and a large part of the door panel was dented, but it could not be fully opened.

"boom!"

The forklift retreated two meters before crashing into it again.

"I'm warning you! If you dare touch me, I'll kill you all—" *Boom!*

This time, all the hinges broke, and the door panel detached from the frame and crashed to the ground. The headlights from the car outside shone blindingly into the control room.

The people in the control room—Cao Dewang and his son Cao Hui, along with more than twenty Chinese managers and security guards—were blinded by the bright lights.

The security guards stood at the front, batons in hand, their expressions tense. They were trained, but they were facing over a thousand workers, and the workers were armed!

"The money belongs to the boss, but your life is your own," the security captain glanced at Cao Dewang.

Cao Dewang's face was deathly pale in the forklift lights.

"Put it down," the security captain said to his men.

Riot batons fell to the ground, and one of the Chinese management members made a token attempt to block them—before being shoved aside by a Soviet worker. No one was actually fighting; resistance in the face of overwhelming superiority was merely a gesture.

The workers rushed into the control room.

"I'm here to open a factory, what do you want?!"

Cao Dewang's voice rang out amidst the chaos as he was pushed against the wall of the control room, his back pressed against the wall.

Before him stood Soviet and Chinese workers, mingling together, their faces bearing the same expression—anger.

The wreckage of the destroyed control room door lay scattered on the ground, and the paint on the walls was scratched with white marks by the forklift's steel forks.

He collapsed to the ground, looking up at the workers who were looking down at him, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw two portraits hanging on the wall with its paint scratched off.

He seemed to have never noticed the existence of these two portraits.

On the left is Chairman Mao, and on the right is Lenin. The two portraits are side by side, and both men are looking into the distance, at the factory area outside the control room, where forklift lights are flashing in the darkness.