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

When the coffin was carried to the newly dug grave next to Lenin's Mausoleum, Slava remembered the dream he had in the hotel.

Now, its owner has also moved to live under the fourth tombstone.

The bowl of tea in front of the tombstone has gone cold forever.

On March 19, the plenary session of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union elected Konstantin Ustinovich Chernenko as General Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union.

The vote was unanimous—as is the case in all Soviet political traditions for the election of the General Secretary, it was a unanimous vote to demonstrate party unity.

As the other half of the compromise, Gorbachev was officially recognized as the Secretary of the Central Secretariat in charge of the day-to-day work—a title that, although not officially called the Second Secretary in official documents, was known to everyone as such.

In his brief speech after being elected, Chernenko finished speaking in less than ten minutes—his voice was hoarse and his breath was short, and he had to stop to catch his breath every few words. He looked even weaker on the podium than Andropov had in his final months.

As the hundreds of Central Committee members present watched the clearly terminally ill old man laboriously finish reading his speech, they all thought the same thing:

How long can he hold on?

Slava sat in the back corner of the hall watching the scene on the platform, then looked at Gorbachev on the platform.

Gorbachev sat to the right of the new General Secretary, wearing his signature well-fitting suit.

Their eyes met for about two seconds. Gorbachev nodded slightly, then looked away.

Slava had read everything he needed to know: the game wasn't over yet.

A new struggle has begun.

Chapter 40 How could the alliance disintegrate in just a few years?

Chernenko, as a new official, should theoretically make a splash with his first three moves, but judging from his half-finished state, Slava estimates he can only burn the three yang flames on his shoulders.

The new secretary's governing style is very different from Andropov's—Andropov was someone who knew he didn't have much time, so he rushed forward frantically, while Chernenko was someone who knew he couldn't do anything, so he chose to do nothing.

His political philosophy can be summarized in five words: "As long as nothing goes wrong, it's fine."

Faced with the reforms left by Andropov, Chernenko's attitude was like that of a reluctant tenant facing a room renovated by the previous tenant—

He didn't like the new furniture, but it was too much trouble to take it apart, so he left it where it was and would never buy any new pieces.

The intensity of the anti-corruption campaign waned in the first month after he took office.

The KGB's practice of raiding shops and bathhouses to catch absentee workers, as seen during the Andropov era, was no longer encouraged—Chernko's secretary conveyed the new General Secretary's "spirit" at a Central Secretariat meeting.

The gist is that "disciplinary rectification should continue, but the approach should be more lenient and focused on education rather than punishment."

In layman's terms, it means "Don't investigate."

Now, long queues have reappeared at Moscow's state-run stores during working hours. Workers have started sneaking out to shop again, since no one seems to be checking.

Chernenko made further adjustments in the ideological sphere—after all, he had been in charge of propaganda and ideological work in the Central Committee of the CPSU for twenty years, which was the territory he knew best.

Andropov's famous statement about "irrational trial and error" at the June plenary session was quietly removed from official documents, replaced by more orthodox Marxist-Leninist propaganda.

"Developed socialism," "the superiority of socialism," "the core leadership role of the Party"...

These old Brezhnev-era tunes have once again taken over the editorial pages of Pravda.

But there are far more things Chernenko couldn't do than he could.

He could not remove Gorbachev—Gorbachev, as the de facto second secretary, was deeply embedded in the party's daily operations, and he chaired more than half of the Politburo meetings on his behalf, because Chernenko was often absent due to health reasons.

He couldn't overturn the Geneva Convention—the convention had already been signed, the whole world was watching, and the Soviet Union's international image had just improved because of it; overturning it would be like slapping himself in the face.

He couldn't stop the withdrawal process in Afghanistan—the working group was already in operation, and the military's position on the issue had changed from opposing withdrawal to a phased withdrawal; he didn't have the power to reverse that direction.

He also couldn't stop the pilot programs of agricultural production and research cooperatives—which were already operating in several states, and Gorbachev, as the Central Committee Secretary in charge of agriculture, gave these pilot programs even stronger impetus than during Andropov's time.

Agricultural reform was his and Slava's achievement, and it was also the capital that allowed the two reformist generals of the CPSU to establish their authority within the party.

The momentum of reform no longer comes from the top leadership as strongly as it did during the Andropov era. Now, Gorbachev and a group of reformist cadres around him are using their enthusiasm and political energy to make up for the lack of leadership at the top.

As for Slava, his position in this situation is quite delicate:

He was the deputy director of the agricultural department of the Central Secretariat, and administratively directly under Gorbachev, which meant that he would not fall as long as Gorbachev remained in power.

However, as a member of the Central Committee, he was qualified to attend and speak at the plenary sessions of the Central Committee, which gave him a platform for policy discussions that had a broader impact beyond the agricultural sector.

What he wants to influence most right now is the alliance's foreign policy.

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.

In April, a new round of consultations between Chinese and Soviet vice foreign ministers was held in Moscow.

This is a routine high-level contact between the two countries since Andropov's death, and the size and level of the Chinese delegation are slightly higher than the previous round.

It seems that Beiping (Beijing) is taking a cautious approach to the direction of Soviet policy toward China after Andropov's death.

The content of the consultations was not fundamentally different from the previous rounds; the three major obstacles remained the core issues, and the Soviet side was still unwilling to make substantial concessions on these issues.

After all, for the Soviet Union, starting with the withdrawal of troops from Afghanistan was already the biggest concession. Since China still insists on the bottom line that "normalization cannot be achieved without removing the obstacles," then so be it.

Although the conservative faction in the Politburo still holds the old tune of the Brezhnev era, the reformist cadres have already reaped tangible benefits from the thawing of Sino-Soviet relations over the past year, and many hope to promote further cooperation in Sino-Soviet trade, economy, and science and technology.

Slava did not attend the consultation meeting; he was currently working with his friends in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to arrange an informal dinner with someone he knew from the Chinese delegation after the consultations concluded.

That person is Director Yu Hongliang.

Two years had passed since I last saw Yu Hongliang. His hair had turned quite a bit whiter, but he looked much more energetic than when we last met.

Perhaps because Sino-Soviet relations had indeed been moving in a positive direction in the past two years, he, as the head of the Soviet and Eastern European Department, no longer had to worry about a pile of old documents that "resolutely rejected Soviet imperialism" every day.

Dinner was held at a rather unassuming Georgian restaurant in Moscow.

As usual, Director Nian sat to the side. Although Sino-Soviet relations no longer required the clandestine arrangements of informal contacts as they had two years prior, the private channels between Slava and Yu Hongliang remained more flexible and candid than formal diplomatic channels.

“Oh, Comrade Ronan,” Yu Hongliang said, using Slava’s Chinese name.

"To be honest, Beijing was very worried after Comrade Andropov's death. We don't know much about the next move of the new one."

“To be honest, I don’t know him very well either,” Slava said.

"But I can assure you that the direction of relations with China will not change, and there is a rare consensus between reformists and conservatives on this issue."

Improving relations with China was clearly in the Soviet Union's strategic interest; even the most conservative Politburo member wouldn't object to doing business with their neighbor, would they?

Slava blinked and clinked glasses with Yu Hongliang.

"Doing business is fine, but what about the three major obstacles?"

"Ah—they're advancing, they're advancing, but slowly. Troops have already begun withdrawing from Afghanistan, and the situation in Cambodia is more complicated..."

Slava shook his head helplessly. After all, he wasn't in charge of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and the reformists hadn't gained a majority in the Politburo. Now, all he could do was talk.

"Let me put it this way, Director Deng hopes that Vietnam will withdraw its troops from Cambodia as soon as possible." Yu Hongliang put down his chopsticks.

"Director Deng's attitude was very clear—Vietnam's withdrawal from Cambodia was a key threshold for improving Sino-Soviet relations. The deployment of troops in Afghanistan and along the border was the Soviet Union's own business, and you have already begun to withdraw. We have also made concessions on trade with the Soviet Union on this point. You can proceed at your own pace in Afghanistan."

But Cambodia is different. Vietnam's occupation of Cambodia is like a knife stuck in China's backyard. Without removing this knife, Beijing cannot truly sit down with Moscow.

Slava made a mental note of this, and then tentatively asked:

"If Moscow makes some substantial gesture on the Vietnam issue, would Beiping be willing to offer something in return to help us push this forward domestically?"

Yu Hongliang gave him a cautious look.

"You mean you need China to offer some 'concessions' to persuade the conservatives in Moscow?"

“Yes, we need ammunition. We need something that can be put on the Politburo table—trade orders, technological cooperation, or even just a concession on some trivial specific issue concerning the Soviet Union—anything that can show the conservatives that ‘improving relations with Old Zhong is worthwhile.’”

“Anything,” Slava repeated earnestly.

Yu Hongliang did not answer on the spot.

"We'll discuss this when we get back."

...

Slava did not wait idly.

At the end of April, he submitted a formal proposal to the Politburo through Gorbachev, requesting an enlarged meeting to discuss "the possibility of adjusting the policy toward Vietnam within the framework of the normalization of Sino-Soviet relations."

The core of the proposal was also adjusted after discussions among the reformist members:

The Soviet Union's concession was that Vietnam would withdraw its troops from Cambodia within three years. Vietnam had maintained a military occupation of Cambodia since its invasion in 1978, which overthrew the Khmer Rouge regime.

But why keep occupying Cambodia?

Since its unification, Vietnam has harbored the strategic vision of establishing an Indochina Federation (including Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia), a concept that can be traced back to the Ho Chi Minh era.

Meanwhile, the Khmer Rouge was one of Beiping's important allies in Southeast Asia, and Lao Zhong provided Cambodia with a large amount of military and economic aid.

From Hanoi's perspective, the Pol Pot regime was essentially a pawn used by China to contain Vietnam. Moreover, in that year—1978—Sino-Vietnamese relations had completely broken down, with China ceasing aid to Vietnam, Vietnam carrying out large-scale expulsions of Chinese nationals, and Vietnam aligning itself with the Soviet Union by signing the Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation between the Soviet Union and Vietnam.

In this context, eliminating the Khmer Rouge was not only about removing the threat from the rear, but also a blow to Chung's power base.

Meanwhile, in order to strengthen the encirclement of Lao Zhong on three sides, the Soviet Union supported Vietnam's initiative to invade Cambodia. With the combined effects of favorable timing, location, and popular support, Vietnam launched its invasion.

Although Moscow did not directly participate in the war, the terms signed with Vietnam effectively provided Hanoi with a strategic backer—if Lao Zhong retaliated on a large scale, the Soviet Union would at least have a theoretical obligation to intervene.

In fact, when China launched its self-defense counterattack against Vietnam in 1979, the Soviet Union did exert military pressure, but it did not come to the point of direct war.

For Vietnam, Cambodia today is just as mired in war as the United States faced Vietnam, the Soviet Union faced Afghanistan, and Nazi Germany faced the Soviet Union.

The Hun Sen regime, which Vietnam had installed in Cambodia, was too weak. Once the Vietnamese army withdrew, the remnants of the Khmer Rouge and other resistance forces (supported by China, the US, and Thailand) on the Thai-Cambodian border could potentially make a comeback. Therefore, Vietnam was forced to maintain a 100,000-strong garrison for ten years, until it withdrew in 1989.

If the Soviet Union were to cut off aid to Vietnam now, Vietnam would soon be forced to change course due to economic pressures and international difficulties.

But... can we really achieve our goal simply by cutting off aid?

Slava knew he had to persuade the reformers.

"...The Union provides Vietnam with more than two billion rubles in aid every year, while Sino-Soviet trade has grown from less than 300 million rubles to nearly 700 million rubles in the past two years and is still rising rapidly. China's huge market has a potential demand for Union industrial equipment and energy products that is dozens of times greater than that of Vietnam!"

We should let the numbers speak for themselves, not let the results of ideological debates from over a decade ago determine the outcome!

After reviewing the proposal, Gorbachev made a decision that surprised Slava—he allowed Slava to present it in person at an enlarged meeting of the Politburo.

Go's map is like putting Slava on a fire to roast.

If the bill passes, the credit goes to Gorbachev because he is in charge; if the bill is rejected or does not yield good results, the responsibility lies with Slava because he was the one who proposed it.

Risks and opportunities coexist!

“Okay, I’ll prepare the report right away.” Slava gave Gorbachev a deep look and accepted the challenge.

An enlarged meeting of the Political Bureau was held on an afternoon in late April.

Slava stood in that familiar hall, facing Old Deng, who was thirty or forty years his senior, and spent twenty minutes presenting his arguments from beginning to end.

This was his first report to the Politburo.

He spoke with restraint, avoiding any inflammatory language or personal attacks. He has always been pragmatic, preferring to present the numbers one by one and let them speak for themselves.

The costs of aid to Vietnam, the growth of Sino-Soviet trade, the actual operational efficiency of the Cam Ranh Bay base in Vietnam, the proportion of Vietnam's military expenditures in Cambodia in the Soviet aid budget, and how much military and economic resources the Soviet Union could release in the Far East if Sino-Soviet relations were fully normalized...

"Comrades, we are not facing a choice between Vietnam and China!"

The friendly relations between the Soviet Union and Vietnam can continue under a new framework—Cam Ranh Bay base can continue to be used, military cooperation can continue, and economic assistance can continue to be provided at a reasonable level!

However, the Cambodian issue cannot continue to be an obstacle to the normalization of Sino-Soviet relations. Vietnam is now completely dependent on us, and without us, Lao Zhong can easily deal with it.

Fighting on two fronts is already difficult enough, but having to station hundreds of thousands of troops in Cambodia and spend billions of rubles on aid every year, and there is no way out for this war, either militarily or politically—Hanoi itself is well aware of this.

If Moscow can help Hanoi find a dignified way out, not only will Sino-Soviet relations see a breakthrough, but Soviet-Vietnamese relations will actually become healthier by shedding this burden.

The silence in the hall continued after the statement ended.

The conservatives' counterattack came swiftly, with one of Ustinov's deputies speaking on behalf of the military establishment:

"Cam Ranh Bay was an irreplaceable forward base for the Soviet Navy in the Western Pacific. Giving up support for Vietnam was tantamount to giving up the entire Soviet strategic presence in Southeast Asia, a cost that far outweighed the benefits that Sino-Soviet trade could bring!"

Meanwhile, officials from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs countered from the perspective of international credibility:

"If the Soviet Union, under pressure from the United States and China, forced its ally Vietnam to withdraw its troops from Cambodia, it would be tantamount to announcing to the world that the Soviet Union was willing to sacrifice the interests of its small allies in order to improve relations with major powers—what would the leaders of Cuba, Angola, Mozambique, and Nicaragua think?"

Today, the Soviet Union can abandon Vietnam to improve relations with Lao Zhong, so what do its allies on the front lines of the confrontation with NATO think?

These rebuttals are all valid. Slava must admit that the conservatives' arguments on this issue are not unfounded, that Cam Ranh Bay's strategic value is real, and that their considerations of international credibility are not unfounded.

However, compared to a year ago, the voices of opposition have clearly lost some of their strength.

No one uses terms like "betraying the socialist camp" or "betraying orthodox Marxism-Leninism" to label the discussion anymore. Perhaps it's because the success of the Geneva Conventions has made negotiating with an opponent no longer equivalent to surrender, or perhaps it's because the withdrawal from Afghanistan has broken the psychological taboo that "the Soviet Union will never withdraw from anywhere."

The butterfly effect of Slava's strategic planning over the years is far greater than he imagined.

Ultimately, the opposition won by a margin of two votes.

The first meeting failed to reach any conclusions—Cherenko left halfway through the discussion due to health reasons, and his absence deprived the meeting of its authority to make a final decision, leaving only a summary stating "further study and discussion."