Free Web NovelThe door opened again, and I stepped back into the room with the round table.
I could immediately feel the completely different atmosphere in the air.
Everyone’s attention was on me. Smiling calmly, I walked forward and sat in the same seat as before.
“You there, businessman.”
The one who spoke first was Li Feng.
“Yes, Prime Minister Li Feng.”
“You said you would build the oil pipeline. Can you truly keep that promise? I’m asking whether Russia will even agree to proceed with this project.”
From his tone—filled with suspicion—his intention was obvious. He wanted to determine whether I could be trusted.
“Russia has no reason to refuse. The pipeline benefits them as well. No—this is a project that must be done, so it will be done. But you know the situation. Russia has several ‘minor’ issues with this project. If China solves those issues, the project will move immediately.”
Russia’s GDP relied heavily on underground resources like oil.
And the Russian tsar had just learned the full impact of weaponizing energy by shutting off the gas valve.
He now understood that he could wield that energy as a weapon against dependent countries—and that such a weapon was extremely powerful.
“Even when we offered to finance the construction, Russia refused. What makes you think they would accept your proposal?”
I barely held back a laugh.
Of course they wouldn’t accept it.
Russia wanted to weaponize energy. There was no world in which they would accept Chinese money and yield control of the pipeline.
But from China’s expression, they seemed to be imagining some early version of the ‘Belt and Road Initiative.’
Until now, China’s approach to infrastructure projects had been bizarre:
lend development money → award the contract to a Chinese firm → send Chinese laborers to build it.
But infrastructure projects are supposed to be national strategic investments aimed at long-term economic spillover.
Russia would never hand over the economic rights to such a project to China.
“I’ll handle that part. I believe I’m closer to the master of the Kremlin than anyone here. And in Russia, his will is what matters.”
“You are very confident.”
“For a businessman, trust is a weapon. My creed is to keep any promise I make—absolutely. Even if it brings me great losses. So you may trust me.”
Li Feng nodded slowly.
“Fine. Then let’s do this. If the pipeline approval does not pass within one year, we will confiscate every bit of your investment in China.”
“...Do you even know how much we’ve invested in China?”
What the hell is this lunatic talking about? Without realizing it, my forehead furrowed—and Li Feng’s face brightened.
“No, I do not know. But I do know it is a very large amount. That is why I am suggesting we use it as collateral.”
I looked around.
Everyone seemed to agree—everyone except Wen Jiabao, that is.
Even Hu Jintao appeared to support this proposal.
If I backed off here, everything would fall apart.
“...”
As I hesitated for a moment, Li Feng smirked victoriously.
“What’s wrong? No confidence? You said a businessman keeps his word. Then simply keep it.”
He was openly provoking me—and I had no choice but to accept.
“Very well. I accept. But the numbers don’t add up. Passing a sanctions proposal alone is not enough to guarantee the value of our investment in China.”
A provocation is answered with another provocation. I lifted one corner of my mouth and smiled.
“You have another proposal?”
“Seal the border.”
“The border? Did you just say—seal the border?”
“Yes. You must do at least that much for me to be willing to stake my money.”
The looks in the room turned strange. Everyone stared at me as if I were insane.
Li Feng frowned in disbelief, and Jiang Zemin spoke.
“...President Kim. Do you even understand what it means to seal the border?”
“Of course. The sanctions will include a maritime blockade. But a land blockade is impossible unless China genuinely cooperates. So I propose China should suggest the land blockade itself—and promise to enforce it.”
There were indeed historical precedents of border blockades. But they were usually acts against enemy states.
Like when the Soviet Union blockaded West Berlin to gain political leverage.
They did it because they had something to extract from the U.S. and Western Europe.
But otherwise, imposing a blockade on a country was politically and militarily burdensome.
“You truly believe that is possible?”
“That is for you to decide. Whether it is possible or not. This room’s decision becomes China’s policy—and China’s stance.”
A thick silence followed.
In a sense, my words flattered them—so none could easily refute me. freewebnøvel.coɱ
But the silence broke quickly.
“Fine. We can do that.”
Jiang Zemin answered immediately.
“Chairman Jiang?”
Li Feng called out, objecting.
Jiang Zemin did not answer—he simply glared at Li Feng. Their gazes collided midair like sparks.
“Prime Minister Li Feng. If we are to do this, we must do it thoroughly. If we hesitate, we may gain nothing.”
“But a border blockade is cutting ties completely with North Korea! We must leave an exit!”
They argued heatedly, not minding that I was sitting right in front of them.
“Isn’t China’s interest more important than North Korea?”
“Still, a border blockade is a line we cannot cross!”
At that moment, an elderly man spoke.
“Enough, both of you.”
At his voice, both Li Feng and Jiang Zemin closed their mouths immediately.
The old man looked frail, but his eyes were sharp and burning.
“President Kim.”
“Yes, Vice Chairman Bo Yibo.”
“Oh... You know who I am?”
Bo Yibo, father of Bo Xilai—the princeling who had once clashed with me—was the last surviving member of the original Eight Elders.
Everyone else present had taken their seats only after earlier elders died.
Bo Yibo’s words carried more weight than anyone else’s.
“I have one question.”
“Yes, please ask.”
I had heard rumors that Bo Yibo’s health was failing.
For him to appear here in person meant—
“What do you think of us toppling North Korea ourselves?”
“...Pardon?”
My thoughts froze. I glanced instinctively at Wen Jiabao, wondering if he had spoken privately with Bo Yibo—but he looked just as shocked.
In fact, everyone except Bo Yibo looked horrified.
“I asked how you feel about China stepping in to remove Kim Jongil.”
“...Is that even possible?”
“Easily. If we wish it, nothing is impossible. The only concerns are the reactions of the U.S., Russia, and your homeland, South Korea.”
Could China topple Kim Jongil?
More importantly—would that benefit me?
“If Chinese troops intervene directly, it will be disastrous.”
“That is not what I intend. We simply need to gather the pro-China faction in North Korea and give them a hint that we will support them. They will move.”
A pro-China figure, he said. Only one person fit that description in my mind.
“Are you referring to Jang Songthaek?”
“I hear you are friendly with him?”
“Yes. Director Jang Songthaek and Prime Minister Wen Jiabao here are fairly close.”
I intentionally pulled Wen Jiabao into this conversation.
“Prime Minister Wen.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you think?”
“What... about what, sir?”
“About us toppling the North Korean regime.”
Wen Jiabao swallowed nervously, glanced at me, then answered:
“...It is possible.”
“Is that so? I hear you are on very good terms with the North Korean elite. If you say it’s possible, I believe it can be done.”
Wen Jiabao wasn’t finished—he quickly added:
“Sir, it is possible, but the risk of failure is extremely high. Unless our military intervenes...”
“No military. If our troops move, the U.S. and Russia will move too.”
Cutting him off, Bo Yibo shook his head—and then looked at me.
“Well? President Kim?”
“...What are your intentions?”
“I’ve been thinking about why you are so eager to sanction North Korea. And I arrived at one conclusion—you intend to move someone to overthrow North Korea, don’t you?”
“...”
I neither confirmed nor denied.
Instead I glanced at Wen Jiabao. His shocked face suggested he hadn’t told anyone.
“You need not answer. I did not ask to hear your confirmation. Removing Kim Jongil is not a bad idea. If it benefits China, that is enough.”
To draw such a conclusion from the smallest hints—and state it out loud—was rare.
As expected of a politician who survived both the Mao era and the Deng era, when countless others died.
“So what do you say? Work with us?”
Bo Yibo had no reason to like me. I looked straight into the old man’s eyes.
“Why tell this to me? Especially to someone who has a history of conflict with your son, Vice Chairman.”
At that, Bo Yibo burst into hearty laughter—shockingly loud for someone so frail.
“Hah! My son Bo Xilai was defeated by you because he is incompetent. I admire capable men. President Kim, I will soon go to join Mao. If I can leave my name in history one last time, I will do anything.”
No one stopped Bo Yibo. At first, they were stunned—but now everyone listened with fascinated eyes.
“My son hides behind my name and feeds his own greed while being incapable of anything. In China—his own country—he was defeated by a mere investor.”
Bo Yibo clicked his tongue, dissatisfied with Bo Xilai.
“Even on my sickbed, I am not blind. I have merely withdrawn from affairs. Chairman Jiang.”
“Yes, sir.”
Even the arrogant Jiang Zemin was respectful before Bo Yibo.
“I want this to be my final undertaking. Is that acceptable?”
“...Are you serious, sir?”
Bo Yibo nodded firmly—then suddenly began coughing violently.
He coughed for a long time, his complexion worsening.
“Sir!”
Everyone in the room jumped to their feet. freёwebnovel.com
This alone showed how revered Bo Yibo was within the Chinese Communist Party.
I had misjudged him. He was no toothless tiger—he was a predator sharpening his claws in silence.
If he had interfered back when I clashed with Bo Xilai, things might have been dangerous.
After a long moment, he finally stopped coughing and waved his hand at everyone.
“Sit down, all of you. This happens often.”
“You should go to a hospital.”
Jiang Zemin’s voice was full of worry, but Bo Yibo ignored it and called to him.
“Chairman Jiang.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I still have not heard an answer. May I make this my final act? No—perhaps I should ask Hu Jintao instead. What do you think?”
Hu Jintao looked troubled, glanced around, and answered:
“If it is your final act, no one here will oppose it.”
A strangely evasive answer—pushing the decision onto others.
Bo Yibo seemed annoyed and clicked his tongue.
“Tsk... I asked for your opinion. That is your flaw—you are too cautious. If you are too cautious, no one will follow you.”
“...My apologies.”
“So your answer?”
“If you wish it, then do it.”
Bo Yibo looked around at the other elders and Jiang Zemin.
“And the rest of you? Is it all right if I do as I wish? It is the last thing I will ever do. Surely that much is acceptable?”
“Yes, sir!”
I let out a short laugh.
It felt like watching a well-rehearsed play.
