Go back in time and be a chaebol

Chapter 2574 Opportunities in War (First Update, Please Subscribe)
When the taxi stopped in front of the National Police Station in Beirut, Sun Shaoming glanced at the roadblock ahead, where there were heavily armed guards, and some spots on the nearby walls, traces left by the terrorist attack.

Despite the purge of terrorists and their supporters in southern Lebanon, they still carried out multiple terrorist attacks in Beirut. In response, the military and police launched a special operation to conduct a large-scale cleanup of terrorists and their supporters in Beirut.

In order to ensure the safety of Beirut, in addition to the security forces, the National Police are also undergoing a large-scale expansion, and this police station is the command center of the National Police.

Upon passing through the checkpoint, Sun Shaoming presented his passport and registered. A dozen minutes later, he entered the building and went to the office of the deputy director of the National Police.

Sun Shaoming looked at Chief of Police Henry in front of him and stated his purpose directly.

“I am Sun Shaoming from Da Dong Trading, and I hope to become a supplier to the National Police Agency.”

While speaking, he handed over his business card, and then added:

“I had already mentioned this to Director Shawei before.”

The police chief he mentioned, Sawi, is the head of the Lebanese National Police. They had met briefly at a charity banquet, and he later visited him privately.

That's why he's here now; the bureau chief in front of him is in charge of procuring police equipment.

Henry took the business card, glanced at it, and then said:
"The colonel did call me, and I'm very willing to cooperate with you, but..."

Looking at the twenty-year-old in front of him, he thought for a moment and said:
“You know, the reconstruction of the Lebanese police system was built on foreign aid, and the funding came from Paris. According to the principles of international aid, French companies must be given priority in the supply of weapons.”

This is indeed true. As a traditional French colony, although France relinquished Lebanon, it did not mean that France would give up its influence after peace was restored. Therefore, they chose to use education, medical care, and security assistance as a breakthrough in an attempt to rebuild their influence.

Hearing Director Henry's reply, Sun Shaoming smiled and said:

"Of course, you'll definitely need to prioritize French suppliers, but we all know that Lebanon is different from France. The presence of police there isn't just for deterrence; they're needed for combat. Even the French police and gendarmes use foreign weapons; they don't even value their own equipment. What you need are weapons that can protect you, and the officers also need bulletproof vests, which France simply cannot manufacture. Mr. Chief, SEA is absolutely your best choice. We have better weapons, and of course..."

As Sun Shaoming spoke, he took an envelope from his suit pocket, placed it on the other person's table, and said with a smile:

"An even better reward, Director!"

There's nothing new under the sun. Whether in the East or the West, money has an unexpected influence that can make strangers familiar and, of course, make relationships between people more harmonious.

Looking at the envelope, although it wasn't as thick as he had imagined, Henry still smiled. After opening the envelope, seeing a stack of red "May your family be blessed with many children and grandchildren" inscriptions, his smile deepened.

As a smile spread across his face, Sun Shaoming added:
“Of course, all I need is a fair chance to compete, Mr. Director.”

The reason for mentioning fair competition is that everyone has to bid. It has to be said that as a former "model colony" of France, many practices here are still very European. Of course, as is well known, French officials are also very flexible.

Therefore, these Lebanese officials who received French education must be very flexible, and they will certainly be able to handle things flexibly.

Making them flexible isn't difficult; all it takes is a large family. After all, they also crave a large family, and who wouldn't?

In most cases, money can solve most of the world's problems!
Sun Shaoming's business was not an ordinary one, but military supplies. He chose this line of work because of its high profit margin, especially in such turbulent places. Both the military and the police needed a lot of supplies, and for at least a long time to come, this business would definitely be the most profitable in the area.

Compared to those big players, all he needed to do was pick up some small deals that they would disdain, and those small deals were enough to change his life.

In fact, this is what makes people different.

People always make choices based on their own abilities, thus choosing the path that best suits them.

At this time, Beirut was, to some extent, thriving and in the process of restoring order, but it was also chaotic. After all, war changes many things, but it also brings new opportunities.

Sun Shaoming was merely one of the many insignificant people seeking opportunities here. After all, war offers countless opportunities for people to discover.

In Beirut's West District, which was once destroyed by war, many buildings were reduced to ruins by shelling and bombing. In the first few days of the war, this was the PLO's headquarters and the place where the resistance was the most tenacious.

Resistance turned the city into ruins, but now, it is slowly regaining its vitality. Although rubble piles up on both sides of the streets and broken glass reflects the gray sky, the people here are rebuilding the city bit by bit. They are removing the debris, leveling the ruins, and rebuilding new buildings. Just like Europe after the war, it is being rebuilt and restored.

Occasionally, government patrol cars would drive by on the streets. At some intersections, soldiers in camouflage uniforms would watch their surroundings warily, checking passing vehicles and people. The area remained on high alert, and the air was thick with the atmosphere of war.

On a hilltop on the edge of the western city, a building scarred by war has been renovated. No one knows who the owner of this building is, and its existence on the hilltop seems somewhat mysterious.

Whether it's day or night, there are hardly any lights here. Apart from the lights in the courtyard, there are no lights inside the buildings. It's as if it's intentional. Every day, the gates are tightly closed, and they only open when some vans without windows drive in.

Everything here seems somewhat mysterious.

At 3 p.m., a white van drove up from the foot of the mountain. The man in the driver's seat was wearing black sunglasses. He was driving while cautiously scanning his surroundings. The person in the passenger seat was similarly dressed and was gripping an AK47 tightly, his finger always on the trigger.

Finally, the car stopped in front of the tightly closed iron gate of the research center. After the security guard saw it through the surveillance camera, he did not ask any further questions. He simply glanced at the recognition device inside the car, and the heavy iron gate slowly opened to both sides.

The van drove into the yard and then into the underground parking lot. The area was brightly lit, and although it was underground, there were only a few cars and a dozen or so armed men. After the van stopped, the person in the passenger seat got out first, walked around to the back of the van, knocked on the door, and then shouted:

"Hurry up, prepare for the transfer."

The moment the carriage door was opened, a strong smell of blood rushed out. Inside were several black plastic body bags. Although the body bags were bulging and still seeping blood, their faint breathing and movements proved that they were still alive.

At this moment, a person wearing a white coat and a mask pushed the operating table over.

"The goods just arrived."

From the conversation of the people accompanying the vehicle, it was clear that the bags contained only goods. Their tone was completely flat, as if they were discussing an ordinary shipment.

The doctors in white coats simply nodded slightly, pushing medical trolleys and skillfully lifting the dying wounded, along with their bags, onto the trolleys. After cutting open the body bags with a knife, they didn't provide any first aid to the terrorists in green military uniforms inside; they simply used belts to restrain their hands and feet to prevent them from struggling during transport.

Faint groans echoed in the empty underground parking lot. One of the wounded was still somewhat conscious. He looked at the people in white coats in front of him, weakly reached out his hand, and mumbled something intermittently.

It sounded like a cry for help.

However, their movements were very slight, as they had been injected with a special drug that allowed them to maintain only weak vital signs.

Moreover, the wounded terrorists were all transferred from the battlefield.

But the doctor in the white coat ignored him completely, roughly pressing his hand back onto the trolley, immobilizing it while simultaneously administering anesthesia, and then quickly pushed the trolley towards the elevator. The elevator doors opened, revealing a specially modified space that could just accommodate four medical trolleys.

Watching the elevator doors close, the person in the car turned and got back into the van, then said to the driver:
"Alright, let's leave!"

"Go and clean the carriage before you leave."

When the car was driven to the cleaning area, the elevator stopped directly on the third floor.

Although there are no signs, the layout here is no different from an operating room in a regular hospital, and it is fully equipped with advanced medical equipment, making it hard to associate it with a hospital.

Several doctors in surgical gowns were already waiting there, their faces mostly covered by masks. When the injured man was brought in, they did not conduct any preoperative examinations, but simply disinfected the wound and picked up the scalpel.

Everything that followed seemed perfectly normal.

The only sounds in the operating room were the crisp clinking of instruments and the movements of the doctors; the surgery was proceeding silently.

These wounded terrorists, transported from who-knows-where, are playing their final role by preventing many patients who would otherwise have died from despair during the long wait. In a way, this is their contribution to the world...

(End of this chapter)