Siheyuan: Hang Jia Dongxu, smash Banggeng to death!

Telegrams flew back to the capitals of various countries like snowflakes.

Penal countries, Canada, Australia, Turkey, Hillary, Philippines, Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg...

The diplomatic ambassadors of the fourteen countries pressed the send button almost simultaneously.

The contents of those telegrams were largely the same:

The agreement has been signed, the compensation amount has been finalized, and payment must be made within three days.

The next step is to see how each country's government squeezes this money out of its own country.

Paris.

De Gaulle stood by the window, clutching the telegram sent back by the ambassador in his hand.

The compensation amounted to 200 million taels of silver.

Not too many, but not few either.

The treasury of the Punished Kingdom had long been emptied by the war; where would it find hundreds of millions of taels of silver?

He turned to the finance minister, his voice hoarse: "Where did this money come from?"

The finance minister lowered his head, not daring to look him in the eye: "Sir, the national treasury... has very little silver left, not even enough to raise ten million."

"Then take it from the capitalists."

De Gaulle's voice turned cold. "Don't they have plenty of money? Let them pay."

"But sir, those tycoons and families, they..."

"What about them?"

De Gaulle interrupted him, "They don't want to? Then let them go ask the Americans, ask those capitalists who don't pay, what's going on now."

The finance minister swallowed hard: "Yes, I'll take care of it right away."

The news quickly spread throughout Parisian high society.

Bankers, industrial giants, real estate tycoons, shipping moguls—those usually well-dressed and arrogant financial magnates—suddenly panicked.

Louis Renault, the tycoon of the French automotive industry, is throwing a tantrum in his office.

"Two hundred million taels? Why should we pay that? Why should we give our hard-earned money to the Chinese people?"

His secretary stood at the door, not daring to come in: "Sir, this is your order. All large enterprises and families must share the cost according to their asset ratio."

"Share the cost? Share my ass!"

Renault swept the documents off the table and onto the floor. "I'm not paying. Whoever wants to pay can pay."

The secretary hesitated for a moment, then whispered, "Sir, it's said... those who didn't go out, their homes have already been surrounded by soldiers. You know the lesson of the Ugly Kingdom."

Renault's cursing stopped abruptly, and he slumped into his chair, pale-faced, like a deflated balloon.

"Go...go raise money, sell stocks, sell real estate, sell antiques, sell anything. Raise it all, raise it all."

He waved for his secretary to leave, then closed the door and sat alone in the dimly lit office.

Paris outside the window remained as bustling as ever, but his heart was filled with desolation.

Ottawa, Canada, Governor General's residence.

The Governor-General of Canada remained silent for a long time after receiving the telegram.

The compensation amounted to fifty million taels, which was neither a large nor a small sum.

Canada is sparsely populated and has an underdeveloped industry, relying on selling timber and food for a living.

Fifty million taels of silver was no small sum for them.

"Tell those big companies and conglomerates to pay up."

The governor's voice was hoarse. "This is a national order, and there is no room for doubt."

In Toronto, a timber tycoon is drinking at his estate.

His butler hurried in and handed him a document.

"Sir, the government demands that you pay a compensation of three million taels of silver within one month. If you fail to do so, all your assets will be seized."

The timber tycoon's wine glass fell to the ground and shattered. "Three million? Why don't they just rob us?"

The butler bowed his head: "Sir, this is the governor's order. If you don't hand it over, the consequences will be..."

The timber tycoon opened his mouth, wanting to curse, wanting to smash things, but in the end he did nothing, only waved his hand:

"Go raise the money. Sell timber, sell land, sell anything, just raise enough."

Parliament House, Canberra, Australia.

The Australian Prime Minister looked at the telegram sent back by the ambassador, his brow furrowed so deeply it could have trapped a mosquito.

The compensation amount is 30 million taels.

Not too many, not too few.

Australia is sparsely populated and has little of value besides wool and minerals.

"Let those mining giants and agricultural tycoons foot the bill."

The prime minister's voice was cold: "This is an order from the state."

In Sydney, a mining tycoon was on the phone in his office, his voice almost shouting:

"Three million? Are you crazy? Where would I get that much cash?"

A cold voice came from the other end of the phone: "Mr. Smith, this is a government order. If you don't come out, soldiers will seize your mine tomorrow morning."

The mining tycoon's hand trembled as he held the microphone: "This is robbery."

"Mr. Smith, this is not robbery, it is a national need. You can choose to pay up or lose everything."

You've probably heard about the fate of those who live a miserable life and the ugly people of the US.

"Without a country, and without the navy of the Ugly Kingdom, do you think you can be stronger than them?"

The mining tycoon fell silent, the microphone slipped from his hand and slammed onto the table with a dull thud.

He turned to look out the window. The sea in Sydney Harbour was sparkling, and cranes on the dock were loading and unloading cargo.

Those goods were all his, that wealth was all his, but now it's all going to belong to the Chinese.

Presidential Palace, Ankara, Turkey.

The Turkish president looked at the telegram with a grim expression.

The compensation amount is 20 million taels.

Not many, but Türkiye isn't rich either.

They have just recovered from the war and everything is in need of rebuilding.

"Let those big conglomerates foot the bill."

The president's voice was hoarse: "If they don't come out, we'll seize their assets directly."

Istanbul, a textile tycoon strolls around his home.

His wife sat on the sofa, her face pale.

"Honey, do we really need to spend that much money?"

The textile industry giant stopped in his tracks, his voice low and menacing: "If we don't go out, we'll have nothing left."

"We're just ordinary people without a country, the Americans have lost their navy, and the French and British are also spending money. What are we? We don't even have the right to resist."

Hilla, Athens, Prime Minister's Office.

The compensation amount of ten million taels is not much, but it is quite a lot for Sheila.

Hillary had just experienced war, economic collapse, and a period of rebuilding.

They simply cannot come up with this money.

"Let those shipping magnates and shipping giants foot the bill."

The Prime Minister's voice was cold: "Don't they have plenty of money? A single ship is worth millions; let them pay for it."

In the port of Piraeus, a shipping magnate stood on the dock, looking at his cargo ship with a bitter expression on his face.

Three million taels of silver was equivalent to the value of his three ships.

"Sir, the government requires you to pay the full amount within one month, otherwise..."

The assistant kept his head down.

"Otherwise what?"

"Otherwise, seize all ships."

The shipping magnate closed his eyes and remained silent for a long time.

"Let's sell the boats, three of them, and raise the money."

Manila, Philippines, Presidential Palace.

The compensation amount is ten million taels.

The Philippines had just gained independence from the colonial rule of the United States and was in dire need of rebuilding; it had no spare money at all.

"Let those big landowners and big merchants pay for it."

The president's voice was as cold as ice: "This is a national order."

On the outskirts of Manila, a sugarcane plantation owner was throwing a tantrum on his estate, yelling, "Ten million? Why don't they just rob me? Where would I get that much money?"

The butler bowed his head and said, "Sir, this is the president's order. If you don't hand it over, soldiers will come and seize the estate tomorrow."

The plantation owner stood there, staring out the window at the endless sugarcane field.

That was the culmination of his decades of hard work, and now he had to hand it all over to someone else.

……