Courtyard House: From Deputy Division Commander to Civilian, Progressing All the Way

Five billion US dollars! A special economic zone of 500 square kilometers!

This is an enormous undertaking! So enormous that it makes these Westerners, who are used to arrogance, feel dizzy.

But soon, the deep-seated prejudices and provocations inherent in Western media erupted uncontrollably.

A male reporter from The Times, the British newspaper on which the sun never sets, was the first to stand up. He held up a recording pen, his eyes revealing undisguised contempt.

"Mr. Lin, your blueprint sounds very tempting. But as far as we know, the so-called special economic zone your country has established is currently just a muddy wasteland without even paved roads!"

The British journalist's voice was filled with condescending mockery: "You lack the most basic water and electricity networks, and you lack modern deep-water ports. Tell me, why should we, the capital of Europe, throw hundreds of millions of dollars into your quagmire where even machinery can't be transported? Isn't this a political hoax?"

A murmur of laughter immediately rose from the audience. Many journalists from Hans and Gaul nodded in agreement, ready to see how this Eastern official would embarrass himself in front of the world.

Sitting behind Lin Yang, Pei Yihong clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, wishing he could rush off the stage and punch that reporter.

But Lin Yang didn't even frown.

He looked at the British reporter, a chilling smile slowly creeping onto his lips.

"Mr. reporter from The Times, you ask me why?"

Lin Yang leaned forward slightly, and the terrifying aura he had honed through countless trials and tribulations pressed down on the audience as if it were a tangible force.

"Thirty years ago, our country couldn't even manufacture a single qualified seamless steel pipe. But today, our rockets have sent satellites into space, and our nuclear submarines are patrolling the deep ocean!"

Lin Yang's voice suddenly rose in pitch, like a thunderclap.

"You laugh at it as a mudflat? Let me tell you, beneath that mudflat lies the largest, most untapped goldmine of consumer wealth in human history! A gigantic market of a billion people, ravenously hungry!"

Lin Yang stretched out his right hand and slammed his index finger heavily on the table, producing a heart-pounding thud.

"Your factories in Europe are now overflowing with unsold inventory, and your unions are marching and striking in the streets every day! If you don't invest your capital and machinery in that quagmire, your proud industrial empire will be choked to death by your own excess capacity within three years!"

"Give me three years, and I will transform that mudflat into the widest highway in all of Asia! You complain about the lack of paved roads today, but tomorrow, even if you beg me on your knees, you won't be able to buy an inch of that land!"

boom!

The audience was silent.

The British journalist was so shocked by Lin Yang's domineering declaration, which was interspersed with bloody economic truths, that he turned pale and looked like a duck with its neck being choked. He opened his mouth but couldn't utter a single word in rebuttal.

He slumped back into his chair, dejected.

But the Western journalists' obstruction did not end there.

A female journalist from the French newspaper Le Figaro quickly stood up and asked a more vicious question that cut directly to the Achilles' heel of politics and law.

"President Lin, as everyone knows, your country has just experienced a decade of turmoil. Your legal system is extremely flawed, and you have virtually no awareness of intellectual property rights protection!"

The female reporter pressed sharply, "If our European companies bring their most advanced machinery into the special economic zone, won't your workers simply dismantle and steal it, then crudely imitate it? We cannot trust an investment environment that lacks the rule of law and a spirit of contract!"

The moment this question was posed, the air in the entire hall seemed to freeze. This reflects the deepest level of wariness and disdain the Western world holds towards China.

Shen Yan nervously broke out in a cold sweat behind him. This question was too thorny; if answered poorly, it could easily leave a mark of "robber logic" on the international stage.

Lin Yang smiled.

It was a calm, cold laugh as one watched their prey walk step by step into the trap.

"Madam, you seem to have some misunderstanding about the spirit of contracts."

Lin Yang leaned back in his chair, his deep gaze sweeping across the room.

"We are not begging you for favors by establishing special economic zones, but rather selecting partners. We have proposed the fairest rule in the world—Sino-foreign joint ventures."

"In the special economic zone, China must hold a 51% controlling stake in all core high-tech enterprises. You provide the technology and equipment, and we provide the land, labor, and a duty-free market for one billion people! This is called sharing risks and sharing benefits!"

Lin Yang's voice carried an undeniable, forceful logic.

"If you lock your prized technology away in a safe in Mu City, it will eventually rust and become obsolete. But if you invest it in our vibrant market, it will multiply its profits a thousandfold!"

"As for what you said about theft and counterfeiting?"

Lin Yang suddenly stood up, placing his hands on the table, like a fierce tiger looking down on all living beings.

"We disdain stealing! We want a legitimate technology transfer! I'm putting it this way today: this is the price of the ticket. This train of the times departs right here today, and the ticket is your core technology license. Anyone unwilling to give it up, the door's over there—goodbye!"

"But I guarantee that if you turn and leave today, I'll take these five billion dollars and knock on the doors of your competitors tomorrow. Then, you won't even have a chance to get a taste!"

Overbearing! Extremely overbearing!

Lin Yang used the most primitive capitalist logic, with naked temptations of profit and threats of competition, to shatter the moral pretense presented by these Western journalists.

The press conference room fell into a deathly silence that lasted for half a minute.

Only the flashes were going off like crazy.

The journalists were stunned; they had never seen such a tough Eastern official, so adept at understanding the rules of the game of capital. This was hardly a representative of a backward country; this was clearly a top-tier financial tycoon wielding a dragon-slaying sword!

Just then.

Suddenly, a tall, white-haired old man named Hans stood up in the back row of the press conference room.

He was dressed in an exquisite bespoke suit, surrounded by several nervous-looking assistants.

As soon as this man stood up, the surrounding Han Chinese journalists gasped and made way for him.

He was none other than the largest heavy industry tycoon in the Hans Kingdom—

Weber Sr., Global President of Bavarian Heavy Machinery Group.

Weber looked grave. He strode through the crowd and walked to within two meters of the podium.

He looked up at the imposing Eastern man on the stage, his deep blue eyes flashing with a complex light. There was struggle, there was resentment, but above all, there was a kind of compromise in the face of desperation.

"Mr. Lin," Weber said slowly in German, his voice slightly hoarse, "a 51% controlling stake, plus a five-year full transfer of core servo motor technology. Is this your bottom line?"

The translator quickly relayed the message to Lin Yang.