A nation's industrial development begins with junior engineers.

"Our friends from the South are so dishonest! This is robbery!"

Lubyanka's minister slammed down the phone in a huff, his hawk-like eyes fixed intently on Khalil.

"Comrade Caril, do you know how much they're asking for?"

Of course I know! It's just 20% of the price of a complete transistor computer, you've already been shouting about it. But think about the quote we gave our comrades in the south to help build factories—that wasn't calculated separately for equipment and technology. The fees for the experts we sent to provide support were also calculated separately!

Is that too much to ask? The equipment and software combined are so small; this is just normal operation for our colleagues in the south, even a bit humble...

If it were me, hehehe.

Tsk, my friends from the South are so innocent!

It's easy to say that the job of a typist may seem insignificant, but the amount of information they can access is truly vast. Kalil, a seasoned low-level clerk, is intimately familiar with the Alliance's usual operating methods!

Of course, Khalil couldn't say these things out loud. Well, it was best not to say anything. If he rashly responded, wouldn't that be like trying to find out secrets?

Thinking of this, Khalil buried his head even deeper: I am a blade of grass, swaying in the wind; I am a blade of grass, dancing in the spittle...

Seeing that Khalil remained silent, the minister was even more satisfied: not bad, not bad. Compared to that stubborn and talkative Sergeyev, Khalil in front of him was really more to his liking.

"This can't go on. Our friends in the south have already caught up with us in terms of computer infrastructure. Our Academy of Sciences should take responsibility for this!"

“Caryl, you must take responsibility. The future direction of the Academy of Sciences…”

"I understand, Your Excellency!"

"Very good, you'll be Lubyanka's representative for this deal. Our comrades in the south will send someone to contact you. Go! The appointment notice will be issued soon!"

You got promoted?

Khalil felt a surge of joy. After respectfully bidding farewell to the minister, he left the office that had made him uneasy. But the minister's lingering sinister smile still made his heart skip a beat.

“That’s not right. I’m a member of the Academy of Sciences. How can I represent Lubyanka in a deal with our friends in the South? This…”

Countless thoughts flashed through Khalil's mind in an instant, and the contents of some documents he had personally printed out also swirled in his mind.

"Ha, the deal has to go, but the white glove needs to be found. Trading a bunch of old planes for the latest technology, and I'll have another medal to my name..."

The minister of Lubyanka picked up the entire bottle of the Water of Life and gulped down more than half of it.

"It doesn't matter if something goes wrong, someone will take the blame. If we can't get any benefits from our friends in the south, we should at least give something to the Belyaev Design Bureau."

The minister let out a burp and laughed heartily.

Khalil shuddered; he was very upset.

"Bureaucrats! If you want me dead, you won't live either!" Khalil gritted his teeth, holding the assigned task sheet. Trading a bunch of discontinued seaplanes for the latest electronics? Lubyanka, you guys are inhuman!

Khalil wanted to kill himself. Would his friends in the South agree to such an outrageous request? They weren't really stupid! Having been fooled once, would they fall for it again?

Khalil, secretly appointed as a member of the Lubyanka, was conflicted, recalling the Lubyanka's cruel methods. He made a silent decision: Friends in the south, you must help me! Just help me get through this...

It's your benefit if I'm alive!

……

Haha, why would Khalil think that way?

It's probably because the name of the cargo to be exchanged in Lubyanka's mission list is—Be6 seaplane!

Yes, the old-fashioned Bie 6. Don't be fooled by the fact that production of it stopped in Russia in 55, and the total production was only 123 aircraft.

However, the seaplane we introduced in 55 was the most expensive aircraft in the entire army, costing 250 million yuan per aircraft.

Is 250 million RMB a cheap price?

要是我说，1架活塞式别-6水上飞机的价格可买喷气式米格-15战斗机25架（1个团是30架），或者喷气式轰-5轰炸机5架。

Well, now you understand what the Russians are thinking, right? Trading a no-longer-produced Be-6 aircraft for China's latest technology seems like an incredibly good deal to them!

Each aircraft costs 250 million; if they order 100, China would have to pay them back. The latest Be-12 has just started production, so they can dispose of the Be-6s that were occupying their "battle positions." The Soviet leadership can then focus on the production of the Be-12.

As for the fact that these aircraft had been in service for ten years, the Russians made no mention of it.

Who cares about all that? As long as it can fly, it's a good plane! We have to have it even if we don't want it!

But why did China at that time, despite being labeled a "sucker," still import six of these seaplanes?

It's not that the navy doesn't have enough ships; 250 million isn't enough to build a single large ship.

With its range of over 5000 kilometers, maximum external load capacity of four tons, and a fairly reliable maritime search radar, this seaplane has truly been a lifesaver in the face of an urgent need for maritime patrol.

……

Meanwhile, the duty phone in our outer section rang. "Hello? Oh, just a moment! Translator, come quick! It's the French calling!"

"Hello Mr. Faure, it's alright, most of our leaders are still here..."

The junior translator answered the phone and translated what the other party said to the supervisor on duty. However, the more he translated, the wider his mouth opened became.

We're rich! We've struck it rich! The French have actually agreed to all our demands? They're even exporting wheat to us!

As for the advanced language requested by the French, the translator forgot about it and just felt that countless flours were flying in front of him.

Buns and steamed buns made from flour, and even bread...

The young translator swallowed hard, trying to calm his agitated stomach.

After a while, the leaders who remained on duty in the office gathered together with serious expressions. The junior translator was only thinking about his own stomach, but the leaders had much more to consider.

"What does 'Gallic Rooster' mean? Why do we have to hand over some advanced language to agree to the terms of the memorandum and put it into a contract?"

"The key question is, what language is this? Do you even know?"

The leaders who remained looked at each other, seemingly unaware of this matter.

"Whether they know it or not, just by looking at their reactions, you can tell this is definitely something extraordinary!"

As he spoke, one of the leaders on duty pointed to the minister's office.

"What's there to argue about? The minister's here, just go ask him directly. But be careful, he seems to be sleeping soundly inside..."

"Which one?"

"Heh, of course it's the one who turned our department upside down..."

The leaders who remained looked at each other and said, "How about we choose a younger person to report? The older ones might have trouble memorizing the confidentiality regulations..."

"It's not just hard to memorize, it's deadly. Think about that former leader; although he brought it upon himself, but..."

The junior translator, on the other hand, was eager to try. "Jiang Gong, I really want to get to know him! Boss, please let me go!"