411: Chapter 411 Joint Letter from Private Entrepreneurs

When Su Mingyuan hung up the phone, the jeep was just pulling into the parking lot of Tianmen Base.

Security Chief Zhao Ming turned off the engine, glanced at him in the rearview mirror, and tactfully remained silent.

Su Mingyuan pushed the car door open, got out, and stood on the concrete ground of the parking lot, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

There was a smell of rust in the base's air, likely because the steel in the storage area had been piled up for too long.

Before he could even walk out of the parking lot, his phone rang again.

"Group Leader Su, an urgent document was just sent over from Beijing."

"What document?"

"It's a joint petition. It has been signed by the legal representatives of 137 ultra-large private enterprises and over 3,000 large private enterprises. The recipient is the Central Compound."

Su Mingyuan paused in his tracks.

"What are the contents?"

The person from the administration department paused for a second, and the sound of rustling paper came through the receiver.

"The general content is that after the decoupling from SWIFT, enterprises are universally facing broken capital chains, large-scale cancellations of overseas orders, cutoffs of raw material supplies, and the disruption of foreign currency settlement channels. The book funds of some enterprises can only support them for fifteen to twenty days at most, so they are requesting a systemic solution at the national level as soon as possible."

The person from the administration department turned another page.

"The list of signatories on the petition is very long, taking up six printed pages on my end. The first one is Elder Ren of Huawei Group, followed by Ma Huateng of Tengda Group, Tycoon Xu of Hengfu Real Estate, Boss Li of Jixiang Holding..."

Su Mingyuan raised his hand to interrupt, not letting him finish reading.

"What are Elder Qin's instructions?"

"Elder Qin's instruction was just one sentence: 'Convene an emergency economic crisis response meeting, to be chaired by you.'"

Su Mingyuan glanced at his watch.

It had been exactly twenty-two minutes since he returned from the Skeleton World.

He was still wearing the same clothes he had on when he entered the portal more than ten days ago. The sweat stains on his collar had dried into a stiff crust, and his hair was covered in dust from the Bone Plains.

"When is the meeting?"

"At 5:00 PM today, in Conference Room No. 3 of the Central Compound in Beijing."

Su Mingyuan calculated the time. From Tianmen Base to Beijing, it would take two and a half hours by private plane.

It was just past 1:00 PM now, which gave him just enough time.

"Arrange the plane."

"It's already waiting on the tarmac. Elder Qin gave instructions in advance."

Su Mingyuan hung up the phone and tilted his head toward Security Chief Zhao Ming.

"Take me to the tarmac."

Security Chief Zhao Ming started the car and turned around, driving toward the military runway on the west side of the base.

On the way, Su Mingyuan sent an encrypted text message to Tao Zhe, briefly instructing him on the handover of the Spirit Medicine, the organization of spiritual body activation data, and the placement of the pill king cauldron in the Skeleton World.

Tao Zhe replied with three words: 'Rest assured.'

When the jeep stopped by the tarmac, a modified Y-20 VIP private jet already had its engines warmed up. The cabin door was open, and the crew members were standing at the bottom of the boarding stairs.

As Su Mingyuan got out of the car, he smelled aviation kerosene. A wave of hot air rolled over from the engines, flapping the corners of his clothes.

He boarded the plane, the cabin door closed, and the aircraft taxied toward the runway.

He was the only passenger in the cabin.

On the small tray table next to his seat lay a set of clean clothes, folded neatly, alongside a bottle of mineral water and a lunchbox.

Inside the lunchbox was the standard cafeteria meal—rice, braised pork belly, stir-fried green vegetables, and a bowl of seaweed egg drop soup.

Su Mingyuan unscrewed the mineral water, gulped down half of it, then opened the lunchbox and took a couple of bites of rice with a spoon.

The rice was warm, and the braised pork belly was a bit salty.

He ate most of the meal and changed his clothes.

He balled up his dirty clothes and stuffed them into the storage compartment under his seat.

Once the plane climbed to cruising altitude, he pulled up the electronic version of the joint petition and read it from beginning to end on his phone.

He read the six pages of names line by line.

Some names he recognized, others he did not.

Among those he recognized, several were people he had met at that thousand-person conference in Beijing a few months ago—the very group of people who had shouted 'Great Great Xia' the loudest in the venue.

Now, this same group of people was singing a different tune in the petition.

"Our group's forty-seven factories have completely halted production, and thirty-two thousand employees are facing unemployment."

"Due to the disruption of settlement channels, our company's three production bases in Southeast Asia have been ordered by local governments to relocate within a specified timeframe."

"Our overseas accounts receivable total 47.2 billion RMB, and there is currently no usable channel to recover them."

Su Mingyuan put down his phone and closed his eyes for a moment.

The engine noise of the plane was very steady, like a fixed-frequency hum buzzing in his head.

Two and a half hours later, the plane landed at the military airport in the western suburbs of Beijing.

Waiting on the runway were two black bulletproof SUVs with military license plates, though the vehicles bore no other markings.

Su Mingyuan got off the plane and climbed directly into the back seat of the first vehicle.

The convoy did not take the outer ring road but used a dedicated military route. The traffic was clear all the way, and they arrived at the Central Compound in twenty-five minutes.

When the armed police at the gate of the compound saw the license plate, they waved them through immediately without even checking their IDs.

The car stopped in front of Building No. 3.

As Su Mingyuan got out of the car, he looked up. The outer walls of Building No. 3 were off-white, the light shining from the windows was yellowish, and figures could be seen pacing back and forth at the end of the corridor.

He entered the building, took the elevator, and reached the third floor.

Standing in the corridor were several people in dark suits. They were all quite old, mostly with graying hair. Some were speaking in low voices on the phone, some leaned against the wall with their eyes closed, and others clutched a stack of papers, flipping through them repeatedly.

As Su Mingyuan walked past them, several of them looked up at him.

They saw a young man in his twenties, wearing a plain dark blue training uniform with no military rank insignia or name tag, his face expressionless, walking at a moderate pace.

Someone's gaze lingered on him for a moment before shifting away.

The door to the conference room was open.

The space inside was larger than Su Mingyuan had imagined. Long conference tables were arranged in three rows. Along the left, right, and directly opposite, there were easily over a hundred people packed tightly together.

The air conditioning was on, but with so many people, the indoor temperature was noticeably high. The air was a mix of several kinds of perfume and cigarette smoke. The shirt collar beneath one man's suit jacket was already soaked with sweat.

Su Mingyuan scanned the room.

Sitting in the middle of the very front row was Elder Ren. He was in his seventies with completely white hair, but his back was still straight. His hands were folded on the table, and he wasn't looking at anyone.

To Elder Ren's left was Ma Huateng, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, with an open laptop in front of him, its screen filled with numbers and spreadsheets.

The seat to his right was empty, with a young man who looked like a secretary standing behind the chair.

Looking further back, Tycoon Xu sat in the second row near the aisle, leaning back against his chair. His suit jacket was draped over the backrest, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the middle of his forearms.

His eyes were bloodshot, though whether from a lack of sleep or some other reason was unclear.

Su Mingyuan stood at the doorway for about three seconds.

The low buzz of voices in the conference room didn't stop. Most people were talking quietly with those next to them and didn't notice him.

Then, Elder Qin's secretary walked out from inside and nodded to Su Mingyuan.

"Group Leader Su, please."