Chapter 195 An Ascetic's Journey Abroad

Mid-April, Hong Kong.

Outside the arrival hall of Kai Tak Airport.

A heatwave, like an invisible wall, slammed heavily into the group.

The delegation to Germany, led by Director Zhu from the First Ministry of Machine Building Industry, was currently standing by the roadside waiting for a vehicle.

They were all dressed in identical navy blue suits, with crisp trouser creases and polished leather shoes.

At first glance, the team looked spirited and possessed the demeanor of a great nation.

But if one looked closely, the telltale signs would emerge.

Although the suits were neat.

The edges of the cuffs and collars were somewhat stiff.

Everyone was carrying identical canvas travel bags and old synthetic leather suitcases.

The most noticeable thing was the fine beads of sweat on everyone's foreheads.

To save money, and also for the sake of their diplomatic image.

No one dared to take off their suit jackets.

Even though the old cotton undershirts underneath were soaked through with sweat, sticking stickily to their backs.

"Everyone, pull yourselves together!"

Secretary Zhang, who was in charge of discipline, clutched a small red flag.

His eyes scanned the entire team like a radar,

"This is Hong Kong, and capitalist eyes are everywhere."

"Every word and action of yours represents the face of the nation!"

"Understood!" came the scattered response.

"The bus is here, get on!" Secretary Zhang waved the small flag.

An old, non-air-conditioned double-decker bus arrived.

As the doors opened, air mixed with the smells of diesel, cheap perfume, and body odor rushed toward them.

The bus was packed with people.

Filipino maids chatted loudly in an unintelligible language, while delivery workers carried sacks with their shirts off.

"Squeeze in, move to the back!"

The experts of the delegation clutched their briefcases like precious treasures and bit the bullet as they squeezed into the crowd.

Director Zhu was squeezed into a window seat.

His face pressed against the glass, his expression awkward yet helpless.

This was what an overseas study tour in 1982 was like.

No private cars to pick them up, no flowers or red carpets.

They carried the dream of revitalizing the nation through industry.

Yet their pockets held only a meager daily allowance of 2 US dollars.

The bus started moving, swaying as it went.

Secretary Zhang held onto the handrail, his body swaying with the bus, but his mouth didn't stop:

"While we have the chance, I will reiterate a few rules of conduct."

"First, regarding using the restroom."

Secretary Zhang lowered his voice, looking serious,

"Capitalist countries are driven by profit; many roadside public toilets charge a fee."

"Everyone must look carefully at the signs!"

"If you are in urgent need, go to hotel lobbies, banks, or exhibition halls."

"Those places are free."

"It is best to take care of it at your accommodation before going out."

"Don't waste foreign currency on excretion!"

Tu Zhi nodded repeatedly, silently noting in his heart: Must use the restroom before going out.

"Second, regarding meals."

Secretary Zhang patted his canvas bag, which made a "clang" sound,

"Everyone should have brought dried noodles, pickled mustard, and chili sauce in your suitcases, right?"

Everyone nodded.

"That's right."

Secretary Zhang said with satisfaction,

"The food outside is exorbitantly expensive."

"And it's all raw, cold seafood that our Chinese stomachs aren't used to."

"Once we reach the hotel, everyone can use the electric kettle to boil noodles."

"The pickled mustard we brought is a specialty from Fuling."

"Eat it with steamed buns; it saves money and satisfies cravings."

"It's much better than eating those half-raw steaks!"

In the corner of the bus, a few young technicians dimmed their eyes.

Who wouldn't want to taste what the outside world is like?

But in that era where "people wished they could split a penny in two to spend it."

Decency required sacrificing one's stomach.

...

The Star Ferry bobbed in the gray-blue waves of Victoria Harbour.

The sea breeze howled.

It messed up the experts' carefully styled hair and blew their ties around like flags.

He Zhenhua held onto the railing, looking at the concrete jungle on the opposite shore.

The buildings in Central pierced the sky like sharp swords, their glass curtain walls reflecting blinding light under the sun.

"That is the Mandarin Oriental Hotel."

Director Zhu pointed to a low-key yet luxurious building in the distance,

"That kid, Lin Xi, is waiting for us there."

Secretary Zhang frowned:

"This Lin Xi, choosing such an expensive place to meet, it's simply..."

"Secretary Zhang, that is Huajun's territory."

Director Zhu interrupted him,

"When in Rome, do as the Romans do."

After getting off the boat, to save on taxi fare, Secretary Zhang waved his hand:

"It's only two kilometers, let's walk!"

Thus, on the streets of Central under the scorching sun, a strange procession appeared.

A group of mainlanders in navy blue suits.

Dragging bags and luggage, sweating profusely as they wove through the well-dressed white-collar workers.

Sweat ran down their foreheads into their eyes, stinging painfully.

Yet no one dared to raise a hand to wipe it, fearing they would wrinkle their cuffs.

On the way, Secretary Zhang didn't forget to pass on his experience:

"If your suit gets dirty or shiny."

"You can wash it with cold water at the hotel at night."

"Hang it up for the night, and blow-dry it the next morning, and it will be fine."

"Don't ever send it for dry cleaning, it's too expensive."

...

When they finally shuffled to the entrance of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel.

The cold air blowing out from the huge revolving door made everyone shiver involuntarily.

"Attention everyone!"

Secretary Zhang immediately switched to high-alert mode,

"This is a capitalist money pit, the environment is complex."

"Everyone wait in the lobby to be assigned rooms, do not wander around."

"And absolutely do not show curiosity about the extravagant life around you!"

Secretary Zhang pushed up his glasses.

His gaze swept over the team members who were somewhat dazzled,

"Tonight, everyone will have dinner in your respective rooms."

"Use the electric kettle, dried noodles with pickled mustard."

"We have to catch a flight early tomorrow morning."

In the group, a few young people swallowed hard, their eyes dimming a bit.

It wasn't that they couldn't endure hardship.

It was just thinking that they had come all the way to Hong Kong.

It would have been better to see and experience more.

But no one dared to speak up.

In this era, this was discipline.

The nation was short on foreign exchange; everyone's daily meal allowance and pocket money combined was only 2 US dollars.

What could 2 US dollars do in Hong Kong?

Just enough to buy two bowls of wonton noodles at a street stall.

Just then, the hotel's revolving glass door was pushed open.

Lin Xi was wearing a well-tailored suit.

His hair was combed back, and he looked full of vigor.

Beside him was Huajun's Xie Wendong, also in a suit and looking radiant.

The two were chatting and laughing, followed by several attendants with impressive auras.

"Director Zhu! Secretary Zhang!"

Lin Xi walked up quickly, extending his hand from a distance,

"You've had a hard journey! I've finally been waiting for my own people to arrive!"

Director Zhu smiled and shook hands firmly with Lin Xi.

Secretary Zhang, however, frowned slightly.

Looking at Lin Xi's attire, then at the golden, magnificent hotel lobby, a flash of vigilance crossed his eyes.

"Comrade Lin Xi."

Secretary Zhang said with a straight face,

"Are the rooms all arranged?"

"We won't linger in the lobby; it looks bad."

"Don't be in such a rush, Secretary Zhang."

Lin Xi smiled and stepped aside, ushering Xie Wendong forward,

"Let me introduce you, this is General Manager Xie from Huajun Group."

"Hearing that our delegation arrived today."

"General Manager Xie pushed aside several important business meetings to specially host a welcome banquet in the second-floor private room."

"If we go back to our rooms to gnaw on steamed buns now."

"That would not only be disrespectful to General Manager Xie."

"To put it broadly, it also shows a lack of unity within our foreign trade system."

With such a big label slapped on him, the refusal on Secretary Zhang's lips was forcibly blocked.

Who was Xie Wendong?

He was the Deputy General Manager of Huajun, one of the nation's money bags in Hong Kong.

"Secretary Zhang, it's just a casual meal."

Xie Wendong stepped forward at the right moment, smiling heartily,

"We are all comrades."

"Eating pickled vegetables when you've arrived on my turf."

"If that gets back to the Imperial Capital, the leaders in the Ministry will scold me, Old Xie, for being ignorant of social graces."

"Besides, I have some matters regarding logistics in Germany that I would like to consult with Director Zhu about."

Since he had put it this way, they had to eat.

Secretary Zhang could only nod, but still whispered a reminder:

"Then we'll just eat simply, no alcohol, and watch your table manners!"