288: Chapter 288 Escort in the Clouds

May 12, 8:00 AM, Shenzhen Baoan Airport

On the apron, a silver-white Boeing 747 waited quietly.

The tail was painted with the Xingchen emblem—a burning seed, its fiery texture shimmering with a metallic luster in the morning light.

Su Chen stood by the boarding stairs, followed by the CEOs of the eight major companies:

Wu Yi, President of Spark Materials, wearing a deep blue suit and clutching a stack of technical documents.

Gu Yanting, President of Spark Power, his hair already graying but his back held straight.

Zhou Qingyu, President of Hongqi Automobile, was conversing in low tones with Gu Yanting.

Li Wanqing, President of Xinghuo Chip, wore a white shirt with black trousers, holding a cup of coffee.

Fan Sizhe, President of Xingchen Communications, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, was checking the signal strength of a satellite phone.

Gao Mingxuan, CEO of Xingchen Heavy Industry, wore a suit over his work jacket, exuding the typical aura of a mechanical engineer.

Gu Xinghe, CEO of Xingchen Defense, dressed in dark green military fatigues, scanned the surroundings expressionlessly.

Zhang Yang, President of Xinghuo Consumer Electronics and the youngest of the group, was scrolling through his phone, reading reports from European media.

A group of thirty-five people, all the core brains of the Xingchen System.

Lin Wan walked over quickly, holding an encrypted satellite phone: "A call just came from the General Office of the State Council."

Su Chen took it, listened for a minute, and then hung up.

"The approval document has been issued," he told the team. "The core message is just eight words: Pioneer and experiment, but hold the bottom line."

He opened his phone, the screen displaying a scan of the final page of the document.

"In the face of major difficulties, the nation is your most solid backer."

Su Chen handed the phone to Lin Wan: "Save this well. This is history."

The Boeing's cabin had been modified, with a long conference table in the center and sixteen aviation seats on either side. Behind that were a lounge area, a communication area, and a small meeting room.

Su Chen sat by the window, with Lin Wan beside him.

The plane taxied, accelerated, and took to the skies.

Twenty minutes later, the buildings of Shenzhen had shrunk to the size of models before disappearing beneath the clouds.

"President Su, please look to the starboard side," the captain's voice came over the intercom.

Everyone crowded toward the windows.

Above the clouds, two J-20 fighter jets slowly approached from the rear.

They carried no missiles, but their stealth coating shimmered with a cold gray luster in the sunlight. The cockpit canopies reflected the sun, making it impossible to see the pilots' faces.

One on each side, they were less than fifty meters from the wings.

Gao Mingxuan murmured, "A J-20 escort... this is high-level treatment."

Gu Xinghe looked out the window without speaking. But his clenched fists betrayed the turmoil in his heart.

Zhou Qingyu said in a low voice, "I worked at Volkswagen for fifteen years and saw the German Chancellor's private plane take off. It was escorted by Typhoon fighters."

He paused: "But that was for a head of state. For a private enterprise..."

Li Wanqing finished his sentence: "It's unprecedented."

Su Chen gazed out the window. The shadows of the two fighter jets were cast upon the sea of clouds like two silent guardians.

He thought of that sentence: In the face of major difficulties, the nation is your most solid backer.

Today, that backer was right outside the window.

---

"About to enter Russian airspace," the captain announced.

The left wing of the J-20 tilted slightly, as if in farewell.

In the cockpit, the pilot gestured to his wingman. Both fighters accelerated and climbed simultaneously, vanishing into the clouds.

The cabin fell silent.

Then, two black dots appeared on the northern horizon.

Su-35s.

Two of Russia's most advanced fighter jets emerged from the clouds, splitting left and right to take up their escort positions.

Their engine nozzles adjusted their thrust, leaving two faint trails of heat waves.

Wu Yi smiled: "The shift has changed. Su-35s are usually reserved for welcoming foreign ministers of defense or higher."

Gu Xinghe whispered, "They are taking this very seriously."

Su Chen looked out the window.

The Russian sky was bluer, the clouds lower. The vast, endless forests began to appear—the Siberian taiga. From the plane, it looked like a deep green carpet stretching to the horizon.

Winding rivers snaked through the forest, with the occasional glimpse of a small town, a few rows of log cabins, and a dirt road.

This was Siberia.

12:00 PM, First Aerial Refueling

The captain announced: "The Su-35s need to refuel. We'll top up as well while we're at it."

An Il-78 tanker approached from the rear.

It was as massive as the Boeing, with refueling pods hanging under its wings and two refueling probes extended.

The Su-35s docked in turn. Looking through the window, one could see the pilots skillfully maneuvering the fighters to achieve a precise connection with the refueling probes.

Then it was the Boeing's turn.

Mechanical sounds came from the fuselage, followed by a slight vibration.

Li Wanqing was a bit nervous: "Is this... safe?"

Su Chen said calmly, "When Russians do things, they either don't make a promise, or if they do, they see it through."

Twenty minutes later, the refueling was complete.

The group of planes continued north.

---

2:00 PM, Second Aerial Refueling

Another docking.

This time, what drifted past the window wasn't clouds, but snow.

In the Siberian permafrost zone, even in May, patches of snow remained.

Su Chen looked at that land.

A hundred years ago, this was a place of exile. Thousands of political prisoners were escorted here to build railroads, log, and mine in the freezing cold.

Seventy years ago, this was an industrial base. Soviet factories, mines, and cities rose from the ground in Siberia, cast with blood and sweat.

Thirty years ago, it turned into ruins. The Soviet Union collapsed, factories closed, the population fled, and cities decayed.

Today, he was going to establish a new industrial cluster on this land.

Outside the window, that land was passing beneath his feet.

---

4:30 PM, Moscow Time (5 hours behind Beijing time)

"Approaching Vnukovo International Airport," the captain announced.

Through the window, Su Chen saw the Moscow skyline.

Golden church domes sparkled in the sunset—the cathedrals of the Kremlin.

The Stalin-era skyscrapers—the Seven Sisters—looked like seven massive cakes.

The modern glass curtain walls—the Moscow International Business Center, known as 'Moscow City.'

This thousand-year-old capital was waiting for a group of young people from the East.

---

The boarding stairs were lowered, and the red carpet was rolled out.

Li Hui, the Chinese Ambassador to Russia, stood by the stairs. He was sixty years old, his hair combed meticulously, wearing a dark suit with a national emblem pinned to his chest.

Behind him were officials from the Protocol Department of the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, dressed in deep gray uniforms and wearing white gloves.

Su Chen walked down the stairs.

Li Hui stepped forward quickly to shake hands, his grip firm: "President Su, you've worked hard."

"Ambassador Li, you've worked hard as well."

Li Hui whispered, "An escort of two J-20s... in my thirty years on the diplomatic front, I've never seen anything like it."

"It is the nation's great favor."

In the distance, an honor guard stood at attention with rifles. Although there was no formal review ceremony, this level of protocol already said everything.

A Russian protocol official stepped forward: "Mr. Su, please follow me. The motorcade is ready."

--

The motorcade drove out of the airport.

In front were two police motorcycles clearing the way, followed by a Russian protocol car. In the middle was the Hongqi L5 ‘Leader Edition’ carrying Su Chen, followed by seven business vans for the Xingchen team, and finally, two more police cars bringing up the rear.

Along the way, pedestrians stopped to watch.

This motorcade, flying the flags of both nations and led by police cars, was driving toward the Kremlin.

Lin Wan looked out the window: "Moscow is more dilapidated than I imagined."

Su Chen did not respond.

What he saw was another side—though the city was old, it possessed a certain heavy sense of history.

Every building, every street, was etched with the marks of time.

The motorcade crossed the Moskva River bridge, and the red walls of the Kremlin grew clearer in the twilight.