113: Chapter 113 The System's Mishap Continues: Shipbuilding and Recruiting People
[Detected that the Reincarnator has successfully signed an exclusive Adeptus Mechanicus procurement contract for the Hive City (North America). The Planetary Defense Force organization has officially been established. Yellowstone regional control has exceeded the threshold. Reputation +1000]
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[Main Mission Triggered: Hive City Colony Infrastructure Construction]
[Mission Requirements: Construct the four basic buildings: Colony Dockyard, Armory Workshop, Energy Core, and Barracks]
[Current Progress: 17%. Current Infrastructure Status: Continuous Deficit]
Fu Haoran rubbed his temples. Dealing with one Warhammer Hive City was already enough of a headache, but now the system had assigned him another "North American Hive City," forcing him to become an infrastructure fanatic.
But it was impossible to ignore it completely.
An aristocratic rebellion in the Warhammer World was only a matter of time; Fu Haoran had to plan a way out for himself.
However, there was some good news, such as the National Guard contract in front of Fu Haoran.
The National Guard wasn't full-time active duty; to put it bluntly, they were part-time soldiers who worked their regular jobs, trained two weekends a month, and did two weeks of intensive training every year.
If something happened in the state, they went for disaster relief and stability maintenance; if the country went to war, they were federalized and sent overseas.
What Fu Haoran wanted wasn't that, but to take the Planetary Defense Force soldiers pulled from the Warhammer Hive City and use the US Army's training grounds and training systems for intensive training in a legitimate way, even scoring free equipment through military channels.
No one would be able to find fault with it.
After handling the contract, Fu Haoran went out and headed west toward the port.
This port was a deep-water port on the Columbia River with direct access to the Pacific Ocean. It wasn't huge, but it was more than enough to dock a dozen ten-thousand-ton cargo ships. For a private enterprise, this was already a massive undertaking.
But Fu Haoran soon discovered that the system had screwed him again!
[Due to the port being too small to meet requirements, estimated construction period: 20 years]
Fu Haoran checked the details and found that the core issue was that the port length was insufficient to manufacture the 1.5-kilometer Cobra Destroyer.
"Ten years to build one ship? By then, the opportunity will be long gone, let alone building a Lunar-class Cruiser in some distant future!"
The bad news wasn't over. Jimmy walked over to report: "Boss, Jiangnan Shipyard back home has sent word. They can reverse-engineer the blueprints and equipment and handle the supporting production, but they are severely lacking in frontline technical workers and field engineers with experience in large-scale ship construction. The talent gap in this field at home is just too large."
The equipment could be built and the technology could be tackled, but the biggest shortage was people.
"Jimmy, go handle two things," Fu Haoran instructed.
"First, poach retired engineers and technical supervisors with experience in building US Army warships at high salaries. Let them name their price, as long as they come."
"Second, go to pubs and unions to find unemployed skilled shipbuilders. Sign them to contracts, including room and board, with salaries equal to what they had before retirement, but they must go to East Asia for training."
...
Portland, Oregon, a corner pub.
Old Jerry gripped his beer mug, staring at the foam at the bottom with a face full of dejection.
He had worked as a welder at Newport News Shipbuilding for thirty years and participated in the block construction of three Nimitz-class aircraft carriers. Then the shipyard laid people off, and he was kicked out the door in his fifties. His pension was barely enough to keep him fed, and now he could hardly afford a beer.
Just then, a young man in a suit sat across from him and handed over a contract.
"Mr. Jerry, DYB Technology is hiring senior welding technicians. Room and board included, requires pre-job training in East Asia, work location is Yellowstone Town."
Jerry looked up, his face full of disdain: "East Asia? That poor place?"
"Monthly salary of eight thousand dollars," the other party added.
Old Jerry froze, thinking he had misheard.
Eight thousand dollars? That was six times the social security he was getting now.
He looked the young man up and down, curling his lip: "Go to a third-world poor place like East Asia? I'll need to think about it."
The young man smiled and handed over a supplementary agreement: "Full medical reimbursement."
Old Jerry was stunned. Anyone of a certain age understood the charm of full medical reimbursement.
He was going to starve to death in America anyway, so what if he went to East Asia?
At worst, he'd be roughing it in a poor place, which was better than being homeless.
He grabbed a pen and signed his name on the spot.
There were many others like Old Jerry.
Within a week, Jimmy had signed nearly two hundred unemployed shipbuilders and seventeen retired engineers with warship construction experience, all packaged and sent to Fu Haoran.
[Dockyard supporting technical personnel replenished. Single ship construction period shortened to 8 years. Infrastructure progress +5%]
But the problem still wasn't solved.
The old technicians poached from America had experience, but their physical strength couldn't keep up, and they couldn't sustain high-intensity frontline construction.
Jimmy handed over another report, his tone helpless: "Boss, the most developed shipbuilding industry in the world right now is in South Korea. The three major shipyards—Hyundai, Daewoo, and Samsung—account for nearly half of global orders and have a large number of mature frontline technical workers."
Fu Haoran didn't waste any words and booked a flight to Busan, South Korea, that very day.
...
Busan, South Korea, Hyundai Heavy Industries Headquarters.
In the reception room, the South Korean factory representative, Kim Min-jun, entered with a face full of smiles, bowing so low his waist almost touched the floor, grinning like a flower.
But when he learned that Jimmy and the others were just employees and the real boss, Fu Haoran, was Chinese and had come to discuss technical cooperation and worker recruitment, the smile on his face vanished instantly.
"Mr. Fu, what ship type are you looking to procure? LNG carriers? Tankers? Container ships? We are number one in the world!"
Fu Haoran set down his coffee cup: "I'm not buying ships; I want to recruit people."
The meeting room went silent for a second.
"Recruit who?"
"Shipbuilding technicians, welders, fitters, block construction technicians. Experienced ones—I want 5,000."
Hearing Fu Haoran speak Chinese, the atmosphere turned cold instantly.
The lead executive's face darkened: "Mr. Fu, you are Chinese?"
"Yes."
The sound of a chair being pushed back rang out harshly.
"Sorry, you are not welcome here." The previously respectful attitude was gone without a trace.
"If you want to recruit people, fine. Fifty thousand dollars per person in agency fees. Wages according to South Korean full-time worker standards, not a penny less."
Fu Haoran raised an eyebrow: "How much?"
"Ten thousand dollars monthly salary per person, plus additional corporate training fees, a minimum five-year contract, and a fifty-million-dollar advance payment."
The translator nearby leaned in and lowered his voice: "Boss, this is a rip-off. Even South Korean full-time workers don't get this price. They're treating you like a sucker."
Fu Haoran had done his homework and naturally knew that the monthly salary for a local full-time welder in South Korea was only about six thousand dollars. The other side had more than doubled it and had the audacity to ask for a fifty-million-dollar advance, clearly taking him for a fool.
Fu Haoran smiled and said nothing.
Give money to South Koreans? Impossible.
Fu Haoran picked up his teacup, took a sip, and said calmly: "Since we can't agree on cooperation, it should be fine for us to tour the shipyard, right?"
Kim Min-jun let out a sneer and waved his hand like he was dismissing a beggar: "Fine, but only the outer factory area. No entry to the core workshops."
In the welding workshop, sparks flew everywhere; the block construction area was a scene of bustling activity.
Fu Haoran's gaze fell on a few workers in old overalls in the corner. Their movements were skilled, but they were clearly different from the surrounding Korean workers; no one spoke to them, and they even huddled in a corner to eat.
Fu Haoran walked over out of curiosity. He heard a few familiar phrases in Mandarin. Several workers in welding gear were squatting on the ground eating, complaining in Chinese about the treatment at the factory.
Fu Haoran took the initiative to walk over, handed out cigarettes, and struck up a conversation in Chinese: "Masters, how many years have you been working here?"
Several people looked up, their faces full of surprise.
"Seven years," said an old welder in his forties, wiping away sweat. "Been welding in the dry docks the whole time."
"What's the pay?"
The lead master gave a bitter laugh: "It's embarrassing to say. We do the exact same work as the South Korean full-time workers, but we only get a third of their pay. No social security, no workers' comp, we live in the factory's collective prefab huts, and we're not even allowed into the shipyard's living quarters."
Fu Haoran frowned: "Still that low after seven years?"
A young worker nearby spoke up indignantly: "For foreign laborers like us, being able to get a third is already lucky."
"The Koreans themselves don't want to do this work, so they count on us to be their beasts of burden. No social security, no overtime pay, living in dorms, we can't even leave the shipyard gates whenever we want."
"Then why not quit and go back home?" Fu Haoran asked.
Master Li sighed: "Right now, South Korea has the most developed shipbuilding industry. Western shipyards don't want Chinese workers, and the domestic shipyards haven't been doing well these last few years—there are few positions. At least we earn a bit more here than back home, so we just have to endure it."
Fu Haoran knew the South Koreans had calculated exactly this, which was why they dared to squeeze them so ruthlessly.
Fu Haoran was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly asked: "Come with me. Whatever the South Korean full-time workers make, I'll pay you. If you work for three years, I'll cover all your social security and insurance back home, and you'll have priority hiring for when I build factories domestically."
The workers were stunned, their eyes filled with disbelief.
The young welder asked: "Are you serious?"
Fu Haoran handed over a business card. "Those willing to come, sign a contract. Those who aren't, I won't force you."
Fu Haoran didn't push; he only gave them a week to consider.
The news spread through the Chinese worker circles in Busan.
Some suspected it was a scam, while others felt that even if South Korea was bad, it was still a developed country and were unwilling to leave.
But those veteran workers who had been exploited for seven or eight years grit their teeth and signed the contracts. At worst, they'd go back to farming; it was better than being a beast of burden here.
Within a week, more than three thousand Chinese technicians had signed contracts.
[Dockyard frontline construction team formed. Modular construction technology unlocked. Single ship construction period shortened to 5 years. Infrastructure progress +32%]
This group might seem like a lot, but for the shipbuilding industry, it wasn't much at all. Fu Haoran didn't mind; he believed that once the first batch of people received their wages, there would be no shortage of people coming later.
...
Returning to Yellowstone, Fu Haoran immediately greenlit the first construction plan.
To build an all-electric giant Ro-Ro ship, 320 meters long and 48 meters wide, with a deadweight exceeding 80,000 tons, capable of carrying 9,000 cars at once.
These dimensions were not much shorter than a Ford-class aircraft carrier.
When the news got out, the entire industry exploded.
The outside world was laughing, saying he was crazy.
A guy selling power banks who just figured out exoskeletons dares to jump into building the world's largest civilian Ro-Ro ship?
He clearly had more money than sense.
The media mocked him even more for being "fanciful, taking such a big step he'd split his pants."
Facing the skepticism, Fu Haoran only gave one explanation to the public: "To transport goods."
No one knew that this giant vessel used modular construction technology, high-precision welding processes, all-electric propulsion systems... all of which were civilian scaled-down versions of the Cobra-class Destroyer.
No one knew that this giant vessel used modular construction technology, high-precision welding processes, all-electric propulsion systems... all of which were civilian scaled-down versions of the Cobra-class Destroyer.
On the surface, he was building a cargo ship; in secret, he was using it for practice, to break in the worker teams and verify core technologies.
Fu Haoran intended to use this to lay every brick for the future construction of the Cobra-class Destroyer.
"Once this ship is launched, the technology is mastered, and the workers are well-coordinated, I can directly start building the modular sections of the Cobra-class Destroyer."
Fu Haoran put away the blueprints and looked at the dock being expanded in the distance.
The dockyard provided by the system would take ten years; he couldn't afford to wait.
Building a dockyard at home, gathering technicians, practicing with civilian ships, and building warships after mastering the technology—this path was indirect, but it was the steadiest.
Fu Haoran watched the busy crowd at the dockyard.
Old technicians from America, engineers from back home, and Chinese welders poached from South Korea were all gathered together, gesturing at the blueprints.
They couldn't speak the same language and had to use hand signals, but the work was being done efficiently.
Fu Haoran thought no more of it, but Kim Min-jun, far away in Busan, didn't feel the same way.
He looked at the list of lost technicians in his hand, his face ashen.
More than three thousand Chinese technicians had vanished overnight, and with them, the block construction technology that Hyundai Heavy Industries was so proud of had been quietly poached away.
"Investigate! Find out for me where this group went!"
The subordinate stammered: "They went to... America."
Kim Min-jun wasn't even that angry anymore, not because he had made peace with it, but because he thought the other party was an idiot.
"Go to America? How are they going to compete with us? Is labor cheaper, or can they get more orders?"
"Even the Americans' orders are sent to us. He ran to America with those people; he'll just starve to death."
Outside the Yellowstone factory, deep in the desert, inside a black van, a CIA monitor wrote in his report:
"Target has begun to venture into the shipbuilding industry, suspected to be preparing for some kind of large vessel. Recommend continuous monitoring."
After finishing the report, the monitor glanced at the blueprint of the 320-meter giant ship on the screen and muttered to himself, "No matter how you look at it, this thing doesn't look like an ordinary cargo ship."