strictlysupreme Chapter 839 No, they should be called comrades!
Chapter 839 No, they should be called comrades!
Alexander was stunned, his mouth agape for a long time, his eyes filled with disbelief.
Seeing this, Ivan Petrovich laughed heartily, slapping his thigh, his wrinkles crinkling at the corners of his eyes: "Look at you, you've seen a ghost! Do you need me to explain what this means?"
"No need, it's probably not a good word..."
Seeing Alexander's unpredictable expression, Ivan Petrovich, having finished laughing, continued:
"Although this has brought back unpleasant memories for you, I should tell you some news: Talia ran away halfway through the journey!"
"Huh?" Alexander's voice changed, and he grabbed Ivan's arm abruptly. "Are you serious? She wasn't..."
“Really!” Ivan slapped his hand away, his tone tinged with schadenfreude.
"Lubyanka's gang lost their man and made a huge fool of themselves in front of the higher-ups. Although they later reported that he was 'captured' at the border, anyone with eyes could see that he was just a scapegoat... What a coincidence that they caught 'exactly the same' person right after losing theirs?"
"Does hearing this make you feel any better?" Ivan Petrovich paused, his voice lowering slightly, carrying a hint of warning:
"However, you should understand that anyone who managed to escape from those bastards is definitely not an ordinary student..."
Perhaps feeling he had wasted enough time on Alexander, Ivan Petrovich lost patience and revealed his final trump card and conditions:
"My conditions are simple: you take the lead and get this 'Alliance Edition Yellow' sorted out for me. After it's done, I can not only use my connections to get your disciplinary action revoked, but I can also get you the position of director of the institute's third laboratory. Furthermore..."
He flashed a knowing smile that all men understood. "Chanel No. 5 perfume, I'll get you a dozen! With your status and power, you'll have plenty of girls on the streets of Moscow who are ten times better than Talia, to choose from."
Alexander fell silent, his fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the lab bench before slowly nodding after a long while.
“That’s right!” Ivan Petrovich patted him on the shoulder with satisfaction, then turned and walked towards the door.
Minister Ivan, with a lambskin briefcase tucked under his arm, walked with a light step as if he were on springs: These tech guys are so simple-minded, a simple "revocation of punishment," plus a little lure of luxury goods, and it's a piece of cake.
As he reached the door, he glanced back at Alexander's bowed back, a smug smile playing on his lips: Ha, the carrot and stick approach always works on tech geeks!
Hmm, perhaps we should also add the factor of beautiful women?
Alexander, that repressed pervert, hehehe...
……
The heavy laboratory door clicked shut, and after Minister Ivan's footsteps disappeared at the end of the corridor, only the faint hum of the instruments remained in the research room.
Alexander slowly raised his head, his face no longer showing any trace of the disappointment he had just felt.
A slight smile played on his lips as his fingertips lightly tapped the keyboard of "Big Yellow's Doppelganger," producing a crisp "tap-tap" sound.
The "-" cursor on the screen jumps with each keystroke...
A low, clear murmur, distinctly not Russian, carrying the rhythm of some Eastern language, echoed in the empty room:
"'Simp'... Heh, that term certainly has a lot of connotations. I wonder who came up with that term."
But Ivan Petrovich, you are sorely mistaken in using that word to describe me.
Alexander's gaze toward the east deepened, filled with complex emotions: "My relationship with Talia... no, it should be Mulan, or as we would say, it should be called—'comrades'."
Yes, what Alexander uttered was not "comrade," but a clear and distinct "comrade!"
“Comrade…” he repeated the heavy word, his voice filled with barely suppressed excitement and relief.
"Hearing the news of your successful escape is... wonderful! It proves that our sacrifices and efforts were not in vain. But I wonder if you have safely... returned to your 'motherland'?"
Alexander walked to the window, gazing in the direction of the Moscow River in the distance, his eyes filled with deep longing.
Oh, East! My true motherland…
My childhood memories are hazy. I only remember that my parents, in order to escape the war in the Far East, carried me to Vladivostok and sailed south. After many twists and turns, we finally landed at a place called Wusongkou.
In my hazy memory, there is the damp air and the soft, incomprehensible Wu dialect. Later, my parents unfortunately fell ill during their wanderings and passed away one after another. It was a kind-hearted Chinese family in the area who adopted this helpless foreign orphan, gave him food, sent him to school, and raised him to adulthood.
That land was his true home.
"Mulan, have you gone home? Otherwise, I'll have failed my friend's request..."