Chapter 133: Let’s Talk About the Big Guy

The radar deal was essentially settled, so there was no need to dwell on the details. Yang Hui’s participation in the negotiations with Marconi had been, in reality, purely ceremonial—he was little more than a bystander, just tagging along to keep Prince Sultan company.

With the general framework of the negotiations complete, it was time for Yang Hui and Prince Sultan to speak in code.

Prince Sultan’s English, heavily accented with his native Arabic, was stiff and direct: "Mr. Yang, the contract for our new trainer aircraft has been signed, the project is underway, and fifty million has already been received. The one hundred million dollar loan for your side has also arrived. Can our new project officially begin?"

Seeing the Prince being so blunt, Yang Hui responded with immediate affirmation: "That is a certainty. I take the requests of our Saudi friends very seriously. I will visit my elder mentor tonight—the very leader who was in charge of the Republic’s development of the 'big guys' back in the day. I should have a definitive answer for you by tomorrow."

Yang Hui made this decision without hesitation. He truly intended to visit Marshal Nie. The old Marshal still held significant influence, and only by explaining the Saudi request directly to him could they hope to get a response as quickly as possible.

Understanding Yang Hui’s implication, Prince Sultan finally felt relieved, though his heart remained anxious. He was relieved because Yang Hui had finally started following up on Saudi Arabia’s priority project; yet, he remained anxious because he was still uncertain whether he would actually obtain the weapons he desired.

The uneasy Prince said nothing, only nodding repeatedly and shaking Yang Hui’s hand with excitement to express his heartfelt gratitude.

"Good, good. I will wait for your good news. You will always be a good friend and brother to Saudi Arabia."

Yang Hui was noncommittal toward these words. When there are shared interests, terms like "good friend" and "good brother" sound incredibly affectionate, but should those interests vanish, such words would carry a completely different meaning. In the international arena, calling each other brothers is the cheapest form of window dressing.

Friends, perhaps, but brothers? That was a stretch. Yang Hui replied with a smile: "Of course. The friendship between China and Saudi Arabia will last forever. We have been friendly neighbors since ancient times, and it is our greatest wish to be able to help our Saudi friends."

The remark was sufficiently warm without being overly mawkish—it was as far as Yang Hui was willing to go.

With the plan decided, it was time to act. Yang Hui bid farewell to Prince Sultan and prepared to visit Marshal Nie. The old man had once been his savior, and Yang Hui had always held him in high esteem and deep gratitude.

As for bringing gifts, there was no need. At Marshal Nie’s rank, what could he possibly lack? The Saudi order that Yang Hui was bringing was the best gift of all.

When Yang Hui arrived at the compound where Marshal Nie resided, he was, as expected, stopped at the entrance. After a call was placed to the residence and a brief exchange, Auntie Li came out to escort him inside.

"You little rascal, why have you come alone? Didn't you say last time that you would come with Uncle Li?"

It was nearly evening when Yang Hui parted ways with Prince Sultan; there was no time to fetch his grandfather. For the sake of the massive Saudi order, Yang Hui had come to the Marshal’s residence alone.

"It wasn't a choice, really. I have some work-related matters to discuss with the Marshal, and they are quite urgent. I didn't have time to go back and pick up my grandfather; he’ll come when he has the time."

Work matters that required a visit during off-hours? While individuals of Marshal Nie’s stature rarely observed a strict clock, any matter brought to him after hours was clearly no trifle.

Auntie Li did not doubt Yang Hui’s judgment. If he had come at such an hour, the news must be significant. Without further ado, she led him deep into the compound.

Along the way, dense vegetation, spacious roads, and fresh air—elements that would typically clash in the bustling capital—existed here in complete harmony.

Within minutes, they reached the Marshal’s residence. It was a place Yang Hui knew well; the Marshal had lived here when Yang Hui was a child. It seemed that after the Marshal returned to duty, the leadership had placed great importance on him, even refurbishing his old residence.

Upon entering, they found the Marshal sitting on the sofa. Hearing that Yang Hui was coming, the Marshal had naturally assumed he was bringing his old subordinate, Little Li. He had specifically come out from his study to sit on a sofa he rarely used.

Hearing the door open, the Marshal turned his head. He saw his daughter first, then Yang Hui. Looking behind them, he saw no one else. It was strange.

"Yang Hui, you’ve come alone this time? Where is your grandfather?"

Knowing this question was coming, Yang Hui said apologetically, "It’s just me today. I was in a rush and didn't have time to call for my grandfather. I’ve come because I learned of a work matter that is simply too important to wait on; I had to come see you immediately."

A work matter. Again. These things were truly tiresome, but the Marshal could not dismiss them. If a child like Yang Hui was running over after hours to report it, it could not be small.

Bracing his hands on the armrests, the Marshal stood up. "What is so urgent that it brought you here now? Come with me to the study."

Yang Hui hurried to follow, instinctively reaching out to support the septuagenarian, but the Marshal firmly refused.

"What? Do you have so little faith in me? I’m not so old that I need help walking just yet. I can still manage."

Yang Hui sheepishly pulled his hand back. Auntie Li gave him a look of helpless resignation; it seemed she had encountered this stubborn streak before. Yang Hui scolded himself for failing to account for the temperament of an old Marshal who had lived through the fires of war.

He followed the Marshal into the study, preparing to report the Saudi perspective. This was critical, and above all, Yang Hui had to be airtight in his presentation—he could not afford to show a single flaw.

The Marshal sat in his grand armchair, and Yang Hui sat nearby. Work matters required a formal tone, even in the home.

"Go ahead, Yang Hui. You came in such a hurry, it must be something significant. Explain it clearly, and I will listen."

The news had to be shocking. Yang Hui organized his thoughts and began to describe his interactions with the Saudi side.

"The situation is this: we first made contact with the Saudi delegation at the last Paris Air Show. At the time, we were negotiating whether they might invest in our new trainer aircraft project. At first, they were unwilling..."

Yang Hui laid out the entire process of his contact with the Saudis. There was no need to hide it; if the state wanted to investigate, they would find out anyway. It was better to be transparent. At this level of government, they wouldn't concern themselves with the "methods" used—nitpicking over tactics was the trait of low-level bureaucrats.

"So, I told them that we might be able to provide powerful weapons that Western countries dare not, or are unwilling to, provide. This piqued their interest, and they..."

Powerful weapons? Weapons the West wouldn't provide? This statement carried significant weight.

"Wait," the Marshal interrupted. "You said you told the Saudis we could provide them with powerful weapons—the kind the West won't? Where did you get the nerve to say that?"