The air in the temporary communication room seemed frozen.
The only source of light came from the faint indicator light on the military-grade satellite phone on the table, casting light on Major Petrovsky's tense face.
Song Heping pushed open the door, and the communication officer who had been standing solemnly to the side silently saluted before quietly exiting and gently closing the heavy iron door, sealing off all the noise from the outside world.
Petrovsky nodded towards the solitary receiver on the table, speaking in a low voice, "Mr. Song, Zhaoyi Valley Minister is on the line from Moscow."
After speaking, he retreated to the shadow near the door, his hands behind his back, clearly indicating his non-involvement in the conversation. Yet in the small space, no sound could escape.
Song Heping took a deep breath, the air filled with the dust smell of old buildings and a faint hint of ozone from radio waves.
He approached the table and picked up the heavy receiver, cool with metallic chill.
A baritone voice immediately came through the receiver. Transmitted via encrypted channels, it was slightly distorted with the slight delay and background noise typical of electronic devices, but the steadiness and unquestionable authority in the voice penetrated the signal, clearly discernible.
It was in Russian.
For Song Heping, communicating posed no obstacle.
Almost simultaneously, another clear, calm, emotionless voice in Chinese synchronously translated, cutting in like an off-screen narration.
"Mr. Song Heping?"
The primary voice asked, skipping all pleasantries, directly addressing the core.
"It's me. Are you Zhaoyi Valley Minister?"
Song Heping was slightly excited at this moment.
Not for directly speaking to this important figure, but for having indeed gambled correctly.
Winning again.
The Russians rarely ask a defense company boss for help; when they do, it's a significant matter.
Increasing his stakes and gambling.
Indeed, he gambled right.
Direct dialogue with someone like the Zhaoyi Valley minister carried weight and significance far beyond ordinary business negotiations or battlefield engagements.
At the same time, it also proved the value of himself and "Musician" company.
The years of effort and struggle were not in vain.
"Yes. Major Petrovsky has already reported your stance. Time is tight, so let's skip unnecessary processes,"
The Zhaoyi Valley went straight to the point: "State your conditions. What kind of price would make you willing to utilize your resources to assist us in this rescue mission?"
Song Heping did not answer immediately.
There was only the hiss of encrypted signals in the receiver and a brief silence after the simultaneous translation ended.
The two seconds of silence were his deliberate weighing, both measuring the opponent's determination to spare no expense and gathering strength for his next words.
After a full ten seconds, he slowly spoke, deliberately using Chinese, every word crystal clear: "Minister, first, I must clarify that I'm currently not very interested in monetary rewards. My company is operating well with a sufficient cash flow. And the political sensitivity and potential military conflict risk involved in this operation cannot be quantified by US Dollars."
The phone fell into a brief silence on the other side, even the translation seemed delayed by a beat.
The Zhaoyi Valley's response carried a subtle hint of scrutiny: "Very well. Then, what are you after? Geopolitical safety assurances? Or... some more substantive strategic support? I know you've had an unpleasant experience with Americans in recent years and that both CIA and UN have listed you as a KB Member. If you're willing, we can offer secret protection when you need it."
"I want a route."
Song Heping's voice was firm and unyielding, without any prevarication, "A route starting from the Northern Border of Afghan, traversing Central Asia, along key points of the Caspian Sea coast, extending through the entire Caucasus region, and ultimately connecting to the Middle East market—a stable, reliable, and efficient arms transport corridor. I request your side to provide necessary 'conveniences' and 'tacit approval' at critical junctions of this corridor, ensuring my cargo can pass unimpeded."
As the words fell, Major Petrovsky, despite his best efforts to control, could not suppress a slight twitch of his eye muscles standing by the door.
The ambition and weight of this request far exceeded huge cash or advanced weapons assistance.
Essentially asking the Russian official to provide strategic-level protection and a passage for his vast underground arms network, involving state-level interest exchanges and delicate geopolitical adjustments, with value and risk that can't be measured numerically.
The satellite communication fell into a longer silence, with only the hissing of electrical currents, as if the rapid thinking and low discussions in Moscow's decision-making center could be heard.
A few seconds later, Zhaoyi Valley's voice rose again, still emotionless but with slightly slower pace: "Mr. Song, your appetite… is impressive. The strategic value of this 'route' may have already exceeded our rescue target itself."
"But the cost of this 'route' for your side is not unbearable."
Song Heping immediately countered, needing to seize upon the other's urgency.
"It mostly exists in a grey area, and what your side needs to contribute isn't direct military force, but at certain border checkpoints and transport hubs, 'turning a blind eye,' or offering crucial intelligence alerts to help avoid unnecessary trouble. Conversely, the person you want to rescue must be invaluable to the Russian Federation. Otherwise, with your status, you wouldn't personally engage in this dialogue with me."