Cannon Fire Arc

Chapter 222: Chapter 14 Night on the Outskirts of Ye Fort (Additional Update for 31,000 Monthly Votes)

Afterward, Wang Zhong provided a series of suggestions, all of which Morozov duly recorded.

Wang Zhong still wasn't satisfied and asked, "Can we design some other royal ceremonial equipment? Like self-propelled anti-aircraft guns or self-propelled artillery. I think the ladies would certainly enjoy riding in those. Right, Olga?"

"Ah? Oh, yes, I like them!" Princess Olga hurriedly replied.

Morozov kept a stern face, "Although there is such a demand from the ladies, we are a factory, not a design bureau. The blueprints were also sent to us after being drawn up by the design bureau.

"Look at this design plan, it includes the signature of the designer Koshkin, who should be the chief engineer of Design Bureau 190. If you want other ceremonial vehicles, you may consult him for the designs," Morozov explained.

Wang Zhong was delighted, "Where is he?"

"He's in Saint Andrew Fort, that's where the entire design bureau is located," Morozov answered.

Wang Zhong glanced at the full map of the Ante Empire on the wall of the factory director's office, estimated the distance from Saint Andrew Fort to Ye Fort, and had to give up the idea.

Princess Olga suggested, "Let's look for another designer, after all, there are so many design bureaus here."

Just then, the telephone in the director's office rang.

Morozov answered the call, "This is United Machinery Factory. The palace? Please hold on a moment."

He handed the phone to Olga, "Your Highness, it's for you."

Olga looked embarrassed, "Can you say I'm not here?"

"Do you think that's appropriate?" Morozov responded.

Olga could only sigh and take the receiver, "This is Olga Nikolaevna. I'm not needed for those matters, am I? Alright, alright, I'm on my way back."

After returning the receiver to Morozov, Olga sighed, "I have to go back. Will you be staying at the Summer Palace tonight?"

"No, I'll return to my own estate," Wang Zhong replied, "The steward of my father's estate had it prepared yesterday."

"I see, then goodbye, Alyosha," Princess Olga said as she waved her hand and left with reluctant steps.

Morozov looked at Wang Zhong, "Your Highness, to help you, did she sneak out of the palace? You… your…"

Wang Zhong interjected, "That's not the case! My fiancée is my childhood sweetheart, Ludmila Vasilyevna Malyukhova. She has already moved into my estate in Ye Fort."

"Oh," Morozov nodded, "I understand now."

You don't understand at all with that expression!

Wang Zhong couldn't be bothered to clarify further, "When can we start producing the tanks?"

"Adjusting the production line and such requires till the end of August. I estimate the first tank can be produced at the beginning of September. Would you like them to be delivered one by one, or should we wait until we have enough for a trainload to send all at once?" asked Morozov.

Wang Zhong replied, "Save up enough for a railcar to send them together. How many can fit in a railcar?"

"Two."

"Then let's do that. When the time comes, go to General Chekhov of the Reserve Army to get the railcars, he'll handle it."

"Understood," Morozov took out his notebook, noted down the name and unit of General Chekhov, "Then I will arrange for production."

Wang Zhong checked the time, it was past four in the afternoon, and although he had been running around Ye Fort the entire day, the results were very good—not just good, but could be described as enormously rewarding.

He had run through the production process; once the design bureau was taken care of, he could start manufacturing on his own.

With Princess Olga, who held the seal, tasks under the guise of special royal missions could yield many fine things.

But he was genuinely tired, having not stopped the whole day, likely covering dozens of kilometers.

It was time to return to his own estate for a good rest.

Ludmila and Nelly had gone to the estate in the morning, and he wondered how things there were.

Thinking of this, Wang Zhong bid farewell to Morozov, "Then I shall take my leave. Are my guards still in the waiting room? Please notify them."

"Of course," Morozov replied.

————

Half an hour later, Wang Zhong saw the gates of his estate.

And in front of it, a mass of refugees.

Rokossovsky's estate was on the outskirts of Ye Fort, surrounded by the suburban areas of Ye Fort which were now covered with tents.

He saw priests and nuns from the church distributing food everywhere.

Wang Zhong instructed, "Do you see that church stall? Pull up beside it!"

Grigori immediately complied.

Wang Zhong got out of the car and asked the priest, "What's going on? Why are there so many refugees?"

The priest glanced at Wang Zhong, "General Rokossovsky?"

Wang Zhong confirmed, "That's me. Answer my question."

The priest explained, "Ye Fort is the junction of all railway lines. People fleeing from the west need to pass through Ye Fort to head east. But now that the railway scheduling has stalled, people have been stranded here.

"Of course, the east is tough, and some people don't want to go and choose to stay in Ye Fort instead."

No sooner had the priest finished than a woman spoke up, "I'm already so old, and I've heard that Siberia can drop to minus fifty degrees in the winter. Without proper heating and only able to burn wood, I won't survive the first winter."

Wang Zhong wanted to say something but found himself unable to speak.

Then the priest added, "Here in Ye Fort, you also have to burn fuel; where around here is there a central heating boiler? Actually, the east has some warm places too, with huge grasslands. Right now, our meat and eggs all come from there."

Wang Zhong silently took a step back and returned to the car. Compared to the church, there wasn't much he could do.

"Let's go, enter the manor."

Grigori released the handbrake.

————

The butler Mikhail, with a team of maids, greeted Wang Zhong beside the fountain at the entrance of the manor's main building.

When Grigori stopped the car, all the maids bowed in unison: "Young Master Rokossov."

Wang Zhong frowned slightly: "Isn't it a bit wasteful to have so many people serving just me?"

The butler Mikhail immediately replied: "They are also responsible for managing the manor's industries; a considerable part of the meat and eggs distributed to the refugees by the church outside is provided by us."

Wang Zhong was astonished: "Is that so? I thought this manor was only responsible for indulgences of the wealthy."

Mikhail: "Since the civil war ended, the master has been striving to transform the structure of our industries, releasing the farmland to the peasants and mainly operating large ranches, vineyards, meat processing factories, and other grain processing industries."

Wang Zhong "oh"ed in response.

Mikhail: "Most of these maids are salaried, and only those who have been serving your family like me don't take wages. In fact, in the past, we even had to pay taxes on your behalf."

I see, you are my vassals.

Wang Zhong got out of the car and waved at the maids: "All right, no more bowing, that's enough, don't treat me like a noble."

The maids then straightened up.

Noticing the absence of Nelly, Wang Zhong inquired: "Where's Nelly?"

"She is your military orderly now, not part of the maids anymore," Mikhail explained, "After all, she wears a boat-shaped cap, not a maid's headband."

Is that so?

Wang Zhong: "Then where is Liu Xia? My dear Liu Xia, where did she go?"

I'm tired from the day and want Liu Xia's embrace.

Mikhail: "Liu Da, as the lady of the house, is directing tonight's ball."

Wang Zhong frowned: "A ball? Do you know what time it is now? To hold a ball at a time of national crisis?"

Mikhail remained unfazed: "Of course, the ball will be as simplified as possible, mainly serving a social function. Many old friends of the master will come tonight, and it's a good opportunity to introduce you to them.

"I assure you, there won't be any lavish waste."

Wang Zhong did not believe it at all; in his view, holding a ball itself was an act of lavish waste because there was no need for such an event during a war.

Wang Zhong: "Don't hold any balls. For introducing my father's old friends, a simple meal would do! Tell Liu Xia to stop the preparations."

Mikhail: "A meal? Would that... be very impolite?"

"If anyone thinks that's impolite, then he doesn't deserve to be a friend of the Rokossov, got it?"

Mikhail looked at Wang Zhong again: "Understood."

Wang Zhong: "Also, change the guest list. In addition to my father's old friends, also invite the weapon designers currently in Ye Fort, as well as the young officers who got along well with me in Ye Fort."

"Young officers...?" Mikhail squinted his eyes, confirming.

"Yes, young officers. Preferably those without old nobility backgrounds, from families of peasants, fishermen, and cobblers, and also those who have family members working as forest rangers, clerks, dentists are fine too. Old nobility can come too, provided they don't despise officers of civilian origin."

Mikhail reminded: "Young Master, it's already close to six o'clock now, we can't notify that many people in time, why don't we invite them to dinner tomorrow instead?"

Wang Zhong looked up at the sky, seeing that it was already dusk, and nodded: "That's fine. Let Liu Xia decide on the menu... uh, can it still be decided now? Has everything been prepared already?"

"It's all been prepared," said Mikhail.

Wang Zhong: "Alright. I'm going to take a bath now."

————

At the hastily changed dinner party, Wang Zhong saw many old men he didn't recognize at all.

If it were a ball, there would be an entrance ceremony before the opening, during which Mikhail and Liu Xia could introduce each guest one by one.

Since it was changed to a dinner party, the only option was for Mikhail to stand by Wang Zhong's side, introducing whomever came to toast.

There were indeed a lot of these people, and with the Ante names being so infernally long, after one round, Wang Zhong was completely dizzy, as though he had been drinking vodka instead of plain water.

In any case, by ten o'clock that evening, Wang Zhong's distaste for the culture of banquet dinners had risen to a new level.

Right on ten, the maids brought in many chairs, and a small orchestra with their instruments walked in, sitting down in a corner of the dining hall.

The conductor of the orchestra, seizing the moment when no one was toasting at Wang Zhong's table, spoke loudly: "Ladies and gentlemen! As we all know, heroic epics have always been an enduring musical theme! As the conductor of the Ye Fort Symphony Orchestra, I have been moved by the heroic deeds of Duke Rokossov!

"I have composed a brand-new heroic epic, and now, please allow me, to dedicate it to the Duke!"

Wang Zhong frowned: "I'm not a Duke yet."

Ludmila leaned in and whispered: "Just be glad he didn't call you a prince."

Wang Zhong: "Why are you starting with this joke too, I'm going to marry you."

Ludmila smiled: "I know. That's why I can make this joke."

At that moment, the conductor turned around, picked up his baton, and gestured to begin.