An opportunity —The phrase sounded casual, but in Pierre's ears, it carried a far heavier weight.
Before he could respond, Louis continued:
"Look over there..."
He motioned with his knife and fork toward a group of well-dressed n seated nearby, clearly not governnt officials.
"So of them are from Morgan, others from Rockefeller, GM, Ford... In short, they all belong to Arica's major financial groups and industrial giants.
Unlike the governnt officials arguing to dismantle the British colonial empire with sharp words, these n are quietly taking over the postwar world without firing a single shot or spilling a single drop of blood.
All they need are money and supplies."
His tone grew sharp with sarcasm as he cut into his steak.
"Wherever there are important mines, factories, or banks, Arican corporations are moving in and swallowing them whole.
The British can't do a thing about it.
See those n eating steak, just like us?"
With a casual air, Louis sliced through his steak, his words tinged with mockery.
"While Sherry's husband is dropping bombs over Germany, and Beth's lover is eating sand in North Africa, these polite, refined Arican tycoons are busy drawing their own map of the postwar world.
Not Roosevelt's political map, nor the generals' battle maps — but their own, a map drawn with mountains of wealth, rivers of assets, towns of industry, and armies of capital.
They are fighting a world war too — but this war does not belong to Sherry's husband, Beth's lover, or the millions of ordinary n and won.
It belongs to the Arican tycoons."
He set down his knife and fork as if the Arican beef on his plate had lost all appeal. His tone beca serious:
"And if you can seize the opportunity, you can be part of it."
— Whoa.
Hearing those words, Pierre suddenly had a thought:
This man is no ordinary diplomat.
Indeed, not many people in 1943 could so clearly see through Arica's postwar ambitions — and articulate it so plainly.
It wasn't 1953 yet, after all.
"Part of it? How exactly?"
Louis smiled.
"So eat the at, so drink the soup.
All you need is to grab your chance.
And how do you grab it?
By clinging tightly to the Aricans."
He spoke matter-of-factly:
"In the coming years, as the British withdraw from their colonies, the Aricans — especially their corporations — will step in.
If you establish good ties with them now, you'll have no trouble making money later."
Well, the first half sounded reasonable... but the second half felt almost sycophantic.
The contrast was so abrupt it left Pierre montarily speechless.
Still, Louis's next words — 'If you want to make real money, earn it from the Aricans' — made perfect sense.
"Brother Chengjie, I am truly impressed,"
Pierre said respectfully.
"Bah, it's nothing,"
Louis laughed modestly.
"Everything I just said is borrowed wisdom.
Ambassador Louis often reminds us at the embassy:
This great war is a once-in-a-lifeti opportunity for our country."
He went on, his voice lowering:
"To avoid repeating the mistakes of the last world war, Arica will dismantle the British and French colonial empires for its own gain.
After the war, Asia will change drastically.
Japan will fall; Britain and France will be driven out by the Aricans.
In order to maintain a balance in Asia, the Aricans will inevitably support China."
He paused aningfully.
"If even a nation can rise by holding fast to Arica, how could an individual not prosper?
When the Aricans feast on the at, even the soup will be enough to make soone rich beyond their dreams.
Crude though his words might have been, the logic was sound.
Whether one clung to the Aricans or not, the collapse of the British and French colonial empires was inevitable.
In the coming years, under the combined pressure of the United States and the Soviet Union, those vast empires would crumble with astonishing speed.
What would remain?
A world full of spoils.
Resources.
Markets.
Vast opportunities.
The doors of the world would swing open — mostly to Arican capital, yes — but there would still be enough scraps for others to feast on.
Those who seized the chance could make fortunes.
Hadn't Japan and South Korea, in the postwar years, followed behind Arica and drunk deeply from that "soup"?
Hadn't they built corporate empires during that ti?
As the evening wore on, Pierre and his cousin spoke at length.
All the while, his eyes drifted again and again to the Aricans in their fine suits.
So were officials, others were corporate managers.
They sipped rare Scotch whiskies and French wines — luxuries ordinary people could barely dream of in warti.
They cut into steaks, but symbolically, it wasn't just beef they were slicing.
They were carving up the British Empire itself.
Amid casual conversation and polite laughter, they were laying claim to the postwar world.
"They're the real victors,"
Pierre realized.
In that mont, he finally understood why people said Arica was the true winner of the war.
Their gains were almost unimaginable.
They hadn't just turned Europe's nations into their loyal lapdogs, they were also quietly taking control of the world's wealth.
In fact, it was during this very war that the foundations of the modern multinational corporation were laid.
Arican companies used their warti profits to fund exiled governnts, to prop up struggling foreign firms, to buy stock at prices so low it was nearly theft.
While millions of Allied soldiers bled for the cause of "justice for all humanity" — From Asia to Africa, from the Pacific to the Atlantic — These suited gentlen were cutting quiet deals with desperate governnts in exile.
They were buying up the most promising mines, oil fields, and factories.
Not content with that, they were redrawing the maps of the world in their favor.
Through political pressure, Arican officials forced Britain and France to give up their empires.
And behind them, the Arican financial giants waited, patient as sleeping beasts, ready to pounce the mont opportunity struck.
In the clink of wine glasses and the quiet rustle of linen napkins, Pierre saw those Arican gentlen for what they really were — Dormant giants, lying in wait.
And in this long, slow ga, anyone perceptive enough to see the truth — and brave enough to act — could reap trendous rewards.
Wasn't this his chance too?
Swirling the glass of French wine in his hand, Pierre Smiled.
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