Chapter 41: Havana

Li Yian flatly rejected the reporter's request for an interview.

It is wise to seek fame early, but the bird that sticks its head out gets shot. For a person of Asian descent to swallow a white man's factory without paying a single cent—in the eyes of some Americans, this was absolutely unacceptable. If they decided to treat him to some "zero-dollar shopping" of their own, he would be ruined. Furthermore, having a reporter come over to interview him about how he "zero-dollar shopped" would be like lighting a lantern in a latrine—just looking for trouble. Thus, Li Yian chose to refuse.

What was most important right now? Naturally, it was manufacturing his new product.

How long does it take to produce seventeen parts? Four days. From designing the jigs to manufacturing them, adjusting the machines, and using preliminary engineering processes to produce the first batch of products, it took exactly four days for the first one hundred units of the '43 model Uru submachine gun to come fresh off the line.

Running his hand over the submachine gun, Li Yian felt a surge of excitement. It wasn't just because he had designed it; it was because the emergence of this submachine gun meant he had brought a product of the future into this world. No matter what, even if it was just a submachine gun, it came from the future!

Lost in these thoughts, Li Yian raised the weapon and unleashed a burst of fire at the target in front of the wall. Amidst the rapid cracking of gunfire, the wooden target was riddled with holes. Although a few puffs of dust kicked up from the sandbags behind it, the vast majority of the bullets had struck the target.

"Not bad, not bad..." Li Yian said with a smug smile as he held the submachine gun. "This gun is certainly better than the British Sten gun. At least," he added, thumbing the safety and pulling the trigger with a laugh, "it’s safer than the British 'plumbing pipe' gun."

Watching his boss beam with pride, Karl remarked from the side, "Boss, that may be true, but even the best product must be sold, otherwise it is worthless!" Karl had deep, painful experience with this. Why had his factory been taken over by someone else? It wasn't because of the quality of his products, but because he couldn't sell them. Bringing up the past made him want to cry.

"Mr. Karl, it will definitely sell," Li Leqin, who was standing nearby, interjected. "After all, no one in this world can refuse a weapon that is both cheap and possesses excellent performance." Although Li Leqin hadn't designed this submachine gun himself, as the process engineer who participated in the entire production and design flow of the tooling, he knew very well that this was an exceptional weapon. "And this is exactly that kind of weapon. We compared it with the Thompson, the M3, and the Sten; its accuracy is higher, its reliability is better, and its cost is the lowest. Even the Sten cannot achieve such a low cost..."

How could it? The gun had only seventeen parts, and a significant portion of them were stamped.

"Li is absolutely right," chief designer Simpson added. "I checked with my old colleagues at the Inland Company. There is always a shortage of submachine guns at the front, and the M3 is considered a disposable light weapon—if it breaks, you just throw it away. So, if there is a suitable alternative, the military will certainly be willing to procure it."

"Karl, you see, the eyes of the masses are sharp," Li Yian said, turning to look at Li Leqin. He nodded at him and asked, "Where are you from? When did you come to America?"

"Boss, my hometown is Jinan, Shandong. I was admitted to Tsinghua University in '34. When the War of Resistance broke out in '37, I moved south with the school. In '38, I traveled to the United States via French Indochina to study..."

That seemingly brief answer actually encapsulated the experience of an entire generation. Why did so many talents emerge from this generation? Perhaps it was precisely because their experiences taught them what needed to be done. Looking at Li Leqin and his compatriots at the test site, Li Yian thought to himself that what he needed to do now was provide them with a platform to utilize their strengths, ensuring these talents were put to their best use.

To provide such a platform, he needed a large amount of capital. Once again, Li Yian played the role of a human mule. Unlike his previous trip to Havana, this time at the airport, besides the private driver, there was someone else: Song Bing. The girl, dressed in a chiffon gown and wearing a sun hat, stood by a car. Li Yian was taken aback when he saw her delicate beauty, which bore a slight resemblance to a famous Hong Kong actress of his future.

"Miss Song, you are here to...?"

"Hello, Mr. Li. Welcome to Havana," Song Bing said gracefully. "My father knew you were coming and asked me to pick you up. If you don't mind, you are welcome to stay at our home."

"That won't be necessary." Li Yian instinctively chose to refuse; staying in someone else's home was far too inconvenient. "Miss Song, I appreciate your father's kindness, but I have already booked a room at a hotel. Please thank him for me."

The man's courtesy and refusal made Song Bing feel somewhat uncomfortable; after all, very few people ever refused her. On the way to the hotel, in an attempt to ease the awkward atmosphere, Song Bing spoke up. "Mr. Li, thank you for your help. With your orders, all of the Chinese-owned sugar mills are back in operation. I didn't expect you to arrive so quickly, or to bring so many orders..."

Looking at the man beside her, her tone was filled with gratitude. Compared to her father's previous look of despair, he was now fully absorbed in organizing production at the sugar mills. Seeing her father so revitalized had improved her own mood significantly.

"Miss Song, you are most welcome. We are all compatriots, and helping one another is only right. Besides, the last shipment your father sent included an extra ten percent or so of goods. His integrity as a businessman is truly admirable. However, there is no need for that in the future; business is business, and we are looking forward to a long-term partnership."

Li Yian's detached tone left Song Bing feeling a sense of distance. This man seemed to be deliberately keeping her at arm's length. It was truly... hard to fathom. The girl in the chiffon gown raised an eyebrow, deciding not to speak again. However, after a few minutes, her curiosity got the better of her. "Mr. Li, what do you do in America? Is it just trade?"

"Trade is only a side business. I recently acquired a factory in New York."

Hearing this, the girl became even more curious and quickly pressed, "So Mr. Li is a factory owner too? What do you produce?"