The military is , perhaps, the most inefficient organization in existence.
A machine of consumption without productivity, it is a singular entity in any nation that takes its endless expenditures for granted. Its reach extends far and wide, shaping industries and driving innovation under the guise of necessity. Yet, its core is steeped in hierarchy, with a single commander issuing orders to thousands below, and an inherent aversion to change running through its veins.
This resistance to progress has become a defining trait, so much so that even progressive youths often emerge from their military service transformed into staunch traditionalists—a change so common that it is the punchline of countless jokes.
Among the many ailments of this monolithic structure, corruption festers most easily in military procurement. From the greatest empires to fledgling nations, military graft is a universal ailment. Even future superpowers, like the United States, failed to stamp it out, opting instead to publicize and tolerate it within "acceptable" bounds.
Retired generals inevitably join arms manufacturers, their post-service careers cemented in the unspoken pact: keep it discreet, and it won't be called corruption.
And sitting across from Fang Ming now was the epitome of that archetype: Major General Robert. His demeanor was oiled with arrogance, his sagging cheeks betraying a life of indulgence.
His mere presence seemed to radiate a demand for bribes, his features a caricature of greed made flesh.
"Good day, Mr. Fang," the general began, offering a curt nod to Ming's father. His hand remained at his side—a deliberate slight, reflecting the bigotry that coursed through the veins of many in his station. In this era, many white men reserved handshakes for their equals, and Robert clearly did not count Fang Ming's father among them.
"Greetings, General. I am Fang Shin. Please, feel free to call me Shin," Fang Ming's father replied politely, his voice steady.
"'Shin,' you say? How fittingly... Eastern. Like sin itself, ha!" Robert's laughter filled the room, sharp and cutting.
The room froze. Even the junior officers seated nearby exchanged uneasy glances, their discomfort plain. Yet none dared to challenge the general's audacity. In the military, rank was absolute, and Robert wielded his like a cudgel.
But Fang Ming's father was unshaken. Drawing the rosary from his wrist, he replied smoothly, "Perhaps that is why I place my faith so strongly in God."
The general's smirk faltered, his attempt at humor falling flat in the face of Shin's composure. Shifting gears, he turned his attention to Fang Ming, his voice laced with condescension.
"And why, pray tell, have you brought this boy? This is a place of business, not a playground."
Fang Ming's father, still calm, replied, "This is my son, Fang Ming. He will handle all negotiations. I am here only to sign the contract."
Robert's eyes narrowed as he looked between the father and son. "So, you're telling me that this boy speaks for you? That his words carry the weight of your family?"
"Precisely," Shin confirmed, stepping back as if to signify his withdrawal from the discussion.
"Well then," Robert began, fixing his gaze on Fang Ming. "I've heard of you, boy. A parasite feeding off my soldiers, they say."
His tone was dripping with disdain, each word meant to provoke. Fang Ming felt the general's gaze flicker toward his father—a subtle jab at the elder for entrusting such an important matter to a mere teenager. But Shin remained silent, his eyes closed in quiet contemplation.
Fang Ming, however, was unfazed. If his lifetimes were combined, he had outlived this pompous fool thrice over. He met Robert's insult with an unwavering grin.
"Parasite? I prefer to think of it as symbiosis. Like the crocodile and the plover bird, my services ensure your soldiers' comfort while I thrive. Were I truly an inconvenience, no one would use my services. But here we are, providing top-tier support at unbeatable prices."
His words carried the precision of a blade wrapped in velvet—a polite veneer concealing a cutting edge.
Robert cleared his throat, visibly perturbed by the boy's composure. "Hmm."
Fang Ming seized the opening. "General, our ship is already prepared. The cargo hold is cleared, the crew assembled, and the paperwork finalized. Once loaded, the supplies will reach their destination within four days."
Robert's eyes narrowed, his interest piqued despite himself. This boy wasn't just confident—he was prepared. Yet, the general's mind raced, calculating his next move. If Fang Ming had already placed all his cards on the table, it meant he had everything to lose.
"Let me guess, Fang Ming. You've staked everything on this deal, haven't you?"
"Correct. But I'm not chasing a one-time profit. I'm looking at the bigger picture—a long-term supply contract that benefits us both."
Robert snorted. "You think you're very special? Do you have any idea how many merchants would kill for this opportunity to have it ? I could circle this camp thrice over with their lines."
The junior officers in the room exchanged knowing smirks. They saw the game for what it was: a test of endurance, one that would Fang Ming dry or leave him indebted to them all. Yet Fang Ming remained unshaken.
"General, I'm offering you more than just a deal. I'm offering a solution. With Hong Kong as a hub, I can supply your garrisons more efficiently and at a lower cost than anyone else. Let others try to match my prices—they won't succeed."
Robert leaned back, his expression unreadable. "And why should I trust you?"
Fang Ming stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You don't have to trust me, General. In fact, I encourage you to doubt me at every turn. But here's my offer: ten percent of all supplies, set aside just for you."
Robert's lips twitched, his gaze sharpening. Fang Ming had played his hand, and the stakes had never been higher.
The room fell silent, the weight of Fang Ming's proposition hanging heavy in the air. For a moment, even Robert was at a loss for words.
But in the young merchant's unwavering stare, he saw something rare—something dangerous.
Ambition.