Softly, Without a Sound

"Promoting the appreciation of the Nagaril will greatly benefit our cooperation and our efforts to help Nagaril achieve industrial self-sufficiency!"

In the heart of Bu Peien, Mr. Truman was chatting with Diplomat from the Nagaril United Kingdom, discussing the issue of increasing the value of the Galil.

The two sat in the courtyard, where the ground was covered with tender green turf. Each foot of this turf cost as much as four dollars and five hundred thousand five cents. Beyond the low fence was a bustling street.

Finding tranquility amidst movement offers a unique experience.

Occasionally, passersby would notice the two people chatting on the lawn in the yard. Some people would look slightly confused, as if they vaguely remembered one of them, as if they had seen him somewhere before, but couldn't quite place him.

Their busy lives and work leave them little time to stop and quietly reflect on things unrelated to work, and they are destined to leave this place with only doubts, envy, and jealousy.

A lawn that costs several dollars per foot... that's more than just a luxury.

These lawns will only stay here for about two or three months, and once their color deepens, the homeowner will replace them.

There are at least hundreds of square meters of lawn here. The price of replacing this turf alone is beyond the reach of many people. This is why people are envious and jealous, but it is also the motivation for them to work even harder.

Here, having wealth means having everything.

The two people on the lawn, who were considered part of the scenery by others, did not stop and continued chatting.

The Nagaril Diplomat held a coffee cup in one hand and stirred it with a spoon in the other, looking somewhat distracted.

From the moment the two sides exchanged their credentials, Mr. Truman advocated for an increase in the value of the Galil, but the opinions of Diplomat and the Central Government of the United Kingdom were to put this on hold for the time being, as they felt that the Federal would not be so kind.

From the perspective of the Nagaril People, this is actually a good thing, because the appreciation of the Galil means that their money is worth more. This appreciation of currency value is not obvious in the domestic economic structure, but it is particularly evident in foreign trade, especially import trade.

For example, right now, if the Nagaril People want to import a product worth one hundred Federal Sol from the Federal, they would need to pay ten thousand Galil. This is just a hypothetical scenario.

After the currency appreciates, they may only need to pay eight thousand Galil to buy this item.

Without increasing or decreasing the base of the issued and circulating currency, they can buy more with less money, which does no harm to the Nagaril People and the country.

They can buy more with the same amount of money, which is exactly what they need right now. If they want to develop more rapidly, they cannot do without economic support.

The problem is that everyone felt the Federal wouldn't be so kind as to help them. During the process of establishing diplomatic relations, the diplomatic corps, the Central Government of Nagaril, and the Diplomat had seen through the Federal's true intentions.

Many people say that Nagaril is a backward and barbaric country, but they feel that compared to the face of the Federal ruling class, they are the truly barbaric ones! "Mr. Truman, I know what you mean, and I am actively communicating with the country..." the Diplomat said helplessly, "I am just a Diplomat, and it is pointless to make things difficult for me."

He spoke of being pitiful, and he seemed pitiful, but everyone knew the real situation quite well; it was just routine "casual conversation."

Mr. Truman smiled, took off his sunglasses, played with them for a moment, and then put them back on. "How have you been doing here in the Federal?"

The sudden "casual conversation" caught Nagaril's Diplomat off guard, but Diplomat are quick to react. He put down his coffee cup and started chatting.

"Indeed, life here is very rich, more interesting than life in Nagaril. But every advantage has its disadvantage. The people here value money and power too much, which makes them lose themselves in the desire for money and power."

"In this respect, it is unlike the Nagaril. We have a firm faith, and neither money nor power can shake the faith of the Nagaril People. We may be poor, but we are rich in spirit!"

The Diplomat then mentioned his earlier choice of words, "This is a term I only recently learned: spiritual wealth. I didn't know how to describe this kind of thing before, but now I do. Spiritual wealth is a very accurate description."

"We are poor in material possessions, but rich in spirit!"

This was the most suitable explanation he could find. He couldn't lie through his teeth and say that Nagaril was richer or about as rich as the Federal, nor could he say that Nagaril People simply enjoyed poverty. So he used spiritual wealth to offset material poverty, thus saving face for himself and his country.

Mr. Truman looked at him with a smile, "You are a qualified Diplomat. You are honest and humorous..." Both of them knew what he meant by "humorous."

"The Federal has the world's most advanced science and technology. We are at the forefront of the world in scientific frontiers, which means that we can create more valuable wealth and give people a better life and experience."

"Moreover, we have a free social structure; everything is free, including elections..."

Mr. Truman was also a master of rhetoric, and the Diplomat could not refute what he said; they could only nod and agree with him.

Just after he said a few words, he suddenly changed the subject, "So, have you considered settling down here?"

The Nagaril Diplomat nearly fell off his chair, then quickly bent down to straighten his trousers to cover his embarrassment. "I am a Nagaril People, and a Diplomat, Mr. Truman. Your question is an insult to my character. If you intend to say such things to me, I think we can end this conversation."

He was very firm and his stance was very clear.

Mr. Truman had no intention of letting him off the hook. "I've investigated you. In Nagaril, you belong to a clan that can barely be considered first-rate in the Central Government. You're not here to confront us diplomatically; they're just using you as a scapegoat..."

The Diplomat's personal background had long been thoroughly investigated. He had studied in Gefra, and the rulers of Nagaril were all incredibly wealthy. As long as they were willing to pay, Preton could arrange for them to study anywhere.

When Diplomat from Gefra, who had been influenced by imperialism, returned home, they were not well-received, partly because some of their ideas conflicted with the mainstream Ruling Class in Nagaril.

For example, improving the quality of the people can certainly enhance national strength, but it may also give rise to dangerous thoughts in some people. Secondly, the so-called strong country requires too much cost, which is not something that can be accomplished by one family or one clan. It requires all the clans and rulers of Nagaril to unite together.

But is that possible? These people have been fighting for hundreds of years—struggles between regimes, struggles between theocrats, and struggles between regimes and theocrats. This isn't just talk; it's a brutal struggle where the loser's entire family is wiped out.

It's simply impossible for these people to put aside their prejudices and unite, so he is also an outlier.

Ultimately, he was too heavily brainwashed by imperialism during his studies in Gefra. Of course, one could also say that he recognized the drawbacks of Nagaril, but in any case, he was not a likable member.

The purpose of sending him to the Federal this time is to dump this guy who fantasizes about impossible things here and let him fend for himself.

He won't receive any praise for doing a good job.

If he doesn't do a good job, it's a good opportunity to hold him accountable, killing two birds with one stone.

"I've heard some stories about your time at the Royal University Gefra ..." Mr. Truman said, a playful look in his eyes. "You are a very thoughtful person, but Nagaril cannot support your dreams; they may even see you as an enemy."

"You must remember Lin Qi. He once said something that I think is very true: You have outstanding abilities, and you also need a perfect stage. There is none there, but there is one here."

"Your unrealistic ideas in Nagaril have become possible here; at least I really like some of your ideas."

"You just mentioned spiritual wealth. Neither material wealth nor spiritual wealth falls from the sky; people need to pursue it. What is your pursuit?"

With that, Mr. Truman downed his coffee in one gulp, then stood up. "Consider my proposal. Stay here; you'll have a much bigger stage to perform on."

"Call me when you've made up your mind. I'll be waiting for your good news..."

Standing on the side of the road watching Mr. Truman's car drive away, the Diplomat had a strange expression.

He knew the Federal had investigated his past, but he didn't see it as an excessive offense; rather, it reflected how much the Federal government valued him.

Because you only want to know more about someone if you care about them. You'll search for all the information about a stranger you like, but you never think about figuring out why homeless people are homeless.

The Federal valued him highly, and he was somewhat proud, yet also felt a strange sense of absurdity. He was well aware that the olive branch extended by the Federal was actually intended to get him to contact the country and persuade them to agree to the appreciation of the Galil.

He is a bridge between Nagaril and the Federal, and although some people do treat him as an annoying guy and kick him over there, people still have to respect his opinions.

Back in his seat, bathed in the brighter sun, enjoying the more dazzling sunlight, the warmer temperature, the more pleasant breeze, and the more fragrant coffee, his thoughts were like fallen leaves swirling in the wind, somewhat chaotic.