Chapter 310
Chapter 310
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Side Story 1: Sheep Shearing
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I had never once spared a minute or a second to think about life after retirement.
Truth be told, I hadn't even had the luxury to do so.
My days had been a nonstop sprint, always charging straight ahead.
As a result, I had no idea how to spend the extra time handed to me after stepping down.
Sure, I'd impulsively decided on an overseas trip, but my standards hadn't changed much from my days as prime minister.
*I thought I'd relax, but doing nothing feels even more uncomfortable. My hands are itching for something to do.*
That said, I couldn't go looking for work.
My wife would never stand for it.
*Let's take it slow and check out EA first.*
I decided to start by visiting EA, which was practically an extension of Korea itself.
My first stop was my longtime neighbor, Nanjing.
"Might as well go somewhere China has good tourist spots."
It wasn't my idea—it was my wife who insisted so strongly that I couldn't refuse.
"Are there any must-sees in Jiangnan?"
Jiangbei came to mind first for tourist sites, but Jiangnan had plenty worth picking out too.
I resolved to visit only the famous scenic spots in Jiangnan with decent security.
Even so, just in case, I'd brought bodyguards from Pyongyang, and the Nanjing authorities had promised to provide protection as well.
Touring China's attractions like any ordinary visitor, I felt a strange mix of emotions.
*Is this China Westernized... or Koreanized?*
Korean influences permeated every Chinese city.
People's clothing and makeup weren't much different from Koreans'.
Korean impact was especially strong in the food.
It was commonplace to get kimchi instead of pickled cabbage, or bulgogi rice bowls instead of mapo tofu at restaurants.
Mala tang with kimchi in it was honestly a cultural shock all its own.
The overall cultural climate had shifted so close to Korea's that I barely felt any discomfort with the food.
What did bother me wasn't the cuisine, but the excessive attention from the Chinese people.
"His Excellency Lee Sung-jun is visiting China."
"Former Prime Minister Lee Sung-jun is paying respects at Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum."
"His Excellency Lee Sung-jun personally views Tianju and praises Chinese culture."
Wherever I went, crowds gathered like clouds.
They shouted my name in awkward Korean, whether I understood or not.
"Your Excellency Lee Sung-jun!"
I couldn't fathom why these hordes were trailing me so persistently—it was getting annoying.
"Was there really this much excitement in China over my visit?"
Not understanding the situation, I asked the accompanying Korean ambassador for an explanation.
"You're misunderstanding things, Your Excellency."
The ambassador explained just how legendary the name Lee Sung-jun was in China.
"In Nanjing, your stature surpasses even President Miao Bin."
"What kind of talk is that? How could a former prime minister from another country outrank China's leader?"
I'd never heard anything like it, even during my tenure.
"You championed Asianism, didn't you, Your Excellency?"
Ah. Right.
From an Asianism perspective, Lee Sung-jun wasn't just some foreign leader.
He was the standard-bearer waving Asia's flag against the white race, the very symbol of yellow-skinned defiance against racial discrimination.
"Here, it's trendy for people to recite your quotes in broken Korean."
That was beyond anything I'd expected.
If Asianism held this much sway, Nanjing had virtually no chance of breaking away from EA and the Third World bloc.
At a university lecture I gave at Nanjing's invitation, young Chinese openly showed their admiration.
"Your Excellency, EA—which you championed—is seen as the world's most exemplary model for political and economic community. What inspired you to create it?"
"Europe."
I explained that I'd drawn from the Holy Roman Empire, a collection of numerous states functioning under one framework of common law.
"Seeing all those countries bound together under shared rule made me think Asia could use something similar."
Of course, EA's real purpose at launch wasn't harmonious coexistence among members—it was a tool to sustain Korea's hegemony.
As if Lee Sung-jun would believe in something as naive as mutual prosperity.
A new questioner raised their hand.
"As the man who built the world's second superpower, may I ask your esteemed opinion? If given time, could our China enter the top five economic powers?"
In the original timeline, the PRC never would have asked such a question.
Back then, during the US-China trade war era, it wasn't chasing second place—it was a monstrous nation hot on the heels of number one.
But Nanjing now was barely scraping into the top five, and even that felt like a stretch.
With Korea snatching most opportunities in high-tech industries and capital accumulation, breaking into the lead pack was little more than a pipe dream.
Still, I gave them a plausible answer.
"It's possible. I believe the Republic of China (Nanjing) can become the world's third-largest economy."
The Chinese took my words gravely.
That evening, they flooded the internet with nationalistic articles, high on patriotic fervor.
"World leader Lee Sung-jun sees China's bright future! The dream of the Republic of China (Nanjing) as the world's third economic powerhouse!"
I figured China had zero shot at third in this world.
Even if luck let them surpass European nations, towering above them was the Soviet behemoth.
I'd planned to toss out some lip service and be done with it, but things didn't unfold so innocently.
Soon, word came from Pyongyang.
"Your Excellency, a telegram from Pyongyang. If possible, they ask you to receive it at the embassy."
I headed straight to the embassy upon getting the message.
"Is this line secure?"
Always mindful of eavesdropping, I double-checked security.
"Yes, it's a direct line to Pyongyang."
I had the embassy staff send my response.
Soon, Kim Jeong-gil's telegram arrived from Pyongyang.
"Your Excellency. Do you really think Nanjing can become the world's third-largest economy?"
"It was just lip service. As if."
"You call it lip service, Your Excellency, but the markets aren't reacting that way at all."
"What do you mean?"
"In just a few weeks, Chinese stocks—and even real estate—have started surging."
What?
I wore a stunned expression for a moment.
My few words had set stocks and property dancing?
What kind of joke was this?
But I couldn't deny the reality unfolding before me.
"So, about what I said..."
I started to backtrack, then paused.
"Pretend that message never happened. Send a new one."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
I gathered my thoughts.
*Nanjing's bubble is an opportunity for Korea.*
If Korea were locked in a survival struggle with America, I'd have stepped in to pop Nanjing's bubble myself.
But Nanjing now wasn't an ally we needed endlessly bigger—it was a rival we had to keep in check at the right size.
I sent my sorted thoughts as a telegram.
"It's a good thing. We could even pump more capital in from Korea to inflate the bubble further."
I explained to Kim Jeong-gil the sheep-shearing techniques America had used in the original timeline.
Even original-timeline Korea had gotten sheared that way during the foreign exchange crisis, fattening America's coffers.
"Won't that hurt alliance feelings? The losses could outweigh the gains, no?"
As a reasonable man, Kim Jeong-gil recoiled at the idea of fleecing an ally.
"Sure, it might ruffle some feathers."
During the original IMF crisis, America had pressured Japan to withhold even a single coin from Korea, backing Seoul into a dead-end alley.
That kind of overt pressure naturally bred resentment.
But if it looked like they'd collapsed from their own mistakes—like Japan's bubble—there'd be no reason for backlash.
"Do you get my meaning?"
"I understand, Your Excellency."
Even if Kim Jeong-gil was milder than Lee Sung-jun, he couldn't hide his nature as a politician of imperial Korea.
Kim Jeong-gil replied that he'd properly shear Nanjing.
I was pleased with his response.
If this went well, Nanjing's spine would snap clean—maybe not right away, but a few years down the line.
After exchanging those secret telegrams with Pyongyang, I schooled my expression back to normal.
Since things had come to this, I decided to treat the China trip as an extension of work for Korea.
Thinking of it as serving Korea again after so long filled me with vigor.
I energetically touted China's rise—something I'd only halfheartedly lip-serviced before.
"A new twentieth century with Nanjing as the economic powerhouse. China's ascent is no dream. The world's most diligent and hardworking Han nation can absolutely build the third-largest economy."
I even boldly used "Super China" in the press.
Reactions to my upbeat lectures on China's prospects were hotter than ever.
"World leader Lee Sung-jun speaks of the Chinese Dream."
"The latter half of the twentieth century will be led by Korea and China."
Of course, I didn't believe a word of China's rise as I spouted it.
I'd shear their wool first—how else?
I brazenly piled on the lies, stoking Chinese nationalism further.
"In that spirit, I plan to encourage my children to learn Chinese."
To boost credibility, I had Lee Se-eun memorize a few Chinese phrases.
I brought her to a lecture and had her greet the audience.
"Hello, I'm Lee Se-eun. It's a pleasure to meet you all."
Seeing Korea's princess(?) greet them in Chinese convinced the crowd that Lee Sung-jun meant every word.
*As if.*
In truth, picking up a few phrases of the local language to feign familiarity was outdated by the 21st century.
But in the mid-20th century, still alive with naive romanticism, the trick worked like a charm.
I planned to stay in China a while longer, using this method to rattle their nerves.
Pyongyang would handle the service fee for my fine show.
I grabbed the mic again for Korea's bountiful harvest.