Chapter 1300: Compatriot

Bosses are usually very busy.

After all, when a company reaches a certain scale, the boss has to handle all kinds of big and small matters.

Zhao Fusheng was no exception, so he didn't have much free time.

Free time like today was the first for Zhao Fusheng since arriving in Korea.

"Where to?"

Hu Donghai asked Zhao Fusheng hesitantly.

Zhao Fusheng smiled: "Let's just wander around. After all, in Korea, you can travel the whole country by train."

That was true, because South Korea's land area is so small that a two- or three-hour train ride can take you from one side to the other.

Compared to domestic trains, Korean trains are naturally a bit better, after all, they are the main means of transportation here, and with fewer people, the trains aren't as crowded as in China.

Zhao Fusheng, along with a few bodyguards, randomly picked a train at the station, bought tickets, and boarded.

Once on the train, Zhao Fusheng glanced at the ticket and realized the text was all in Korean. He knew the departure point was Seoul, but as for the destination, he found he couldn't read it.

"Um, do you guys understand Korean?" Zhao Fusheng looked at Hu Donghai.

Hu Donghai looked completely bewildered: "What?"

Well, he didn't understand either.

Helplessly sighing, Zhao Fusheng thought for a moment and decided to just sit still and wait for the conductor to come by. After all, as a conductor, they might understand English.

After a while, instead of the conductor, a girl came and sat opposite him. She looked about sixteen or seventeen, wearing a typical Korean school uniform—a white top and a black skirt—looking exceptionally pure and elegant.

The girl had long hair, a delicate and gentle face, and clear, beautiful eyes. Zhao Fusheng casually glanced at her a couple of times, feeling she looked somewhat familiar.

Unexpectedly, his action displeased her, and she glared at him fiercely.

Zhao Fusheng felt a bit awkward, shook his head with a wry smile, and said nothing.

After a while, another person came and sat opposite him—a middle-aged man with glasses carrying a suitcase. Glancing at his clothes, Zhao Fusheng suddenly smiled and said, "Hello, Chinese?"

"You too?"

The middle-aged man was startled, then asked in surprise, "How did you know I'm Chinese?"

Zhao Fusheng laughed: "A Korean probably wouldn't wear K-Boxing men's wear."

"Ah? Hahaha, right, right." The man was taken aback, then laughed and said to Zhao Fusheng, "Young man, you've got sharp eyes."

With that, the two began to chat.

After talking, Zhao Fusheng learned that this was a train heading to Gwangju, South Korea. The middle-aged man, surnamed Chen, was in the export wholesale business in Korea and was going to Gwangju for work.

"Gwangju is quite famous in Korea. They say there are still wild men in the mountains there," Old Chen said, seemingly delighted to meet a fellow Chinese, and he chattered on, sharing all the gossip he knew with Zhao Fusheng.

Wild men?

Zhao Fusheng was startled and looked at Old Chen in surprise: "There are still wild men these days?"

Old Chen smiled: "Not exactly wild men. It seems they were guerrillas who went into the mountains to fight during the Gwangju Democratization Movement. We don't know the details, after all, we're Chinese, how would we know that much?"

Zhao Fusheng nodded, now curious: "Uncle Chen, what's this Gwangju Democratization Movement all about?"

Old Chen smiled mysteriously and explained in a low voice: "It's nothing much, just a student movement in Korea. Later it escalated into a city-wide uprising."

Zhao Fusheng gasped. It was the first time he had heard that such a thing had happened in Korea.

As Old Chen continued, Zhao Fusheng learned that such an event had indeed occurred in Korea in the 1980s.

In May 1980, in response to a massive protest in Seoul involving 100,000 people, 30,000 students and citizens in Gwangju organized a demonstration. On May 17, then-President Chun Doo-hwan, a military officer, declared the "Emergency Martial Law," expanding martial law nationwide, banning all political activities, closing university campuses, prohibiting the convening of the National Assembly, forbidding criticism of the head of state, and arresting democracy movement leaders such as Kim Dae-jung and Kim Young-sam. The martial law forces surrounded Gwangju, the capital of South Jeolla Province, in six columns, even using aircraft to airlift troops.

At 10 a.m. that day, at Chonnam National University, the stronghold of the Gwangju democracy movement, martial law forces clashed with students for the first time, killing several students and arresting many. Angry Gwangju students and citizens rose up in resistance, gathering in front of the South Jeolla Provincial Office plaza, marking the beginning of the Gwangju Uprising. The slogan "Go to the provincial office!" became the most stirring rallying cry for Gwangju citizens that year. Students and citizens, centered around the provincial office, went to Gwangju Station, the express bus terminal, and other places to block martial law forces from entering the city.

Then, the military opened fire on the crowd.

By the evening of the 20th, nearly 200,000 people had gathered and demonstrated at the provincial office. Citizens organized over 200 taxis and public buses to break through the martial law blockade and rally at the provincial office. The martial law forces cut off Gwangju's contact with the outside world. Fearing loss of control, they opened fire on the demonstrators in the early hours of the 21st, killing 54 people. On the 21st, as many as 300,000 citizens came to the provincial office, and the plaza and surrounding Geumnam-ro and Chungjang-ro were packed. A young man stood on a martial law tank, waving the national flag and shouting "Long live Gwangju!" Citizens gathered around singing the national anthem, and the military shot and killed this passionate youth.

Afterward, angry citizens established the "Citizens' Struggle Headquarters," engaging in organized and systematic resistance for a week.

"Many of Korea's current politicians were members of that movement," Old Chen said mysteriously to Zhao Fusheng. "There's a term in Korean politics called the '386 Generation.' The '3' refers to their age—most are in their thirties or forties. The '8' refers to the 1980s, when this group was in college during the turbulent transition from dictatorship to democracy. The '6' refers to the 1960s, when they were born. These people are left-leaning, advocate social justice, and represent progressive forces, standing in opposition to pro-American conservative forces. Most of President Roh Moo-hyun's advisory team are from this group. Even Roh himself once defended students who were imprisoned."

Gossip is human nature. Clearly, Old Chen, a native of Beijing who had traveled far and wide as a trader, rarely meeting a fellow countryman, was talking endlessly, telling everything he knew.

Of course, the main reason was probably that everyone around them spoke Korean and couldn't understand what he and Zhao Fusheng were saying.

"So according to you, Gwangju is the stronghold of Korea's democratic faction," Zhao Fusheng said to Old Chen with a smile after listening for a long time.

Old Chen was startled: "I wouldn't know about that, but I've heard that many people in Korea's judicial system come from Gwangju."

After all, he was just a businessman; the information he knew was all hearsay. Knowing this much was already impressive.

"Is that so?"

Zhao Fusheng blinked, suddenly remembering something.

In his previous life, he had seen a movie called "Silenced" (The Crucible), which was said to be based on a true story that happened in Gwangju. Interestingly, the story had been written as a novel long before, but it wasn't until several years later that it was made into a film, which in turn influenced the protection of the deaf and mute in Korea.

Interestingly, the film was successfully produced and caused a sensation after Roh Moo-hyun stepped down, during the terms of conservative presidents Lee Myung-bak and Park Geun-hye.

In other words, during the democratic faction's tenure, this film had never been able to be made.

Some things cannot be scrutinized too closely. If you know too much, you'll find that many seemingly beautiful things are no longer beautiful.

...

...

It must be said that having a fellow countryman along the way felt quite nice. Zhao Fusheng and Old Chen had a great chat, talking about all sorts of things. Old Chen excelled with his years of traveling and rich social experience, while Zhao Fusheng's past life experiences were not shallow either, so he could keep up with his pace.

Even when they got off the train, they exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet for drinks back in China when they had the chance.

Watching Old Chen's figure disappear, Hu Donghai frowned slightly, puzzled, but didn't ask.

"What, find it strange?"

Zhao Fusheng glanced at Hu Donghai and smiled.

Hu Donghai nodded. In his view, Zhao Fusheng was already worth billions; there was no need to associate with such a merchant.

Zhao Fusheng chuckled: "To be honest, Old Chen is a bit slick, but he's not a bad person. Think about it: he just told me everything he knew about Korea, even advised me on what to watch out for when doing business with Koreans, just because I told him earlier that I was here to explore the market."

Hu Donghai thought about it and realized that was indeed the case.

Zhao Fusheng smiled: "When you're away from home, especially abroad, as long as someone has a good heart, they'll help out a fellow countryman. Old Chen probably had that mindset, which is why he said so much."

Hu Donghai nodded, finally understanding Zhao Fusheng's point.

Just as he was about to leave, Zhao Fusheng saw a somewhat familiar figure not far away, hugging someone. He looked more closely and realized it was the girl who had sat opposite him on the train.

He smiled. Although he couldn't remember who she was, Zhao Fusheng vaguely recalled that she would later become a star on screen.

Korea really is a small country with a small population—you can even meet a future star just by taking a train.