Chapter 170: Today is the day of judgment

In the middle of the next schedule, Alan Wilson was acting like an imperial civil servant in front of Vivien Leigh, while he had nothing to say in front of Foltsevar, this was because he had gotten to know Foltsevar a little bit before, while he was still getting to know Vivien Leigh.

“Enough, don’t go overboard.” Foltseva was enraged by the face of the moralistic and hypocritical civil servant, “Don’t bluff here, even if I give you a chance you wouldn’t dare to do anything to me.”

Alan Wilson was stunned, looked up at the ceiling as he did and muttered in disbelief, “That’s right, this is London, not Moscow?”

“So what?” Foltseva said in a condescending tone, “I’m not one of your English vases.”

“Miss Ekaterina, you make me very angry.” Alan Wilson said with a serious face, “It seems that you don’t know me personally particularly well, it’s time to deepen your understanding.”

Alan Wilson admitted that he did just take a little advantage of his mouth.

Reason told him not to do risky things, but the emboldened nature of this culture czar had angered Allen Wilson, men are capable of doing anything to save face.

The schedule of the so-called Anglo-Soviet Cultural Friendship Exchange was directly arranged by Allen Wilson, and now he decided to let the Culture Czar understand what it means to have to bow down under the roof.

The course of this cultural exchange would be altered by the Culture Czar’s disdain for imperial civil servants, and Foltseva must take full responsibility. For reasons of courtesy first, Allen Wilson opened the threat through words.

To Allen Wilson’s threat, Foltseva adopted a contemptuous attitude, really think she is scared?

Things have come to this point, all good offices are no longer helpful, will be regarded as an act of weakness. Alan Wilson in front of Foltsevar, took out a key shook a little.

Foltseva was unsure and waited until Allen Wilson turned around before snapping to attention, “That’s the key to my room!”

For security reasons, it was very normal for a receptionist in charge of receiving Soviet cultural exchange delegates to have the key to the hotel where they were staying; this was, after all, London, the capital of the British Empire.

So Allen Wilson had it, and now was merely letting Foltseva know about it.

For several days in a row, Foltseva was suffering from sleeplessness, afraid of being touched in by God.

But with the schedule has come to an end, Foltseva put down the heart, and she estimated the same, but is just a bluff move.

Late in the day, a sneaky figure set off, all the performances there had ended, the daytime Anglo-Soviet Friendship Exchange Day was the last major event, and from Alan Wilson’s observations during the day, he could ascertain that the cultural representatives of both countries attending were very tired.

“Today is the day of judgment!” Changed a car Allen Wilson, decided to find the face of the British Empire in the late night today, directly from the fire escape to sneak into the hotel, the whole process reflects the professionalism as an MI6 agent, even if it is stealing incense, but also not the slightest bit false.

The entire changed a set of dress up Alan Wilson, suppressed the vigorous heartbeat, step by step towards the target looming.

In front of Foltseva’s door, Allen Wilson did a thief-like left and right glance, hand movement is not slow at all, will be the room door screwed open, as professional as sneaking into the German army headquarters.

As the door to the room was closed, not a single person except the awakened Foltseva noticed. The Soviet cultural delegates, as well as the Red Flag Song and Dance Troupe, were about to return home, and in the last few days were in a state of relaxation, letting down their guard against the class enemy.

As it turns out, once you let your guard down it’s a big loss, and it’s been quite a long night for some, as if it were a repeat of the Crimean War, the showdown between peak Imperial Russia and the British Empire, the lobster soldiers and the Cossacks charging in, the victors as in history.

“Is it safe?” Alan Wilson gasped, knowing that it had come down to a showdown.

Foltseva, whose blonde hair was plastered to her cheeks and whose entire body seemed to be soaked in water, gritted her teeth and said with the resignation of defeat, “Safe!”

“The British Empire is still at its peak!” Two hours later, some loose feet Allen Wilson finished dressing with feeling, and when he left, he also took Foltseva’s hair card, which is a small souvenir.

What famous actor is just a figure of fun, really to say that the desire to conquer, but also the culture czar. Alan Wilson for his own public and private cultural reception work is quite satisfied.

The last reception of the cultural exchanges between the two countries was held, after the end of the reception, the Soviet Union cultural delegation will no longer have a trip, two days later will leave London.

This time, the reception, also no civil personnel to participate, but the official welcome party. Britain also has a Ministry of Culture, and at the end of the cultural exchange, naturally, they also appeared and made a speech.

In the free time, Alan Wilson with a dejected mentality, and came to the side of Foltseva, moralizing and talking about the exchange of the two countries’ cultural rhetoric, incurring the defeat of the cross-eyed.

Alan Wilson relied on not leaving until after no one was around Foltsevar, then lowered his voice and said, “Ms. Ekaterina, have you forgotten the fond memories of the two of us?”

“Enough, let’s pretend it never happened.” Foltseva chided softly, “I’m still letting my guard down with the class enemy.”

“I know that very well, class enemies are to be dealt with harshly and without mercy. But that was your Soviet Union, we in the British Empire naturally have a way of doing that.” Alan Wilson got a cheap but also good, a double entendre of cultural exchanges, glowing rather raised eyebrows.

And in the eyes of the onlookers, it was just another argument between loyal Imperial civil servants and the Soviets.

“Alan, this person, is particularly serious because of his age. There’s really no need to have to convince the Soviets.”

A few diplomats were pointing and commenting from a short distance away, and one look at the Soviets’ faces made them think they were right in their guesses.

“Just because you guys are culturally rich, I’d say it’s not hard to deal with.” Alan Wilson was literally silencing Foltseva with his words, “Once the confrontation begins, we will definitely launch an attack on the Soviet cultural community.”

The reason for this is, on the one hand, because the Soviet Union has a deep cultural heritage, and Russians are known as the most widely read people in the world, so using cultural infiltration to propagate Western thinking can achieve the widest reach.

On the other hand, because of the intellectual activism of the Soviet intelligentsia, there existed a sizable number of dissidents in this group, whose dissatisfaction with the Soviet authorities and policies became an entry point for exploitation.

Tactics such as enhancing the literary status of Soviet dissidents by supporting them in winning the Nobel Prize for Literature and assisting them in covertly disseminating underground publications had a serious impact on the dominant political culture of the Soviet Union.

If one knows a little about history, one knows that the writings of the Imperial Russian period were nothing less than those of the Soviet period, but the Russian literary scene during the Imperial Russian period was never widely acclaimed by the West.

But this situation will change with the advent of the Cold War, Alan Wilson remembers, I do not know when, the Nobel Prize for Literature suddenly very favorable to the Soviet literary figures, the great Solzhenitsyn is one of the representatives, but definitely not the only one.

“I’m sure it won’t, real culture will definitely be widely accepted.” Foltseva said this unperturbed, “On the contrary, it is as the quality of the British people improves that you become more dangerous.”

“We can not improve so that the majority of the British people will not be able to understand your so-called widely accepted culture.” Alan Wilson was old-fashioned and not at all worried about the future Foltseva described.

“It’s really hard to believe that a man who claims to serve his country would want his people to be a little dumber.” It was as if Foltseva had had a shock to her three senses and couldn’t understand the purpose of doing so.

“No, they have the power of ignorance, knowledge that stands for conspiracies and crimes, ignorance that has a certain dignity.”

Alan Wilson retorted, unperturbed, “If the people can’t understand us, they don’t know what we’ve done wrong. The more you let the people know, the stricter the people will be on you, we live in a realistic society where all people are greedy, and what they want for their homeland is the strongest in every aspect, be it economic, cultural, or military, and if possible they even want to be number one in population as well, but also number one per capita.”

Foltseva couldn’t believe the truth of what she was hearing, and that this man across the table really seemed to think that way, “You are playing with fire against the entire country.”

“It is the Soviet Union that is playing with fire, the loyal subjects of the British Empire are not going to pay any attention to the rhetoric of a poor country.” Alan Wilson connoted Foltseva with a bad smile, the Soviet Union’s standard of living would not exceed that of Britain, any more sense would be farting, if it was the other way around, farting would be sense.

If possible, Alan Wilson would like to relive the Battle of the Crimea in one more time, but unfortunately never find this opportunity again. The visit of the Soviet cultural delegation to London was over.

It had to be said that at this time in 1945, the Soviet Union still had a strong influence, and the performance of the Red Flag Song and Dance Troupe was eagerly welcomed, but unfortunately, good times are always short, and this cultural exchange tour was still coming to an end.

“I’ll keep your hairpin!” Alan Wilson, with a retrospective look, said the words that almost received a slap in a voice that only two people could hear.

The future culture czar crossed his eyes and turned a deaf ear to the imperialist bureaucrat’s bullshit and followed the crowd onto the plane.

Just after the plane took off, Foltseva turned her cheek sideways and gazed through the window at the diminishing figure; what happened was what happened, and there was no way it could just be as if it hadn’t happened.