The dinner was beef stew with white beans, which used to be Shire's favorite. Now, Shire just found it ordinary and thought it should have more Sichuan pepper, chili, light soy sauce, dark soy sauce...
His mother Camille hummed a song while chopping vegetables in the kitchen.
Dejoka chewed on his beef as he remarked to Shire:
"Your mother has never been this happy before!"
Camille placed a bowl of fruit on the dinner table, then sat down between the two men with her own stew, her face beaming with pride:
"Of course I should be happy! Our Shire has become a hero!"
Dejoka's eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked at Shire:
"I'm a bit curious, Shire, how did you come up with that thing called the Tank?"
"It's very simple!" Shire answered while dealing with the food on his plate, "I just wanted something that could block bullets in the front, and we happened to have a tractor, so it occurred to me to do it this way!"
Dejoka nodded slightly. It sounded simple, but every new invention is an unknown darkness before it is invented, so it's actually not that simple.
Camille lovingly patted Shire on the head, "Shire is a genius, only he could think of it!"
At this moment, her eyes were only on Shire.
She felt like the whole world had changed. The ostracism from the Bernard family, the cold stares from the townspeople, the bitterness of being caught in the middle and never fitting in—only she could understand it.
Now, all of that had disappeared!
All because of Shire, her son!
Dejoka considered a matter and said to Camille, "Tomorrow, we should go see Father..."
Camille nodded firmly, "Of course!"
In Camille's view, with Shire achieving such great deeds, Francis should undoubtedly recognize Shire and even the whole family, and confidently entrust the tractor factory to Shire.
However, there was a hint of worry in Dejoka's eyes. He knew his father well; Francis was a control-driven person with a strong sense of pride. He enjoyed being looked up to, did not like things out of his control, and especially didn't like anyone surpassing him, particularly family members.
Shire was indeed outstanding, but he was too outstanding. His fame had already overshadowed Francis, and this was not a good thing!
Shire seemed to see through Dejoka's thoughts and comforted him, "Don't worry, Father! Before we go to see Mr. Francis, I think we should take a trip to Paris first!"
"Paris?" Dejoka was puzzled for a moment, but quickly understood and nodded slightly in agreement.
...
The Paris City Hall Building stands in central Paris, on the banks of the Seine River, north of Notre Dame.
The original building was burned down during the Paris Commune in 1871. The current building was rebuilt and completed in 1882.
The building retains the style of the European Renaissance, with an uneven architectural cluster of flat-top pyramidal roofs. The walls of the building are adorned with 136 statues, all of them famous figures from France's history.
It was already ten in the morning when Dejoka and Shire walked into the office area. The vast office hall was bustling with people moving back and forth, the cacophony of telephones and typewriters filling the air, with some people seemingly arguing with staff over tax issues.
In contrast, the window for processing industrial property was quite deserted.
"Industrial property" is what we call "invention patents" today. Most inventions in this era came from industrial production, distinguished from literary and artistic property rights (copyright). Hence, the term "industrial property" was established.
Sitting at the window was a Mediterranean middle-aged man. He adjusted his glasses, leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed, leisurely sipping his coffee while glancing at the Little Daily from time to time, a wry smile occasionally surfacing on his face.
Those in the know understood.
Little Daily, known as "a penny newspaper" at the time, catered to the lower middle class with its sensational and half-naughty essays to attract readers.
"Hello, sir!" Dejoka bowed to the window respectfully, "We are here to apply for industrial property!"
The middle-aged man gave Dejoka a glance, uninterestedly took a form, and handed it over, then immediately refocused on the newspaper.
Dejoka filled out the form meticulously, occasionally asking for Shire's opinion. The middle-aged man completely ignored their presence, sipping his coffee and flipping through the paper for new "highlights."
Shire was amazed to discover that the front page headline of the Little Daily read: "Tractor Saves France."
The article even featured a cartoonish illustration of the tractor-turned-tank, which, though not entirely accurate, looked quite vivid.
This was the main reason why the Little Daily only cost a penny: it didn't need reporters to visit the scene, just illustrators to imagine the content.
Before long, the form was filled out, and neither Dejoka nor Shire was sure if it was filled out correctly, as they had no experience. Dejoka lowered his head, passed the form through the window, and asked:
"Sir, could you please check if this is appropriate?"
The middle-aged man grunted in acknowledgment, set down his coffee, took the form, and while lingering on the paper, continued reading the newspaper.
However, Shire had underestimated his professionalism. He only glanced at the form before freezing like he had been iced:
"Tank?"
He looked over at Dejoka, then puzzled, gazed at Shire who was just above the counter, and asked with difficulty:
"From... Davaz, Mr. Shire?"
Shire nodded:
"Yes, I am Shire!"
The middle-aged man sprang to his feet, nervously glancing at the newspaper headline, then hurriedly put it down, rummaged through the desk to find a pen and notebook, muttering:
"God! Truly sorry, Mr. Shire, and this gentleman..."
The middle-aged man now directed his gaze to Dejoka.
"Dejoka!" Dejoka introduced himself, pride showing on his face, "I'm his father!"
Dejoka gave Shire a knowing look, as if saying, it seems your news has reached Paris.
Shire shrugged slightly. Davaz was only a dozen kilometers from Paris, and being the political, economic, and transportation center, if news hadn't reached here in a day, it was probably not significant news.
"Mr. Dejoka!" The middle-aged man walked around from the side door, transformed from his previous lazy demeanor into a respectful and energetic gentleman. He shook hands with both Dejoka and Shire, then gestured towards the VIP room: "This way, gentlemen!"
The VIP room had sofas, coffee tables, a safe, and several pots of irises, symbolizing enlightenment and freedom.
Shire felt a bit ironic. Did only VIPs get to enjoy enlightenment and freedom, while others faced the sour expressions of staff at the counter?
The middle-aged man entered shortly after with two cups of coffee:
"Pardon the wait gentlemen, my name is Manuel. I'm honored to handle your industrial property."
Manuel carefully placed the form Dejoka filled out on the table: "The form is basically fine, but it's best to publish the property in the newspaper to mark the date. It will be good evidence in case of future disputes!"
"Is that all?" Shire was surprised, no need for a search?
"Yes!" Manuel nodded, "Except for some detail issues!"
As Shire later learned, France's industrial property at that time did not involve search procedures. Any issues of duplication or theft could only be resolved through litigation.
That's why Manuel suggested publishing it in a newspaper to provide more direct, powerful, and undeniable evidence.
Manuel chatted idly with Dejoka about details, making Shire feel like he was deliberately wasting time.
Shire guessed right. About ten minutes later, a middle-aged man in a round-brimmed hat and suit, hurriedly appeared at the VIP room entrance, leaning on a cane.
"Allow me to introduce!" Manuel breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the man: "This is Mr. Bonnet, the owner of the Little Daily. He wishes to discuss the purchase of the 'Tank' property!"
Dejoka's face changed as he realized he had been deliberately delayed by Manuel.
Shire "ahem-ed" to himself, one of the powerful family members had caught wind so quickly!