The personal secretary looked at Feng Jun, frowning as if he had knotted brows like a Chinese knot, "Isn't this just a sample? You're charging money... Who's paying for it?"
"Okay then," Feng Jun agreed smoothly with a nod, "These over one million will be considered my support, but let's be clear that it is my support. I don't mind the amount, but it can't be said to be rightfully yours... This is a matter of principle, and I insist on it."
"All right," the personal secretary saw that Elder Yu had no objections, nor did he, a mere million or so, was that even money?
That very night, Shen Qingyi came looking for him, "Tempura Yong's whereabouts have been found; he's been in Nihong recently."
Almost at the same time, within a research institution in Imperial Capital, a gaunt, balding man in his fifties shouted, "One hundred yuan per gram, how is that possible? Doesn't that mean the quality of this graphene and its production technology have become quite mature?"
