Meng Hao took a sip from the teacup before him.
He put it down slowly and calmly.
"It seems Mr. Bob here doesn't understand the Great Xia language."
"Perhaps I should find a translator?"
"However, regarding the fees, you'd have to bear them!"
These two fellows.
One was full of self-importance.
The other, without even bringing a translator, just barged right in!
If they claimed to be here to discuss business and finalize a power mech purchase agreement, Meng Hao himself wouldn't believe it.
What's more.
This white Anglo-Saxon, reeking of a mix of perfume and body odor, was actually from General Dynamics, one of the top six military industrial enterprises in the United States. With the eccentric Major General Gudov of the Russian bear country already in his sights, Meng Hao now felt a headache coming on whenever he saw foreign military personnel.
This had significantly dampened the initial enthusiasm Meng Hao had felt.
"No need."
"I understand the Great Xia language."
"I'm here to discuss an acquisition with Mr. Meng Hao!"
Oh?
He could speak?
Wasn't he mute?
Then why the airs of a noble foreign friend?
Did he really think Meng Hao, like Dong Jian, would grovel at the feet of any white foreigner he met?
What a joke!
And also.
Acquisition?
Acquire what?
Realizing the other party was arrogant and deliberately dismissive towards him, Meng Hao's smile completely vanished.
He turned his head and spoke to Chenghua, who stood beside him with a grim expression.
"Uncle Chenghua."
"Please open the window and let in some fresh air."
"It's stinking."
Meng Hao's words.
It was unclear whether he was calling the white foreigner Bob foul-mouthed, or mocking the strange body odor mixed with perfume.
Dong Jian was embarrassed.
Bob frowned.
Neither of them looked comfortable.
"Mr. Meng Hao."
"Let's get down to business."
"We are very interested in your Huarong Industrial factory and intend to acquire it."
"Of course, this includes all personnel, equipment, and technology!"
"You, name your price!"
Oh, ho?
This wasn't a factory acquisition at all.
They were likely eyeing Meng Hao's Huarong Type I mechs and the unnamed latest power mechs!
No wonder these two, fake and real foreigners, had driven their Bao Lu car around the power mechs outside for a few laps.
"I'm sorry."
"We're not selling, nor are we interested in selling!"
Meng Hao refused outright.
Bob frowned.
He raised a finger.
"How about 10 billion US dollars?"
"I must say, your company's mechs, in all aspects, far surpass the world's top military robots… even the Boston Dynamics humanoid robots from Maple Leaf Country can't compare."
"My company, United Military Technology, is a newly established department under General Dynamics, specializing in military robots."
"Your company is too complacent. Such advanced mechs, not equipped with various weapons and developed into war platforms, is a terrible waste of talent!"
Damn it.
Meng Hao was about to curse.
Setting aside the fact that Huarong Industrial was a private enterprise and would absolutely not illegally produce military equipment.
Even if Meng Hao had national authorization and the right to produce military robots, he would never sell the factory to Americans.
Firstly, this involved national interests and homeland security.
Damn it.
Did he, Meng Hao, look like the kind of traitor who would sell his conscience for money and forge weapons for empires like the United States and the West to stab Great Xia?
Furthermore.
What did "your company is too complacent," "such good military robots are wasted," and "why not transfer the entire operation to us" mean?
To hell with that!
It was like a conscientious bun shop.
Using the best flour, the best pork, the best ingredients, to produce high-quality buns that met all regulations and tasted excellent for consumers.
Then some unscrupulous conglomerate comes along and points fingers at the bun shop owner.
Saying why didn't he add various chemical additives to lower the price and gain more ill-gotten profits.
They even claimed the bun shop owner didn't know how to do business and should just hand over his meticulously developed recipes and the bun shop to this unscrupulous food group.
Who gave him the nerve to say such things?
Where did he get the courage?
Was it Liang Jingru?
Meng Hao had a bad temper, but he wasn't so insane as to argue with a brainless rabid dog.
He suppressed the urge to verbally assault the man and responded with a cold expression and an unfriendly tone.
"Huarong Industrial is a private enterprise. Our products will never be used to harm humanity… especially, we will not transfer our technology and factory to you, only for you to turn around and threaten Great Xia!"
Meng Hao's words.
Were clear and unambiguous.
Anyone with functioning ears and an IQ of at least three to five years old could understand his meaning.
Unfortunately.
Bob, who considered himself superior, deliberately "didn't understand."
"Mr. Meng Hao, as a businessman, you don't pursue profit maximization?"
"This is impossible… so it must be that my offer isn't compelling enough."
"How about this, fifty billion US dollars, what do you say?"
Meng Hao's face darkened as he considered whether to simply dismiss them.
"Still not satisfied."
"My God, you are truly insatiable."
"How about this, besides fifty billion US dollars, we can also offer Green Cards, with the specific number depending on how many family members you wish to bring to the United States… additionally, we will hire you as the Vice President of United Military Technology with an annual salary of ten million."
"There's money, power, status, and even a Green Card from our great United States… I believe this sincerity is enough to impress you!"
Meng Hao was about to slam the table.
To hell with you!
In Great Xia, there were indeed many traitors and bootlickers who, for various personal or public reasons, or simply due to xenophilia, desperately wanted to go to the United States to obtain Green Cards… like Bob's companion, the fake foreigner Dong Jian.
However.
In Great Xia.
There was a traditional concept called returning to one's roots…
There was a blood relationship called the descendants of Yan and Huang…
There was a passionate spirit called defending the homeland…
Not everyone would label their conscience, ancestors, and bloodline and sell them at a good price.
"Mr. Bob, your offer is indeed attractive…"
"I'd love to take it, but my waist cannot bend, my legs cannot kneel, and my fingers cannot curl…"
"Especially my middle finger, it simply cannot bend to accept the US dollars you are offering…"
Meng Hao raised his right middle finger.
He very earnestly made the universally recognized gesture of insult!
Bob's face instantly turned ashen, and veins bulged on his forehead.
He truly couldn't understand or comprehend whether Meng Hao's raised middle finger genuinely expressed his inability to bend it, or if it was a straightforward insult and mockery directed at him.