Morning.
Sunlight streamed down.
Meng Hao woke from a deep sleep.
Another beautiful day.
Instead of contacting the American arms dealer, Jarvis, directly, he hailed a taxi and headed straight for the suburbs.
The outskirts of Shilin City were an industrial park.
It was home to hundreds of factories, large and small.
The night before, as he fell asleep, Meng Hao had already chosen a company that occupied a hundred acres, had cleared out its factory equipment, and was looking to transfer ownership of the plant and land.
As a man of science and engineering.
Meng Hao always acted methodically and with careful planning.
He was determined to get his hands on the scrapped F-35 fighter jet shells, each worth a million US dollars.
However, before that, he needed to secure a site for the scrapped F-35s and a factory area for "modifying and repairing" them.
After all, no matter how the online world perceived Meng Hao.
Whether they saw him as a rich simpleton with nowhere to spend his money, or an idle tycoon who spent millions or tens of millions to build mechs at full scale.
His reputation had, in any case, been established.
To avoid attracting too much attention and to provide explanations to the public and the media, he needed a plausible way to explain the origin of his mechs, modified F-35s, and other advanced technologies redeemed from the system.
Establishing and owning his own manufacturing enterprise was crucial.
The business negotiation went very smoothly.
Although the other party had questioned Meng Hao's age.
As millions upon millions of Great Xia currency were injected, they immediately became as polite, respectful, and enthusiastic as if they had met their reborn parents.
Money paved the way, conquering all obstacles.
The original owner of the factory even recommended several management personnel, who had worked at the factory for over a decade or two and were deeply attached to it and loyal, to Meng Hao.
This saved Meng Hao, who was not skilled in administrative management, a lot of tedious time spent on recruitment, screening, and hiring employees.
The oldest employee among them was the former administrative manager of the factory, Cheng Hua.
Looking at Cheng Hua, the supervisor, who was over forty years old, similar in age to his own parents, with a face full of gloom and weariness, Meng Hao chuckled and patted him on the shoulder.
"Meng, President Meng, you are truly young and accomplished."
"I've been working at this factory since I graduated. My youth is all here."
"Please don't lay me off... Even if you reassign me to the front lines as a workshop manager, I don't want to leave this place."
Meng Hao was amused.
For him, technical issues were no concern thanks to the system's mall.
On the contrary, personnel management was his biggest headache.
He didn't have high requirements for his employees; they didn't need to have outstanding abilities, as long as they were loyal to him, or rather, to the factory.
"Uncle Cheng, you are too kind."
"The fact that you and everyone else stayed to guard this factory shows your loyalty."
"Don't worry, not only will I not lay you off, but I will also increase your salaries... A 20% salary increase, a year-end bonus equivalent to three months' full salary, plus social insurance and housing fund, how about that?"
An emperor does not starve his hounds.
Loyalty needed to be rewarded materially.
Looking at Cheng Hua and the others, who were tearfully grateful, Meng Hao continued without wasting words, assigning tasks.
"I am not interested in administrative management work."
"From now on, all related complex matters of the factory will be handed over to you."
"I will only be in charge of technical production."
Having offered high salaries and benefits, Meng Hao was unceremonious in his use of people.
"So, you will go to the relevant departments this afternoon to handle the factory's name change procedures."
"The company name will be changed to Huayong Industrial; the registered capital will be increased to 100 million, and injected into the company's public account; the main business will be temporarily set as toy production, research and development, manufacturing, and sales."
"Also, please arrange for renovation workers as soon as possible to refit the factory... The office area's computers, printers, and other equipment should be replaced, sold, or retired. I want to see a completely new factory soon... The expenses can be directly paid from the public account."
Cheng Hua was even more overwhelmed by the favor.
This new owner of the factory was not only wealthy but also exceptionally trusting of him.
Even when it came to purchasing matters involving money, he had fully delegated the authority to him, without any reminder that he would periodically hire auditors to check the accounts.
This further solidified his determination to stay with his colleagues at the old factory and work hard for Meng Hao.
"President Meng."
"Please rest assured."
"I have been handling personnel relations and administrative matters for more than twenty years. I will handle these things perfectly."
Meng Hao smiled and shook his head, gesturing for Cheng Hua to hurry and handle it.
The Great Xia nation encouraged and supported private companies.
The factory's legal person change, registered capital increase, and related procedures were all completed by the highly enthusiastic Cheng Hua and his team within an afternoon.
...
Night, nine o'clock.
Across the ocean in the United States, it was eight o'clock in the morning.
Arms dealer Jarvis sat in his personal office, staring at his coffee and bread with a troubled expression and no appetite.
As someone who engaged in behind-the-scenes dealings with the US military, Jarvis had obtained 10 scrapped F-35 fighter jet shells this time.
These things.
Logically, they should have been directly scrapped.
Yet, a high-ranking military official with whom he had private dealings had arranged for them to be sold to him.
How could he sell these?
Who would buy a pile of scrap metal?
Military forces of various countries were not stupid; would they buy scrapped fighter jet shells to use as display pieces?
Private collectors would certainly not be interested in this batch of goods.
The price of one million US dollars per unit was enough for these private buyers to purchase retired third-generation fighter jets.
Wouldn't a third-generation fighter jet that could fly and operate in the sky be more appealing than a fifth-generation fighter jet shell with no engine, avionics, or engine components?
But.
If this pile of junk couldn't be sold.
That high-ranking military official would certainly be displeased, and whether he could obtain better military supplies in the future would become a major issue.
While he was agonizing over this,
An unknown call came in.
Judging by the area code, this call was from the Great Xia nation across the ocean.
Oh?
From the Great Xia nation?
He had always heard that Chinese people were foolish and rich.
Could it be that they had taken a liking to this batch of scrapped F-35 fighter jet shells?
Although Jarvis couldn't fathom any reason why they would spend a fortune on a pile of junk.
However, as an arms dealer and a competent salesperson of bulk commodities, the extremely dedicated Jarvis always adhered to the principle of never doubting a customer's needs.
Perhaps.
There really were foolish and rich people in the Great Xia nation, and wealthy individuals who loved collecting all sorts of strange items would buy this batch of industrial waste!
"Hello, I'm Jarvis..."
Jarvis adjusted his mood, projecting an energetic and enthusiastic demeanor, and answered the call with great warmth.
On the other end of the phone.
It was Meng Hao.
Although Shilin University was a third-tier university in a small city.
Meng Hao, who was determined to slack off and get his diploma, had obtained his CET-4 English certificate early on.
While his English skills were not great, he could manage to communicate.