"Yo, Mr. Lu, long time no see. How have you been? You probably don't know this, but you've become quite famous where we are."
Looking at the warmly greeting fellow townsman, Lu Mouren took a long while to dig out who he probably was from his memories. Wasn't this—
"Isn't this Chief Xie from the Wanjing Foreign Ministry? What, do you need something from me?"
".Uh, I'm a special envoy from the Ministry of Commerce. My surname is Zhao."
"Oh, oh, oh, Chief Zhao. What a coincidence. I have quite a few people named Zhao here. Isn't that cultural export? Shouldn't you give me a medal or something?"
Zhao XingAn paused, then swallowed the pointless correction that he was a director, not a chief.
Lu PingAn's attitude was fairly friendly, but his words were rather subtle. To an old hand like Zhao, this seemingly familiar yet distant attitude was already a political statement.
Perhaps he was implying that Lu PingAn was neutral, yet inclined toward the authorities.
Or perhaps he was implying that he did not want to appear too close to Eastern Kingdom officials.
"The resources you gave me, that Xuan Wu Plan slot... I really don't need to pay any cost?"
In truth, Lu PingAn simply could not be bothered to think too much about it.
He had never cared much about how he communicated with the authorities. Now that his individual strength had risen, he naturally cared even less.
He meant exactly what he said—he spoke his mind.
"What you mean is... Oh, I understand." In the eyes of political creatures, every action and word had a reason. The higher one's status, the more one liked to hide meaning within one's words.
Director Zhao thought for a long time before showing an enlightened expression.
So this gentleman