The three of them walked down the corridor and entered an office.
As soon as Hope entered, he immediately shut and locked the door. He turned around with a grave expression. "You two, stop registering students for this thing. If you've already registered, see if you can cancel your accounts."
The professor and Field exchanged glances, both stunned. "Why?"
Hope opened his phone, skipped past the registration screen, entered the mall, tapped the search bar, then raised the phone for the two of them to see.
"You're familiar with this kind of antibody, right? We've all used it before. Do you remember how much one vial cost when we used it?" Hope asked.
"Three thousand bucks." The professor recalled.
"How much is it selling for here?" Hope asked.
"Eight hundred and fifty bucks." The professor was bewildered. "What's wrong?"
Hope did not answer directly. He tapped a few more times. "Look at this one too. What price did you pay for this enzyme before? What price are they selling it for here?"
"I remember using it a few times before. A small vial cost over ten thousand bucks." Field said, "Here it's thirty-five hundred."
"Do you understand now?" Hope asked.
"You mean the products here are too cheap and counterfeit?" The professor frowned. "But Song He promised they were all absolutely qualified genuine products, with tenfold compensation for counterfeits and excellent after-sales service. I don't think they're necessarily unusable."
"Of course they're genuine. Of course they meet the standards. They really are high-quality and cheap. That's exactly where the problem lies." Hope said, "We can't use this platform."
The professor and Field were covered in question marks, completely confused.
"Still don't understand?" Hope sighed. "Song He claims that the platform has seventy percent of the world's laboratory-supply manufacturers, but did