It wasn't long before Qin Lin met another handsome young man from England in the reception room at Qinglin Villa. A Chinese man was standing beside him.
At first, Qin Lin thought the Chinese man was a translator. Who knew the handsome English youth would speak first, in fluent Chinese: "Respected sir, I'm Viscount Wimms of the English Royal Family. I'm also here on behalf of the English Royal Family Company to discuss Qinglin Hot Spring Powder with you. We'd like to become the agent for your company's product. I hope you'll grant us this opportunity."
As expected, he'd come for Hot Spring Powder too.
Two of the world's five biggest baldness-plagued countries had come knocking. They were both here to send him money.
Still, Qin Lin said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Wimms, but Qinglin Company has never offered overseas agents for its products. Besides, we can't keep up with demand as it is."
The same answer, the same rejection.
Soon, Qin Lin saw his guest out again. He'd keep them waiting a little longer. He couldn't agree too easily.
Wimms didn't look pleased. Getting the agency rights to Hot Spring Powder had been an important task assigned to him by the Royal Family.
He'd have to ask his father to find a way to help.
Qin Lin left Qinglin Villa and returned to Qinglin Manor, wondering how long it would take for the German Oligarch Family and the English Royal Family representatives to come back.
Once they did, he'd soften his stance a little, but still refuse. Then, when they came a third time, he'd reluctantly agree and make an outrageous demand.
What Qin Lin hadn't expected was that neither the German oligarchs nor the English Royal Family representatives came back for several days.
That didn't seem right.
Then someone