What a talent. Feng Jun looked at President Han and silently gave him a thumbs-up.
At first, Feng Jun himself had intended to sell "health products" and market his medicines that way.
So he actually agreed with President Han's line of thinking—what medicine could someone without a medical license sell? Health products, of course.
But he no longer wanted to operate that way, so he merely smiled faintly. "I'm not interested in health products either. Do you have any other instructions, President Han?"
President Han froze for a moment before lowering his voice. "I heard that you might be a little short on money lately, Master... Of course, if that's just baseless gossip, please don't blame me for jumping to conclusions."
"I am a little short on money," Feng Jun admitted with a nod. Being poor was nothing shameful; refusing to face it was what was truly embarrassing. "But if I really set my mind to it, there are plenty of ways for me to make money. Do you believe that?"
There was no need to say more. He could foresee fluctuations in the stock market. If he took a few turns around the international futures market, making a few hundred million would be effortless.
"Well... of course I believe you," President Han said after hesitating for perhaps a tenth of a second, then nodded decisively.
Feng Jun spoke leisurely. "So I just want to make some money quietly."
In the end, he did not discuss cooperation with President Han.
But in this world, when one door closed, another opened. Three days after speaking with President Han, Feng Jun met an acquaintance again... if someone he had met only once could count as an acquaintance.
It was the seventeen- or eighteen-year-old boy who had helped save people with him on