Those huge characters, along with close-ups from countless media outlets, let every Japanese citizen see the construction machinery behind Xiao Gou Chun. They might not recognize the words "Great Wall Heavy Industries," but even an idiot knew it was ****-made. Was this the protection of domestic industry he had promised? Was he a pig?
That question was painfully awkward. No one was stupid. Those conspicuous words were a vicious slap across Xiao Gou Chun's face, and the room fell silent.
The venue was so quiet. At this point, things should have basically wrapped up. Xiao Gou Chun was feeling pretty smug; next came the main event of drawing attention and boosting his presence—the Japan–U.S. Joint Military Exercise. It was an opportunity to show off their muscles, affirm Japan's status as an Asian power, and let out their own roar. Recently, **** had been making big moves and flexing its muscles repeatedly. In Xiao Gou Chun's eyes, that was absolutely intolerable.
So he had essentially pushed this matter forward himself. It was political capital, and also leverage for gaining the support of the major domestic conglomerates. He had no choice but to care deeply about it. For Japan's grand cause, and so he could keep shamelessly carrying on, he had truly gone to great lengths.
But just as his face remained calm while his heart burned hot, the reactions below seemed a little off.
The reporters really could not hold it in anymore. Today was just too exciting. A fool like this came along once in a century.
What was going on? Xiao Gou Chun was a little stunned. Straightening his expression, he coughed and glanced toward his assistant in the distance.
The assistant looked even worse than he did. Why were there so many damn problems today? He could not