In the early morning, Marco slowly opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling and a slightly old-fashioned chandelier.
Yesterday, after enduring over ten hours of transatlantic flight and switching flights two or three tis, he finally arrived in Miami.
His brain had just woken up; his exhausted body was still protesting, but his mind had already started racing—the eting with the young president of "Holy Light" still made his heart surge.
President Zhou’s frankness and straightforwardness left a deep impression on him. The man’s intention of using money to break into the "Electric Flight" market was clear and unambiguous.
At one point, Marco even wondered if he had encountered a scamr.
But thinking back carefully, everything about the man’s behavior, the company’s background, and even the confidence in spending vast sums of money seed flawless.
At least for now, everything was on the right track.
He turned over and got out of bed. The cold floor beneath his feet instantly dispelled so of his drowsiness.
The room’s furniture was simple and functional, but it was clear that no one had lived there for a long ti. A thin layer of dust could be felt when he lightly ran his fingers across the table.
This townhouse in the suburbs of Miami was one of the spoils that Zhou Qingfeng had "cleaned up" from the Chris Clan.
It wasn’t luxurious by any ans, but it was sufficient as a temporary foothold.
Marco slipped on his slippers and leisurely walked to the living room.
The living room was so simply furnished it was almost empty—an old leather sofa, a glass coffee table, and an LCD TV.
His laptop was on the coffee table, the screen still lit up, with the instant ssaging software showing a "new ssage" notification.
He sat down and clicked on the ssages; there were dozens of unread ssages from the technical director of "Electric Flight."
The last one read: "You’re not joking about converting the salary from RMB to USD, right?"
Marco chuckled twice, his fingers sliding over the touchpad as he carefully browsed through the previous ssages.
Last night, he was too excited and barely managed to sleep until late. Considering the ti difference between China and the US, the technical director had probably been up all night.
The market for low-altitude electric flying vehicles was still in an exploratory stage, and the quotes from various companies were relatively high.
"Electric Flight" was no exception, setting the main product’s price at 2.4 million RMB per unit.
However, when Marco relayed Zhou Qingfeng’s doubled offer, the entire company was stunned—this kind of client was truly a godsend!
But that wasn’t all.
In private conversations, Marco also revealed even more shocking news—Zhou Qingfeng was willing to offer a million-dollar annual salary to poach key technical personnel.
Marco rembered the scene when he left Zhou Qingfeng’s office—his steps were light as if walking on clouds, and his mind was still a bit dazed.
For the technical staff at "Electric Flight," this was undoubtedly an irresistible temptation.
Thinking a bit further.
A 5 million RMB order for flying vehicles was a huge opportunity for the "Electric Flight" company; the salary conversion was a direct benefit to the core personnel of the company.
Everyone had their own sense of priority.
Marco was well aware that once this news spread, it would inevitably cause internal upheaval in the company and stir up quite a storm.
The technical director of "Electric Flight" was a renowned university graduate, a chanical and electrical PhD who had studied abroad, already earning a million-dollar salary.
Zhou Qingfeng wanted to poach him without changing the salary amount but converting it from "RMB" to "USD."
If willing to relocate to Miami, he could also receive an additional property.
From the ssages, the technical director was puzzled by Zhou Qingfeng’s product specifications—while others were pursuing unmanned flying vehicles, Zhou emphasized manned operation.
If the requirent for intelligence was dropped, the difficulty of flight control design would decrease by one or two magnitudes.
In the post-apocalyptic world, with no reliable satellite navigation and complex ground environnts, manned operation was necessary for safety.
"If it only requires manned operation, the company’s current products already et the client’s demand, and the cost can be reduced to 500,000 RMB.
A 500,000 RMB vehicle could be considered a ’quasi-luxury car,’ equipped with LiDAR, milliter-wave radar, HD caras, and high-power main control chips.
We could stack these configurations to absolutely satisfy the client. At worst, we could add more batteries and redundancies without the cost exceeding a million."
The technical director’s thoughts were simple, but his words gave Marco a mont of clarity—perhaps the 5 million per unit was just a gimmick to attract attention.
Offering high salaries to attract talent, then lowering product costs, and subsequently distributing on a large scale to quickly reach a profit cycle; this was Zhou Qingfeng’s real goal.
"Could that President Zhou be a MAGA, making Arica great again? Bringing people from the mainland to build a wonderful City on the Summit?
You have to admit, if he’s really willing to spend this kind of money and has the courage and financial power to run a real business, he can indeed accomplish many things."
Marco didn’t reply imdiately but habitually pressed the remote, wanting to watch the news.
The LCD screen in the living room lit up, displaying the ABC News logo. The anchor was reporting...
"Yesterday, the FBI arrested a mber of the ’Tree of Justice’ organization who was identified after boasting about their ’acts of justice’ online."
This case had gained worldwide attention, and Marco was curious for any new developnts. He sat down on the sofa, eyes fixed on the screen.
"The suspect had publicly claid online that they participated in ’acts of justice’ against corrupt officials, detailing the process of using a flathrower to burn a high-ranking official.
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