"Egg!"
Mr. Gebur was somewhat calmer; he understood what Lance was saying, wanting Lance to follow their words meant he had to meet some of his conditions, or rather, bring out something that could move him.
But what could possibly move him?
Mr. Gebur didn't know, he sighed, a failed negotiation, "Alright, let's go back and report the results of the negotiation."
Mr. Wood was sulking, at this moment hundreds of thoughts were swirling in his mind, he felt that Lance needed to be taught a lesson.
In front of twenty million working class people, what is a gang?
"Why not call the Immigration Bureau and say those factories are using illegal immigrants?" He pulled out his keys and walked toward a car parked by the roadside, worth seven or eight thousand bucks.
Mr. Gebur thought for two or three seconds, shook his head, "In Golden Port City, the Immigration Bureau won't care about Lance's affairs for your sake."
