He spoke and turned around, swaying as he walked out of the room and into the hall, where he sat down on the sofa, letting out a sigh of relief.
The housekeeper followed closely behind, "Some are making dried fruits, and I've heard there's a factory that might produce alcohol."
"Alcohol?" A glimmer of light flashed in Diego's eyes; he certainly knew how expensive alcohol was in the Federation.
Thinking about how Lance could earn countless wealth just by selling those worthless drinks, he felt so jealous that his eyes turned red!
"Do you think we should tax him?"
He looked at his housekeeper, who bowed slightly, "Perhaps the ministers know better about these things; I am just an old man, a housekeeper."
Diego glanced at him twice, hardly nodding his head, "Hmm."
Whether this "hmm" was good or not, no one knew, only the housekeeper knew he had muddled through another day.
