The people from the Russian space agency were dumbfounded.
The scientists from Naxi couldn't understand it either.
"Professor McLean, do you have any ideas?"
A doctor in his 60s looked at the man beside him.
This man wasn't tall, but he looked to be in his 40s.
He was not ashamed to be called a professor by a doctor in his sixties.
It seemed only natural.
Moreover, the other scientists in the conference hall seemed to take it as a given.
They all looked at McLean.
McLean was not particularly popular, because he did not like to be known by many people.
Only the Nazis knew his strength.
Over the past few years, he had written dozens of papers on rockets, spaceships, and space stations.
McLean was clearly very capable.
But he didn't seem to hear his student's words.
He looked carefully at Raymond's hand, anticipating where he would draw it next.
