Song Zhengqing said that the fish fry at Qishan Lake had grown, and asked if he had any free time to go fishing, but he responded indifferently.
In the back seat of the Audi A6, Song Zhengqing turned his head, his voice measured and deliberate, "Could it really be not you?"
Papers rustled as Xu Jingxi flipped a page of the document, "What me?"
"Eight. Mining," Song Zhengqing said, "It caused quite a stir abroad some time ago, but then somehow it was hushed up."
He hadn't paid attention; he'd glanced over countless pieces of international news in a hurry.
Xu Jingxi was sitting comfortably, still in a relaxed enough mood to take up a bottle of birch sap water from the cup holder of the armrest, unscrew the cap, and take a sip.
"Minor shareholder, legally holding a small share," he said without changing his expression.
Since it wasn't him, Song Zhengqing did not press on, Eight. Mining Group did have a shareholder with the surname Zhao.
Xu Jingxi smiled it off.
