Yang Xingye was over fifty years old.
According to age and seniority, he could be considered a contemporary of Liu Guolin's father.
However, Liu Guolin did not show him any respect.
The hand that Yang Xingye extended hung stiffly in the air.
His complexion was extremely unsightly.
But Yang Xingye knew that Liu Guolin was not someone to offend,
especially at this life-and-death moment for the company.
So, he still put on a smiling face, asked Liu Guolin to sit down, and served her tea.
Liu Guolin snorted, her slightly long horse face stretching even longer.
"Minister Yang," she began, "let's get the unpleasant talk out of the way first."
"Today it was President Su who called Mr. Smith, asking us to come over to collect the payment."
"If you can't pay up, don't blame me for being impolite."
Yang Xingye was extremely anxious.
Up to this point, he had not received any instructions from Su Yinxue.
