Qin Hao's mouth curled into a faint smile, his sarcasm extreme, "No wonder Mr. Wang would collude with Beihai Country to scam Xuan Country's people of their money."
Wang Changrui could tell the mockery in his tone, but his expression remained unchanged, "Mr. Qin, you are also in business and yet you say such a laughable thing.
Which company isn't aiming for profit? If not for profit, then what's the point of running a company?"
Qin Hao: "Profit should have its limits. Do your twelve pills of anti-inflammatory drugs even cost two yuan to produce?
Don't tell me the cost is high. You might fool those who don't know any better, but I'm not ignorant.
How much do you sell them for? If I remember correctly, pharmacies charge forty-five, and your factory price must be at least thirty, right?"
