"Just giving the young men a chance to work for Brother Hao; not everyone, like Mr. Xiao Gu, can work for Brother Hao, which is an honor for 99% of the people in this city."
The bald man made no effort to conceal his intentions.
In Myanmar, a mogul like Brother Hao, navigating both the black and white worlds, is akin to the Italian godfathers of Chicago or Atlantic City before World War I.
His social status is extremely high,
even the police respect him, sometimes even becoming accomplices.
"Mr. Xiao Gu, Brother Hao wants to collaborate with you."
The bald man inserted a plastic straw and took a sip, staring intently at Gu Weijing.
"I've already answered this question during the Spring Festival, and my stance remains unchanged."
Gu Weijing shook his head: "Sir, please allow me to speak frankly. There are many people who can paint in Myanmar, why must you hold on to me?"
Gu Weijing genuinely couldn't understand.
