Chapter Twelve: Earthshaking

  "Wild mountain ginseng?" The monkey's father, like a vicious dog pouncing on food, snatched the small wooden box from Yang Feng's hands and fixed his eyes directly on it.

  "Uncle Hou, must you be so serious! It's just a ginseng plant!" Yang Feng rubbed his sore forehead and said tearfully.

  "You think it's easy to say, do you know how much a pure wild ginseng like this costs? Over a thousand yuan per gram! Gold is only over two hundred. And yet there's no market for it, even the slightly older ones have to be taken out and auctioned off, one ginseng can sell for tens of millions without being rare." The old man was staring at the ginseng in his hand with a greedy gaze, just like he was looking at a beautiful woman.

  "If I had a lot in hand? You can contact a buyer, how about that? I'll charge a 1% brokerage fee." Yang Feng said with a sly smile.

  "How much?" Old Hou brushed it off and turned his head, staring straight at Yang Feng.

  "It's not less!" Yang Feng said.

  Lao Hou thought for a moment, then suddenly picked up the phone: "Director Lin, it's Lao Hou. I have a junior here with a batch of authentic wild ginseng. Are you interested in taking it over?"

  Then he heard him humming and asking Yang Feng: "How much do you have in your hand?"

  "Your Lin Zong, it's best if you can come up with hundreds of millions in funds all at once!" Yang Feng said with a sly smile.

  Old Hou's body swayed slightly, then his face suddenly turned a bit pale, and he immediately threw away the phone and rushed to the counter, took out a bottle of quick-acting heart-saving pills.

  "Uncle Hou, don't scare me!" Yang Feng exclaimed in alarm as he watched Old Hou hastily taking his medicine.

  "You little scamp, are you trying to scare me to death?!" Old Hou, who had taken his medicine, regained his spirits and slapped Yang Feng's head with a loud smack.

  The rest was easy, after learning the news, Mr. Lin immediately drove over in a BMW 760, took a look at the sample Yang Feng brought out, and immediately agreed to one thousand and one kilograms, no matter how much Yang Feng had, he wanted that much.

  Deducting those few last year's, the rest were sold at this price, a total of 15 million was sold. As for the remaining ones, since the years are not much different and Yang Feng's time is also very tight, they were all sold to him at 3,000 yuan per kilogram, and another 1.5 million was received. Then 300,000 was given to Old Hou, and then Lin Zong was arranged to be notified first if there were any more wild ginseng in the future.

  The huge sum of 27 million made Yang Feng feel a sense of unreality as he looked at the bank card in his hand.

  What's the first thing a poor person does after becoming rich? Buy a house. Yang Feng rushed to Ghost City and spent 1 million directly on a factory building. He wanted to turn this place into a dedicated crossing point. The small box goods have become big box goods, and it's not possible to play hide-and-seek in the middle of the street anymore. Even if no one sees it, what if some bored satellite above happens to notice? Don't attract those Dragon Groups, Area 51, or Men in Black.

  But now it's too late to reform, hastily and busily reinstall the gate, wait until the dark night with strong winds, drive the goods into the warehouse, then lock the door and step on the accelerator back to the Republic of China.

  As soon as I arrived at the entrance of Yangjia Hutong, it was blocked. It wasn't that the alley was too narrow, but rather there were too many cars inside. More than a dozen old-fashioned cars of various styles lined up from the entrance of Yang's house all the way to outside the alley.

  A little boy leaning against the front of the car smoking, first looked at Yang Feng in the carriage with a daze, then suddenly came to his senses, almost rolling and crawling into the Yang's gate, shouting: "Old master, old master, someone is here!"

  Before Yang Feng could come to his senses, a swarm of black crows suddenly poured out of the Yang house like a stirred-up beehive and pounced on him like a pack of ferocious wolves.

  Yang Feng was so frightened that he trembled with fear and just wanted to run back to the car when the crowd had already arrived in front of him.

  "Mr. Yang, I'm a reporter from Ta Kung Pao, may I ask about sulfanilamide..."

  "I am a reporter for Xinmin Evening News..."

  "I am..."

  "I am Concord Hospital..."

  “……”

  Countless voices drowned out Yang Feng's solitary figure like a surging sea.

  "Halt!" The goods were pulled out of the car with a loudspeaker, and then let out a loud roar.

  All sound suddenly disappeared, and even a few people nearby screamed and covered their ears.

  "First of all, for all the journalists, I can only say one sentence: sulfonamide is indeed invented by Chinese people, and nothing more to report."

  "As for all the medical colleagues, please leave your business cards, starting tomorrow I will visit you one by one. Now I'm very tired, I need to rest!" Yang Feng shouted with a loudspeaker.

  Damn it, is this still letting people live? Isn't it just a two-dollar bottle of sulfonamide? Must they be like a swarm of flies smelling blood?

  The crowd was somewhat unwilling, but Yang Feng had finished speaking and immediately got into the car, so they were helpless. They quickly dispersed, leaving only a short-haired girl standing outside.

  "What are you still doing here?" Yang Feng got out of the car and said irritably.

  "Because this is my uncle's home." The girl smiled and pointed at the Yang's house.

  Yang Feng stared at her carefully and only then did he discover that there was a faint resemblance between her eyebrows and Yang Jing's, it just looked bigger, more familiar.

  The girl was very generous, even in the face of Yang Feng's wolf-like gaze, she could still remain calm and composed.

  "Let's go, I've already told you everything about sulfonamide," Yang Feng said as he walked in, with Yang Wenbin and his family standing at the door, smiling at him.

  "I'm not particularly interested in sulfonamides, besides I'm not a journalist. What interests me is down jackets and thermal underwear, because I find their materials to be quite strange, at least for someone like me who studied chemistry in Germany. Mr. Yang, can you introduce them to me?" She fully embodies the annoying aspect of an intellectual woman, even in modern times such people are as fearsome as dinosaurs.

  Introduction? How am I supposed to introduce you? Can I tell them that you're still in DuPont's lab?

  "That's a kind of synthetic fiber developed by a group of my friends," said Yang Feng after some thought.

  "May I meet them?"

  "No."

  "Are they the same people who researched sulfonamides?"

  "Yes, but with different divisions of labor."

  "In other words, they are an organization."

  "Yes!"

  "So can you tell me the name of this organization?"

  "Yanhuang Laboratory!"

  "Yan Huang Laboratory?" The girl furrowed her brow with a thoughtful expression, looking as if she had several layers of meaning.

  They are a group of young people who are determined to revitalize the country's industry, many of whom have studied abroad just like you. It is precisely because of this that they see clearly the backwardness of their motherland, and therefore they are willing to use the knowledge they have acquired to change all this.

  For this purpose, they would rather abandon all worldly distractions, hide their names and identities, deeply conceal themselves in an unknown place, silently dedicating their youth and sweat.

  Yang Feng slowly said in a deep and emotional voice while drinking tea.