Afternoon.
Four o'clock.
Tang Qing left the headquarters of Zhongyu Special Guard.
At the gate.
Watching the convoy go far away.
Han Leng couldn't help but sigh, "The next time we meet, it'll be zero-nine years again." Now he can only see Tang Qing twice a year, once during the summer vacation and once during the winter break, and the rest is through the news.
...
He returned home.
No one.
They hadn't gotten off work yet.
With a flash.
Tang Qing arrived at the Training Area. As per his orders, not far from that empty city, the fighters were eagerly starting to build the manufacturing center, with heavy machinery busy on it.
Land leveling.
Excavating the foundation.
Drilling.
Piling.
...
Two kilometers away.
A vast concrete slab had even been laid, piled with construction materials brought in from outside, like a mountain, all coming from factories absolutely controlled by the Myanmar Bank Group.
The outside world wouldn't know the output of these enterprises.
