(Conveying congratulations to the newly promoted helmsman "Spin Pot Pot")
The corporate elites gathered as onlookers had already decided to lodge a collective complaint against Galaxy Transport Federation company—did your company send an ancestor to deliver couriers?
During a luncheon hosted by a renowned interstellar heavy industry corporation, a courier from your esteemed company brazenly intruded on the event, insisting that the person asked to leave sign for the delivery and repeatedly disrupting the order of the banquet.
Hmm, that's decided then.
Someone had already prepared a mental draft.
It wasn't until the metallic case hit the ground with a thud that Mu Fan realized this bald uncle wasn't joking with him.
"Mine?" Mu Fan pointed to the tip of his nose.
"Mhm, sign here first and we'll go through the procedure."
The big bald head said this and then took out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, offering a pen alongside it.
