I bought a prison in the United States.

At that moment, Underwood was talking to several people Ringo didn't recognize.

He held a glass of dark liquid in his right hand, probably bourbon whiskey, without ice.

His left hand hung naturally at his side, occasionally raised to make a slight gesture.

Those gestures weren't meant to emphasize what was being said, but rather to draw the attention of those around them.

The moment he raises his hand, the listener's gaze will involuntarily follow it, and then return to his eyes when he lowers his hand.

This is a body language control ability developed through long-term practice.

Ringo noticed that Underwood's emotional label was very faint.

Although it's not absent, it seems to be covered by something.

The combination of "composure" and "scrutiny" creates a grayish-white color that is almost indistinguishable in shades.

The gap between this person's inner thoughts and outward expression is greater than that between anyone he has met today.

This is not a person who is easy to see through.

Lin Ge looked away and began searching for other familiar faces in the crowd.

He then saw Ronald Peterson, the owner of the equipment rental company, standing by the window in the banquet hall talking to two people.

Peterson saw Ringo, nodded slightly, and then continued his conversation.

Ringo also saw Vernon Bellus.

The building materials supplier was standing not far from Underwood, chatting and laughing with several men in suits.

His laughter was still as loud as ever, and he held a new glass of gin and tonic in his left hand; this was at least his third glass of the day.

The emotional labels above his head were "triumphant" and "expanding...".

The latter is not an emotional word, but Ringo's ability sometimes uses this strange vocabulary to label the state of certain people, and he still does not fully understand the pattern.

Bellus's gaze swept across the crowd, pausing briefly at a certain point.

Lin Ge looked in that direction and saw that he was looking at Frank Cao.

The Chinese valve manufacturer was standing alone in a corner of the banquet hall, holding a glass of untouched champagne.

He was very quiet, as if he was waiting for someone, or as if he was unsure of who he should approach first.

Bellus looked away.

He leaned over and said something to the person next to him, and that person laughed.

Then Bayless turned around, his back to Frank Cao.

The movement was subtle, but Ringo caught it.

At the Chamber of Commerce cocktail party in Tulsa, every subtle gesture has meaning.

Bayless's choice to turn his back to Frank Cao was not an unconscious act.

It's saying, "That person isn't in my circle, I don't need to pay attention to him."

After thinking for a moment, Lingo, carrying his Gin and Tonic, slowly walked towards Frank Cao's direction.

"Mr. Cao."

Frank turned his head, saw Ringo, and nodded slightly.

His expression didn't change significantly, but the emotion label above his head changed from "waiting" to "slightly relaxed".

A person appeared who was talking to him, even if it was just a prison boss he had only known for less than an hour.

"Mr. Chen, you're still here."

"There's still some time before the banquet; it seems you've been neglected."

Lin Ge made a small joke to ease the tension.

Frank didn't feel offended. "I'm just not very good at taking the initiative."

Ringo stood next to Frank, and the two of them watched the flow of people in the banquet hall side by side.

"Which specific type of valve part did you just mention?"

Frank took a pen and a folded notepad from his suit pocket and drew a simple diagram in the blank space of the notepad.

A circular valve body containing a rotatable valve core, several connection holes, and dimensions marked with tolerances.

"There are many types of industrial valves, but what I need is this type: the valve plate and stem connection of a butterfly valve."

"The material is stainless steel, and after stamping, several positioning grooves need to be milled."

"The batch size is not large, about two to five hundred pieces at a time, but there are many varieties, with more than a dozen different specifications."

"Regular stamping plants are unwilling to take on the job because changing the mold takes half a day each time, and the money earned is not enough to cover the downtime costs."

He handed the note to Lingo; the drawing was very clear, with smooth lines and neatly marked numbers.

This is the work of an entrepreneur who is an engineer by training. Mr. Cao does not have an MBA or a financial background; he is someone who truly rose through the ranks from a technical position.

Lin Ge took the note and looked at it carefully.

The shape of the valve plate is indeed more complex than Mr. Danforth's suspension bracket, with several asymmetrical openings, an arc-shaped reinforcing rib on the edge, and a spacing tolerance of plus or minus 0.1 millimeters between the two connecting holes.

It's even stricter than General Motors' requirements.

Lin Ge frowned slightly. He knew the old stamping machine in the factory couldn't meet these demands, but he still said:

"My stamping machine can achieve a tolerance of 0.1 millimeters, but the scrap rate will be higher than that of General Motors parts."

"My engineers need to produce a few samples first to confirm the mold and process parameters."

Frank nodded, perhaps out of trust in his old friend Danforth, and had no doubts:

"Sure, I'll cover the sample costs and provide the materials."

"If your prisoners can achieve a precision of plus or minus 0.1 millimeters and keep the scrap rate below 10%, I can offer a unit price 15% lower than the market price."

"I'm not saying it's lower than the price quoted by regular stamping plants, I mean it's 15% lower than the price quoted by regular stamping plants."

"The price quoted to me by the regular factory is already 30% higher than that of standard parts for large quantities."

"Therefore, your actual unit price will be much higher than that of standard parts for General Motors."

Frank said this in a calm voice; it was just a small deal for him.

However, every number he used was precise, which is an engineer's habit.

Let the numbers speak for themselves, not adjectives.

"I need to do some calculations," Ringo said.

"Call me when you've calculated it."

Frank put the pen back in his pocket, picked up the glass of champagne he hadn't touched, and took a small sip.

"Mr. Chen."

"Um?"

"Your suit doesn't fit quite right today."

When he said this, there was no sarcasm in his tone, only a calmness as if he were reminding a fellow traveler:

"In Tulsa, if you come to the Chamber of Commerce in an ill-fitting suit, people will remember you."

"Not only will people think you're poor, but they'll also think you don't know the rules here."

"The rule here is that if you don't have the money to buy a well-fitting suit right now, you should at least alter an ill-fitting suit to fit."

"The tailor shop at the corner sells alterations for only fifteen dollars a suit jacket."

Lin Ge looked down at the overly obvious wrinkle on his shoulder.