Farming Life Starting in Africa

Frank remained silent. He began to suspect that this man was a black glove from some faction within the CIA, sent to test him, or that they wanted to interfere with the Stumbling Block and the subsequent Black Heather Project in order to obtain some information.

As for the Ghost Protocol, that thing is aimed at IMF agents; it's a fig leaf for top figures to cover their tracks, and it's not under his jurisdiction.

Those at the lower levels who know this level of information are either already dead or waiting to be killed.

He pondered for a long time before saying, "I can't make that decision."

Rosen nodded, as if he had expected this answer. "Then go and inform your superior; I believe he will understand your difficulties."

Frank frowned slightly and asked the question that had been swirling in his mind: "You went through all this trouble just for that potion?"

His gaze lingered on Rosen's face for a moment, as if trying to find a clue to deduce something from the gaps in those expressions.

Rosen simply glanced back at him without offering any explanation.

Since Jason Bourne's disappearance, Project Harvest has been launched, and the CIA and pharmaceutical companies have developed a second-generation genetically modified live virus strain.

After the virus is injected, it can directly rewrite some of the human genes, permanently solidifying and strengthening the effect.

Viruses are not perfect and have extremely high requirements for receptors, but they can be artificially intervened and modified.

Rosen wanted to try redesigning the virus using a universal platform.

Although he had no intention of creating a biohazard, there was still hope for Captain America's serum. If it didn't work, they could try again; what if it succeeded?

After all, in the US, there's no shortage of people willing to participate in drug trials. For a little money, you can find live samples everywhere.

He actually coveted many things from the CIA, such as the equipment of IMF teams. The most famous of these was Ethan Hunt's temporary team, which belonged to the IMF.

But that squad had a higher level of secrecy; they were a regular army, and Frank definitely wouldn't have had any chance of contacting them.

Frank couldn't detect anything in the man's eyes; the man was far too calm.

He planned to talk to his superiors about this matter. He had to do his best to clear himself of the blame, otherwise he might accidentally become the scapegoat. This was a long-standing tradition of the CIA.

"What's your name? How can I contact you?"

"Just call me Lion," Rosen said, pulling a payphone from his coat pocket and tossing it toward Frank, who caught it easily.

Rosen added, "My number is saved inside. The phone will be switched on at 8 PM two days from now. That's the only time you can contact me."

Frank was somewhat surprised by how cautious this person was, yet it seemed reasonable.

If he knew that information, he must also be aware of the CIA's tracking methods.

However, he still had a question in his mind: how dare this person appear in front of him with his true face?

People like them usually wrap themselves up with masks, false identities, and layers of protective shells, so that no one can see the skin underneath.

But this lion just stood there so openly, letting me see his face clearly and remember his features, like someone who wasn't worried about having his cards checked at all.

Frank was far more unsure about this boldness than about any elaborate disguise.

Frank simply put his phone in his pocket. Rosen didn't linger; he stood up and walked towards the back door of the church.

Frank was the only one left in the church. He stood there for a moment, then walked to the wooden chair next to the confessional and sat down, holding the black cell phone in his hand, muttering to himself, "This is getting more and more interesting."

When Rosen drove the Mercedes back to Sunshine Farm, the sun was already setting.

He saw that the ground, which had originally been piled with debris from the ruins of the wooden house, was now neatly covered with steel frames.

Nearly forty people were busy there. The wooden houses had completely disappeared, and even the foundations had been cleared. The foundation trenches and subgrades were ready, and the workers were tying steel bars and formwork, building the basic skeleton of a building.

Liu Pei saw him from afar, holding a tablet computer, and greeted him with a smile. "President Luo, at the current pace, the main building should be completed in about two months."

As he spoke, he handed over the tablet in his hand, which displayed a floor plan of the building.

"This is the design draft you previously approved. We have completed the design of the entire interior space, but we still need your confirmation for the courtyard area."

Rosen listened to his words with some surprise. They had actually completed the main building in just two months, a speed that was much faster than he had originally expected.

The remaining aspects are probably courtyard design and interior decoration layout; those are the parts that require careful consideration and meticulous refinement.

Rosen looked at the design on the tablet and found that it was indeed not much different from what he had requested, except for some changes to practical details.

After he finished reading, he handed the tablet back to Liu Pei. "Where's the temporary accommodation I requested?"

Rosen didn't see the temporary housing he had requested in the vicinity.

Liu Pei pointed to a marked open space at the edge of the construction site, where a small pit had been dug out, resembling a small sewage pool.

"Mr. Ding arranged for a comfortable capsule-style mobile home to be temporarily arranged for you from Los Angeles, saying it's more suitable for you. The house will arrive tonight; it's the kind that can be directly hoisted into use, so there's no need to build any temporary prefabricated houses."

Upon hearing this arrangement, Rosen felt that the money was well spent.

Just as he was listening to Liu Pei report on the upcoming construction projects, Barney also arrived. He was waiting for someone.

When Rosen saw the old man, he waved to him warmly.

Looking at the progress of the construction site, Barney exclaimed in surprise, "You're moving so fast! I reckon we'll be able to move in in a few more months!"

Rosen, feigning ignorance, replied, "More or less, haha. What have you been up to these past few days? I haven't seen you around."

Barney's gaze remained fixed on the steel frame: "I have some things to do, I have to leave in a bit."

He lowered his voice, "How much will it cost to build this house? If it's convenient to tell me."

Rosen looked at him strangely. Could this old guy also want to build a house like this?

Seeing Rosen's expression, Barney, as if afraid he might misunderstand, added, "I didn't mean to pry. My wooden house isn't very safe, and I'd like to build a sturdy house like yours, but not as big."