GBP Chapter 715 Lamborghini...Tractor?
Chapter 715 Lamborghini...Tractor?
Professor Harkness slumped into his chair, his eyes vacant, muttering to himself:
“Games…they use them to play games…we’re still struggling to run a complex computing program stably…it’s insane, the world has gone mad…”
The opening ceremony ended in a near-boiling chaos and excitement.
The crowd did not disperse; instead, they surged even more enthusiastically toward the Nanhua Electronics Group's booth, located in the heart of the exhibition hall.
"I want to order two units, no, three units!"
"I'm from MIT, and we need one for research. Can we discuss the price?"
"I am from the Royal Society of John. Please be sure to reserve one for us."
"I am the trade representative of the Russian Federation, and we have a strong interest in purchasing this product..."
"I'm a reporter from The New York Times, Mr. Fang, may I ask..."
The booth was instantly surrounded by a huge crowd.
Faced with the surging crowd and urgent questions, the sales representatives of Nanhua Electronics gave concise and to-the-point answers:
"Pre-orders are accepted, and production and delivery will be arranged in the order of orders."
"The price is fixed at $300,000, excluding tax, international shipping, dedicated voltage regulator, and after-sales service fees. No bargaining."
"Please refer to the instruction manual for technical details. Core patents are protected by Southeast Asian law. Any unauthorized disassembly or imitation will void the warranty and may result in legal action."
"The demo unit is for viewing only, not for sale, and we do not offer extended hands-on experience. Thank you for your cooperation."
This nonchalant attitude of "buy if you want, don't block my way if you don't" actually stimulates the desire to buy even more.
The phrase "core patent protection" and "no warranty if disassembled" subtly reveal a strong sense of technological confidence.
On the other side, more reporters, as if they had discovered a gold mine, desperately squeezed in front of the temporarily empty demonstration stage, frantically taking pictures of the gray "Pangu No. 1" and engineer Fang Qiming, who was giving a brief interview, with the sound of shutters clicking everywhere.
The flash of the camera illuminated the engineer's calm face and the machine.
Everyone knows that tomorrow, no, today, the front pages of major newspapers around the world will be dominated by this miraculous machine from Southeast Asia.
"Far East Technological Explosion," "Chinese Computers Lead the World," "The Birth of a Challenger to ENIAC"
Countless similar headlines were already swirling in the minds of journalists.
Diplomats and military attachés from various countries stationed in Southeast Asia were extremely anxious, like ants on a hot pan.
The White Eagle military attaché, his face ashen, was urgently drafting a telegram to the Pentagon; John's diplomat, while trying to squeeze into the platform to get more information, muttered under his breath, "Damn it, how did these Southeast Asian monkeys manage that?"
The Russian trade representative, his eyes burning with desire, no longer concealed his longing for the machine, and was rapidly discussing with his companion in Slavic language the possibility of acquiring one at any cost...
Backstage at the exhibition center, in a temporary lounge.
Zhang Chi was chatting casually with several leaders from the expo organizers, listening to initial feedback.
The sounds of commotion from the front hall could still be faintly heard outside the window.
"...The response has been very enthusiastic, far exceeding expectations," one of the managers said excitedly.
"It's mainly the effect of Pangu No. 1. Now people from other exhibition areas are drawn there," another person laughed.
Zhang Chi took a sip of tea, and a smile appeared on his lips as he listened to the faint Onsa broadcast outside, "Order! Please keep order!" (a shout to maintain order).
He put down his teacup and, in a joking tone, said to the security officer present:
“Director Li, your security department will have to be on high alert for the next few days. I reckon that it’s not just buyers and tech enthusiasts eyeing that demo unit.” He paused, a hint of mockery in his eyes. “Who knows, someone might try to ‘borrow’ it tonight to ‘study it.’ We don’t want this expo to turn into an international spy movie.”
Everyone laughed, but Director Li, the head of security, had a bitter smile, clearly knowing that the president's words were not entirely a joke.
He could already foresee the immense pressure and challenges that he and his men would face in the coming days.
That gray metal cabinet is no longer just a machine; it has become a magnet that can stir the nerves of the world and attract countless eyes, both bright and dark.
-----
The popularity of the National Industrial Exhibition Center did not subside after the opening ceremony; on the contrary, it continued to rise in the following days.
The huge venue is divided into dozens of exhibition areas, covering various fields from heavy machinery and precision instruments to daily chemicals and textiles and clothing.
The air was filled with conversations in various languages, the roar of machine demonstrations, and the enthusiastic explanations of the narrators.
Crowds thronged the booths, shoulder to shoulder, with curious visitors and potential customers crowding around each popular exhibitor.
However, in this bustling ocean of steel, rubber, electronics, and passion, there are also some relatively quiet islands.
In an inconspicuous corner of the agricultural machinery and general dynamics exhibition area, the Lamborghini Agricultural Machinery Company booth appeared rather deserted.
Several bright yellow tractors, with a slightly bulky design but exuding Italian-style craftsmanship, sat quietly there, with some plows and rotary tiller parts placed next to them.
The booth owner, Ferruccio Lamborghini, a well-built Italian man in his early thirties with a meticulously trimmed mustache, was anxiously arranging brochures on the table, occasionally casting expectant glances at passersby, but usually only receiving fleeting glimpses in return.
Lamborghini, the founder of the supercar brand that would one day shake the world with his name, was at that moment just a young man named Calami, struggling amidst the ruins of World War II and the economic turmoil in Europe, harboring a dream of internal combustion engines.
He once served as a mechanic in the Royal Italian Air Force and has an almost obsessive passion and unique insights into engines.
After the war, he keenly sensed the desire of the emerging United States of Southeast Asia in the Far East for industrial technology and investment, as well as the relatively relaxed and free business environment. He resolutely took some technical drawings he had accumulated, a small amount of capital, and a few trusted partners, and traveled across the ocean to Bago, where he registered a company named after himself, mainly engaged in the manufacture and sale of tractors and other small agricultural machinery.
His tractor was of good quality, powerful, and cleverly designed, but at this expo, people's attention was clearly drawn to something cooler and more futuristic.
Not far away, the huge exhibition area of the joint venture between Nanhua Power Group and Italian Fiat was bustling with people and flashing lights, becoming the absolute focus.
Lamborghini couldn't help but keep glancing over there.
Through the gaps in the crowd, he could see the sleek, shiny cars on the display stand.
A mixture of envy, resentment, and intense longing surged within him.
“Damn it…that’s what I really wanted to build…” he muttered under his breath, his fingers unconsciously stroking the cold, rough metal shell of the tractor.