Speaking, he turned over again.
Now it was done—Jiang Luo was fully awake, still unsettled in his heart.
He thought, if anyone ever married Huo Zongzhuo in the future, they’d have to be insanely happy.
Just the thought made Jiang Luo instinctively a little jealous of a woman who didn’t even exist yet.
He knew he shouldn’t be having these emotions, but he couldn’t help it.
With a deep sigh, he turned back, snuggling close into the man’s embrace, closing his eyes—whatever the future held, for now, Huo Zongzhuo’s “love” was his.
Jiang Luo silently told himself: I can’t be jealous of that woman.
Huo Zongzhuo’s wife—whoever she might be—would one day also be his family.
He would keep his love hidden, watch over them, accompany them, and wish them well.
As long as Huo Zongzhuo was happy, that was enough.
Jiang Luo was drifting to sleep, holding Huo Zongzhuo close as the man whispered softly in his ear: “There’s no woman.”
Mm.
Jiang Luo fell asleep.
From last year to this year, that young actress who had taken the country by storm appeared onscreen wearing beautiful clothes, walking past the fountain, twirling like a butterfly, approaching with a sweet smile: “Looking for clothes? Go to Shengfei.”
Recently, Fang Linjun’s commercial had become extremely popular.
Turn on the TV, no matter the channel, and there she was, sweetly saying the catchy line: “Looking for clothes? Go to Shengfei.”
Shengfei—what was that?
Everyone was talking about it.
At the Shengfei factory in Haicheng, the phones were ringing off the hook. The few female staff barely managed to answer every call around the clock, saying, “Hello, Shengfei Clothing.”
Even more people than usual showed up at the factory, filling every entrance and side gate, all there to purchase clothes.
The same happened at the Shengfei factory in Shenzhen. The ad had only been airing for two days. People knew the factory was in a certain industrial park, and wave after wave of buyers arrived.
You Junyu, in Wuhan, couldn’t get through to Jiang Luo’s phone, so he called Wang Chuang instead, utterly shocked: “I just came back to Wuhan after selling clothes for a few days? The commercial’s already airing?!”
“Now everyone in Wuhan is calling me, all knowing I have Shengfei clothes. Where am I supposed to get the stock? You guys better ship it to me!”
Wang Chuang wiped the sweat off his forehead: “No stock left—all three factories are sold out.”
“Even the sewing machines are smoking!”
“No way!”
You Junyu couldn’t understand: “He only has three factories. Does he really dare to advertise nationwide? Can he even supply that much stock?”
“What on earth is he thinking?”
Wang Chuang, wiping sweat from his forehead, said, “You ask him yourself—he’s gone to Wuhan.”
“To Wuhan?”
You Junyu was shocked, confused: “What is he trying to do?”
Trying to do?
Simple. At least in Jiang Luo’s logic: make Shengfei a known brand and sell nationwide.
Normally, to sell nationwide, you’d have to first distribute products all over the country, then advertise to make the brand known, and finally sell clothes everywhere—while ensuring supply.
Jiang Luo thought that was too slow. He did the opposite: advertise first to make the brand known, then find a way to produce and distribute the clothes.
His first stop: Wuhan, where You Junyu was.
Upon arriving, Jiang Luo immediately contacted the largest local clothing factories and textile suppliers and sat down to discuss collaboration.
The negotiation was straightforward: I have the Shengfei brand and ready designs. You supply fabric and produce clothes for Shengfei.
Normally, such cooperation takes time—negotiating fabric, price, volume, making sample clothes, various delays, and even personal connections. Many private factories were formerly state-owned, with rigid management and outdated practices.
But now, with “Looking for clothes? Go to Shengfei” airing nationwide, everyone—including kids who watched TV—knew the brand. Cooperation went smoothly and quickly.
On the first day in Wuhan, Jiang Luo arranged meetings and signed preliminary contracts. That same night, sample fabric and clothes were delivered to local textile and garment factories.
The next day, fabric was shipped to factories, sewing machines started producing Shengfei designs, and the first samples appeared. Jiang Luo personally visited the factories.
By the third day, Shengfei-labeled clothes were on the market in Wuhan.
When You Junyu saw Jiang Luo in a private dining room, he was genuinely impressed: “You’re amazing.”
“I was planning to pull stock from the factory to sell,” he said.
“You’ve already made the brand known. Here in Wuhan, you just get the factories to produce clothes to meet demand.”
“No wonder you have three factories in just one year.”
Jiang Luo wasn’t there for socializing. He squeezed in a meeting amid a busy schedule, finished the meal, and rushed to the next city.
You Junyu praised him. Jiang Luo didn’t care whether it was genuine or flattery—he focused on eating.
You Junyu asked, calm yet curious, “Finding factories, sourcing fabric, making clothes—you must be spending a lot, right?”
Jiang Luo raised an eyebrow, replying, “Spending first, selling later—that’s your way of doing business, not mine.”
“How’s that?”
You Junyu couldn’t understand: “You came to Wuhan to work with factories. Surely you had to pay deposits, right?”
Jiang Luo picked up a piece of food: “Deposits? What for?”
“Nationwide ads, a brand everyone knows, a popular actress like Fang Linjun endorsing it on TV… and you didn’t pay a cent, yet still got factories willing to cooperate?”
You Junyu, astonished: “Really didn’t pay anything?”
Jiang Luo said lightly, “Not much.”
Of course he spent money—this wasn’t like working with Zhang Zhiqiang in Wencheng. The amounts were large, but compared to the scale, he didn’t spend much.
As he said: a catchy nationwide ad with a famous actress promoting the brand meant people and factories came to him willingly.
This is why he advertised first—reputation is a form of “capital.”
Later, he’d have many cooperating factories, all taking orders with upfront payments. How much capital would he need to float?
The accounts of Shengfei, Hongming, and Shengfei’s three factories alone couldn’t cover this.
Hence, Jiang Luo spent on advertising. One ad cost over a million, but it leveraged ten or twenty times that amount in production and collaboration.
Of course, he didn’t explain all this to You Junyu. You Junyu thought for a moment, and quickly understood.
You Junyu was amazed, impressed not only by Jiang Luo’s skill but also by the thrill and excitement of doing business and making money he saw in him.
He felt exhilarated.
“You’re incredible, Jiang Luo. Truly.”
Sitting not far away, You Junyu raised his glass: “Sincerely, let’s be friends.”
Jiang Luo casually raised his eyes and replied: “Is shaking hands and raising a glass your idea of friendship?”
Huh?
You Junyu realized, put down his glass, laughing with excitement: “When you return to Shenzhen, bring Wang and the others from last time in the casino. I’ll treat you all—dinner, clubs, karaoke, Hong Kong, Macau, shopping, sightseeing… all on me.”
Only then did Jiang Luo give a casual smile, raised his water cup slightly toward You Junyu, acknowledging and accepting this friendship.
You Junyu, ignoring his own meal, continued: “You’ve advertised, selling clothes nationwide—what about me?”
He was about to take action but got caught off guard. The clothing business clearly wouldn’t be his anymore, and he didn’t understand fashion.
“Give me advice, friend to friend,” You Junyu asked.
Jiang Luo glanced at him. You Junyu quickly said, “I’ll give you twenty thousand. I have cash in the car, can pay immediately.”
“Keep the money. Isn’t your dad in electronics?”
Jiang Luo explained: “Electronics will only expand as technology develops worldwide. The market and demand will keep growing.”