I can’t… I really can’t.
Those three words ran nonstop through his mind.
He truly couldn’t take it anymore.
After it was over, Huo Zongzhuo leaned in to kiss Jiang Luo and asked, “Do you still love anyone else?”
Jiang Luo, barely conscious, lay face down, still recovering, drenched in sweat.
Soon, he fell asleep.
But the next morning, he was ambushed.
Huo Zongzhuo asked him, “Who’s Xiao Liang?”
Jiang Luo knew he had been seriously drunk the night before, sweat still streaming down him.
Later, he went to Huo Zongzhuo’s office, sprawled over his desk for a long time, trying to shake off the fog in his mind and turn the page in his memory.
He kept thinking hard: No, who exactly is Xiao Liang? Which one is Xiao Liang? Why did I call that name?
Alcohol tricked me! Never drinking that much again!
In 1994, Mo Wanzhen gave birth to twins—a boy and a girl—in Shenzhen.
Jiang Luo was out of town when he got the call. Laughing heartily, he thought, Wang Chuang, you lucky guy… seems you were destined for twins.
While in Shenzhen, Jiang Luo sent a house each to the two children and to Mo Wanzhen.
By then, Jiang Luo’s net worth was already beyond calculation.
He and Huo Zongzhuo were building high-rises across Pudong.
They had properties all over China, constructing various high-rises for different purposes.
Several clothing factories ran smoothly, along with a few fashion brands—earning Jiang Luo untold amounts of money within just a few years.
Their ventures in electronics, automobiles, semiconductors, and other industries also thrived.
Like his early investment in JOVE, Jiang Luo invested in multiple sectors, including Huawei, which had made its start as a switch distributor.
Looking back, in only a few years, he realized how far he had come.
In October 1994, the tall tower across the Huangpu River was completed and officially opened.
Everyone in Haicheng knew it as the “Oriental Pearl.”
The East of the world, China’s pearl.
Two years later—
In Shenzhen, Bai Ting, stylish and elegant in a skirt, walked into the clinic.
“Hello, doctor.”
She sat down, greeted briefly, and handed over her medical file.
“What seems to be the problem?”
The doctor, eyes visible above a white mask, looked up at her.
Bai Ting pointed at her chest: “I’ve been feeling some pain here recently.”
The doctor gestured toward the curtain behind: “Lift your shirt, I’ll take a look.”
“All right.”
She stood up.
At Zhikun Group, the spacious and bright open office buzzed with activity, workstations occupied by busy figures.
At that moment, a pair of black dress shoes moved briskly and decisively among the desks, as if on urgent business.
The figure passed several workstations and arrived at a man’s desk, slamming a stack of documents onto it.
Then, to the man’s shock, he grabbed him by the collar, lifted him, and slapped him across the face, muttering under his breath: “Idiot.”
“Mr. Jiang!”
Everyone around froze.
The man who struck turned, expression cold, and walked off without a word—no one dared stop him.
Who else could it be but Jiang Luo?
Jiang Luo, general manager and major shareholder of Shengfei Group, was also a shareholder in Zhikun, commanding absolute authority there. Colleagues called him “Ancestor” or “Young Master.”
The “Young Master” slapped someone and left, leaving onlookers awkwardly staring at one another.
The man who had been slapped crouched silently, picking up the scattered papers Jiang Luo had thrown across his desk.
“What just happened?”
Why would the Young Master slap Liu, the department head?
Whispers ran through the surrounding desks, but no one really knew.
Soon, a secretary approached, tapping the desk of the man who’d been slapped: “Liu, Mr. Huo wants to see you.”
Liu stood quietly and followed the secretary.
As they left, everyone around began speculating:
“What happened?”
“Just got slapped by the Young Master, and now Mr. Huo wants to see him. Liu’s in trouble for sure.”
“What’s going on?”
“No one knows. Go ask the Young Master yourself.”
“This is the second person he’s slapped this month.”
“You’ll get used to it. The Young Master, Mr. Jiang, when he’s displeased, really shows it.”
“Is his temper really that bad?”
“Not bad—it’s just that he shows his anger. The company and Mr. Huo are used to it.”
Jiang Luo returned upstairs after the slap, walked into the company proper. On the wall behind the reception desk, gold letters gleamed: Shengfei Group Limited.
Jiang Luo’s expression had relaxed; he no longer wore a cold face. He headed toward his office, where Secretary Lu met him briskly: “Mr. Jiang, Mr. Xue Rongxin is here, waiting in your office.”
“Mm.”
Jiang Luo quickened his pace and went straight to his office.
Pushing the door open, he didn’t look at Xue Zhizhong, speaking instead while moving to his desk: “I understand your point. The glass supply for Shenzhen Plot Six can go to you, but not landscaping.”
“The local land bureau has a director whose brother-in-law handles landscaping.”
“Even in Futian, most landscaping is managed by that brother-in-law.”
“If I give you the landscaping, the director will start causing trouble for me.”
Xue Zhizhong rose from the sofa, approaching the desk, smiling obsequiously: “Landscaping is fine, then. As for the glass…”
He smiled, flattering Jiang Luo while quickly changing the subject: “A Qing Dynasty vase is up for auction in Hong Kong in a few days. I’ve already arranged someone to go. When it comes back, I’ll bring it to you. It’s said to be very beautiful—Mr. Huo will love it.”
Jiang Luo could say nothing.
He scanned the supply contracts Xue had handed over and said casually: “You sell computers, I sell computers. Need me to step aside?”
Xue smiled: “Mr. Jiang, you have connections and influence. I can’t compete with that.”
“Enough.”
Jiang Luo tossed the contract back: “One call, it’s done.”
“You came to me, made the request, how could I say no, Mr. Jiang?”
“Fine, go back.”
He stood to leave.
Xue Zhizhong looked at him: “Dinner tonight? I’d like to discuss Zhongguancun in Beijing.”
Jiang Luo shook his head slightly as he pulled the door open: “Why don’t you study Yu Dong instead? Work matters, schedule through my secretary. I’m so free? You want dinner, so we have dinner?”
“Mr. Jiang, please!”
Xue folded her hands, bowed slightly, looking sincere—and coquettish, clearly comfortable with Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo rolled his eyes. Before leaving, he said: “Stay for lunch, eat a boxed meal, and we can talk about that Zhongguancun project.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jiang!”
At noon, one call from Jiang Luo resolved JOVE’s Bank of China account in Haicheng.
During lunch, Secretary Lu brought in boxed meals, and Jiang Luo and Chen Xin ate while discussing Zhongguancun in Beijing.
Chen emphasized that the Internet would be a key part of future network and computer development. JOVE shouldn’t just focus on hardware; software and networking were equally critical.
They also talked about an ISP company.
As they talked, the door knocked twice. A tall figure entered.
“Mr. Huo.”
Chen immediately greeted him: “You two continue.”
The man carried a paper bag but didn’t go to the sofa—he went to the desk, set the bag aside, and casually flipped through the documents on the desk, wearing his watch.