“You need to send the goods from the train station to Haicheng. If you’re going to be there, of course I’ll be there too.”
“Once the shipment goes out and the train heads for Haicheng, I’ll pay you right then.
Where could I even run? Run where?”
Hearing that, Boss Zhang mulled it over. It did make some sense. But after thinking and thinking, he still felt it was safer to collect a bit of deposit first.
Jiang Luo showed a hint of impatience. His expression cooled. He put down the pen meant for signing and stood up.
“Since Boss Zhang doesn’t trust me, then forget it. I’ll go find another factory.”
“Hey, hey—don’t.”
Boss Zhang quickly stopped him. There was no way he’d let a duck that had practically flown into his mouth escape again.
He softened his tone. “To open the mold and get workers to rush the production—it all costs money…”
Jiang Luo didn’t show any emotion at all. He turned calmly. “I’ll find another factory.”
He moved as if leaving, even signaling to Wang Chuang. “Let’s go.”
Wang Chuang walked over to the tea table to grab the doll they had left on the chair.
Boss Zhang panicked. “Hey, hey—don’t, don’t go, I didn’t mean to chase you out, absolutely not.”
“Business is something you talk through. We can talk more, talk more.”
Following Jiang Luo’s cue, Wang Chuang “performed,” saying to Boss Zhang,
“Our Young Master Jiang is even willing to sit here wasting time chatting with you. If the contract had already been settled, who knows how much money he’d have made by now.”
Then he pretended to slip up, saying,
“And I’m not afraid to tell you—this doll has already sold out. Once it goes back on the shelves, it won’t be sold for just 68 anymore.”
“Why do you think when you said seven yuan, we didn’t even bargain?”
“Whoever takes this job makes a guaranteed profit. If your factory won’t do it, someone else will.”
“Wang Chuang.”
By now Jiang Luo had reached the door and opened it.
Boss Zhang, a man who had survived in the business world for years, never expected he’d be played by two eighteen-year-olds.
He rushed over, blocked the door, shut it, and put an arm around Jiang Luo’s shoulder, guiding him back in.
“Don’t, don’t—Young Master Jiang, my fault, my fault. I wasn’t thinking straight. My fault.”
“Come, sit, sit.”
He also gestured at Wang Chuang. “You too, young man. Sit.”
Boss Zhang hesitated, gritted his teeth, and said, “Alright, just pay some deposit. Just a bit, to show sincerity.
Otherwise I really can’t feel at ease.”
Jiang Luo thought to himself: this Boss Zhang is actually a straightforward person. The Wen City businessmen he dealt with in his last life—those people’s minds were sharp, agile, and absolutely wouldn’t have fallen for an act like this.
Then he remembered: Oh, right—it’s only 1990. Maybe the merchants in Wen City weren’t as shrewd yet.
But whether he wasn’t sharp enough or simply not cunning, Jiang Luo knew one thing clearly: in those days, anyone trying to make money put everything they had into securing orders.
Wen City had factories everywhere—you do it, I do it, if you refuse, someone else will take it.
No one wanted business falling into someone else’s hands.
To put it simply: Boss Zhang wasn’t easy to fool—he was willing to take on risk because he wanted to make money.
That was exactly what Jiang Luo aimed at.
Jiang Luo pretended to compromise. “Alright. I’ll pay you two thousand as deposit.”
“If that works for you, I’ll pay right now. Once I pay, we sign the contract.”
“Contract signed, you start the mold. Once the goods are shipped out from Wen City, I’ll pay immediately.”
He spoke cleanly and decisively:
“If that works, we sign and I pay.
If it doesn’t…”
Boss Zhang gritted his teeth. “It works. It works.”
Jiang Luo signaled to Wang Chuang, who opened his bag and pulled out a thick leather envelope. He handed it to Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo opened it, counted briefly, then took out two thousand yuan and handed it to Boss Zhang.
One look at the thickness of the envelope—and Boss Zhang relaxed. There had to be at least thirty, forty thousand in there. More than enough to cover the first batch of two thousand dolls.
He accepted the money and placed it on the table. Then he picked up the contract again and said with a laugh,
“Young Master Jiang, you clearly aren’t short on cash. A big spender like you—this little bit of payment is nothing, you could settle it in minutes.”
Under Jiang Luo’s look, Wang Chuang chimed in,
“Company policy. What can we do?
That’s just how our company pays.”
Alright then.
Boss Zhang sighed inwardly and signed.
Jiang Luo and Wang Chuang exchanged a look; Wang Chuang lifted his eyebrows, Jiang Luo gave the faintest smirk.
And just like that, they sealed the deal for the dolls with only two thousand paid upfront.
They didn’t stay long—just finished two cups of tea and chatted casually before heading out. Boss Zhang walked them out.
He said as they walked, “**I’ll take the doll straight to the design department later. We’ll start drawing the mold.”
“Once the mold is done, production goes fast. We’ll have the first batch of two thousand dolls in a few days.**”
Then he checked his watch. “It’s almost noon. Let me treat you two to lunch?”
Jiang Luo kept walking without responding. Wang Chuang said,
“Better not. Our Young Master Jiang is way too picky. He grew up eating good stuff in Haicheng.”
Boss Zhang immediately said, “If I treat you, it’ll definitely be something good.”
“Come, come—let’s take my car. I’ll go get it.”
“No need.”
Jiang Luo finally spoke, smiling. “Next time. We still have things to do.”
Boss Zhang, thinking they must have more business to negotiate, asked,
“Are you planning to order anything else? I know all the factories around here.
I can take you.”
That was exactly what Jiang Luo was waiting for.
He turned to Boss Zhang. “I still need to order some European-style table lamps. Know any lamp factories?”
Boss Zhang: “Yes, yes—I’ll take you.”
He hurried off to get the car.
As soon as he left, Wang Chuang squeezed up next to Jiang Luo, trembling with excitement.
“Holy—did we really just pull it off?!”
“Two thousand yuan for a deal worth tens of thousands?”
“And if he knew that envelope was just full of blank paper and we barely had any money—he’d cough blood!”
Jiang Luo ruffled his hair. “What are you so excited about? Save it for later.”
Wang Chuang was still buzzing. “I never knew you could do business like this!”
A few years later, he would learn the term “pulling off a deal with empty hands.”
Jiang Luo sneered inwardly: This is nothing. Compared to Huo Zongzhuo getting a whole airplane with empty hands, this is child’s play.
And where was Huo Zongzhuo at this moment?
In Chuancheng, having dinner with several executives from Chuancheng Airlines. He told them he had a Soviet Tu-154 plane in his hands.
Chuancheng Airlines happened to need planes and agreed to purchase it through him.
After the meal, at the front desk paying the bill, Huo glanced at the folded note in his wallet, took it out, looked at it again, then put it back.
He wondered: Where’s Jiang Luo right now? Did he go back to the Jing’an branch to buy stocks?
He’d be leaving Chuancheng in a couple of days, then heading to Wen City again.
Once he returned to Haicheng, he’d ask around and try to find that young man.
Meanwhile, Jiang Luo had used the same routine to secure a second order—for European-style table lamps.
This time the factory owner didn’t object to shipping first and receiving payment later.
Why? Because he figured: If even Boss Zhang, that sly old fox, agreed, and he wasn’t afraid of getting burned, what would I be afraid of?
Besides, even the driver who took them around said Young Master Jiang lived at the Crowne, rented a private car, smoked premium cigarettes, only ate at the best restaurants, and paid fuel by the hundred.
That kind of person had to be loaded. And if he was loaded, he wouldn’t run.
After all, he’d be present when the goods shipped. If he wasn’t present, they wouldn’t ship.
So just like that, in a single day, Jiang Luo and Wang Chuang secured two major deals.
After signing, they sat at the tea table in the lamp factory’s office, chatting and drinking tea comfortably.
That evening, the lamp factory owner—related by marriage to Boss Zhang—joined Zhang to treat the two for dinner and then took them to a foot-massage place.
Though the storefront looked legitimate, it really wasn’t. All the girls doing the massaging were young and pretty.
Seven or eight girls lined up along the wall in the private room, wearing matching outfits and short skirts, stockings covering long legs.
The moment Wang Chuang saw them, his face turned bright red.
Jiang Luo didn’t blush. Not even a little. He was disgusted—this kind of sleazy setup was something he couldn’t stand.
He didn’t pick a girl or let anyone touch him. He also refused on behalf of Wang Chuang, and led him out.
The owner panicked, worried he had offended them. He hurriedly dismissed the girls and asked, “Young Master Jiang, you don’t like massages?”
Jiang Luo smiled. “My family is strict. If they knew I was doing this out here, they’d break my legs.”
Hearing that, neither owner dared press further. They apologized for the poor hospitality and walked them out.
Back at the Crowne Hotel, Wang Chuang—no longer blushing—asked in confusion,
“Why didn’t you get the massage? It’s not like we were paying.”
In the elevator, both stayed quiet because an elevator attendant was present.
Once they stepped out onto the carpeted hallway, Wang Chuang blurted,
“Of course it’s just a massage. What else could it be?
I’ve never even had one before.”
Jiang Luo snorted a laugh, raised his hand, and grabbed the back of Wang Chuang’s neck while walking.
“There are plenty of tricks in the business world.
You’d better keep your head on straight.”