Jiang Luo was in charge of the women’s clothing.
Without hesitation, he set to work. The next day, Wang Chuang bid farewell to his parents, took his luggage along with some samples labeled with the Shengfei brand, and boarded the train to Jinling alone.
Jiang Luo, on the other hand, went to Jiading.
Why Jiading?
Because in his previous life, Jiang Luo’s clothing factory had been in Jiading.
Yes, making clothes—especially women’s clothing—was one of Jiang Luo’s old specialties.
At that time, in his early twenties, he had spent two aimless years at Oriental No. 1 and out in society. Realizing that drifting around was no way to live and that he needed to make money, he started thinking about doing something legitimate.
Coincidentally, during those two years, the small market had moved to a new building, with three or four floors selling all kinds of clothing, drawing large crowds.
He had accompanied several girlfriends and female friends shopping there many times, becoming very familiar with the place.
He noticed that the clothing stalls were doing particularly well. Since he didn’t have other skills or connections, he thought about sourcing some goods and selling clothes to make money.
That was how, in his previous life, after he stopped fooling around and left Oriental No. 1, he started earning money and doing business by selling clothes in the retail market.
The good thing was, by selling women’s clothing, he really did make money;
The bad thing was, because he didn’t understand the industry well, especially women’s clothing, he ran into a lot of losses, wasted a lot of effort, and lost a lot of time.
He had hit plenty of walls head-on, suffered injuries, and only after that did he finally start his own clothing factory, pushing the business to a new level and scale.
Now, returning to Jiading, driving and recalling all the past events and paths he had taken, one image after another flashed through Jiang Luo’s mind. Yet his heart remained calm, with no sentimental feelings or emotional stirrings—only a rational, third-person perspective observing his past mistakes and detours.
This time, he was determined: in this 1990s, he would take his own women’s clothing brand nationwide.
No matter what else he did in the future, women’s clothing—his most familiar industry—would serve as the starting point of his commercial ventures.
After driving for quite a while, he finally arrived in Jiading. Following his memory, he slowly navigated the streets.
He reached the familiar Juxiang Town, rolled down the car window, and saw numerous workshops on both sides of the road, each with a signboard: “XX Clothing Workshop” or “Fabric Processing.”
Some shops were still open, with a few people hunched over sewing machines, busily stitching.
A few noticed Jiang Luo and his relatively slow-driving Huto Ben sedan outside.
At most, they glanced curiously. After all, cars were rare now. Anyone driving one into town was almost certainly a business owner in the clothing industry.
As for the workers at the machines, paid by piecework, they wouldn’t approach to greet anyone. They just kept working.
Jiang Luo didn’t get out of the car, casually looking around as he drove along.
Until he arrived at a small shop with a sign reading “Master Zhang Tailor Shop,” where the Huto Ben finally stopped.
Jiang Luo got out, closed the door behind him, and looked toward Master Zhang’s shop. Lo and behold, a sign hung in front of the half-open shop: “Shop for Transfer.”
Jiang Luo smirked inwardly. Old Zhang, you’re not doing so well.
Inside the shop, the ceiling fan whirred, several men and women sat at sewing machines, heads bent, focused on stitching the fabric.
Tables were stacked with materials to be processed, scraps of fabric and thread littered the floor, and boxes of materials were at their feet.
The shop was stuffy and dull, no one chatting—everyone just did their work.
They all knew that after a few more days, the shop would finish its remaining orders.
Everyone would have to find new jobs. The surrounding workshops were not short of workers, but there was no guarantee how long it would take to find new work.
Sigh, it was a worry.
At that moment, a young girl near the door noticed someone outside.
She looked up from her machine, seeing a handsome, unusually young man with outstanding aura. She asked in confusion, “Are you looking for someone?”
The young man didn’t enter, instead pointing to the sign on the door: “For transfer? Is that right?”
The girl paused, her hands forgetting the work, the machine slowing down: “Ah, yes, the boss wants to transfer…”
Inside, a few others also glanced toward the door.
Jiang Luo put his hands in his pockets, calm and unhurried: “I want to see your boss, Boss Zhang.”
……………………
Zhang Ningfu hurried over on his bicycle. The first thing he saw was the black sedan parked in front of the shop.
The second thing he saw was a tall young man standing in front of the shop, and his nephew, Xiao Lu, inside.
Xiao Lu had been helping with processing work since middle school, earning some pocket money for his family.
It seemed he had been talking to the young man, who quietly listened.
When Zhang Ningfu finally stopped his bike and got off, Xiao Lu called out: “Uncle!”
Jiang Luo looked over as well.
Zhang Ningfu, now just over fifty, parked his bike nearby and quickly approached, instinctively greeting Jiang Luo in the local dialect: “Hello, hello.”
He also extended his hand.
Jiang Luo saw Zhang Ningfu, quietly curved his lips into a smile, and returned the handshake, greeting in the same dialect.
Zhang Ningfu shook Jiang Luo’s hand firmly, gesturing inside: “Come in and sit, it’s hot outside.”
He apologized: “Sorry, the kids didn’t know better, didn’t invite you in to drink water.”
Xiao Lu muttered: “I already invited him.”
“Go ahead.”
Zhang Ningfu ignored Xiao Lu, gesturing Jiang Luo inside.
He was very polite: “Sorry, the shop is messy inside, please don’t mind.”
“Come inside, I have an office with air conditioning. I’ll turn it on for you.”
Passing through the workspace to the office, Zhang Ningfu tried to start the AC, but it didn’t work.
He had arrived in such a hurry, sweating all over, fiddling with the AC with his back to Jiang Luo. Jiang Luo found it quietly amusing, thinking: This stingy habit, it’s been with him since the early days. Bought the AC but can’t use it.
Jiang Luo sat on the sofa.
“Turn on the fan instead.”
“I’m sorry,” Zhang Ningfu said, wiping sweat and hurriedly turning on the fan. He then tried to pour tea, but there was no hot water in the thermos, making him even more embarrassed.
“Sit.”
Jiang Luo smiled inwardly. “I don’t need water, don’t worry, I have some in my car.”
“Oh, okay.”
Finally, Zhang Ningfu sat with him on the sofa. He took an apple from the coffee table, offering it to Jiang Luo, feeling a bit embarrassed at his lack of hospitality.
Zhang Ningfu didn’t know much about running a business; he only knew how to make clothes.
After a brief pause, he looked at Jiang Luo, rubbed his hands together, and greeted: “My surname is Zhang, like the official seal. Boss, may I ask your surname?”
Jiang Luo: “Jiang, like ginger.”
Zhang Ningfu nodded: “Boss Jiang.”
He didn’t know much else to say, paused briefly, then got straight to the point: “You came because you saw the ‘Shop for Transfer’ sign outside?”
Jiang Luo, calm and casual on the sofa, replied: “Why are you transferring? Not doing business anymore?”
Zhang Ningfu sighed and self-deprecatingly said: “Can’t keep it going, no orders.”
He explained: “I used to be a tailor in town, business was good back then, made some money. Later, workshops started opening all over, providing processing for clothes. I thought with my skills, I could open a shop too, but there were no orders, couldn’t compete.”
“Rent, utilities—all cost money. The few workers I hired, they also need to be paid. Couldn’t afford it anymore.”
He sighed: “Might as well transfer it, lose a little less.”
Zhang Ningfu only said this much. Jiang Luo, having known him in a previous life, understood the deeper reason:
Zhang Ningfu’s son had married into Haicheng and had a child. His wife had gone to take care of the baby, so now they really needed money.
Zhang Ningfu had tried to hold on with the workshop, but when his wife and son in the city called him, urging him to stop the unprofitable shop and return to tailoring, he had no choice. He needed to earn money for the household and support his newborn granddaughter.
That was why he finally decided to quit and transfer the shop.
Zhang Ningfu, straightforward, had explained the reason and his decision, then went on to detail the shop: number of machines, rent, number of workers, daily output for different processing types, and his expected transfer price.