Su Lan was delighted, laughing: “So he’s really got the business on track. I thought he was still driving trucks around, selling wherever he could, but he’s actually running a company now.”
“Truly impressive. He’s grown so much, really makes you look at him differently.”
Zhao Mingshi almost ground his molars. Afraid his parents, Zhao Shuo and Su Lan, would notice his irritation, he quickly forced a smile and said, “Jiang Luo really is amazing.”
But inside, he seethed: How is this possible? He’s just a slacker, yet he can start a business and run a company? Without even asking Mom and Dad for help? Impossible!
No matter how Zhao Mingshi thought about it, it didn’t make sense. There had to be someone helping him. He simply couldn’t have built this business on his own.
Conflicted, Zhao Mingshi’s feelings churned—a mix of jealousy, resentment, and bitterness bubbling in his eyes.
The next day at noon, Zhao Mingshi, wearing a cap pulled low over his head and carrying a backpack, went to the building where Jiang Luo’s company was located. Exiting the elevator, he walked to the company’s entrance, where the sign read Shengfei Trading.
Standing at the doorway, his eyes beneath the brim of his hat burned with restrained rage.
Why him? Why is Jiang Luo so lucky?
He had Zhao Guangyuan and Su Lan as parents and could run a company and make money on his own?
Did all the good things in the world have to go to Jiang Luo? He used to be the favored son! He even got into Fudan!
Zhao Mingshi refused to accept it. His fists clenched tightly at his sides as he seethed.
On the way back to school, sitting in the back seat, he stared silently out the window, his mind racing.
At the counters, business was booming, with daily revenue climbing steadily. The workshop had moved to a new factory and hired more staff, all running smoothly. Lately, Jiang Luo was focused on designing winter clothing and planning the next steps.
He had made plans early on when searching for a new factory, which was why he had chosen such a large space. But as Huo Zongzhuo had advised, he needed to pace himself—no overreaching. Jiang Luo intended to take measured steps.
At the same time, a minor issue arose at the Tongcheng factory.
Jiang Luo had stayed in Haicheng for the past couple of days and sent Zhang Ningfu’s nephew, Xiao Lu, to transport materials from the Tongcheng factory. Ordinarily, this would be a straightforward task, yet a problem occurred.
Jiang Luo was in his office, sketching a winter coat design, when the landline rang.
He picked up: “Hello? Who’s this?”
Xiao Lu’s anxious voice came through: “Boss Jiang, the factory says they don’t have all the materials. The batches we ordered are gone.”
Jiang Luo stayed calm: “What did Director Liu say?”
Xiao Lu: “I didn’t see Director Liu, only the warehouse manager. He said Liu isn’t at the factory today.”
“Hmm. Got it,” Jiang Luo replied.
Xiao Lu hesitated: “So… what should we do now?”
“Hang up for now. I’ll make some calls. Stay put; I’ll get back to you.”
“Okay.”
Jiang Luo hung up, set aside his sketch, and called Director Liu at the Tongcheng factory. The line kept ringing—no answer.
He then tried Liu’s pager. While dialing, he went over the situation in his mind.
Afterward, he called Xiao Lu back: “Don’t worry about it. Come back.”
Xiao Lu: “Should I ask another manager there?”
“No need. No materials, just return.”
Jiang Luo was decisive.
“Okay,” Xiao Lu responded.
Jiang Luo picked up his design again, continuing his work. The office landline remained silent.
Hours later, Director Liu finally returned the call. Flustered, he greeted repeatedly: “Boss Jiang! Sorry, sorry, I’ve been busy.”
“Is there a problem?”
Jiang Luo leaned back, smiling calmly: “Nothing much. Just wondering why, when we went to get the materials today, your side said they were gone.”
Director Liu sounded shocked: “Gone? Impossible. I confirmed the materials. There should be plenty. Let me check the warehouse and the workshop.”
“Thanks,” Jiang Luo replied lightly and hung up.
A sly smile crossed his face—he knew exactly what Liu expected him to say: ‘What should we do?’
What should he do? Chill. That’s all.
Instead of following Liu’s expectations, Jiang Luo said calmly: “It’s fine, Director Liu. You stay busy. I’ll hang up now.”
Liu hurriedly asked: “You don’t want the materials?”
Jiang Luo knew exactly what this roundabout suggestion meant—basically, he was angling for a kickback. He wasn’t surprised; such schemes were routine in business.
Even in his first entrepreneurial venture in his previous life, Jiang Luo had never been manipulated. A mere materials manager, trying to hold him up? Please.
Yes, the Tongcheng fabrics were important, and the requested batches were rare. But so what?
Jiang Luo had no patience for nonsense. He delivered two words: “Get lost.”
Then he hung up.
Director Liu was fuming: how dare this young man be so arrogant? He knew Jiang Luo needed the fabric—they had even visited Juxiang Town and Yong’an Department Store. Without the materials, what could Jiang Luo make? Air?
He knew some fabrics were exclusive to his factory in the region. Jiang Luo needed them. He needed him.
Liu stared at the phone, snorted coldly: Let’s see how long your arrogance lasts.
What he didn’t know was that Jiang Luo had already called Wang Chuang’s pager.
Wang Chuang returned the call: “The batches have been loaded onto the train. Whew, what a day.”
Where? Guangzhou.
Jiang Luo had sent him to source the materials. Wang Chuang had initially wondered why they went to Guangzhou instead of Tongcheng, but now the answer was clear. Jiang Luo’s prior experience in business made this a smart precaution.
In his previous life, he had been held up over materials before. He had already planned for this, sending Wang Chuang to Guangzhou in advance.
Sure enough, nothing went to waste. Otherwise, without enough fabric, the factory couldn’t continue production.
Before leaving the office, Jiang Luo tapped Xue, the accountant, on the desk lazily: “Hold off on the Tongcheng factory payments for now.”
Xue looked up: “Why?”
“So much money in the account—why rush?”
Blurted out: “Did they offend you?”
Jiang Luo shrugged on his coat, walking out without looking back: “Big time. I’m a stingy man, after all.”
Xue muttered: “You’re stingy?”
“Yeah, hold the payment,” Jiang Luo said.
As he left, a female colleague asked: “Xue, why aren’t we paying? I don’t understand. Tongcheng usually sends fabric on time.”
Xue checked the ledger: “It says here—they offended the boss. He’s stingy.”
Another colleague asked curiously: “How’d they offend him? Boss Jiang usually has a good temper.”