“What do you think, Young Master Li?”
Li Fengrui read it, going over the words again and again, his brows knitting slightly.
He understood now. Jiang Luo having someone deliver the original designs wasn’t a provocation at all—it was genuinely an invitation for him to take the designs and make the clothes.
Jiang Luo truly didn’t mind someone copying his brand.
Entrepreneur…
Everyone can…
Li Fengrui had grown up with an elite education. He’d never held ideas or ambitions like that, and reading them stirred little emotion in him.
Still, he grasped one thing clearly now: Jiang Luo wasn’t just trying to build a brand and make money.
His sights were set much higher.
At this point, Li Fengrui somewhat understood Jiang Luo’s words—“we walk different paths.”
Jiang Luo and he really did have different goals, different ways of thinking, completely different roads ahead.
Li Fengrui felt a hint of disdain. Everyone can? Did he think he was some leader serving the nation and its people?
But he was curious. He wanted to see just what kind of waves Jiang Luo could actually stir up.
And he couldn’t help wondering—who was that entrepreneur Jiang Luo mentioned?
Who had taught him these ideas?
Who was Jiang Luo really learning business from?
Early morning. Hilton Hotel. Restaurant.
Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzhuo sat together eating breakfast.
Huo Zongzhuo was flipping through a few documents, deeply focused. He’d barely eaten anything—only taken a couple sips of the milk Jiang Luo had brought over earlier.
Jiang Luo ate his breakfast, glanced in Huo Zongzhuo’s direction, and casually asked, “Has the floor price come out yet?”
“When the buildings on that land of yours are finished, if you sell them, it won’t be less than 6,000 per square meter, right?”
“Mm.”
Huo Zongzhuo didn’t look up. “The price won’t be low.”
Then he added, “Real estate is important. The country values it. Future GDP will need it.”
Jiang Luo thought for a moment as he ate. “If housing prices are that high, how are ordinary people supposed to buy?”
“There won’t really be homes that are both high-quality and affordable enough for everyone to buy, will there?”
Huo Zongzhuo still didn’t raise his head. “When the economy develops, some people will get rich, and some won’t.”
“If the economy doesn’t develop, everyone stays poor, and the country stays poor.”
“There’s a saying: you can’t have both fish and bear’s paw.”
“Development always moves upward in a spiral. It’s hard to ever make things one hundred percent perfect.”
“Personally, I lean toward developing the economy first, then figuring out how to realize ‘communism.’”
Jiang Luo raised an eyebrow, nodded, and it was unclear how much he actually understood.
Only then did Huo Zongzhuo look up and smile. “Was that too lofty and idealistic? You didn’t quite follow, did you?”
Jiang Luo shrugged, indifferent. “Whether I understood or not doesn’t really matter.”
Then, with curiosity in his eyes and a probing tone, he asked, “Since you care so much about the country and people’s livelihoods, why not go into the system?”
Huo Zongzhuo took a sip of milk, lowered his head back to the documents, and replied gently, “The country doesn’t lack politicians, and it doesn’t lack leaders.”
“What it needs are businesspeople who can change the economy of an entire region.”
“There are things businesspeople can do that leaders within the system can’t—and they’re more flexible.”
Jiang Luo smiled faintly and said nothing more, but he thought of something Huo Zongzhuo had once said in his past life—‘everyone can.’
So that’s why, back then, Huo Zongzhuo always looked cold whenever he saw him. And why someone as vindictive as Jiang Luo simply couldn’t bring himself to hate this man.
Because Huo Zongzhuo was a principled entrepreneur—someone with ideals and genuine concern for the country.
Jiang Luo couldn’t scoff at that. He truly admired him, quietly, from afar.
“The buns are cold,” Jiang Luo reminded him. “Stop reading for now.”
He reached out, took the stack of documents, and set them aside.
“Eat first.”
Only then did Huo Zongzhuo stop reading and start eating breakfast. As he did, he asked, “What do you have planned today?”
Jiang Luo grinned mischievously. “Take a guess.”
“Going to the factory?”
Jiang Luo shrugged and joked, “Not telling.”
Two hours later, Jiang Luo’s car stopped in front of a Bank of China branch on a street in Minhang District.
As soon as Jiang Luo got out, a tall, thin man in a suit ran out of the bank. He hurried over, warmly shaking Jiang Luo’s hand. “Mr. Jiang, right? Hello, hello.”
He made small talk. “Smooth drive? It’s cold today—I saw frost along the road.”
Then he ushered him inside. “Come on, let’s talk in the office.”
“I’ve got all the materials ready. We’ll discuss it inside.”
The man was named Qian Heng, a client manager in the bank’s credit department. Very young—he’d graduated from college just last year and only started handling business on his own this year.
Qian Heng wasn’t from Haicheng. He’d graduated from Tongji University, stayed in the city afterward, and had no background or connections. He joined the bank, ended up in the credit department, and his performance had always ranked last.
By coincidence, when Jiang Luo had called the credit department a few days earlier, Qian Heng happened to be the one who answered.
After hearing that Jiang Luo wanted a loan, Qian Heng chatted briefly with him over the phone and set up today’s in-person meeting.
Qian Heng was clearly a greenhorn. He led Jiang Luo to the meeting room, went to pour hot water, and nearly burned his hand—clumsy and flustered.
Jiang Luo found it amusing and quietly curled his lips into a smile.
Taking the tea, Jiang Luo teased him, “Manager Qian, you doing okay? If you’re not…”
“I’m okay, I’m okay!”
Qian Heng replied as he walked out, glancing back. “I’ll grab the documents. Please wait a moment.”
Before long, Qian Heng returned. The two sat at the conference table. Qian Heng looked over the paperwork and asked, “Mr. Jiang, you want a loan, right?”
“Yes,” Jiang Luo answered steadily.
Qian Heng glanced at the materials again, stumbling a bit over his words. “Do you have assets?”
He explained, “I mean property—houses, cash, things like that. The car you drive counts too.”
Jiang Luo replied calmly, “I don’t own a house. The car you just saw is rented. I have about 150,000 yuan in cash in my personal bank account.”
“I own a trading company. Under the company, I’ve registered a clothing brand and several trademarks.”
“I also have a garment factory in Juxiang Town, Jiading.”
“My money isn’t in my personal account—it’s in the company accounts.”
“Oh, oh.”
Qian Heng listened carefully, jotting things down on a blank sheet of paper.
“May I ask about your company’s business scope?”
“Clothing design, manufacturing, and sales. We also do toys…”
Qian Heng kept writing as he listened.
“And the factory is yours as well, right?”
“Yes.”
“What trademarks do you have?”
“‘Shengfei,’ ‘Qiqiao Childhood,’ and ‘Vilanito.’”
They went over the basic situation of the company.
“Which line of business makes the most money right now?”
“The Vilanito counters in shopping malls.”
“We have three counters in Haicheng and one in Jinling.”
Qian Heng nodded. “What’s the monthly revenue?”
“Haicheng used to have only one counter. We’ve recently opened two more.”
“Before that, one counter brought in about 600,000 yuan in November.”
Six hundred… thousand?
That’s a lot!
Qian Heng nodded repeatedly, secretly astonished. “That’s really good business.”
Indeed.
Jiang Luo remained composed.
Qian Heng flipped through his notes, now having a clearer picture of Jiang Luo’s situation. Finally, he asked, “So… how much are you looking to borrow?”
Jiang Luo looked at him. “Ten million.”
Huh?
How much?
Qian Heng thought he must’ve misheard.
“Ten million,” Jiang Luo repeated.
This time Qian Heng heard it clearly. His pupils visibly trembled as he stared at Jiang Luo.
How much?!
Ten million?!
One—ten—million?!
Qian Heng was stunned. He suddenly wanted to pinch himself.
Was Jiang Luo dreaming—or was he?
Ten million.
That was ten. million.
…………………………….
Jiang Luo knew ten million was a huge amount.
Originally, he hadn’t planned to borrow that much from the bank. He’d intended to take it step by step—start with three to five million, then borrow more later once his plans took shape.
But before coming today, he reconsidered. His companies were performing well, so he might as well ask for more. If the bank rejected the ten million, even approving three to five million would still achieve his goal.
The real worry was that if he only asked for three to five million, the bank might play it safe and refuse to lend much at all—not even three million.
Jiang Luo wasn’t some fresh graduate like Qian Heng, so nervous he couldn’t even pour tea steadily.
He had his own understanding of human nature and the twists and turns of the business world.
Naturally, he kept his guard up with the bank as well.
Seeing Qian Heng’s shock now, Jiang Luo said calmly, “Given the performance of ‘Vilanito’ under my company, honestly speaking, I don’t think ten million is all that much.”
“One counter alone can generate 600,000 in turnover during good months.”
“I currently have four counters total—Haicheng and Jinling combined.”
“Even conservatively, four counters should bring in at least 1.5 million a month.”
“Ten months would be 15 million.”