Chapter 105

Zhang Ningfu could only “hide” at the factory, staying a full month without sending money home or keeping in touch with his wife and son.

His son didn’t complain much, but his wife constantly called to “nag.”

Zhang Ningfu knew in his heart that it wasn’t really his son being silent, nor was his wife truly fussing for her own sake. In short, if there was five percent wrong on the wife’s side, there was at least seven percent on the son’s.

The calls annoyed him, so he simply ignored everyone and stayed at the factory. Being busy kept him from thinking about home and lifted his mood.

Except he missed his granddaughter… sigh.

Meanwhile, the Zhao family couldn’t revolve entirely around Jiang Luo—they had to work and live normally.

Jiang Luo didn’t acknowledge them, spoke so decisively…

Sad? Of course.

But life had to go on.

Recently, Su Lan had been helping Zhao Shuo look at apartments. She’d seen options in Gubei, Central Garden, and Swiss Garden—all well-built, nicely planned, likely to become prime locations. At three thousand per square meter, others might think expensive, but Su Lan considered it affordable.

She and a few friends had visited multiple times, and along with Zhao Guangyuan and Zhao Shuo, they had seen the places twice. It was almost time to commit, thinking that once Zhao Shuo reached the right age, he’d need a house for marriage.

Friends advised buying two units, saying she had two sons; couldn’t only give the older one a house, since the younger would eventually need one too.

What could Su Lan say? She couldn’t exactly tell them Jiang Luo refused to come home or recognize them.

Outwardly calm, Su Lan privately sighed alone, feeling bitter. Recently, a few more strands of white hair had appeared.

At school, Zhao Mingshi was holding in frustration, working with roommates Fang Haichen and some seniors on building a domestic version of the NES—a Famicom clone.

He believed that if they succeeded, it would sell well in China at a lower price than the Japanese version. With Zhao Shuo’s financial backing, he was confident he could make it a success.

He absolutely could not be outdone by Jiang Luo.

Jiang Luo was in business? Fine, he’d do business too!

He wasn’t any worse than Jiang Luo; how could he fail?

Then news came from Zhao Shuo: Jiang Luo wouldn’t come home and had told the Zhao family to scram.

Zhao Mingshi was ecstatic—he couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome.

But at the same time, Zhao Guangyuan overheard Zhao Shuo and learned what Zhao Mingshi was up to at school—also trying to do business—and he didn’t approve.

Zhao Guangyuan called Zhao Mingshi home, making him stop his endeavors, reminding him to remember his status as a student and not to prioritize money at this stage.

“You’re a university student. You finally got into Fudan; your studies should come first.”
“Money can wait; you can earn it later.”
“Focus on learning, gain knowledge, accumulate experience.”
“Later, once you find your path and graduate, you can earn all you want.”

Zhao Mingshi listened, said nothing, but inwardly resented it.

Why treat him differently from Jiang Luo?

Why was Jiang Luo praised for doing business, while he was accused of shirking his duties?

What’s wrong with trying to earn money? Zhao Guangyuan was clearly biased toward Jiang Luo!

Then he heard Su Lan arranging a house for Zhao Shuo, without considering him. He felt resentful and bitter.

Before the adoption revelation, Su Lan always bought things equally for both children. Now, buying a house, and none for him? It’s because he wasn’t biological.

Eighteen years of love? Nonsense.

Back at school, Zhao Mingshi was frustrated everywhere he turned. Seeing Jiang Luo borrow ten million, start a company, drive a Benz, build a factory—he’d been left far behind. Jealous, anxious, and confused, he realized there was nothing he could do.

He couldn’t exactly go burn Jiang Luo’s factory in the countryside.

Feeling powerless, Zhao Mingshi questioned: was getting into university, studying, and earning a degree really useful?

His mood sunk. Fang Haichen suggested resuming NES tinkering, but Zhao Mingshi refused, knowing the family wouldn’t support him and would call him unproductive.

At that moment, a roommate said: “Zhao Mingshi, there’s a programming lecture this afternoon. Want to come?”

“Sure,” he replied, not wanting to be alone.

—

In early March, Li Fengrui invited Jiang Luo to dinner.

Jiang Luo had time, so he went—eating like friends, chatting about the factory expansion and other miscellaneous topics, business-related or not. The meal was good, the conversation lively; on the surface, their relationship seemed cordial.

But Jiang Luo knew the truth: Li Fengrui merely respected him somewhat. They were worlds apart in status, character, and interests; they were civil acquaintances at best, not true friends.

Afterward, Jiang Luo went to his company—the office had recently moved in the same building, larger space, with a few new hires.

“Jiang Zong.”
“Mm.”

That afternoon, Accountant Xue came by with the latest accounts and casually mentioned something.

“Did you hear about the trouble at Pacific Department Store recently?”

Jiang Luo raised an eyebrow.

Trouble?

He had just eaten with Li Fengrui, who hadn’t mentioned a word.

Xue leaned casually on the desk, gossiping: “After the New Year, they brought in a few very expensive foreign brands and kicked out some long-term local brands without warning.”
“Those counter owners have been looking for them. The commotion got so bad, police were called.”

Jiang Luo stopped reviewing the accounts, listening.

Xue continued: “That’s not all. After those pricey foreign brands arrived, the store started all sorts of discount promotions. Every other brand and counter had to participate, except the luxury newcomers. People flocked in, but the counters barely made money, some even losing.”

Jiang Luo thought a moment: “It’s to attract customers.”

“Exactly.”

Xue analyzed: “All to draw traffic. They’re bleeding the counters dry, but for those few luxury brands. Honestly, I don’t get why Pacific would do this.”

Xue sighed in relief: “Luckily, we didn’t set up a counter there, or we’d be in trouble too.”

Jiang Luo realized Li Fengrui was bringing in foreign luxury brands, aiming to elevate the mall to the top in Haicheng. To do that, he wouldn’t care about the other brands—the fancy new labels would draw the crowd, while the smaller brands would foot the cost.

Xue was right: had Vilanido entered Pacific back then, they would have been exploited the same way. Their presence would have been just a stepping stone for the luxury brands.

He smirked and returned to the accounts.

Lucky he was bold and independent, and hadn’t boarded Li Fengrui’s “pirate ship” before. Otherwise, he’d be among the exploited now.

A sly fox, indeed.

Speaking of which… Jiang Luo himself wasn’t exactly innocent… more like a cunning little fox… or a clever rascal.

At his Wukang Road villa, Jiang Luo returned home first that night, went straight to the third floor, entered his bedroom, and took a shower in the en-suite bathroom.

Afterward, waist wrapped in a large towel, hair wet, slippers off, barefoot, he left water droplets trailing across the floor—just as his cellphone rang on the bed. He had just finished showering and reached to answer.

His bedroom door was wide open.

Huo Zongzhuo came home, passing by, and saw this:

Jiang Luo, half-naked, waist down wrapped in a white towel, hair still dripping. Under the light, droplets traced the curve of his bare, fair back, trickled down the slight hollow of his narrow waist, landing on the towel below.