“Complimenting you.”
Jiang Luo thought to himself: your company, Boss Huo, is going to be universally recognized across China as the private enterprise with the best benefits—bar none.
“I’ll take you as my benchmark.”
Huo Zongzhuo snorted with a laugh. “You’re getting more and more disrespectful.”
Just as Jiang Luo had said, Hongming Garment Factory had been performing poorly for a long time. That was why it was facing a complete restructuring. And precisely because business had been bad, wages had been hard to pay—starting before the Spring Festival last year—and workers had been full of complaints.
So with a factory like this, why would the workers still pool money to buy shares?
Jiang Luo understood perfectly: they’d been talked into it by the factory.
If they hadn’t been coaxed, no one would have bought the shares. And without anyone buying shares, how could the factory raise money through restructuring to cover its existing losses?
That was exactly why, when no one stepped up, the town government and the local power supply bureau—whose finances were relatively healthy—had jointly taken over part of the shares.
It was a last resort, nothing more.
Just as Huo Zongzhuo had said before, this was nothing but a rundown factory in a small county in northern Jiangsu.
If not for Chen Xianlong, Hongming would have gone under long ago—there wouldn’t even have been a restructuring to speak of.
And if Huo Zongzhuo hadn’t brought Jiang Luo in to stir things up again, who among them had ever seen a briefcase full of cash? Naturally, they seized the opportunity and kicked Chen Xianlong out together.
Jiang Luo knew the workers were resentful and divided. He had someone investigate, and the truth surfaced quickly.
Sure enough, the next morning, Jiang Luo was eating breakfast in the guesthouse cafeteria with his arm in a sling when Wang Junqing—also with his arm in a sling—came over. He bent down, covered his mouth, and whispered in Jiang Luo’s ear for a moment.
Jiang Luo listened, curled his lips slightly, and understood.
No wonder the workers refused to meet him. They’d heard he’d driven Chen Xianlong away, and that some leaders had taken money. Those rumors made the workers see him as a shrewd, mercenary, ruthless boss—someone to be guarded against.
So that was it.
But what was difficult about that?
Jiang Luo had run factories in both his lives. He’d dealt with workers in both. No one understood workers better than he did.
He calmly finished his breakfast and motioned to Wang Junqing.
Wang Junqing bent closer. Jiang Luo said evenly, “Go to the bus station and rent three buses with drivers. Have them drive straight to the Hongming factory gate.”
“Also buy a loudspeaker.”
Wang Junqing thought for a moment. “Boss Jiang, today’s Sunday. The factory’s off.”
Jiang Luo replied flatly, “The factory, the workshops, the machines may be resting—but the workers would love nothing more than to have a shift to work.”
“You go ahead. Just park the buses at the factory gate. There’ll definitely be workers there today.”
“Go first. Lao Si and I will be waiting at the gate.”
Not long after, three buses slowly pulled up in front of Hongming.
Along with them came two sedans carrying Jiang Luo and Wang Junqing’s group.
As soon as the buses stopped, the sedan doors opened. Lao Si stepped out with a loudspeaker in hand, walking toward the factory gate and shouting as he went:
“Get on, get on! Free rides! No charge!”
“We’re taking you to Haicheng to tour a modern factory!”
“Come take a look!”
“Free tour! Meals included! Water provided!”
“Free! Meals included!”
“There’s a cash bonus when we come back!”
“Red envelopes! One hundred per person! One hundred!”
“Everyone who goes gets it!”
“Tour! Meals included! Cash bonus!”
“Free pickup! Free drop-off!”
“Cash bonus! Cash bonus!”
“One hundred! One hundred!”
“Meals included! Meals included!”
A head poked out from the security booth, curious and astonished.
Soon, workers began pouring out of the factory—some in pairs or small groups, some alone—running toward the buses and lining up to board.
Lao Si held the loudspeaker while Lao San helped herd them along. “Get on, get on. Come take a look.”
“Free! Meals included! Cash bonus!”
“One hundred, one hundred.”
Lao Si even waved at the elderly guard who’d just stuck his head out. “Come on, come on, get on.”
“Free meals and a hundred bucks. You’d be crazy not to take it.”
“Everyone else gets a hundred—don’t you want yours?”
The old man scurried over and hopped onto the bus.
The buses quickly filled up, one seat per person. Inside, voices overlapped noisily.
“Is there really a hundred? This isn’t a scam, right?”
“It’s free anyway. Doesn’t cost us anything.”
“What if they charge us bus fare later?”
“I’m not paying. He said free—meals included, a hundred bucks. If he doesn’t pay, I’ll go after him.”
“What factory are we touring?”
“You don’t even know and you still got on?”
“You know?”
“Yeah. I asked the guy with the loudspeaker. It’s the new Haicheng boss who bought shares in our factory. He’s got a garment factory of his own in Haicheng. He’s paying for meals and inviting us to tour it.”
“Heh, this boss is interesting. What’s there to see in a factory? It’s not a museum.”
“Who knows.”
“He must have an agenda, taking us to tour. Think he wants us to work there?”
“No way I’m going.”
“Me neither. I’m just here for the hundred—and to see how impressive this big boss’s factory really is.”
…
Among all these people, one stood out.
He sat alone in the corner of the back row, arms folded, staring out the window at the two black sedans not far away. There was a clear look of scrutiny on his face.
An older man beside him spoke in dialect:
“This boss is something else. Three buses, one loudspeaker, a bit of hype—and he’s got three full loads following him.”
“Does he really have a factory? What if he’s just bluffing?”
“If he already has one, why bother buying shares in our rundown place?”
“And he pushed out that Singaporean guy, too.”
“He even greased a few leaders’ palms for it. Must’ve spent a lot.”
“With pockets that deep, he could go anywhere. Why pick us?”
The man in the corner kept watching the sedans.
What made him special was that he was the very person who’d taken the lead in organizing the workers to pool money to buy factory shares.
His name was Pan Xiao, a local from Haimen, in his thirties, an ordinary mid-level manager from the quality inspection department back when the factory was state-owned.
It was also Pan Xiao who, after hearing about Jiang Luo’s arrival, had warned the workers to be cautious—so they wouldn’t be taken advantage of by this big boss from Haicheng.
Earlier, when he heard the commotion at the gate, Pan Xiao had told everyone not to fall for it.
But free meals and cash were hard to resist. One person was persuaded, then another, then more and more.
With no other choice, Pan Xiao decided to see for himself what this Haicheng boss was really up to. He blended in with the workers and boarded the bus.
Now the bus swayed along the road. The black sedans were no longer in sight. Pan Xiao thought: bosses like this are always extremely shrewd. I have to stay alert. I can’t be fooled.
He was absolutely right. Jiang Luo was extremely shrewd—so much so that he noticed everything.
Once the convoy hit the road toward Haicheng, Wang Junqing, seated in the front passenger seat, twisted around slightly and said to Jiang Luo in the back, “I found out. The guy who organized the workers to pool money and buy shares is named Pan Xiao—Pan as in water radical, Xiao as in ‘soaring to the clouds.’”
“Mm.”
Jiang Luo signaled he was listening.
Wang Junqing continued, “Pan Xiao used to be management in the quality inspection department. His father also worked at that factory—used to be the office director. Retired a couple of years ago.”
“Pan Xiao doesn’t get along very well with several of the old factory leaders.”
“But people say he’s decent enough. He has a pretty good reputation among the workers.”
“During the restructuring, thanks to the old director’s connections, Pan Xiao could’ve bought shares for less money. But several factory leaders opposed it together, and he got squeezed out.”
“After that, restructuring kept failing. No one wanted to invest, so the factory encouraged workers to buy shares.”
“The workers didn’t want to—thought it was useless, and they had no money.”
“Pan Xiao ran around everywhere, raising funds. In the end, he barely scraped together tens of thousands and bought 15% of the shares.”
“This time, when you wanted to meet the workers, Boss Jiang, it was Pan Xiao who persuaded them not to.”
Jiang Luo listened, thinking darkly: Pan Xiao. Again. Another representative, another ringleader.
Wang Junqing went on, “The workers pooled money to buy shares first. Only after that did the Singaporean, Chen Xianlong, come in.”
“Before Chen arrived, Pan Xiao had already been discussing with the factory the idea of workers running the factory themselves.”
“Once Chen Xianlong showed up, Pan Xiao’s plans were thrown off.”
Jiang Luo understood. “Chen Xianlong left, and now I’m here. No wonder Director Pan has a headache.”
Then he added, “No need to guess—he’s definitely on one of the buses today.”
He then told Wang Junqing and Lao Si, who was driving up front, “You bought water, right? When we stop to rest later, hand it out—and casually ask around to see who Pan Xiao is.”
Lao Si chewed on a toothpick. “No problem!”
The buses headed toward Haicheng, stopping twice along the way so the workers and drivers could rest and use the restroom. Water was handed out both times.
At the first stop, after the water was distributed, Jiang Luo already knew who Pan Xiao was.
At the second stop, Pan Xiao was leaning back in the last row, lost in thought, when a voice suddenly came from outside the window:
“Director Pan.”
Pan Xiao snapped back to attention and looked down through the open window.
Outside stood a very young man—someone unfamiliar, not one of the two who’d been shouting through the loudspeaker or handing out water.