“My dad would be upset if he heard you say anything about Northern Jiangsu, some small county, barely on the map. He’d think you’re looking down on people.”
Jiang Luo smiled. “Sorry, spoke too quickly.”
Yu Dong’s large eyes studied him curiously. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-eight.”
Jiang Luo lied.
Yu Dong laughed outright, nearly choking on her tea this time.
“Careful.” Jiang Luo warned.
She waved him off, grinning. “Stop it! You look about twenty. You’re younger than me, right? I’m twenty-two—what year were you born?”
Seeing that Jiang Luo was roughly her age, she relaxed completely, abandoning the careful, polite demeanor she’d put on when entering the room.
Jiang Luo said vaguely, “About the same.”
Yu Dong teased: “Don’t tell me you’re still under twenty. Come on, tell me the year.”
Finally, Jiang Luo said, “’71.”
Yu Dong’s eyes widened. “Nineteen?! My God. You’re running a company at that age? Did your dad give you a lot of startup capital?”
Jiang Luo thought of Huo Zongzhuo and snorted lightly. “Yeah… plenty.”
Just like that, the private room lost its businesslike atmosphere. Anyone walking in might think these were two young people having a casual meal.
As dishes arrived, Yu Dong took the lead in conversation. She explained she had graduated early from university in Singapore at twenty and joined her father managing the factories. After Lunar New Year, she returned to China alone, visiting Shenzhen, then Guangzhou, inspecting sites for potential factories.
“I heard you have a big factory in Haicheng?”
Yu Dong spoke casually, like friends. Jiang Luo relaxed as well, chatting over the meal.
“What’s the scale?”
Both in the garment industry, they had plenty in common.
They ate and talked, talked and ate. By the end of the meal, Yu Dong was laughing freely, sharing funny college stories, clearly enjoying herself.
“I’m going to the restroom.” She stood.
The moment she left, Jiang Luo’s expression shifted.
Yu Dong… or was it Yu Dong? He could be sure that the “Yu” who helped him back then was this same Yu—but was it “Dong” or “Dong” with a different character? Time had dulled his memory.
Could this really be Yu Dong—the person who once helped him?
Yu Dong returned, cheerfully announcing, “I’m stuffed!”
“This restaurant’s not bad. I thought I wouldn’t like Haimen cuisine.”
“Your family doesn’t cook it?” Jiang Luo asked, putting aside his previous contemplative look.
“My mom does all the cooking.”
Yu Dong suddenly remembered something. “Do you have a phone number? Or a business card, so I can contact you.”
Jiang Luo handed over his card.
“OK.” She looked at it, then smiled and said, “I don’t have mine, I’ll just give you my number.”
She recited it, then winked mischievously. “Actually, I haven’t printed them. My factory hasn’t even opened, can’t make cards yet.”
She sighed. “Sigh… unlucky, ending up with that Li Fengrui. Offended you, got us kicked out, spent money, gained nothing, now we have to hire lawyers, court battles… could take years. Winning isn’t guaranteed, and even if we do, it won’t help much—just get our investment back.”
She looked at Jiang Luo, a mix of helplessness and grievance, like confiding to a friend. “Mr. Jiang, give us a chance. It’s not easy coming here as a girl.”
“Work with me.”
Yu Dong’s face lit up with innocent enthusiasm. “Work together on what?”
Jiang Luo studied her.
Yu Dong beamed, playful: “Let’s run the factory together. I won’t hold you accountable for kicking us out, you don’t have to care about the accident… we shake hands, invest together, manage Hongming, and split profits later. How about it?”
Jiang Luo smiled slowly.
Yu Dong’s eyes sparkled. “You agree?”
“That’s a cheerful decision—”
Jiang Luo’s smile twisted subtly, casual and unbothered, cutting her off. “Miss Yu, or Yu… don’t pretend. If you want to discuss cooperation, lay your conditions on the table. Let’s see if you can convince me. Your act of innocence? Doesn’t work on me.”
Yu Dong’s smile froze, slowly fading. When she replaced it, she was no longer the young, naive girl—she was composed, confident, showing the poise of a young leader.
“You’re sharp, Mr. Jiang,” she said. “Was my performance that obvious? Not too bad, right?”
Jiang Luo leaned back, calm. “Yu, you came alone from Singapore to China, visited Shenzhen and Guangzhou—your family background is solid. You’re not as naive as you just pretended.”
“You really can’t handle things yourself? You wouldn’t have come to clean up Chen Xianlong’s mess otherwise.”
Yu Dong laughed confidently, a bit like Jiang Luo in boldness. “You’re right. In truth, my father has retired. Now, both our Singapore factories and any future ones in China will be under my supervision.”
“I’ll be honest—I did tacitly allow Chen Xianlong and Li Fengrui to arrange that car accident for you. I wanted you dead. It wouldn’t have hurt me to let you die. Li Fengrui hated you, wanted you dead—I went along. I just didn’t expect him to mess it up and get us kicked out of Hongming.”
“I’ll tell the truth: my investment in that factory wasn’t much, didn’t matter. What matters now…”
Yu Dong’s gaze deepened, voice resolute: “What matters is how to cooperate with you, to build a garment supply chain of sufficient scale in Haicheng, Jiangsu, and Zhejiang.”
Jiang Luo chuckled lightly. “That’s it for today, farewell,” he said, standing and leaving.
Yu Dong froze, stood, watching his retreating back. “You’re not interested? I haven’t finished.”
Jiang Luo didn’t look back, gesturing a hand: “I said enough. Stop pretending.”
Yu Dong bit her lip, quickened her pace to follow.
“You have factories in China, I have experience from Singapore—why not cooperate?”
Jiang Luo kept walking.
“Don’t you want to grow the supply chain, expand the factories, the business, earn more?”
He ignored her.
“I can bring advanced management experience from Singapore. All conditions I can offer, unconditionally…”
Jiang Luo descended the stairs without looking back.
Halfway down, Yu Dong realized it was useless. She stopped, silently biting her lip, watching him walk away.
In Haicheng, at the Peace Hotel, Huo Zongzhuo also emerged from the restaurant, with a flustered Xue Zhizhong beside him.
Xue didn’t understand what had gone wrong. He hadn’t seen incorrectly—Huo Zongzhuo clearly liked that department head’s son, Jiang Luo.
Why did Huo’s expression change when Xue brought a boy who looked similar?
Xue worried: maybe he didn’t look enough alike?
“Huo, Huo!” Xue said carefully, apologetic. “My mistake, shouldn’t have called him over, got in your way. Sorry, really. I apologize.”
“Huo Zongzhuo,” Jiang Luo said lightly, “you’re smart. If so, don’t act dumb.”
“Yes… understood.”
Huo left, expression cold, leaving Xue Zhizhong pacing, pondering where it went wrong.
He muttered to himself—was the gift wrong? The timing? Nothing looked wrong, he’d seen clearly back at Dongfang One. Huo had his eyes on that department head’s son.
Xue rubbed his forehead, thinking, pacing again.