Even after Yu Dong left, he kept craning his neck, watching her go.
Pulling his head back into the office, Wang Chuang was stunned. “Who is she? She—she’s… so beautiful.”
“Here to talk business?”
“Could she be a new hire?”
Jiang Luo frowned. “Look at you. Haven’t you seen a beautiful woman before?”
Wang Chuang explained, “She’s from Singapore, newly hired. She’s here to expand the market, open more Vilanido counters.”
“Oh, got it.”
Wang Chuang was busy, so he quickly let the thought slide. Standing by the desk, he handed Jiang Luo a stack of papers. “Here, take a look at this.”
Jiang Luo took them—it was a recent fabric procurement list, along with cost calculations.
He looked it over. “Hmm, these recent batches are pretty expensive.”
“Guess what,” Wang Chuang said, teasing. “Several of these fabrics—especially that light denim batch you wanted—are available at Tongcheng.”
Tongcheng? That had to be the large textile factory they’d worked with before, the one they’d fallen out with over a minor dispute. Shengfei still hadn’t paid them a certain shipment.
Wang Chuang leaned on the desk. “Me and a few colleagues thought about it. Ordering from Guangzhou is too expensive and slow. Since Tongcheng has it, better to get it from them—closer, cheaper.”
“But we fell out with Director Liu over there,” Wang Chuang added.
Jiang Luo’s expression darkened. “You dare slip anything to that Liu guy, and I’ll shove your head somewhere you’ll regret.”
Wang Chuang froze.
Jiang Luo casually tossed the papers in front of him. “We need the fabric. And they’ll come begging us for it.”
Wang Chuang picked up the papers. “Aren’t you saying it backward?”
Jiang Luo kept sketching designs, calm and deliberate. “I need fabric. Do you think they make it and just hoard it for fun? Wait and see—they’ll come crawling.”
Wang Chuang frowned. “How do we make them beg?”
Jiang Luo smirked. “Brains are for thinking, not for hanging around your neck like decoration.”
Wang Chuang leaned over the desk. “Explain it to me.”
Within a couple of days, a few of Tongcheng’s most popular local daily and evening newspapers—those that regularly ran ads—published a notice:
Shengfei Garment Factory, Juxiang Town, Haicheng urgently requires XX/XX/XX fabrics. Interested partners, please contact 021xxxx888.
Several newspapers with this notice were placed on the desk of Kong Weihong, CEO and factory director of Qinghong Textile.
Two days later, Kong Weihong summoned his business office director, Liu Jiao, into his office. Pointing at the newspaper, he jabbed his finger repeatedly. “What is this? I ask you—what is this?!”
Liu Jiao blinked, confused.
He leaned in, squinted, and realized it was an ad about urgently needed fabrics.
“Oh… I hadn’t noticed this before,” Liu Jiao stammered.
“I know! I know! Go call them immediately and find out what fabrics their factory needs!”
“Damn it!”
Kong Weihong grabbed the paper and slammed it toward Liu Jiao’s face. “How are you running this business?! The city’s right next door! A ten-million-investment factory this size, and you didn’t even know about it? Are you trying to get us killed?! Are you leaving all this money on the table for your family to wrap themselves in?!”
Liu Jiao froze. He genuinely hadn’t heard of Shengfei in Haicheng.
He hurriedly kowtowed. “I’ve been too busy, didn’t notice. My mistake. I’ll go ask immediately what’s going on at this factory.”
“Must be newly built, not long ago,” Kong Weihong added. “Otherwise, you’d know.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll call right now,” Liu Jiao said.
“Find out exactly who the boss is. Name, background—everything. I want to sit at the same table as this factory’s boss within a week. If not, get lost, as far away as possible.”
“Yes, yes, right away.”
Liu Jiao hurried off to gather intel on Shengfei in Haicheng.
While sending staff out, he thought about the name “Shengfei”—it sounded familiar, but he didn’t dwell on it.
Soon, his team called back. Indeed, Juxiang Town had such a factory, still constructing buildings but already hiring workers and operating normally. They were short on fabric, and nearby workshops queued up to supply Shengfei.
Liu Jiao immediately loaded samples, contracts, and a team into a car and drove to Juxiang Town.
He smartly called Shengfei beforehand, claiming to be from Qinghong Textile in Tongcheng, a big factory. He outlined the scale, investment, and production capacity—subtly implying that a major factory like theirs would negotiate in person.
The car sped along. Upon arrival, the guards checked them in, and the car entered.
Seeing the large factory and the ongoing construction, Liu Jiao grinned. “If I close this deal, bonus time!”
But when he followed the secretary surnamed Lu into the boss’s office and looked up, ready to greet Jiang Luo with a smile… he froze.
It was Jiang Luo himself.
Jiang Luo sat behind his desk, expression cool. “Well, well. What a rare visitor.”
He waved off the tea. “No need.”
Liu Jiao stood awkwardly. He hadn’t forgotten last year—when Jiang Luo rejected his bribes and told him to leave.
Thinking his big factory and many clients gave him the upper hand, Liu Jiao had assumed this small-time boss would never cross paths with him again. Life is funny.
Unable to leave, Liu Jiao forced a smile. “Mr. Jiang, long time no see.”
Jiang Luo tilted his head, ignoring the pleasantries, his tone mocking. “What wind blew you here, Director Liu?”
Liu Jiao, grinning nervously, placed the fabric sample booklet on the desk. “I’m here to discuss cooperation.”
Jiang Luo didn’t even glance at it. “I’m not accepting any cooperation from you, Director Liu.”
He called out: “Xiao Lu.”
The secretary pushed in.
Jiang Luo didn’t look at Liu Jiao. “Show him out.”
Liu Jiao felt utterly humiliated.
He left quickly, forgetting the sample booklet, hoping Jiang Luo might glance at it.
Once in his car, Jiang Luo’s secretary ran out and returned the booklet.
Liu Jiao tossed it aside in the backseat, sighing. It was over.
The factory belonged to Jiang Luo.
He’d offended him. Cooperation was impossible.
The director would skin him alive.
Liu Jiao’s head ached.
Yet even as a senior office director, he knew when to swallow his pride.
He decided to go apologize. The next day, he returned to Shengfei, bearing a generous gift, ready to beg Jiang Luo verbally, drink as punishment, or even cry if necessary. Face was nothing; he just didn’t want to lose his job.
But the gate refused to open for him. He left empty-handed.
He tried calling Jiang Luo—picked up once, hung up immediately. Repeated calls, repeated rejections. Liu Jiao sighed. He had indeed angered Jiang Luo greatly.
He tried sending colleagues, but Shengfei refused to cooperate with anyone from Qinghong Textile.
Liu Jiao was sweating bullets.
A few days later, Kong Weihong called him again. “Any progress with that Haicheng garment factory?”
Liu Jiao considered lying to buy time.