By June of that year, his factory and shipping volume had begun to take shape, and the financial flow looked especially impressive.
Jiang Luo smiled, genuinely happy, though a little bittersweet—thinking of his former self.
Back at his Wukang Road home, he showered while loudly singing in Cantonese:
“Even if fate is turbulent and wandering,
Even if fate twists and turns strangely,
Even if fate threatens you,
Life can be dull,
Don’t cry, don’t feel bitter…”
Huo Zongzuo, in his own bedroom, could hear every word. Seeing Jiang Luo sing so loudly, he smiled, knowing Jiang Luo was in a good mood.
Also in high spirits were Bai Ting, Wang Junwei, Jiang Jianmin, and Zhang Xiangping.
Bai Ting and Wang Junwei’s pager shop had opened, decorated with flower baskets at the entrance and firecrackers going off. Both were grinning from ear to ear.
Zhang Xiangping had recently set up a stall. As long as she worked the morning or afternoon shifts, she’d wake early to sell her homemade buns and tea eggs. She was doing quite well; the morning’s earnings even exceeded a full day’s salary.
Excited, Zhang Xiangping called Jiang Jianmin. After work, they’d come home and energetically wrap buns together.
That day, Zhao Guangyuan had finally recovered from his illness and could go out on his own and return to work.
The first thing he did wasn’t go back to the office, but head straight to Shengfei.
Arriving at the street near Shengfei, he noticed the bustling scene: crowds of people, numerous shops. The driver commented, “I’ve been here several times; it’s always packed with people coming to buy clothes.”
“True. Ever since that clothing factory opened, this area’s come alive. There weren’t this many people, this many shops, or roads this nice before.”
“Look—there are even more trash cans here than elsewhere.”
Watching from the car, Zhao Guangyuan knew it was all thanks to the factory and Jiang Luo. He felt both moved and gratified.
At Shengfei’s entrance, knowing Jiang Luo wouldn’t meet him, Zhao Guangyuan asked the driver to wait while he carried a bag to the guardhouse.
The guard opened the small window, puzzled. “Who are you looking for?”
“I’m not looking for anyone,” Zhao Guangyuan replied politely. “Just delivering something for Director Jiang. Can you give it to him?”
“Oh, sure.”
The guard didn’t make things difficult. Zhao Guangyuan simply handed over the bag.
Satisfied, he returned to the car and left.
Not long after, Jiang Luo’s car returned. The metal sliding gate slowly opened. Two vehicles waited outside. The guard came running with the bag Zhao Guangyuan had delivered, bending slightly to hand it over.
Old Fourth, puzzled, asked, “What’s that?”
The guard smiled. “Fourth brother, this is for Mr. Jiang. A man just brought it over.”
“Give it to me.”
Old Fourth reached out. As the car drove into the factory, he handed the bag to Jiang Luo in the back seat.
Jiang Luo looked inside. It was a lunchbox.
A note on top read: “Dad’s cooking isn’t bad. Today I made braised ribs and scrambled eggs with chives. Try it and see if you like it.”
Jiang Luo immediately zipped the bag and handed it back to Old Fourth. “Throw it away.”
He added, “Tell the guard that from now on, if anyone delivers something for me without an appointment, don’t accept it.”
He didn’t know what prompted Zhao Guangyuan to send food, nor did he care to think about it.
Meanwhile, the Zhao family was slowly fracturing.
Zhao Mingshi had gone abroad. Knowing Zhao Guangyuan had been hospitalized and refused to return, Zhao Shuo felt disappointed, Su Lan was sad, and Zhao Guangyuan decided he would no longer recognize that son.
Zhao Shuo, guilty over harming Zhao Guangyuan, began seeing Zhao Mingshi for who he truly was. Following his girlfriend’s advice, he sent four years’ worth of living and tuition expenses to Zhao Mingshi in one go, determined not to interfere further.
At home, Zhao Guangyuan barely spoke to Zhao Shuo, only to Su Lan. Zhao Guangqian also cut off the monthly allowance he’d been giving Zhao Shuo.
Meanwhile, after Zhao Mingshi caused the school incident that led to a girl’s attempted suicide, Zhao Shuo’s girlfriend’s family strongly opposed her marrying him.
Gu Bei’s house remained untouched, as Su Lan, distraught, had no energy for renovations.
Zhao Shuo confided to his girlfriend, “I don’t know exactly when things went wrong, why our family ended up like this.”
She replied bluntly: “It all started when your family favored Zhao Mingshi.”
“When they realized the babies were switched at birth, Zhao Mingshi should have returned, and Jiang Luo should have come home.”
“Even if you felt brotherly toward Zhao Mingshi, you needed to know Jiang Luo was your real brother.”
“The love and care missing for Jiang Luo over those eighteen years was all given to Zhao Mingshi.”
“Once you knew, Jiang Luo should have been brought back immediately, and Zhao Mingshi should have been returned to his path.”
“When you found out Zhao Mingshi was secretly dating and hiding it from you, you shouldn’t have covered for him.”
“And ignoring the girl’s suicide, secretly sending Zhao Mingshi abroad—that was wrong on top of wrong.”
Was it all wrong?
All of it?
Zhao Shuo felt heartbroken and guilty.
He recalled the day he saw Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzuo having dinner at Huating.
He couldn’t help but wonder: if he had persuaded Jiang Luo properly that day and brought him home, would everything afterward have been avoided?
Would it?
He regretted it.
In Guangdong, at a clothing wholesale market, a third-floor stall:
Mo Wanzhen, with a pouch around her waist, dragged a large bag of clothes into her store. The neighboring shop owner called out, “Wanzhen, come over, I’ve got something to show you.”
“What is it?”
Mo Wanzhen looked up, then kicked and dragged the bag fully inside, dusting off her hands.
“I got some clothes from elsewhere.”
The woman glanced around mysteriously, beckoning Mo Wanzhen in.
Once inside, the woman pulled a bag from the corner and took out a few pieces of clothing. “Look, aren’t these gorgeous?”
Mo Wanzhen was surprised. “So pretty! Where did you get these?”
The woman hushed her, turning away from the door: “It was half a month ago. I saw an ad in the paper and called the factory to have a few pieces sent over to check. A girl answered, sweet voice, said it was fine. She asked for my address, and I waited. Yesterday, they finally arrived. I saw them… my goodness, so beautiful!”
Mo Wanzhen felt the material, checked the stitching, and confirmed the quality was excellent.
She gasped: “Factories still advertise in newspapers?”
She checked the tags: Shengfei Clothing.
The tags listed specifications, and the address read: 35 Ganting Road, Juxiang Town, Haishi City—Shengfei Clothing Factory.
Mo Wanzhen froze, eyes wide. Shengfei! Jiang Luo’s factory!
Her eyes filled with tears, then laughter.
The woman looked puzzled. “Wanzhen, what’s wrong?”
Mo Wanzhen held the tag, laughing and crying: “Hong Jie, this was my old boss’s factory. They made it! They really did it!”
At Shengfei’s factory, in the director’s office, Huo Zongzuo arrived. He’d just eaten lunch with Jiang Luo and was sitting at the tea set he had given him before, pouring any extra tea over the little toad figurine.
Jiang Luo sat cross-legged opposite Huo Zongzuo, holding a small tea cup, sipping thoughtfully.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “after placing ads in the newspapers, do you know what’s been on my mind?”
“Hm?”
Huo Zongzuo, making tea, listened intently.
Jiang Luo held his cup, murmuring, “The ads have been running for a while, and the factory’s clothes have been sold for some time now… I wonder, how far have they actually gone? Where have the clothes ended up?”
“I’m curious.”
Huo Zongzuo asked, “But you set up the call department, right? Where’s the farthest call come from?”
“Actually…” Jiang Luo sipped his tea. “Calls are coming from everywhere. The factory has been sending out samples for free, and there are also orders coming in.”
“The problem now is that our production can’t keep up. Orders exceed supply.”
“Zhang Ningfu has been checking on the new workshops every day, seeing when they’ll be ready.”
Huo Zongzuo: “Not enough clothes? Didn’t we still have the Haimen factory?”
“Don’t remind me.” Jiang Luo placed the empty cup back on the tea tray. “At first, Haimen was supplying local and nearby orders. Then Haicheng’s demand exceeded supply, so we redirected Haimen’s output here. Still not enough.”