Chapter 14

Lü Fuhua scooped up the cash on the desk. “In business, you gotta have at least some basic integrity, right?”

He had already switched to another face.

Jiang Luo tore up the IOU right in front of him and looked at the man, his voice quiet. “Count it carefully. It’s eleven thousand total. Not a cent short.”

Lü Fuhua licked his fingers and started counting. While counting, he muttered, “I only lent you five thousand at first—five paid back as six. Then I lent you ten thousand and only charged you a thousand extra. Didn’t even ask for two. Your Brother Hua here’s been pretty generous, huh?”

He snorted. “You really managed to make money? Guess you’ve got some skill.”

“Maybe I should buy some stocks too—maybe I’ll get lucky and make something.”

He finished counting. Eleven thousand. Not a cent more, not a cent less.

Lü Fuhua shoved the money back into the drawer and grinned. “Xiao Jiang, about what I told you last time… why don’t we talk it over again?”

He tried persuading him, softening his tone. “My uncle isn’t asking you to do anything complicated. Just keep him company—take a walk, have a meal, chat a bit. That’s it.”

“How about this—I’ll give you twelve hundred. Free. No need to earn it.”

“Twelve hundred’s not bad, right?”

“And once you’re done keeping him company, if he’s happy, I’ll throw in something extra. How’s that?”

His dirty tricks hadn’t worked, so now he was trying the soft approach.

Jiang Luo laughed—loose, casual.

“Well? What do you think?”

Seeing hope, Lü Fuhua immediately added, “After you’re done helping out, I’ll make you floor manager. You’ll be in charge of Zhu Yu and the others.”

“You’ll get good pay, good bonuses.”

“And you can drink here whenever you want.”

“Sure,” Jiang Luo said.

He added one more sentence, and Lü Fuhua instantly clapped his hands. “Done, done, no problem at all. As long as you agree.”

He grabbed the desk phone at once, eager to share the “good news” with Xue Zhizhong.

Before long, Jiang Luo walked out—with Lü Fuhua personally escorting him, one arm around Jiang Luo’s shoulders.

Zhu Yu had been waiting at the door, ready to jump Jiang Luo the moment he came out and teach the brat a lesson for playing him earlier.

But then he saw Lü Fuhua walk out too—his arm slung around Jiang Luo, smiling like he’d just won the lottery.

Zhu Yu stopped immediately. Didn’t dare move.

“Beat it, beat it.”
Lü Fuhua waved him away, full of disdain. “Don’t be an eyesore.”

Zhu Yu could only grind his teeth and step aside.

Still grinning, Lü Fuhua walked with Jiang Luo and said, “My uncle just told me—we’ll get you a whole new outfit. Name-brand. New shoes too. Get a proper haircut. By the time—”

Jiang Luo’s lips curled into a lazy smile.
In his heart: I’ll accompany your damn mother.

You try to play me? I’ll play you right back.

At the technical school, six in the evening, Wang Chuang—huffing and puffing under a whole load of fat—ran down the dorm staircase. Jiang Luo was waiting in a shabby little pavilion out front.

Wang Chuang stumbled in, panting. “Holy crap, I’m dying.”

He stepped into the pavilion and put his hands on his hips. “What’s up, Luo-ge? Why aren’t you at Oriental One—”

Jiang Luo pulled a hand out of his jacket pocket. A few crisp hundred-yuan bills.

“Holy—damn.”

Wang Chuang lit up immediately, grabbed the bills, and laughed. “You came to pay me back? Already?”

He counted. Exactly one thousand.

He beamed. “You didn’t have to give me so much! My three hundred, my buddies’ three hundred—that’s only six hundred!”

Jiang Luo didn’t explain. He just brought out his other hand too—a thick stack of hundreds.

Wang Chuang froze. Then his eyes went huge.

“Holy shit!”

He stared at the money, then at Jiang Luo, then back at the money, totally stunned. “Where the hell did you get rich?! That’s so much cash!”

He’d never seen so many hundred-yuan bills in his entire life.

Two years ago, when his family bought a TV, his dad paid with piles of fives and tens—barely scraped together eighteen hundred.

Seeing this much cash, his scalp tingled.

“You struck gold? Really?!”

He grabbed Jiang Luo’s wrist, peering at the stack. Then he threw an arm around Jiang Luo’s shoulders, shaking with excitement. “Where’d you make all this?! My parents don’t make this much in a whole year!”

“You’re insane!”

Then he suddenly got nervous, looked around, hurriedly shoved Jiang Luo’s hand back into his pocket. “Hide it! Seriously, hide it! We’ve got tons of punks at school—if they see this, they’ll jump you and take everything!”

He even stuffed his own thousand back into his pants pocket, like he was afraid someone would steal it.

Jiang Luo put both hands back in his jacket and finally said where the money came from. “Stocks.”

Wang Chuang had never heard of stocks. Didn’t get it.

Jiang Luo didn’t need him to get it. “Relax. It’s clean money. Legit.”

Wang Chuang grinned. “With that much, you could go to Oriental One every day and still not run out!”

Jiang Luo snorted. “That’s all you think about.”

Wang Chuang giggled.

Jiang Luo jerked his chin. “Come on. Let’s go blow some cash.”

Wang Chuang was supposed to go to evening classes, but not anymore—he followed Jiang Luo straight out.

They grabbed a cab, ate steak at a Western restaurant, played pool for an hour, hit the arcade until their blood was boiling, then wound up at a disco.

Inside, Jiang Luo drank soda and ate fruit. Wang Chuang was in the dance floor shaking his head like a maniac. Jiang Luo watched him and nearly laughed himself to death.

When Wang Chuang sat back down, he refused soda and demanded beer. Jiang Luo handed him a can. Wang Chuang took one sip, hated it, and spat it out.

Jiang Luo burst out laughing.

By the time they left, it was already late night. They walked down an empty, dimly lit street.

Wang Chuang had a little alcohol in him—face flushed, still hyped, talking nonstop. Jiang Luo walked beside him, listening to him ramble, amused.

Then Wang Chuang slung an arm around his neck again and declared proudly, “In the future—just wait—in the future, I’m gonna open my own ‘Oriental One’! I’ll be the big boss! I’ll charge fifty for entry! No—one hundred! I’ll make a killing! Then I’ll buy a car!”

Jiang Luo chuckled lazily. “Sure, big boss.”

Wang Chuang puffed up. “So what exactly are stocks? Do you gamble? Big beats small—you win, you earn?”

“Is that why the money comes so fast?”

Jiang Luo said, “You can think of it as gambling. Pretty similar.”

“Then I wanna buy stocks too! I’ll put in five hundred or a thousand—earn some spending money!”

Jiang Luo shoved his head. “That’s all you think about.”

Wang Chuang started singing—“Descendants of the Dragon.”

His adolescent voice pretending to sound deep, rhythm bright and cheerful:

“Far away, in the East, there’s a river,
People there call it the Yangtze…”

They walked shoulder-to-shoulder, singing, laughing, on a quiet early-morning street.

Suddenly, Jiang Luo said, “Fatty, I’m gonna start a business. You coming with me?”

“Huh?”

Wang Chuang stopped singing and froze mid-step.

Jiang Luo stopped too, hands in his pockets, calm and steady. “If you’re willing, we’ll go together. I’ll take you with me—we’ll do business, get rich, be bosses together.”

“If you’re not, that’s fine.”

“You go back to school. In a couple days, I’ll head to Wencheng alone.”

Wang Chuang blinked. “Why Wencheng?”

Jiang Luo’s voice was casual, lazy. “What else? Business.”

“You? Alone?”

“That’s why I’m asking you,” Jiang Luo said.

“If you come, then it’ll be the two of us.”

“If you don’t, then it’s just me.”

“I don’t really care. I’m just asking.”

“If you trust me and want to come, I’ll take you to Zhejiang. No promises about suffering together, but we’ll definitely enjoy the good stuff together.”