Chen Xin continued the topic from earlier: “Zhongxing has taken a stake, and their registered capital has increased to eighty million…”
Chen Xin hadn’t come just to eat; once the conversation ended, he left.
As soon as Chen Xin left, Jiang Luo went over, locked the office door, and the moment it was locked, he turned and quickly strode toward the desk—almost lunging—and plopped himself into the man sitting behind it, landing squarely in his arms.
“Were you downstairs this morning, throwing a fit?”
Huo Zongzhuo wrapped his arms around Jiang Luo’s waist with practiced ease, taking Jiang Luo’s hand in his own and giving it a squeeze. “Next time, don’t hit people with your hand. Doesn’t it hurt?”
Jiang Luo’s temper flared fast these days, and he was completely unrestrained and arrogant about it—most of the credit for that went to Huo Zongzhuo; it was exactly how he’d been spoiled.
Jiang Luo took a deep breath, his displeasure evident. “You’ve got some nerve saying that, your people…”
“They were greedy and crossed into my territory. Really asking for trouble.”
“They were greedy and still didn’t get the paperwork done right—and I caught it.”
The reason Jiang Luo had slapped someone that morning was simple: there was a joint project between Shengfei and Zhikun. The person in charge of the bidding, the very manager downstairs, Liu, had taken kickbacks and perks from others, tampering with the bidding. Jiang Luo discovered it.
It was such a minor thing—so small it couldn’t get smaller—but in the past, Huo Zongzhuo wouldn’t have cared. But over the years, Jiang Luo had been spoiled, and had become very assertive. When it came to matters in these two companies, he increasingly could not tolerate even small slights, which was why he had lost his temper and slapped the man.
Huo Zongzhuo held Jiang Luo close, speaking softly: “Liu is greedy. Anyone in his position would be greedy.”
“You don’t care.”
Jiang Luo shook his head in exasperation.
Huo Zongzhuo continued gently: “When anyone is in that position, there’s nothing to do about it. Water that’s too clear has no fish. As the boss, sometimes you just have to tolerate a little dirtiness from your people.”
“Being ‘dirty’ is just human nature. It’s normal.”
“As long as it doesn’t affect the project or the work, it’s fine.”
“With Liu, the real problem is he didn’t keep the accounts right, didn’t cover it up well, and you found out.”
“But you finding out isn’t really a big deal.”
“You’re his boss. You manage him. That’s better than him taking the money and getting away with it without you knowing.”
“Managing people means this: he knows you know he’s greedy, and you know, but he won’t mess up your plans, and he won’t dare to go against you.”
He added, “You slapped him, okay, next time don’t use your hand—it hurts too much. He wouldn’t dare complain. At most, he might shed a few tears in front of me.”
“You dare go tell on him?”
Jiang Luo’s voice immediately rose. “He’s crying about what? Didn’t he deserve that slap?”
“I was too lazy to hit him myself, otherwise he’d have gotten a few more slaps!”
“Alright.”
Huo Zongzhuo smiled, holding Jiang Luo, watching him, then pinched the young man’s chin. “Calm down.”
Then he asked, “Why so angry? Too busy with work? Something happened?”
Huo Zongzhuo knew it wasn’t just about Liu.
“Don’t mention it,” Jiang Luo finally let his emotions and expression soften, collapsing into Huo Zongzhuo’s arms, closing his eyes, and massaging his brow. “The factory in Changsha had an accident. A section of a workshop collapsed, almost killing someone. Luckily, it was noon—everyone was at lunch.”
He was utterly exasperated. “I’m in real estate, and in the end, my own factory was built shoddily by a construction company cutting corners.”
“I got the call this morning and almost died of anger.”
Huo Zongzhuo listened calmly, showing no emotion, holding him and patting him: “Rest a little. Don’t think about it for now.”
“You don’t need to worry about the Changsha factory. I’ll have people handle it.”
With that, the two, almost instinctively, tilted their heads—one up, one down—and kissed.
Jiang Luo kissed briefly, then stopped, ready to rest his head on Huo Zongzhuo’s shoulder. Huo Zongzhuo, however, lifted his chin and kissed him again, teasing until Jiang Luo almost reacted, slapping the man’s chest once before separating.
“Rest a bit. There’s fruit, eat some when you wake up.”
Huo Zongzhuo held him again, kissed his forehead, then leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.
In the afternoon, Jiang Luo had something to do and went out. At the bottom of the stairs, a brand-new deep red Rolls-Royce waited.
Fourth brother had a lollipop in his mouth, talking to Wang Junqing, who was leaning against a black Mercedes.
Seeing Jiang Luo, Fourth brother hurried over to open the car door.
Wang Junqing immediately got back into the car.
Soon, the Mercedes followed the Rolls-Royce, the two cars leaving the building together.
That evening, at their Wukang Road home, six cars were parked in the yard. In one of the black Rolls-Royces with the license plate ending in five sevens, in the back seat, Jiang Luo lifted his knees and straddled Huo Zongzhuo, still partially under his shirt, kissing while tugging at his tie.
As they slowly sat down, Jiang Luo held the man’s shoulders, tilted his chin to catch his breath, and started talking business, gasping: “The building in Shenzhen is almost topped out. Are you going to the topping-out ceremony?”
“I think it’s better not to go. Otherwise, I’ll get asked again why the apartments in Luohu aren’t being sold.”
Jiang Luo tilted his chin, and Huo Zongzhuo kissed his neck. “Does it have to be talked about right now?”
“If we don’t say it now…”
Jiang Luo, impatient, sat down, tilting his neck again, holding Huo Zongzhuo’s head against his shoulder while he kissed, gasping, “We won’t have a chance at night. Ah!”
Suddenly, he was bumped.
After that, Jiang Luo couldn’t form a complete sentence, holding Huo Zongzhuo, being jostled in his arms, leaving only fragmented sounds in his throat.
Nearby, the villa had been renovated; the walls and glass were brand new. Inside, it had been completely gutted and redone two years ago, from the first to the third floor, with modern, high-end décor.
Now, the house bore the marks of daily life: books Huo Zongzhuo had read, a candy wrapper-filled ashtray on the coffee table, a watch carelessly left by Jiang Luo, and so on.
The third floor, once Jiang Luo’s room, became the master bedroom. The adjacent bedroom, where Huo Zongzhuo used to sleep, was turned into a large walk-in closet.
The closet was filled with designer clothes and accessories. The island in the middle had drawers full of brand-name watches, belts, and cufflinks belonging to Huo Zongzhuo and Jiang Luo.
Every corner of the house was luxurious. Even the sheets on the bed where Jiang Luo collapsed were high-density woven fabric from a Suzhou factory, especially soft.
Jiang Luo lay on the bed, face buried in the pillow, making small hums.
He lifted his hips high; Huo Zongzhuo, still unsatisfied, slapped them sharply, making a crisp sound, and scolded, “Last month in Manhattan, you played for a week without coming back, hmm? Didn’t even come home?”
Jiang Luo: “…”
That was last month. And he had already suffered plenty for that.
As Jiang Luo tried to sit up, Huo Zongzhuo bumped him again, making him fall back.
Huo Zongzhuo covered him with his body, hooked his chin, and kissed him deeply.
Afterwards, Jiang Luo wrapped himself in a light blanket, exhausted and dazed.
Huo Zongzhuo lay beside him, holding him, kissing his face softly. “Haven’t seen you buy anything lately.”
In recent years, especially the past two, Jiang Luo spent a lot, loving to buy things all over the world.
Huo Zongzhuo enjoyed watching him spend on his card—the more, the happier he was.
But after returning from Manhattan last month, Jiang Luo hadn’t spent much this month, which puzzled Huo Zongzhuo. He asked casually.
“Hm?”
Jiang Luo mumbled, “Nothing worth buying.”
Adjusting his posture, he snuggled into Huo Zongzhuo’s arms, closing his eyes lazily. “House, car, clothes, watches, toys, food, drink… I’ve bought it all. Nothing left to buy.”
Huo Zongzhuo coaxed him: “I saw Zheng Bin bought a sports car, imported. Want me to get you one too?”
“No,” Jiang Luo yawned. “Not buying. Boring. Besides, can’t really drive it fast.”
“Driving fast is dangerous. Too much trouble.”
He wasn’t really interested in sports cars.
Huo Zongzhuo tried to say more, but Jiang Luo snuggled in like a little dog, whining: “Dad, recite me a poem. I’m going to sleep. So tired.”
The next morning, Huo Zongzhuo and Jiang Luo sat at the European-style table Jiang Luo had carefully chosen. Jiang Luo ate breakfast while talking on his phone, yelling at the other end: “You even lost rebar! How didn’t you lose your brain!?”
“Such a huge construction site—are you all idiots!?”
“Rebar is paper? You can just pocket it?!”
“How could something so heavy just get lost?!”
“Call the police? What good will that do? You think I’m yelling at you for fun?”
“Do you even have a brain?!”
Huo Zongzhuo, sitting nearby with a bowl of porridge, quietly chuckled.
As he chuckled, Jiang Luo shot him a glare. Huo Zongzhuo handed him the bowl with a soothing expression: calm down.
Jiang Luo hadn’t gotten worse-tempered or prone to explosions. Over the years, he realized that as projects grew and he interacted with more people, not showing anger or scolding led subordinates to slack off, especially on construction sites. There were many slippery people; they had to be scolded, had to be yelled at—only then would they work properly.