Chapter 19

Jiang Luo didn’t find anything strange. He just let the corner of his mouth twitch slightly—Boss Zhang didn’t know them, didn’t know where they came from. Of course he wouldn’t invite them straight to the tea table without checking their “background” first.

Once they were seated at the tea table, Boss Zhang started boiling water and brewing tea.

Jiang Luo spoke casually, chatting about trivial things in Wencheng, steering his responses to match Zhang’s probing. “Wencheng’s got it pretty good. I was at the market next to my hotel—whatever you need, you’ve got it here.”

“Not like Haicheng,” Zhang said with a smile. “Sometimes even soap’s sold out.”

Zhang brewed the tea, chuckling. “But that can’t be ordinary soap. Ordinary soap is everywhere.”

Jiang Luo nodded slightly. “Lux soap, Hong Kong brand.”

Zhang responded politely, inwardly thinking—as expected from Haicheng. People from big cities really are different. Even soap has to be foreign brand.

Once the tea was ready, he handed cups to Jiang Luo and Wang Chuang. After a bit of small talk, he finally got to the point. “Our factory mainly produces toys. Jiang Shao, you’re here to stock up?”

Jiang Luo set his tea cup aside. “I’ve got a department store.”

Wang Chuang nearly spit out his tea. Fortunately, he’d been reminding himself to control his expression and his gaze. Still, his reaction caught Zhang’s attention. The boss looked at him, and Wang Chuang quickly played it off: “This tea’s a little hot.”

“Yes, hot tea—let it cool a bit before drinking,” Zhang said, then turned back to Jiang Luo.

“I’ve been running low on stock,” Jiang Luo continued. “So I came over to Wencheng to see what I could get.”

Wang Chuang sat quietly, pretending to observe, thinking: Big brother… your department store? Where?

So this is how business is done…

He focused on keeping a neutral expression.

Jiang Luo glanced at him. “You going to speak, or should I say it all?”

“Oh, oh.”

Wang Chuang immediately followed the “script” Jiang Luo had given him the night before. He set down his tea, looked at Zhang, and said, “Here’s the thing—we’ve got a counter, and there’s this one doll that sells like crazy.”

“Sold out early every time. Can’t get stock anymore.”

Naturally, Zhang’s interest peaked. “What kind of doll?”

Wang Chuang described, “Human-shaped, big eyes, blonde hair, about thirty centimeters tall, with arms and legs, fully dressed, just like a person.”

Zhang understood instantly.

“It’s imported from Hong Kong, with a brand.”

At that, both Jiang Luo and Wang Chuang watched Zhang closely. He paused briefly, then realized—many of the branded goods circulating in Wencheng were knockoffs, widely distributed across the country.

Even that Lux soap? Factories in Wencheng made them.

Plainly put, fake fakes.

Zhang hadn’t expected Jiang Shao to come for something like this. Naturally, he was surprised.

He signaled for them to wait, got up, and closed the office door. Before shutting it, he peeked outside—no one around—then closed it firmly.

Sitting back down, he lowered his voice. “That doll… what exactly does it look like? Any samples? Or photos? Photos would work too.”

Jiang Luo glanced at Wang Chuang. Wang reached into the bag he had at his feet, unzipped it, and pulled out a blonde-haired doll.

Just as Wang was about to hand it over, Jiang Luo’s hand shot out, pressing it down. His expression calm, he looked at Zhang and said quietly, “Let me ask first—can your factory make this doll?”

“Yes, we can. Let’s talk.”

“If not, forget it.”

Zhang’s mind raced. He paused, withdrew his hand, and asked, “Jiang Shao, your department store—how many of these dolls sell in a day?”

Jiang Luo held up two fingers.

“Twenty?” Zhang guessed.

“Two hundred.”

Zhang’s heart skipped a beat. Two hundred a day? That’s six thousand a month for just one doll. Not a small business at all.

“How much do you sell each for?” Zhang asked next.

Jiang Luo didn’t answer, circling back to the first question. “Can your factory make it? You haven’t answered me yet.”

Zhang nodded confidently. Six thousand a month—who would turn down that order? “Yes, we can. We’ll make it. Exactly the same, even the brand, down to the tiniest detail.”

Jiang Luo finally released his grip on the doll and leaned back. “See?”

Wang handed the doll to Zhang, who examined it thoroughly, even checking the label on its clothes with great care.

Wang and Jiang Luo exchanged looks.

Wang’s thought: “Bro… you’re unstoppable. Impressive.”

Jiang’s thought: This is just the start.

Zhang finished inspecting, looked up. “No problem, our factory can make it exactly the same.”

He asked, “How much do you want per cycle?”

“Do you need it urgently?” Jiang Luo countered. “This is the only doll? Nothing else?”

He then asked, “Tell me—how much does it cost your factory to produce one? How much will you sell to me?”

Zhang realized business was happening, and got serious. “We’ll need a new mold for the head, so initial costs for the first thousand units will be higher. I estimate around 4 yuan per doll.”

“Factory cost 4 yuan, I pay 7. Deal?”

In truth, Zhang had inflated the price. Running a factory, selling goods—he knew better than a buyer. Actual production cost was barely over 1 yuan, molds included. Selling at 7 yuan? Pure profit.

He figured Jiang Shao might bargain; they could settle at 5 yuan after haggling.

But the young man just smiled faintly and said, “7 yuan it is.”

Zhang froze. “…?”

First time someone didn’t haggle—he was clearly stunned. “Just like that?”

Jiang Luo asked back, “You’re not happy with 7 yuan? Need me to haggle more?”

“No need. 7 it is.”

Zhang couldn’t understand. Never done business like this before. He wondered if there was some technical difficulty with the doll. 7 yuan per doll—done just like that? Too simple.

He double-checked the doll in his hands.

Jiang Luo sipped tea calmly, smiling faintly. “No need to check. You can make it, definitely.”

Then he smirked slightly. “I know what you’re thinking—why don’t I haggle?”

He set the empty tea cup back on the table, leaned back on the sofa, composed. “I sell this doll at my counter for 68.”

What!?

Zhang’s eyes widened. 68 yuan?! Just for this one doll?! Haicheng really sells like this?!

Jiang Luo stayed calm. “Boss Zhang, there’s money to be made. Let’s make it together.”

He extended a hand steadily.

Zhang, caught up in the moment, stood like a young boy, shaking Jiang Luo’s hand.

Wang Chuang sipped tea, adding theatrically, “Meet Jiang Shao, Boss Zhang—you’re about to get rich.”

Zhang laughed, hand in Jiang’s. “Yes, yes, we make money together. Together, together!”

Soon, Zhang signed a contract with Jiang Luo, using his factory’s standard form—simple, full of loopholes in Jiang Luo’s eyes.

But in this era, handwritten contracts were common; informal was normal.

Jiang Luo first ordered 10,000 dolls. Initial delivery: 2,000 units.

He made one condition: no deposit, no prepayment during mold production. He would pay the full 14,000 yuan for the first 2,000 dolls only once they were shipped from Wencheng and had the train delivery note.

Zhang hesitated—he’d never signed like this before.

“I could accept a small deposit, but paying only after shipment? We’ve never done this,” he said.

“I’ll be blunt. I worry—what if they ship and you disappear?”

Jiang Luo stayed calm. “There’s a contract. What are you afraid of?”

“Contract stamped by my company. If I run, you can sue me.”

Zhang frowned. “I’m in Wencheng, you’re in Haicheng. Lawsuits back and forth are messy.”

“I’m not in Haicheng, I’m in Wencheng. I’ll stay in the city at the Crown Hotel—you can always reach me.”

Wang Chuang didn’t understand, just watched quietly.

Still worried, Zhang said, “Jiang Shao, really… if the shipment goes out, and we can’t find you…”

Jiang Luo interrupted: “I’ll be there when it ships, won’t I?”