“We’ll take a bath, stay the night at the bathhouse, and tomorrow we’ll go back to the station together to check whether the shipment’s gone out.”
Jiang Luo knew perfectly well that Boss Zhang was scared he might run and was deliberately keeping an eye on him.
He didn’t refuse—he agreed readily. “Sure. I’ve never been to a bathhouse in Wencheng anyway.”
Boss Zhang still felt uneasy. But seeing how Jiang Luo didn’t resist at all—calm, collected—he convinced himself to wait another night. Tomorrow, once the goods were officially shipped out, Jiang Luo would have no excuse not to pay.
And if Jiang Luo still didn’t pay…
Boss Zhang was just beginning to have a dark thought when Jiang Luo, sitting in the passenger seat, casually said, “Boss Zhang, why are you driving a Volkswagen?”
“Nowadays we’ve got BMWs and Mercedes here in China. I still think my Benz Tiger—my ‘Tiger-head Benz’—is the best-looking.”
Boss Zhang immediately snapped out of his anger. Not everyone even recognized a tiger-head Benz these days—he had forgotten that for a moment.
That reassurance settled him again.
He figured: If this kid can afford a tiger-head Benz, he won’t stiff me on twenty thousand.
What he didn’t know was that at that very moment, not only had Wang Chuang run off, but Jiang Luo didn’t even have two thousand yuan on him.
Was Jiang Luo scared?
Not at all.
He had the whole situation arranged.
So after leaving the train station, Jiang Luo simply went along with Boss Zhang’s entire schedule:
Boss Zhang brought him back to the factory office—Jiang Luo sat, drank tea, made small talk;
Boss Zhang suggested walking through the factory—Jiang Luo followed;
Boss Zhang said, “Let’s go to the bathhouse,” and Jiang Luo agreed without hesitation.
When they arrived at the bathhouse, Boss Li from the lighting factory was already there waiting.
Right before entering the men’s bath, Boss Li pulled Zhang Zhiqiang aside. “Hey, weren’t you shipping out today? Did he pay you?”
At the mention of this, Zhang Zhiqiang looked annoyed, brow furrowed. “Don’t bring it up. At the station, I’d already handed over the goods, but he insists he’ll only settle once the shipment actually leaves the station. And that kid surnamed Wang—no idea where he disappeared to.”
Boss Li froze. “Is this Young Master Jiang reliable or not?”
Zhang Zhiqiang’s expression darkened. “Who knows. Either way, I’m not letting him go back to the Crown Hotel tonight. What if he really escapes?”
“He has to stay under my nose tonight. Tomorrow, once the goods are on the tracks—once they depart—if he still won’t pay, I’ll make him regret it.”
Boss Li frowned too, worried now. “Damn. I’m still making lamps for him. My production cost is way higher than your dolls.”
“I better shut down the production line now before I take a big loss.”
Boss Li didn’t even bother bathing—he immediately went to make a phone call, telling his factory to resume work quickly and finish those European-style table lamps before it was too late.
Inside the bathhouse, both Boss Zhang and Boss Li followed Jiang Luo everywhere they went—ostensibly to bathe, but really to keep watch.
Jiang Luo understood all of it perfectly well and let them.
He stripped down and soaked comfortably in the hot pool.
After soaking, he wrapped a big towel around his waist, went to get a back scrub, and let the attendant scrub him clean.
Boss Li and Boss Zhang followed every step—if Jiang Luo soaked, they soaked; if he got scrubbed, they got scrubbed.
After the scrub, they washed up, dried off, changed into bathhouse clothes, and then went to get foot massages.
Watching Jiang Luo fully relaxed—lying back while an old master kneaded his feet, munching fruit, reading the newspaper—both bosses started doubting themselves again.
Boss Li shot a look: Does this look like someone who can’t afford to pay?
Boss Zhang shot one back: Who knows.
Boss Li: Maybe you’re overthinking it?
Boss Zhang: Better safe than sorry!
While Jiang Luo lounged reading the newspaper, he suddenly asked, “Boss Li, your production schedule holding up over there?”
“Of course, of course,” Boss Li replied with extra warmth.
Soon after, Boss Li climbed off the massage bed and slipped out quietly—again to call his factory, telling them to restart production and hurry up with those European lamps.
Jiang Luo caught the movement in his peripheral vision.
He didn’t comment. Didn’t react. Just curled his lips ever so slightly.
That night, Boss Li and Boss Zhang both stayed with Jiang Luo, sleeping on the massage beds inside the bathhouse.
Boss Li quickly drifted off and started snoring.
Jiang Luo also slept peacefully.
Boss Zhang couldn’t sleep at all.
First, the massage bed was nowhere near as comfortable as his bed at home.
Second, he was terrified Jiang Luo wouldn’t pay in the end.
He tossed and turned the entire night.
But seeing Jiang Luo sleep so soundly, showing no sign of running, Boss Zhang comforted himself: It should be fine. Just wait. Wait until tomorrow. Yes. Just wait.
The bathhouse, like most in boss-heavy Wencheng, was open 24 hours.
The next morning, when Jiang Luo woke up, both bosses accompanied him. They ate breakfast together at the bathhouse cafeteria.
After breakfast, they got dressed and headed back to the factory.
In the office, the sleepless Boss Zhang made tea and sighed. “You see, running a factory means I’m working 24 hours a day. Always something to worry about.”
Then he added earnestly, “Young Master Jiang, why don’t you settle the first payment early? Once it’s done, you’ll feel at ease, and so will I.”
Jiang Luo replied, “Boss Zhang, we already agreed.”
“Once the goods ship out, I’ll pay.”
Boss Zhang shook his head with a weary sigh. “Half a day early or half a day late—isn’t it the same? It’s not like I’m short on inventory.”
The unspoken part: But you sure are short on the cash you owe me.
“What’s wrong?”
Jiang Luo looked at him calmly. “Boss Zhang, you don’t trust me?”
Zhang hadn’t slept, felt sore everywhere, and his head was foggy.
He no longer had his usual patience for business banter. Instead he let out a frustrated breath and said—less elegantly than usual:
“Trust isn’t trust. It all depends on the money.”
Jiang Luo toned down his expression—not smiling, not cold—just calm. “If that’s how you see it, Boss Zhang, then this deal might really be hard to continue.”
Talk, talk, talk—what talking?
Boss Zhang was reaching the end of his patience.
He needed money.
Money.
The payment.
Jiang Luo could see Zhang Zhigang’s patience wearing thin, along with his growing irritation. He remained calm and said evenly, “In that case, once this ten-thousand-yuan batch is shipped, I won’t trouble you again.”
Then he stood up.
Zhang Zhigang thought Jiang Luo was trying to leave and snapped, “Where are you going?!”
His expression turned ugly.
“Don’t be so fierce.”
Jiang Luo looked at him. “I’m going to the train station to check the shipment.”
Zhang Zhigang got up, already pushed to the limit, and had no patience left to pretend. His face was stiff as he waved irritably, “Let’s go.”
Jiang Luo gave a cool, mocking remark: “Boss Zhang, is your temper really that short?”
Zhang Zhigang knew he shouldn’t be losing it—not yet. He needed to stay composed. But after a night of sleeping on a bathhouse massage bed, he felt awful; his head was spinning, and his patience was gone.
He waved again, more impatiently. “Enough. Let’s just go. Go to the station.”
Very blunt, no attempt to save face for either side: “Money is what matters. Everything else is nonsense.”
Jiang Luo let out a faint, unreadable hum but said nothing.
So the two boarded the car. The entire ride to the train station passed in silence—no friendly small talk, no polite business chatter. Zhang Zhigang couldn’t even pretend anymore.
When they arrived, Zhang Zhigang went to ask about the shipment; Jiang Luo stood off to the side.
The staff told him the goods would be shipped at 2 p.m.
Zhang Zhigang turned and said to Jiang Luo, “Two o’clock. The shipment goes out at two—so you’re paying at two, right?”
Jiang Luo’s voice was cool. “Boss Zhang, watch your attitude. I’m here to do business with you, not because I owe you anything.”
“If you don’t want to continue this deal, just say it.”
“We finish this transaction, part on good terms.”
“No need to make things this ugly.”
Hearing that, Zhang Zhigang couldn’t explode the way he wanted to.
He found a seat, sat down, and waited for two o’clock. Waited for the shipment.
It was already noon, and he clearly had no intention of taking Jiang Luo to lunch.
Jiang Luo didn’t bother with him either. He saw someone in the waiting hall selling corn and tea eggs, bought some, and returned to sit and eat on his own.
Zhang Zhigang had no appetite. His head still throbbed. He pressed his temples and glanced at Jiang Luo, feeling uneasy again. With two o’clock approaching, Jiang Luo showed no guilt, no panic. Maybe he really would pay on time?
Zhang Zhigang’s mind swung wildly back and forth.
In the end, all that mattered was the money.
Finally, the time was near. He checked his watch and went to the counter again.
The staff flipped through their log. “Oh, that batch? It was loaded this morning. It departed at 1:45.”
Shipped!
Zhang Zhigang immediately turned, hurried back toward the seats, pointed at his watch, and confronted Jiang Luo: “One forty-five! It’s already gone! Time to settle the payment—you said so yourself! Once the goods are shipped, you pay!”
Jiang Luo stood. “Wait—”
He had only said the word “wait” when Zhang Zhigang grabbed him by the collar. “Pay up! You said it! Pay!”
“What are you waiting for?!”
“We have a contract—black and white!”
“Pay. Now!”
Jiang Luo didn’t resist. He raised a brow, looking at the man in front of him, and spoke in a low voice, “Boss Zhang… aren’t you going a bit too far?”
Zhang Zhigang ground his teeth. “I’m going too far?”