“You said you’d accept payment once the shipment was sent out—I agreed.
“You said you wanted it today—I agreed.
“Now we’re here, and you want to wait until two o’clock, I—”
Suddenly, something swung past both their faces. Then came Wang Chuang’s breathless voice: “Luo-ge! The bank draft!”
Both Zhang Zhigang and Jiang Luo turned at the same time.
Zhang Zhigang slowly loosened his grip on Jiang Luo’s collar. The twisted, feral expression on his face didn’t fade quickly enough, and the veins around his temples were still bulging under his skin.
Jiang Luo reached out, took the draft from Wang Chuang, held it up, and gave Zhang Zhigang a small gesture. “Boss Zhang, payment—just like we agreed.”
Zhang Zhigang’s expression snapped into place instantly. He lifted a hand, trying to smooth the wrinkles he’d made on Jiang Luo’s collar and forced a dry laugh. “My bad, my bad—I got worked up.”
A full 180-degree shift.
Jiang Luo ignored him and brushed his hand aside. His expression was blank, light, emotionless. “Boss Zhang, you don’t owe me an apology. I owe you one.”
“If I’d known it would turn out like this, I should’ve gone to another factory the moment you asked me for a deposit.”
Zhang Zhigang’s dizziness vanished—his mind was crystal clear now. Smiling, groveling, he hurried to say, “No, no, don’t say that. It’s on me—all on me. Don’t be angry.”
“I took a bath yesterday and slept horribly. My head wasn’t right.”
“Truly, my head was a mess.”
He reached for the bank draft, saw it really was a certified bank note—thirty thousand—and quickly shoved it back into Jiang Luo’s hands, smiling obsequiously. “My fault, my fault, I got too excited.”
“I was just too excited earlier, I’m sorry, truly sorry.”
He could flip a table over money, and just as quickly bow and scrape over money.
Immensely flexible.
Wang Chuang watched the whole thing, completely clueless about what had happened before.
Jiang Luo stayed cool, his tone light, expression faintly proud. “How could Boss Zhang be wrong? I’m the one who’s wrong.”
“I was completely wrong. I never should’ve stepped into your factory or talked business with you.”
“No, no, don’t say that.”
Zhang Zhigang coaxed him, bowing slightly. “It’s my fault. All mine. I apologize. I’m sorry—truly sorry.”
He grinned nervously, nodding and bending at the waist.
Jiang Luo’s calm gaze swept over him; the corner of his mouth tugged upward just a little, and he let out a quiet, unreadable hum.
Watching from the side, Wang Chuang thought: Damn… he really pulled it off.
My Luo-ge… damn impressive.
When Jiang Luo brought Wang Chuang to Wencheng, aside from the few hundred yuan on Wang Chuang, they had only thirty-five hundred in total.
Three thousand of that thirty-five hundred came from the money Jiang Luo made in the stock market—using the twenty thousand he’d borrowed from Lu Fuhua and the guy with the glasses. As for the hundred thousand Huo Zongzhuo had given him—including the profit—he hadn’t touched it. He returned it all.
With only 3,500 yuan, using the standard method of buying goods from factories and reselling them was impossible. Not enough capital, no way to negotiate cooperation with people like Zhang Zhigang and Boss Li.
So how did Jiang Luo pull it off?
It wasn’t complicated.
He played a timing trick—
Once Zhang Zhigang delivered the goods to the train station, the station would issue a “shipping slip.”
With that slip in hand, Wang Chuang would rush back to Haicheng immediately and hand it to Manager Guo at Pacific Department Store. As soon as Manager Guo saw the official shipping slip, he would issue payment—a bank draft. Then Wang Chuang would rush back to Wencheng with it.
Round trip—just enough time to make it back before the shipment officially departed.
That’s why Jiang Luo insisted on payment upon shipment.
This way, they didn’t need to spend a single cent. They could act as the middlemen connecting the Wencheng factories and Haicheng buyers.
And the price Jiang Luo negotiated with Zhang Zhigang was seven yuan per doll.
On the Haicheng side, Jiang Luo had negotiated the dolls at fifteen apiece.
Which meant the bank draft Manager Guo issued was for thirty thousand.
And from that, Jiang Luo earned an eight-yuan margin per doll.
Two thousand dolls—sixteen thousand in profit.
The three of them left the train station quickly and got into Zhang Zhigang’s car, heading to the nearest bank.
At the bank, Jiang Luo cashed the draft and received thirty thousand in cash. Once he had the money in hand, he handed Zhang Zhigang fourteen thousand and had him write a receipt acknowledging it.
With the receipt signed and the money in his pocket, Zhang Zhigang finally relaxed.
Leaving the bank, he hurried to fuss over them. “Come on, come on—get in the car. You haven’t eaten, right? Let me take you two for something to eat.”
Jiang Luo didn’t even look at him, simply walked ahead. Wang Chuang followed.
Zhang Zhigang trailed after them, apologizing nonstop, voice full of forced warmth: “Young Master Jiang, my mistake, all my mistake, really.”
“I’m sorry, truly sorry.”
He even lifted a hand and slapped his own cheek lightly. “I deserve that. I deserve worse. Let me vent for you.”
“Don’t be mad, please. Don’t be mad.”
By now, Wang Chuang had pieced together what happened—Zhang Zhigang must’ve flipped out earlier when he thought he wasn’t getting paid.
Otherwise he wouldn’t be groveling like this.
Wang Chuang, annoyed on Jiang Luo’s behalf, put on a performance. “Boss Zhang, seriously, you—over this?”
“It’s just fourteen thousand.”
“It’s not like it’s two hundred grand or two million. Why’d you have to go that far?”
“No reason, no reason,”
Zhang Zhigang said quickly. “Young Master Jiang, I was wrong. Please forgive me.”
“You’re the magnanimous one here.”
“Let me make it up to you. Let me treat you to a meal.”
“No need.”
Jiang Luo didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t look at him. “Just finish the remaining eight thousand dolls and ship them on time.”
His lips carried a cold curve. “I really don’t dare do business with you again.”
“No, no—please don’t say that.”
Zhang Zhigang’s voice softened even more. “I was wrong, truly wrong. I’m sorry, so sorry.”
He launched into flattery like a man clinging to life. “You’re from the big city—we can’t compare. Folks like us in small places… we’re rough, inexperienced.”
“Running a factory, doing some trade, all we understand is money. No sense for anything else.”
“We’re nothing like you, Young Master Jiang.”
“Really—not even close.”
“Please don’t be angry.”
Then he added quickly, “How about this—I’ll drive you back to your hotel to rest. Tonight, I’ll host. Best restaurant in the city. Seafood, all on me.”
He reached for Jiang Luo’s arm. “Come on now, come on, let me take you back.”
“No cars around here otherwise.”
Then he called out to Wang Chuang, “Boss Wang, you too, you too.”
Only then did Jiang Luo head toward the car, still barely acknowledging him.
Zhang Zhigang rushed ahead to open the back door, treating the two of them like royalty, then personally drove them back to the Crown Hotel.
At the entrance, Jiang Luo got out without looking back and walked straight inside.
Wang Chuang climbed out next, but Zhang Zhigang caught his arm. “Boss Wang, Boss Wang.”
He offered him a cigarette, then pulled a few bills from the same leather envelope that had held the fourteen thousand, stuffing them into Wang Chuang’s hand.
Wang Chuang put on airs. “No, no—you shouldn’t pay me when I didn’t do anything.”
“Take it, take it,”
Zhang Zhigang insisted. He nodded toward the hotel doors. “Just… help me say a good word or two to your Young Master Jiang. Smooth things over.”
“I truly didn’t mean to offend him. Really.”
“We’re just small-town folks. No sophistication.”
“You city people are generous—you won’t hold it against us.”
Wang Chuang couldn’t help feeling a little flattered.
He tucked the money into his pocket, held the cigarette, then tucked it behind his ear like he’d seen grown men do. He lifted his brows at Zhang Zhigang and swaggered toward the revolving door.
Zhang Zhigang clasped his hands together and bowed repeatedly as he watched him go.
Wang Chuang gave him a single-handed wave—like some high-ranking official—and disappeared inside.
The moment they were out of sight, Zhang Zhigang hurried to the front desk. “Those two who just walked in—yes, them. One surnamed Wang, one surnamed Jiang. How many days are they staying?”
He fished out a stack of bills. “Till the day after tomorrow? Add five more nights to their reservation. Yes, yes, I’ll pay.”
“My surname is Zhang. Let them know I covered their stay.”
Upstairs, stepping out of the elevator onto the carpeted hallway, Wang Chuang reached into his pocket and pulled out the cash Zhang Zhigang had slipped him. He snorted. “He gave me this and asked me to sweet-talk you on his behalf.”
“If he knew how empty our pockets really are, he probably wouldn’t be able to say stuff like that.”
He laughed—giddy. “Thirty thousand! We gave Zhang fourteen, and the remaining sixteen thousand—it’s all ours!”
Jiang Luo smirked too. As they entered the room, he handed Wang Chuang the bundle of money he’d kept tucked under his arm.
Wang Chuang grabbed the cash, stepped inside, and immediately threw the whole stack into the air. “Money’s here! We’re rich!”
The bills fluttered down like confetti. Jiang Luo thought the move was utterly idiotic, but he was grinning anyway.
When the cash landed on the bed, Wang Chuang spread his arms wide and dove into it. “Sixteen thousand! Sixteen thousand!!”
“This is the most money I’ve ever seen in my life!!!”
He rolled onto his back, reaching into the air as more bills drifted down.
While scooping fistfuls of cash, he yelled, “Business! You gotta do business!”
“Working a job—one whole month of hard labor, a few hundred bucks.”
“Business—one deal and boom! Over ten grand!”
“So damn good! It feels amazing!”
“Hahaha—money! All money!”
“Our money!”
Jiang Luo watched him carrying on like he’d lost his mind, quietly amused.
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