With a proud grin, Wang Chuang declared, “My brother and I can make even more money later—take it all if you want!”
Wang Junwei and Bai Ting just laughed, still astonished that Wang Chuang could return from a short trip with so much money.
Bai Ting carefully stacked the bills into a metal cookie tin, sighing again, “It really is Jiang Luo who’s got the brains.”
“Smart as a whip, ever since he was a kid.”
“Such a pity—born into a good family, yet swapped at birth, ending up as the son of someone like Jiang Jianmin.”
Wang Chuang frowned. “Mom, why bring that up all the time?”
“Alright, alright, I won’t say it again.”
Bai Ting continued, “Your brother is so capable. Who cares about good families or bad, whose son he is or isn’t? He’ll be a big boss one day. People will chase after him, never the other way around.”
Wang Junwei agreed, especially now that Wang Chuang was starting to earn real money. “Right, right, let’s not talk about it.”
They then moved on to other topics. Their second silk factory was rumored to be preparing for privatization.
Normally, this wouldn’t affect the workers much—whether public to private or private to public, it was just a change in the factory’s status. The employees would still go to work and get paid, their positions secure.
But recently, there were whispers that with the privatization, the workers might lose their ironclad positions.
Bai Ting said, “They’re talking about employment contracts, making us regular employees… they might even lay some people off.”
Wang Junwei sighed; he and Bai Ting had been worrying about this too.
Bai Ting told Wang Chuang, “We’re thinking about whether to stay at the factory after privatization or take a buyout and leave. If we leave, we’ll have to find work elsewhere.”
Without hesitation, Wang Chuang said boldly, “Leave then—come work with me and Jiang Luo! We’ll do business, and you can join in later. Make money together.”
“Working in business earns way more than the factory. The factory pays peanuts, but look at Jiang Luo—he’s showing me how to make tens of thousands at a time.”
Wang Chuang was feeling a little overconfident.
Bai Ting and Wang Junwei, once worried, were now relieved: their son had talent, and they could earn real money. The future didn’t seem so daunting.
Bai Ting cautiously said, “Like your dad said, if nothing works out, he could always learn to drive a minivan and earn a living that way.”
Wang Junwei added, “Even a small shop or some side business wouldn’t be bad.”
“Your son’s right,” Bai Ting said. “You can’t earn much just working in the factory. If you want more, you have to do business.”
But nobody could have predicted that Jiang Luo and Wang Chuang’s fledgling business would soon face its first serious setback.
The next day, Jiang Luo went to see Guo Ronghai, the manager of Pacific Department Store.
At Guo’s office, Jiang Luo knocked lightly on the open door, smiling slightly. “Manager Guo.”
Guo, looking up from his desk, immediately closed his files and smiled, “Jiang! You’re back from Wencheng! Come in, come in, have a seat.”
Jiang Luo walked in and closed the door behind him, taking a seat across the desk.
Guo stood to pour some tea, chatting casually, “Where’s Xiao Wang, the one who delivered the shipping orders? Didn’t he come with you?”
“He went home,” Jiang Luo replied.
Guo poured hot water into the cup, continuing, “Xiao Wang is clever. A few times, he delivered the orders and even accompanied me to the bank for the drafts.”
He added, “The goods you brought from Wencheng are excellent—identical to what we used to import from Hong Kong. They’re selling like hotcakes, especially the dolls.”
Setting down the kettle, he capped it and handed the tea to Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo took the cup casually. “As long as they sell well, that’s fine.”
The two chatted idly, a light conversation with no particular purpose, comfortable and easy.
Guo Ronghai settled back into his chair, sipping his tea, while Jiang Luo idly stirred the foam on his noodles.
Then Jiang Luo steered the conversation toward business. “Manager Guo, if you think it’s feasible, should we place another order for the dolls, lamps, or anything else?”
Guo smiled faintly. “The items from Wencheng haven’t sold out yet. There’s still stock in the warehouse.”
Jiang Luo nodded, glancing at the display. “I noticed some of the ladies’ scarves are selling well too…”
“小姜啊,” Guo said, putting down his cup and sitting up straight.
Jiang Luo sensed a subtle shift in Guo’s expression—something that set off a twinge of unease.
Sure enough, Guo’s smile faded, replaced by a serious tone. “No need. I won’t be ordering from you anymore.”
“I’ll be straightforward. Previously, I had no choice because there was no stock. But now I know you’re sourcing directly from Wencheng, and you sell me each for fifteen—I can go straight to the Wencheng factories myself.”
Jiang Luo’s expression sharpened. “Did Wang Chuang tell you?”
Guo sighed. “Young people… they can’t keep their mouths shut. Normal. It wasn’t like I was trying to pry. He came here with shipping orders, accompanied me to the bank a few times. I asked him casually, and he told me.”
“I even asked how much you paid per doll. He said twelve. Frankly, I didn’t believe him. I guessed you only spent a few yuan per doll. If you’re making five per doll, that’s fifty thousand on a batch of ten thousand dolls—conservative estimate. And that’s just the dolls, not counting the lamps.”
“You and Xiao Wang should be satisfied, right?”
Jiang Luo leaned back slowly, a faint, amused smile spreading across his face. “Manager Guo, so now you’re done with me, huh? Just going to kick me aside?”
Guo coughed lightly. “Don’t put it so harshly. Without you, a young guy like me wouldn’t have made fifty thousand.”
Jiang Luo’s smile deepened slightly. “Manager Guo, I approached you. I gave you the opportunity, not the other way around.”
Guo didn’t take offense. “No need to argue over who approached whom. I know now—you sourced from Wencheng. Plain and simple: I don’t need you anymore.”
“Fine.”
Jiang Luo rose smoothly. “If you don’t need me, I won’t waste time lingering. No hard feelings.”
As he walked to the door, Guo called after him, “Shouldn’t you be happy? You just made fifty thousand off me—shouldn’t that feel good?”
Jiang Luo paused briefly, glancing back. “Contract price for each doll is thirty, I sold to you for fifteen. The other fifteen went straight into your pocket.”
“Without me, those dolls and lamps wouldn’t have sold at all.”
Guo ignored him, raising a hand. “Close the door for me, thanks.”
Jiang Luo cast one last cool glance at the man behind the desk and left.
Outside, he couldn’t help thinking: Wang Chuang really is an idiot.
Back at the Jing’an Hilton, Wang Chuang was already in the lobby, sitting cross-legged on the sofa reading a newspaper, exuding all the airs of a businessman.
Jiang Luo walked over, stopped beside him, and asked, “Did you tell Guo Ronghai that we sourced from the Wencheng factory, and that each doll cost twelve?”
Wang Chuang froze, looking up.
Lowering the paper, he stammered, “Ah?”
Jiang Luo’s eyes narrowed. “You said it?”
Wang Chuang slowly rose, still confused. “I… can’t I say? He asked, so I…”
Jiang Luo tapped him lightly on the head. “Are you kidding me!?”
“You tell him we went straight to the factory, and now what? He won’t order from us at all.”
“Exactly. He’s going directly to Wencheng himself.”
Wang Chuang’s eyes went wide. “How… how did he—”
Realization hit him. He dropped the paper, grimacing. “I didn’t know I couldn’t say! I thought he already knew, so I said it… I was trying to bluff him with twelve…”
“What do we do now? Should we try other department stores? There’s more than just Pacific Department Store, right?”
“Relax,” Jiang Luo said calmly. “It’s not a big deal.”
“You’re inexperienced; losing out once is normal. Today’s lesson will make you more careful next time.”