Jiang Luo’s lips curved in a faint smile, calm, composed, and commanding: “Gentlemen, let’s all prosper together.”
The businessmen gathered around, each rifling through the packages to pick out items they could work on. They held them, studying quietly or discussing a few points with those nearby.
Imitations of foreign goods were nothing new. In Wencheng, factories had people bringing things back from abroad to copy, month after month, year after year. Some even smuggled foreign goods directly for resale.
But the truth was, these ventures rarely sold well and never reached any scale.
Now that Jiang Luo had brought these items here, could they be copied? Of course. The real question was, how to sell them.
Soon, someone cautioned Jiang Luo: “Young Master Jiang, the government has been cracking down on counterfeit and substandard products lately. Your… this…”
To put it plainly, copying was considered counterfeiting.
Jiang Luo sipped his water, rested for a moment, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and replied calmly, “I’m not asking you to copy every single detail exactly as it is.”
Besides, so what if you copied it? The entire history of global commerce is just people copying one another.
Business isn’t a zero-sum game—one person doesn’t have to starve while another profits.
Yes, the government was cracking down on counterfeits, but the targets were truly fake or substandard goods. Making something similar, with guaranteed quality and without using someone else’s brand, no one would care.
Jiang Luo stood and picked up the handheld electric fan from Zhang Zhiqiang, showing it to the businessmen: “Take this as an example. If you make one, don’t make it exactly the same, and don’t use someone else’s brand. You’re just borrowing the idea to make a similar product, understand?”
He handed the fan back to Zhang Zhiqiang, sat down, and continued calmly: “Look through the packages and pick out what you can make.
“If you decide to make something, I’ll tell you how to adjust the details.”
He gave an example: “Take Zhang’s handheld fan. You can change the size. The handle could be made as a clip instead, so it can attach to something for easier use. Understand?”
“I’m not asking you to copy it exactly.”
“You’re just making a product inspired by the original.”
The businessmen understood, but they still had doubts about whether such items could actually sell.
Jiang Luo reassured them: “Just make them. How much or how little, that’s up to you.
“I’ll take responsibility for getting these products to Haicheng to sell. How well they sell—that’s my skill.
“If you don’t have enough, I’ll find other factories.”
Hearing this, the businessmen had a better sense of things.
Not make them? Impossible.
Zhang Zhiqiang, following Young Master Jiang, had been making good money lately; the production lines in his factory never stopped. Naturally, others were envious.
Some worried about overproduction and unsold inventory. Others thought about starting small and testing the market—seeing how much Jiang Luo could sell in Haicheng.
Each businessman weighed his options.
Soon, in the private room, everyone ignored the food, picking items they could make and consulting Jiang Luo on production and design details.
Jiang Luo sat calmly, speaking with each person individually, explaining how each product could be modified.
That night, at the Crown Hotel, Wang Chuang soaked in the bathtub, while Jiang Luo leaned against the headboard and called Huo Zongzhuo.
Huo knew Jiang Luo had returned to Wencheng so quickly from Shenzhen, and reminded him: “Don’t use someone else’s brand, and don’t copy exactly, or it will cause trouble later.”
Jiang Luo replied lazily, “I know. I told them to make similar items, with adjustments to the details, and I’ve shown them how.”
Huo noticed a hint of fatigue in his tone and asked, “Tired? Or drinking?”
Jiang Luo smiled. “Neither. Just talking to you—I don’t need to put on a show.”
“Did you make it back to the mainland all right?”
…
The two chatted casually, relaxed.
While waiting for the first batch from the factories, Jiang Luo and Wang Chuang stayed in Wencheng a few days longer.
During this time, besides waiting, Jiang Luo and Wang Chuang, accompanied by Zhang Zhiqiang, went to Yueqing.
The town that sold transformers was now desolate.
Previously, local authorities had cracked down on counterfeit transformers, and now central inspectors had come to enforce stricter regulations.
Thousands of retail outlets had been closed, and numerous factories had their production licenses revoked.
Zhang Zhiqiang had distant relatives and friends who made transformers in Yueqing.
With the stores closed and factories halted, his relatives and friends were left without options and began looking elsewhere.
What surprised Zhang Zhiqiang was that when he accompanied Jiang Luo and Wang Chuang to Yueqing, Jiang Luo said he wanted to acquire factories.
Zhang Zhiqiang advised: “Young Master Jiang, the crackdown has shut stores and production lines. Licenses are revoked. Buying factories now seems like a clear loss.”
Jiang Luo calmly countered: “Yueqing supplies transformers nationwide. Every region needs them. Without Yueqing, where would the country get transformers? Import them?”
He added, “Think carefully about the opportunities here.”
Zhang Zhiqiang was puzzled. “You mean…?”
Jiang Luo pointed out the path: “Transformer production in Yueqing has already reached scale and supplies the whole country.
“The government needs Yueqing for transformers.
“The crackdown isn’t about permanently closing stores or factories; it’s to bring them in line with regulations.”
Zhang Zhiqiang thought it over and understood, astonished: “So, you mean the government will allow the Yueqing stores and factories to reopen?”
Jiang Luo nodded. “Yes. And it won’t take long.”
Jiang Luo was now buying workshops to take advantage of the ongoing crackdowns and closures, snapping them up at low prices.
When production and sales in Yueqing resumed, the workshops in his hands could naturally be sold at a higher price.
So, with the introduction and recommendation of Zhang Zhiqiang, a local, Jiang Luo contacted a workshop owner who was willing to sell and bought his transformer workshop for forty thousand yuan.
Wang Chuang didn’t understand the situation and didn’t have money on hand, so he didn’t join in.
Zhang Zhiqiang, seeing Jiang Luo purchase the workshop, murmured to himself but also spent money to buy a small workshop from his relatives and friends.
On the way back from Yueqing, the three of them chatted.
Zhang Zhiqiang drove: “The production licenses have been revoked. Will the government really let them reopen? If they don’t, leaving the workshop idle would just be a waste of money.”
Wang Chuang, still confused, said: “Let’s wait and see.”
Jiang Luo calmly replied, “If I had extra money, I wouldn’t stop at buying just one or spending only forty thousand.”
Zhang Zhiqiang thought to himself, “Alright, let’s wait and see. I just hope he’s not making a bad bet.”
But just after returning from Yueqing, Zhang Zhiqiang’s wife called the factory office and launched into a tirade: “Are you crazy? Don’t you know what’s going on in Yueqing? Spending money to buy a workshop? That’s like throwing money into the water!”
“Forty thousand isn’t even a lot of money?!”
“That’s enough to rebuild a decent grave!”
In Wencheng, in recent years, it had become fashionable to renovate graves. Families spent lavishly, and along both banks of the Oujiang River, luxurious tombs stretched as far as the eye could see.
Zhang Zhiqiang’s wife also wanted to renovate her family tomb—if everyone else did it and she didn’t, she’d lose face, and people might secretly mock her family as poor.
Zhang Zhiqiang gripped the phone and said, “Go, go, go… you don’t understand!”
“Building graves for the dead? Why make the living watch?”
He hung up immediately.
Jiang Luo and Wang Chuang, sitting at the tea table, both heard the call.
Wang Chuang sipped his tea, not bothering with someone else’s family affairs, while Jiang Luo teased, “So Mr. Zhang isn’t renovating his family tomb?”
Zhang Zhiqiang waved his hand and came over to sit, brewing tea: “No need. It’s all just for show for the living.”
He continued, “Running a toy factory, making a bit of money, isn’t easy. Unlike those big bosses making hundreds of thousands.”
Then he looked at Jiang Luo: “Young Master Jiang, will Yueqing really be allowed to reopen?”
Jiang Luo lifted his cup and took a sip of tea: “Don’t worry. Your money, my money—it won’t be wasted.”
A few days later, Jiang Luo and Wang Chuang loaded a batch of goods and returned from Wencheng to Haicheng.
That afternoon, the truck stopped on the roadside behind the small market. Wang Chuang and Jiang Luo jumped down and opened the back doors.
Soon, the market vendors, having heard the news, came over.
Most of them had come for the dolls, but doll sales weren’t as hot as before. Now dolls were everywhere across Haicheng, and prices were falling—clearly, sales weren’t as good as they had been.