He gave a polite smile. “Jiang Shao, I really wasn’t trying to steal your business. How about this—you sell at whatever price you like, and I’ll match it. That work for you?”
Sitting there, Jiang Luo curled his lips in a mocking grin. “I set the price and you follow? You show up here trying to steal my livelihood, and now you want to ‘discuss’ things with me?”
You Junyu’s tone cooled. “No one said you can sell here but I can’t.”
Wang Chuang clenched his fists. “You—!”
Jiang Luo raised a hand and pulled him back by the arm.
You Junyu looked over. “What? You want to fight?”
Not far away, the guys in the green and gray tank tops noticed and started walking over.
Only then did Jiang Luo stand up, unhurried. “Young Master You, that’s not how you do business. There’s such a thing as first come, first served.”
You Junyu dropped the act and snorted. “You sell yours, I sell mine. Business is about who’s better at it. What first come, first served.”
He gave Jiang Luo a hostile look. “I’ll sell cheaper than you. I’ll make sure you can’t sell a thing. What can you do about it?”
Wang Chuang jabbed a finger at him. In response, You Junyu cracked his knuckles—sharp pops—face full of challenge.
Jiang Luo stepped forward, blocking the space between the two. “What can I do? One phone call back to Wencheng. I’ll tell Zhang Zhiqiang and the other factory bosses that all my goods are marked up specifically for the small market here—then you tell me, you think it’ll ever be your turn to get stock for this place again?”
You Junyu’s expression shifted; he hadn’t expected Jiang Luo to go straight for the kill. “If you make that call, I won’t be able to sell—but neither will you!”
Jiang Luo answered calmly, “I never planned on selling here for long anyway.”
He added, “And I can do more than call Wencheng. I can go straight to the stall owners here and tell them exactly where my goods come from and what the factory price is.”
“You think you’re the only one who can smash someone’s livelihood?”
You Junyu: “……”
By now the green and gray tank tops had reached him; they stood facing Jiang Luo and Wang Chuang, both sides squaring off.
Through gritted teeth, You Junyu said, “Fine. You’re tough.”
He stepped right up to Jiang Luo, face-to-face. “Say the word then—worst case, no one does business in this small market.”
“I said we should set the same price and make money together, but you’re the one going extreme. Who’s the one that can’t do business?”
Jiang Luo didn’t back down, completely unfazed. “Whatever you say. Go ahead and call me extreme and bad at business.”
Wang Chuang stepped up too. So did the green and gray tank tops.
Green tank top: “What now? You guys want to fight?”
Wang Chuang instantly ripped off his shirt. “Come on then! I’m right here!”
Jiang Luo reached out and stopped him. On the other side, You Junyu also threw out an arm to hold his men back.
Eyes locked on eyes. The air between them was a live wire.
Then a stall owner walked over asking for a plastic bag. Wang Chuang turned around to grab one, and the green and gray tank tops silently stepped back a couple of paces.
“Fine. I’ll remember this.”
You Junyu left with his two men, but turned once more to give Jiang Luo a cold glare.
Jiang Luo glanced back at him. A memory flashed—another life, when You Junyu strutted through the Haicheng business circle like he owned it, arrogant at every dinner table. Jiang Luo had once gone over holding a wine glass, smiling, trying to toast him—only to be publicly humiliated.
A grudge like that… he remembered it vividly, down to the last detail.
Just wait, Jiang Luo thought.
He had his own ruthlessness.
You Junyu and the other two drove off in their truck.
As soon as they were gone, Wang Chuang hurried over. “You know that guy?”
Jiang Luo: “He’s an idiot.”
A few stall owners were still picking out goods. Wang Chuang lowered his voice. “What do we do now?”
“Handle the customers first,” Jiang Luo said. “We’ll talk later.”
After a bit of busy work, the place emptied again. They sat back down, and Wang Chuang leaned in. “That You guy—whatever his name is—those three will definitely come back tomorrow or the day after. And they’ll sell cheaper again. Should we drop our prices? Or go head-to-head with them?”
Jiang Luo shrugged lightly. “Head-to-head? Why? You want to act like an idiot just because an idiot showed up?”
“Sell. Move everything today. Worst case, we sell at a discount.”
“What do you mean?” Wang Chuang asked.
Jiang Luo answered steadily, “Small market’s done for us. We’re not coming back tomorrow.”
“When we’re finished selling today, I’ll call Wencheng and tell Zhang Zhiqiang and the others to come unload their goods here themselves.”
Wang Chuang stared. “Isn’t that exactly going head-to-head? Dragging each other down?”
“If we can’t make money here, they shouldn’t either?”
He frowned. “Then what about us? Are we supposed to go to another city and sell this stuff?”
Jiang Luo, as always, didn’t spell it out. “Relax. You’ll know tomorrow.”
Not long after, word spread that they were packing up and discounting everything. A bunch of stall owners rushed over.
Jiang Luo called out, “Last day, last day—discounts on everything! The more you buy, the bigger the discount!”
Wang Chuang yelled too, “Last day! We’re not coming tomorrow! Get it today—everything’s on sale!”
Stall owners picked through the goods with extra enthusiasm.
And Jiang Luo and Wang Chuang were nonstop collecting money again.
By the end of the day, everything was sold except a few scraps. They packed the boxes, locked the truck, and got in. Jiang Luo drove while Wang Chuang counted cash.
“There’s only a tiny bit left,” Wang Chuang said. “Can’t sell it. I’ll take it home for my parents, give some to relatives, maybe sell a bit cheap if someone wants it.”
“Whatever,” Jiang Luo said. “Do what you want.”
Counting money put Wang Chuang in a good mood, but then he remembered—they weren’t coming back tomorrow. A hint of regret crept in. If they stayed, they could make more. Even with competition, something sold was still profit.
So he asked, “Luo-ge, I mean… we got our business snatched, sure, but why didn’t you agree when that bastard suggested matching prices and selling together?”
Jiang Luo said flatly, “Because I don’t like him.”
“Huh?”
“You really know him? What’d he do to you?” Wang Chuang asked.
“I don’t know him,” Jiang Luo said. “I just dislike him on sight.”
“I hate him too,” Wang Chuang muttered. “Who undercuts people the moment he shows up? Bastard.”
Jiang Luo drove steadily. “We’ve had the small market to ourselves for half a month already. That’s long enough.”
“If it wasn’t him, someone else would’ve followed the trail, figured out where we get stock, and jumped in to split the market.”
“I never planned on doing this long-term. And we couldn’t even if we wanted to.”
“So what are we doing next?” Wang Chuang asked. “Maybe go to another city? If this stuff sells so well in Haicheng, it’ll sell well anywhere.”
But Jiang Luo said, “This cake? It’s not for you.”
“What does that mean?”
“You think the factories in Wencheng—those bosses—only make our goods? Only supply us?”
Wang Chuang stopped counting and listened.
Driving, eyes on the road, Jiang Luo explained, “Of course not. Once something tastes like profit, it attracts more than tigers and lions. Wolves and stray dogs come running too.”
“You’ve got a product that sells well in a big city like Haicheng? High profit? A factory isn’t going to stop its assembly line for your sake. They’ll push to sell nationwide.”
“Who do you think sells faster—an entire factory network, or you running from city to city on your own?”
“And another thing: when something is profitable, you think only the first few factories will make it? Others won’t copy it?”
“And once they copy it, you think they won’t try to sell it too?”
“The more cities carrying it, the more markets with it… you really think there won’t be new factories popping up? Similar factories?”
“Money’s a nice thing. Everyone wants a piece.”
Wang Chuang stayed quiet, absorbing it.
“So,” Jiang Luo said calmly, “knowing something is profitable doesn’t mean you’ll get a slice.”
“We’re earning now not because we’re special, but because we moved faster than everyone else.”
“But those products—sure, we bought them piece by piece from Chung Ying Street in Shenzhen to have them copied.”
“We deserve to sell them, sure. But once factories start producing them in bulk… they stop being ours.”
Jiang Luo’s voice was cool. “Business everywhere is just copying each other. We were simply faster.”
“Those things—without us—they would’ve been copied sooner or later and sold in Haicheng by someone else.”
Wang Chuang sighed. “I wasn’t done making money at the small market. Now it’s just… over.”
Then he suddenly remembered. “Hey—don’t forget to call Wencheng tonight. Call! Definitely call! If I can’t make money in that damn small market, that You brat can forget about it too!”
Jiang Luo said, “Don’t be angry. I’ll take you to the disco tonight.”
That night, around 1 a.m., they left the disco and returned to the hotel, still carrying the buzz of alcohol. Jiang Luo leaned against the headboard, calling Huo Zongzhuo.
Huo Zongzhuo wasn’t surprised to hear they’d wrapped up business at the small market. “Mm. Managing to hold it alone for over half a month before someone came to cut in—that’s already impressive.”
“I told you before,” he said, “selling factory goods with no real technical barrier… someone was bound to come for a slice sooner or later.”