“One side is someone I know but not close with, and the other side is you, Jiang Shao. Of course I’m standing with you.”
Jiang Luo replied lazily, “I was just joking with you.”
Zhang Zhiqiang laughed, cheerful as ever. “One hundred fifty thousand then. I’ll talk to my friend for you.”
The meeting wasn’t in Leqing—it was at an upscale restaurant in Wencheng.
Jiang Luo couldn’t tell whether Zhang Zhiqiang had smoothed things over beforehand, or whether the workshop’s former seller—now the buyer—was just being extra polite. Once he arrived, not only were a few familiar business owners there to keep him company, but they also had dishes called “Smooth Sailing” and “A Token of Respect” served to the table.
Everyone ate and chatted, the atmosphere warm and friendly. The former owner—now the buyer—was especially attentive. He called him “Jiang Shao” with every sentence, even toasting him repeatedly, holding his glass especially low, posture humble.
In the end, Jiang Luo agreed to the price: twelve thousand. They signed the transfer contract on the spot, pressed their thumbprints on the spot, and paid cash on the spot.
“Thank you, Jiang Shao.”
The original owner of the workshop was genuinely grateful. He knew perfectly well that back when the government crackdown happened, he sold the workshop cheaply just to get rid of the bad asset and limit his losses. Now that Leqing was recovering everywhere—production, sales, all of it—if he wanted to build a new workshop from scratch, he’d need to invest at least fifteen thousand.
Twelve thousand was absolutely a “friend price.”
And back then, tons of Leqing locals had sold off their workshops. Depending on size, they went for three or four thousand, five or six thousand, even seven or eight thousand.
But now? Almost nobody could buy them back.
The fact that he could get his back through Zhang Zhiqiang asking Jiang Luo on his behalf was luck enough.
“Come, come, Jiang Shao, let me toast you again.”
The former owner toasted him once more and added, “If you ever need voltage regulators in the future, come to me. I’ll always give you the best price and the best products.”
“You’re too kind.”
Jiang Luo raised his glass, calm and confident. “Let’s be friends.”
The man echoed, “Yes, friends. From now on, Jiang Shao is my best friend.”
Jiang Luo was still staying at the Crowne Plaza in Wencheng and wasn’t in a rush to return to Haicheng.
That day, he visited a few factories, then went with Zhang Zhiqiang to a newly opened bathhouse in the city.
Inside the sauna, both men had towels wrapped around their waists, legs sprawled out casually. As they chatted, the topic naturally shifted to how Jiang Luo no longer did business at the small market in Haicheng.
Zhang Zhiqiang knew You Junyu’s father, You Sen—they were all business owners in the same circle. He also knew the whole situation. Confused, he asked, “Why’d you stop selling at the Haicheng small market?”
“You Sen’s kid really wasn’t playing fair—it made no sense for him to undercut your prices like that—but even if you don’t sell at the small market anymore, you could still sell elsewhere.”
“With your ability, you could sell anywhere you go.”
Jiang Luo didn’t mention that he was focusing on building his own brand and company. He simply said, “I don’t want to go anywhere else. I’m used to Haicheng. I’ll stay there for now.”
Zhang Zhiqiang lowered his voice, offering some inside info: “Since you left the small market, You Sen’s kid took over.”
“He made deals with a few factories. Those factories won’t sell directly to the small market anymore, so the people there have to buy from him. But since he doesn’t price like you did, his profit’s small.”
Jiang Luo didn’t care at all. “Whatever. Let him sell.”
Lazy tone. “He sells his, I sell mine. We’re not on the same path.”
They chatted, and Jiang Luo even reminded Zhang Zhiqiang, “You know how some factories in Wencheng operate.” Meaning: they sell junk.
“If you want to last long and earn more, don’t follow their ways.”
“I know,” Zhang said. “I’ve got sense.”
After the sauna, they showered, changed, and went to get foot massages.
While they were lying there eating fruit and chatting, in walked You Sen—with his son, You Junyu. Both wore the bathhouse’s matching lounge clothes.
And You Sen had clearly come for Jiang Luo.
Seeing him lying there getting his feet massaged, You Sen greeted him, sat down on the empty bed beside him, and said, “Jiang Shao, what a coincidence. You and Boss Zhang are both here.”
Jiang Luo wouldn’t snub someone who came with a smile. He pretended not to see You Junyu, leaned back, ate his fruit, and smiled. “Wencheng has plenty of flaws, but the bathhouses aren’t one of them. Otherwise I’d have nowhere to get a foot massage.”
You Sen waved generously. “Enjoy yourselves. Everything you spend today goes on my tab.”
Zhang Zhiqiang chimed in, “Only Boss You is this generous.”
After a bit of small talk, You Sen tugged his son’s arm, pulling him closer, and said to Jiang Luo, “This is my boy, Junyu.”
His tone was warm and polite. “Earlier, when he went to the Haicheng small market and sold things at low prices—that was him being clueless, not understanding seniority or respect. I brought him here today so he could apologize to you.”
He looked at his son. “Junyu.”
A pointed look.
Though You Junyu hated it, nothing showed on his face. He smiled politely and even bent down slightly. “Sorry, Jiang Shao. I didn’t know any better. I broke the rules.”
Jiang Luo smiled, glanced at him, then looked at You Sen. “Boss You, what are you doing? You do business, I do business. Totally normal. Why bring your son to say hello? No need—really.”
“No one said only I can sell at the small market.”
If they were being polite, he’d be polite.
You Sen sighed. “He’s my only son. I spoiled him. No discipline. No rules. Jiang Shao, please forgive him.”
“I only knew he went to Haicheng. I had no idea he ran into you, and even sold things that cheap, messing up your business.”
“I’ve already scolded him. Harshly. And I won’t let him go to the small market anymore.”
“Funny timing.”
Jiang Luo smiled. “He’s not going, and I’m not going either.”
He added casually, “You know what it’s like now—it’s July, too damn hot.”
“Carrying boxes, sweating buckets, working half a day—exhausting. Hot and tiring.”
…
They exchanged pleasantries for a bit more. Soon after, You Sen left with his son.
Once they were far enough away, You Junyu muttered irritably, “Dad, only you would be so polite with everyone, even bring me to greet him.”
“Who does he think he is?”
He rolled his eyes. “He really thinks he’s somebody.”
But You Sen, always gentle, especially toward family, put an arm around his son’s shoulder and spoke patiently as they walked.
“Don’t underestimate that Jiang Luo.”
“He’s young, yet he can travel back and forth between Haicheng and Wencheng doing business, selling goods, earning the margins. Someone like that will absolutely be someone in the future.”
“Either he comes from a strong family and has guidance—and isn’t afraid to lose money because someone has his back. People like that are best not offended.”
You Junyu sneered, “Strong family my ass. He’s a scammer. Claims he owns a department store.”
“You think you could stand in front of people and say something like that and make them believe it?” You Sen asked. “Could you pull that off?”
“I’m the son of a big boss in Wencheng. My family has a factory. Why couldn’t I?” he said.
“Listen to me.”
“Or—maybe he’s just an ordinary kid. No background.”
“But if someone with no background can come out on his own and make money selling goods, someone like that is even less ordinary.”
“And someone like that—you really shouldn’t offend.”
“Xiaoyu,” You Sen said with infinite patience, “no matter which category he falls into, remember this: in times like these, anyone who can come out, do business, and make big money—none of them are ordinary.”
“They either have backing, or ability, or luck. Whichever it is—don’t offend them.”
“Life is a road that should get wider and wider, not narrower and narrower.”
“If you offend people you shouldn’t, sooner or later, you’ll trip over them.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” You Junyu muttered—annoyed, but listening.
He respected his father. As the only son doted on by both parents, he still listened when his father spoke seriously.
In his head he thought: I already offended Jiang Luo. I also apologized. If he still hates me, that’s his problem. Whatever.
He didn’t think about Jiang Luo at all anymore. Right now his mind was full of how to sell the new novelty products those factories were churning out to every corner of the country.
But what he didn’t know was—this batch of goods coming out of Wencheng really did have issues.
In Jing’an, at a kindergarten—
During naptime cleanup, a female teacher was helping a little girl put her hair up. She finished the braids and was about to clip a pretty hairpin into place. But the moment she opened it, one side of the pin snapped clean off.
The teacher looked at the broken clip in her hand and sighed. She said to another teacher braiding hair nearby, “Another one. Just this week I’ve had four or five break in my hand.”
“Same here. Several broke.”
The other teacher said, “When parents come for pickup this afternoon, we should tell them.”
“Quality is terrible. Must be from the small market.”
The first teacher shook her head. “It was from the mall—brand name. No way the quality should be this bad.”