Huo Zongzhuo hadn’t even eaten yet, but he was feeling exhilarated.
He really liked seeing Jiang Luo act like this.
Once the meal arrived, the two casually discussed the current clothing industry and market.
Huo Zongzhuo’s view was that opportunities were everywhere now; anyone could make money, but the market wasn’t a bottomless pit. Not every product would be accepted—only good products, or those with distinctive features that met consumer needs, could survive.
Jiang Luo, on the other hand, saw the clothing industry as having three “blue ocean” markets: low, mid, and high. He had two directions: one, mid-to-high-end, using brands and high quality through major commercial centers to expand the market; the other, ordinary low-end, where the market would be huge. Brands mattered less, but clothing quality couldn’t be too poor, and the designs still had to be appealing.
They talked back and forth over the meal, continuing even after finishing, chatting all the way to Huating as they took the elevator down.
On the way to get the car, Jiang Luo asked: “You know a lot about the clothing industry. Why haven’t you done this business?”
Huo Zongzhuo replied: “Maybe in the future, who knows? Just not now.
Given the current domestic situation, I’m more optimistic about real estate and home appliances.”
As someone reborn, Jiang Luo naturally knew Huo Zongzhuo would enter real estate and home appliances, and that these two industries would be extremely profitable in the future.
Jiang Luo was just a little surprised: “You tell me what you’re optimistic about so openly? Aren’t you afraid I’ll steal your business?”
Huo Zongzhuo smiled: “Go ahead and try. You make money, become a big boss, as long as you’re still willing to dine with me.”
Jiang Luo teased: “Your requirements are too low.”
Huo Zongzhuo turned: “Low?”
Jiang Luo laughed: “Even low, you’ll have to treat me to a spa and foot massage in Wencheng.”
Huo Zongzhuo laughed too.
He was so pleased he didn’t bother with his own car, leaving it behind, and hopped onto Jiang Luo’s Tiger Head car; the two returned to the Hilton together.
On the way, Huo Zongzhuo revealed something important: he was back in Haicheng for a very crucial matter.
He needed to meet several leaders in Pudong for a few small development meetings.
Jiang Luo drove, listening, quietly surprised: he knew the future development of Pudong, and could predict Huo Zongzhuo’s rising success, but hadn’t expected Pudong to be connected to him.
He processed quickly, thought a few rounds, and said: “Because Pudong is short on money?”
Huo Zongzhuo was surprised. He knew Jiang Luo was smart, but not that he’d think of that. Ordinary people wouldn’t even care about Pudong.
Local rumors even said: “Better a bed in Puxi than a house in Pudong.”
Huo Zongzhuo was willing to share this important national development information with Jiang Luo.
“Yes, short on money. Just the three districts—Jinqiao, Waigaoqiao, and Lujiazui—will require at least ten billion yuan investment.”
Jiang Luo drove silently, thinking: ten billion, while Pudong’s current GDP is only six billion.
Huo Zongzhuo was surprised again—Jiang Luo even knew GDP figures, something ordinary people wouldn’t know or care about.
Jiang Luo continued: “How much money does Pudong have now? How much has the state allocated?”
Huo Zongzhuo naturally didn’t know the exact numbers—such detailed, confidential data wouldn’t be shared. He estimated: “I guess allocations won’t exceed one hundred million.”
Jiang Luo followed: “One hundred million, ten billion—that leaves a shortfall of nine point nine billion.”
He thought: “Selling land could solve the funding issue. No wonder they want to meet you—you have money and favor real estate, Pudong wants your financing.”
Huo Zongzhuo was amused. How could a young boy know so much about national development? Wasn’t that too smart?
He switched topics: “You’re only eighteen, and you know all this?”
Huo Zongzhuo truly didn’t understand: “Which pig have you met this time?”
Jiang Luo shrugged: “You said it yourself—you like real estate, Pudong wants a meeting. They only meet you because they need money; otherwise, why?”
Just because of that?
Huo Zongzhuo looked at him: “Are you from the 21st century, knowing Haicheng’s future development?”
Jiang Luo shrugged: “Yes, I also know you’ll marry three wives and have ten sons, with your family fighting over the inheritance.”
Huo Zongzhuo corrected: “Enough, you’re not from the future.”
Jiang Luo smiled: “Fine, I’ll be honest—you actually have ten daughters, each very filial.”
Huo Zongzhuo knew he couldn’t have children—he was gay, would not marry, no wives, no kids.
Skipping that, they returned to Pudong: “So, will you join me?”
“Real estate has at least a twenty-year golden period; the returns are faster and greater than clothing.”
Jiang Luo answered immediately: “No.”
Huo Zongzhuo: “You could start a real estate company and be your own boss.”
Jiang Luo laughed, losing composure: “Why not each of us succeed in our own industries, then meet at the peak?”
Then: “Why drag me onto your ship?”
Huo Zongzhuo: “Don’t want to make money?”
Jiang Luo casually: “You want me to sign as a guarantor for a bank loan?”
Huo Zongzhuo persisted: “You really can make money.”
Jiang Luo turned back, half exasperated, half sincere: “Big brother, I really won’t join you.
It’s not that I ignore money—I just do business at my own pace.”
“Rest assured, once I make money in clothing, when the company is financially solid, I’ll take my share in real estate.
If there’s a twenty-year domestic real estate boom, I’ll grab at least ten years, earning at least nine figures.”
Huo Zongzhuo fell silent.
He looked at Jiang Luo: “Nine figures—you’ve got ambition.”
Jiang Luo: “I’m following your example. You trade planes domestically and internationally, easily making eight-figure profits. I look up to you.”
Huo Zongzhuo laughed: “You called me a pig?”
Jiang Luo mimicked pigs: “I’m the pig, you’re the rich one. In a pig’s eyes, everyone’s a pig.”
Huo Zongzhuo laughed: “Can’t argue with you.”
After a pause, Huo Zongzhuo sincerely said: “Later, if you start clothing, open a company, or build a factory, any difficulties—tell me, I’ll help.
Don’t hesitate to ask; asking for help is normal.”
Jiang Luo suddenly said: “You might as well change your surname to mine, you care for me so much.”
Huh?
Jiang Luo looked at him: “If I call you Dad, then you can legitimately take care of me.”
Huo Zongzhuo laughed: “Call me Dad and change your surname too—you’re really arrogant.”
Huo Zongzhuo cursed: “Little brat!”
Jiang Luo: “Jiang Zongzhuo, Jiang Zongzhuo!”
Huo Zongzhuo: “Get lost.”
The car was filled with laughter.
Meanwhile, in Jinling, outside a high-end restaurant, Wang Chuang leaned against a tree, vomiting violently.
Two days later, Jiang Luo drove back to Juxiang Town, Jiading.
At Zhang Ningfu’s shop, everything was spotless; no cardboard or scraps on the floor, and sewing machines were neatly arranged.
No one else was there today; the assistants were on temporary leave. Only Zhang Ningfu was present.
Not only had Zhang Ningfu tidied the shop, he’d repaired the air conditioning, cleaned the office, and replaced both hot-water thermoses—hot water was ready.
Jiang Luo entered with a soft leather notebook in hand and a bag.
Zhang Ningfu had already turned on the air conditioning and invited him to sit in the office; hot tea had been prepared.
Jiang Luo sat on the sofa, placed the notebook on the coffee table, and handed the bag to Zhang Ningfu: “Sixty hundred—count it carefully.”
Sixty hundred, plus the previous deposit of one hundred, made a total of seven thousand yuan—the agreed price for the shop transfer.
The price was not cheap. Aside from the machines and the large office table and air conditioning, nothing else was valuable.
This was simply Zhang Ningfu’s psychological price for selling the shop.
He expected to be bargained down, but Jiang Luo didn’t haggle—he straightforwardly gave the eight thousand.
With another boss, they’d have counted it on the spot.
Zhang Ningfu, feeling that the eight thousand was already a bargain for Boss Jiang, didn’t even open the bag—he took the money, smiling foolishly, saying no need to count; he trusted Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo looked at him, softened by his honest demeanor, and reminded him kindly: “I won’t cheat you. Counting or not doesn’t matter—I wouldn’t slip fake bills into a stack.
With others, I’d advise you to count to avoid being cheated.”