Chapter 57

In his mind, he wasn’t really going home for meals—he was going to the dormitory at the silk factory, just to get by.

He had eaten a few extra meals there, but he couldn’t understand how Jiang Jianmin and Zhang Xiangping could be so pleased, tidying up his room and bed, wanting him to stay overnight, acting like they genuinely liked him.

Zhao Mingshi knew very well—they hadn’t liked Jiang Luo, whom they had raised for eighteen years. Now they were showing him favor? Only because he got into Fudan University.

They were putting on quite a show.

Visiting Zhang Xiangping was also for Su Lan and the others to see. After a few trips to that old dorm, Zhao Mingshi felt disgusted. He left immediately after meals, barely able to stay another minute.

Thinking of this, he had no mood for gaming. He put down the console and thought: the act is about done, I don’t need to go to the dorm every week.

He was planning when Jiang Luo would return so he could stage his own little drama, staying at the Zhao residence naturally, and show Su Lan and the others the gap between him and Jiang Luo.

Little did he know, Jiang Luo was too busy to care about anyone and had already earned the first pot of gold in this life.

While Zhao Mingshi enjoyed his 500-yuan monthly allowance as a carefree college student, Jiang Luo was taking that first fortune as a starting point, stepping into the clothing industry.

At the office, Jiang Luo stood by a mannequin, draping fabric and sketching new designs. Scissors, scraps, pins, and design sheets were scattered across the desk.

“Knock knock knock.” The door sounded. Jiang Luo, busy, didn’t even look up. “Come in.”

Accountant Xue entered, holding a stack of papers. “Young boss, the brand registration is done. The business license copy has arrived.”

Jiang Luo, still focused on the mannequin, didn’t turn around. “Mm, put it on my desk.”

Xue the elder placed the documents in a corner of the desk, peered at the mannequin, and commented, “Wow, you really can design clothes?”

Guessing: “Did you copy these designs from Hong Kong clothes on Zhongying Street?”

Jiang Luo stayed focused, his tone indifferent. “Or maybe I just have talent?”

Xue chuckled, “I don’t understand. Talent? Just make money and don’t underpay me—that’s enough.”

Jiang Luo: “Talk too much. Out.”

Xue left.

As he stepped out, a colleague came by to deliver something for Jiang Luo to review. Xue intercepted her. “Wait, he’s busy inside.”

Handing the documents back, he gestured for her to return to her desk. “Don’t disturb him. He’s designing—needs focus for inspiration.”

Jiang Luo continued, alone, deeply immersed in work.

The office phone rang, and he finally pulled himself from the mannequin to pick it up, tilting it between shoulder and ear. “Hello?”

“Busy, Jiang boss?”

It was Wang Chuang, feigning a serious tone.

Jiang Luo smiled, glancing at the business license copy on his desk. “I’m not busy. Wang boss, that’s the real busy one—haven’t seen a single call from you lately.”

Wang: “Ah, just running around building connections, busy, no time.”

They laughed across the line, then relaxed into normal tones. Jiang Luo asked while reviewing the documents, “How’s it going? Smooth?”

“Not too smooth. Large department stores aren’t that easy to reach.”

Wang, confident but casual: “It’s fine. Not too smooth, not too hard either. I spent money, hosted dinners daily—at least I met the store managers.”

Jiang Luo, knowing the game: “Didn’t miss a drink? Smiling enough?”

“Ha, for business, a few drinks and smiles are nothing. They drink too—together. I need favors, so what’s the harm?”

Then he asked Jiang Luo, “How’s your side?”

Jiang Luo: “Mm, alright. Went to Jiading, acquired a small workshop, found a skilled tailor, making sample pieces now. Machines are being purchased.”

…

At Zhang Ningfu’s workshop, a few workers gathered around a table, marveling at a sky-blue long-sleeve women’s dress laid out:

Woven fabric, round neck, single row of buttons, fitted waist, skirt hem of pleated white cotton-linen. A style they had never seen before.

“Wow.”

They all admired it.

Jiang Luo left the office, just as Accountant Xue came to deliver some documents.

“Documents!” Xue handed them over.

Jiang Luo grabbed them with a stride.

Xue called after him: “Where are you going? Skipping lunch?”

Without turning, Jiang Luo waved the papers. “To Jiading. A machine arrived.”

Xue, frustrated—he had even ordered lunch by phone. He shook his head but smiled to himself.

He’d never seen anyone like Jiang Luo. Eighteen years old, barely grown, yet already a boss, amassing enough seed capital in one summer.

“Busy to death,” muttered Xue, adjusting his glasses as he returned to his books.

At the workshop, Jiang Luo directed machine installation, testing, and operation. Once deliveries were done, he inspected sample clothes, discussed adjustments with Zhang Ningfu, and refined details.

During this, his pager went off. He glanced at it while chatting—he was genuinely busy.

Two days later, Huo Zongzhuo had to leave Haicheng. At noon, he invited Jiang Luo to He Ping Hotel for lunch.

At the meal’s end, Huo placed a box in front of Jiang Luo.

Jiang Luo glanced down, expression calm. “Another gift?”

He picked it up, guessed its contents, and opened it—indeed, a branded watch.

Looking up from the watch: “Why another watch?”

“An Omega—not cheap,” Huo replied casually, as if it were a ten-dollar trinket.

“Men in business need a watch—practical and presentable.”

Most people would immediately thank him. Jiang Luo, however, smiled, put it on, and teased: “You’ve been wanting to give this for a while, huh? Only now taking it out because you’re leaving?”

Then added: “Afraid I’d feel obliged to reciprocate?”

“Afraid you’d overspend,” Huo admitted with a faint smile.

Jiang Luo, perceptive, guessed instantly.

Huo chuckled: “You don’t always have to be this clever.”

“Fits me well,” Jiang Luo said, adjusting the watch. “Thanks. Can’t return the favor now—company’s holding all my money. Will get you next time.”

“Returning gifts is pointless,” Huo smiled warmly. “It just has to suit you.”

“I’m not expecting anything back.”

“Gifts are intentions, not transactions.”

“I know.”

Jiang Luo kept the watch on, snapped the box shut, and nodded: “Got it.”

“You like me,” Huo suddenly said.

Jiang Luo’s words startled Huo’s heart—but it was a simple, friendly liking, nothing more.

Huo smiled, admitting: “Yes, I like you.”

“Caught that, huh?” Jiang Luo replied while resuming his meal.

“You made it obvious. Lending me money at Jing’an, taking me out for meals, sending the pager, calling daily. The first time you saw me sleeping on the street, you silently left money in my pocket.”

“Modern-day Lei Feng—good deeds without seeking recognition.”

“Can’t help it. I’m very charismatic.”

“Good personality, everyone loves you.”

Huo laughed.

As they left He Ping Hotel, Huo subconsciously reminded Jiang Luo again: “Call me if you need help.”

Jiang Luo replied immediately: “Alright, Dad.”

Huo couldn’t help but smile at the boy.

Walking out together, Huo casually draped a hand over Jiang Luo’s shoulder. “I won’t be gone long, will be back soon.”