“All the latest imported weaving machines—must have been a huge investment.”
“Factory’s in Tongcheng, but the owner might not even be from there.”
“Either very wealthy, or extremely well-connected, able to get a bank loan for sufficient capital.”
Jiang Luo chuckled, “So you’re not calling to check on me, but to check out the factory?”
“No wonder, Boss Huo—always looking at things from a big boss’s perspective.”
Huo Zongzhuo laughed. “I’m not checking on you, I don’t call you every day, do I?”
Jiang Luo asked, “Where are you now?”
“Beijing.”
Jiang Luo scoffed, “Beijing? Who’s there that matters? You going there?”
Huo Zongzhuo smiled. “No one in particular. Not visiting anyone, just taking care of business.”
“But there’s a little dog back in Haicheng. Used to be quiet, now barking nonstop, no manners at all.”
Jiang Luo immediately imitated: “Woof woof woof, woof woof woof.”
They laughed together over the phone.
A few days later, Wang Chuang personally oversaw the Shengfei brand stock being placed at the Jinling department store counter.
At the Juxiang Town workshop, garments were completed one by one, each sewn with the “Vilanido” label at the neckline. After trimming threads, internal and external inspection, and ironing, they became finished clothing.
The workshop workers felt a strong sense of accomplishment seeing the beautiful finished products, but when they heard Jiang Luo had priced a dress at 289, shock spread across their faces.
That expensive?!
Though the materials from Tongcheng were costly, 289 seemed excessive. In their town, many families didn’t even have that much for a month’s expenses. Could they really sell it? Even in a department store, wasn’t it too high?
Jiang Luo didn’t explain much. He gathered a few garments and placed them in the backseat of his Mercedes.
Two days later, in a private photography studio in the city, a tall, slim, beautiful Caucasian model wore the clothes, while the photographer captured shot after shot.
Jiang Luo stood quietly with his arms crossed, observing.
This was Haicheng—not just the Haicheng of locals, but a Haicheng for the nation, the world, and the wealthy. Here, hidden talents abounded. Many had money.
By first establishing the “Vilanido” brand and placing it in department store counters, Jiang Luo wasn’t targeting ordinary people earning a couple of hundred a month. His audience was wealthy women who didn’t know where to spend their money.
Jiang Luo believed—and firmly—that in 1990s Haicheng, people could and would pay 289 for a dress—if it was beautiful enough.
“OK!”
“Perfect!”
“Wonderful!”
The photographer, caught in his professional excitement, called out instructions while shooting. The model posed diligently to make the garments look perfect.
A few days later, the Juxiang workshop entered a busy period. All workers sat at machines, sewing rapidly. Even Zhang Ningfu, wearing reading glasses and an apron, joined in to help complete the garments.
The workshop’s new sign no longer advertised transfers, but “Hiring,” “Hiring Long-Term Staff,” and “Good Benefits.”
Wang Chuang returned from Jinling, exhausted from the constant back-and-forth between Jinling and Haicheng, his jawline becoming more pronounced from the busyness.
This time, Wang Chuang discussed company shares with Jiang Luo. Jiang Luo proposed that each hold half of the company and split future profits evenly, regardless of the number of brands or industries they entered.
But Wang Chuang now had his own ideas. He had grown. He understood business basics and felt that although he’d followed Jiang Luo all along and profited, none of the factories, brands, or deals were truly his.
He didn’t want an equal share. Instead, he requested a salary from Jiang Luo, with the possibility of year-end bonuses or dividends if profits were high.
Jiang Luo laughed, “Silly. Not even being a boss, now working for someone else.”
Wang Chuang shook his head. “The company, the brand, the workshop, the department store deals—all your work. I’d have to be blind and greedy to think I could be equal. You brought me along, didn’t abandon me—that’s already generous. Giving me half the company would be charity; might as well donate it all to me.”
“I’ll be my own boss someday,” Wang Chuang declared. “I’ll start my own company, create my own brand, sell what I want. Then I won’t rely on you—I’ll be the true Boss Wang.”
Jiang Luo smiled. He didn’t insist. Wang Chuang could have his share if he wanted; if not, Jiang Luo wouldn’t push. They were brothers, always had been.
At a bar, Wang Chuang and Jiang Luo sat at the counter, immersed in the music and chatter, casually drinking and talking.
“Time flies,” Wang Chuang said. “September already. I remember last summer, taking the train to Wencheng with you—it was sweltering. Now we’re selling in department stores, and soon our clothing store will open.”
Jiang Luo responded briefly, unphased; everything had gone according to his reborn plan.
Wang Chuang continued, “The silk factory confirmed the modifications; the workshop director consulted my parents. Before, they treated me like a kid. Now, I can make decisions for the family. People really do grow up overnight.”
“They’re ready to leave the factory?” Jiang Luo asked.
“Yes,” Wang Chuang nodded. “With the buyout money, they’ll stop being workers entirely. My dad wants to learn to drive and operate a van; my mom wants to try business too. She’s good with her hands—maybe open a small restaurant.”
Jiang Luo smiled. “If it were me, I’d let them rest and enjoy the money I bring home.”
Wang Chuang laughed. “Retiring early, huh? We’ll see what they decide. At least the money’s there. I can earn more; no rush.”
Jiang Luo raised his cup to toast. Wang Chuang clinked his with him.
“Good brothers, sharing wealth.”
“The women’s clothing store is opening soon—profits coming.”
Jiang Luo smirked. “This is just the beginning.”
“Exactly!” Wang Chuang downed his drink. “We’ll be huge, extremely wealthy!”
Jiang Luo suddenly asked, “Do you remember Mo Wanzhen?”
“Who?” Wang Chuang looked confused.
Jiang Luo sighed. “Never mind, let’s take our time with that.”
In late September, “Vilanido” officially launched its department store counter.
Each piece was neatly hung, new salesgirls organized the displays, and large promotional posters featuring the Caucasian model were posted outside the counter.
Mo Wanzhen returned to the company on a workday—not by choice, but because the company summoned her. She worried something had gone wrong with the hair accessory counter.
At the office entrance, Accountant Xue gestured her inside. Mo Wanzhen tightened her shoulder bag strap and stepped into the office.
“Enter,” Jiang Luo said.
The office, with two desks, held only Jiang Luo and a few staff by the wall.
“Boss Jiang,” Mo Wanzhen greeted.
Jiang Luo looked up and saw her now—wearing the department store uniform, a black blazer and knee-length skirt, hair tied up with a store hairpin. She appeared more stylish and confident than before, her gaze calm and composed.