“At least tens of thousands a day.”
Jiang Luo said it as calmly as if he were talking about a few cents.
Damn.
Guo Ronghai thought to himself that business really was booming.
He shifted his attitude again, adopting a more conciliatory, negotiable tone as he ate. “You’re not a foreign brand anyway. Pacific wouldn’t sign an exclusive with you.”
“If it were exclusive, they’d have to give you major discounts and rebates.”
“If you come to us, for old times’ sake, I’ll help you apply for a good floor and a good location.”
“As for everything else, we’ll do it the same as before. Just like last time. How about it?”
Same as before?
Like last time?
What he was really doing was asking Jiang Luo for kickbacks.
Just like back then with the dolls in Wencheng—every doll sold came with a little payment to Guo Ronghai.
Dolls had been ten yuan apiece. Clothes sold for hundreds or even thousands—there was no way it would still be just ten yuan.
Guo Ronghai wanted more this time.
Jiang Luo kept eating, smiling as he looked at him.
Seeing that smile, Guo Ronghai assumed Jiang Luo had tacitly agreed, and he smiled too.
Just then, the server brought in the bottle of baijiu. Guo Ronghai immediately reached out. “Here, give it to me.”
He took the bottle, poured it into the decanter, stood up, poured himself a small cup, then leaned over and filled the cup in front of Jiang Luo as well.
Setting the decanter down, he lifted his cup and remained standing, raising it toward Jiang Luo. “Come on, Xiao Jiang.”
Jiang Luo glanced at him, set his chopsticks down, and leaned back against the chair.
Guo Ronghai looked pleased. “Come on, let’s have one. To celebrating another round of cooperation after our last one.”
Jiang Luo was still seated. He reached out, unhurriedly picked up his cup, and slowly raised it—only just above the tabletop.
Guo Ronghai didn’t mind. He brought his cup over to clink.
But the moment the cups touched, as a faint smile slowly curved on Jiang Luo’s face, the cup slipped from Jiang Luo’s hand and dropped to the floor.
What?!
Guo Ronghai froze, frowning as he looked at Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo smiled at him. But layered over what he saw in front of him were memories from his previous life—Guo Ronghai’s cold disdain, his mockery and arrogance—
At a dinner, Guo Ronghai smiling as he sneered, “Your brand wants to enter Pacific? On what grounds? On that face of yours? Because you’re better-looking than others?”
In a private room, Guo Ronghai casually tossing a stack of hundred-yuan bills aside in contempt. “You think this little bit of money can buy me?”
“You think I’m like you, someone who’s never seen money?”
By the massage bed, Guo Ronghai arrogantly lifting his chin. “You. You wash my feet.”
“What? Don’t want to?”
“Do you want your brand in the mall or not?”
“I’m giving you face. Don’t be shameless.”
“Wash them. I said wash them!”
…
Jiang Luo maintained his relaxed posture, holding the cup, smiling at Guo Ronghai.
Of course, he hadn’t just randomly crossed paths with Guo Ronghai in this life because he wanted to do business.
Guo Ronghai—Manager Guo—was an “old acquaintance.”
It was precisely because he understood Guo Ronghai’s greed that he’d used Guo Ronghai and Pacific Department Store as stepping stones from the very beginning, running trade between Wencheng and Haicheng to earn his first bucket of gold.
There was no coincidence.
Everything had gone according to plan.
“What the hell do you mean?”
Guo Ronghai glared at him.
“You motherf—”
Naturally, Guo Ronghai exploded. He raised his hand and splashed the liquor in his cup straight toward Jiang Luo’s face, grinding his teeth. “Ungrateful bastard!”
Jiang Luo had anticipated it. He shifted slightly, easily dodging it. That little bit of liquor—barely more than a drizzle—didn’t touch him at all.
“I was playing you.”
Jiang Luo smiled at Guo Ronghai. “I told you last time—you offended me.”
“You already offended me. Why would you think we’d still cooperate?”
“You motherf—!”
Guo Ronghai reached out to grab Jiang Luo by the collar, his fist already raised, eyes bulging with rage.
But Jiang Luo casually knocked his hand aside and spoke calmly, one sentence cutting straight to Guo Ronghai’s weak spot:
“Your big boss probably isn’t unaware of those little kickback tricks you pull in the mall.”
“And Li Fengrui?”
“That young master just graduated and came back to run the mall’s business. You think he’ll tolerate you skimming money everywhere?”
“He’s seen how well Vilanido is selling at Yong’an. He told you to negotiate brand entry. Even if you fail, fine—but if he finds out you were trying to line your own pockets on top of that, do you think he’ll still let you sit in the general manager’s chair?”
“Li Shao’s been wanting to replace you for a long time, hasn’t he?”
Guo Ronghai stood there with his fist raised, face twisted in fury. “…”
His lips pressed together tightly. His expression darkened, his gaze complicated. “You know Li Fengrui?”
Impossible.
Guo Ronghai’s first thought was that someone like Li Fengrui was far beyond Jiang Luo’s reach.
Jiang Luo curled his lips again. “Whether I know him or not—does that really matter?”
“What matters is that I still have the shipping orders from when we worked together on the dolls, and the bank records from cashing those bills.”
“I can put all of that right in front of Li Shao, let him see exactly what you did—and how much you took.”
Smiling, he added, “I even know which factory in Wencheng you used later to make those dolls.”
“How much you negotiated per doll. How many you shipped.”
Jiang Luo spoke slowly and evenly. “Care to guess what Li Shao would do once he finds out?”
“Kick you out of Pacific?”
“Or before that, send you to the police station—let you take a trip through economic crimes?”
Guo Ronghai’s face turned red, his neck thickened, sweat beading densely across his forehead and nose. It was hard to tell whether it was from his earlier rage or his current guilt.
Under Jiang Luo’s gaze, Guo Ronghai slowly lowered his fist.
His mind spun rapidly—thinking through Jiang Luo’s words, how much of a threat they posed, and what consequences he might face.
That thinking took time. He stood there for a while.
So long that another dish was brought in, and he was still standing.
After the server left, Guo Ronghai finally moved. He bent down, picked up the cup Jiang Luo had dropped earlier, and set it back on the table.
He poured himself a small cup, lifted it, and held it out toward Jiang Luo. His voice was low, his head lowered. “President Jiang. This one’s on me. An apology.”
He raised the cup to his lips, tipped his head back, and drained it in one go.
Then he poured another cup, raised it again toward Jiang Luo, and drank it down.
Then a third.
After three cups, Guo Ronghai stood there before Jiang Luo, eyes lowered. “President Jiang. I was wrong just now.”
“You’re right. I invited you to dinner. I’m the one asking for something.”
Jiang Luo looked at him. There was a smile on his lips, but no warmth in his eyes.
At this moment, he didn’t feel particularly satisfied, nor did he feel like he’d avenged his past self.
Not only because he’d already dealt with Guo Ronghai in his previous life—debts paid, grudges settled. In his eyes, this man had never been more than a minor character.
But also because, seeing the present and future so clearly now, he suddenly felt utterly uninterested in this kind of power struggle and domination between people.
Why was he even bothering to toy with Guo Ronghai?
It would be far more enjoyable to be back at the hotel or in his office, calling Huo Zongzhuo and chatting.
His vision, his focus, his thoughts should be aimed much higher and farther—not wasted on someone like Guo Ronghai.
To him now, Guo Ronghai was nothing more than a parasite in Pacific Department Store. He had no real impact on Jiang Luo’s road ahead or his future.
He didn’t need to—and shouldn’t—waste time on people like this.
Once he’d thought it through completely, Jiang Luo lost all interest.
He didn’t even look at Guo Ronghai again. He stood up quietly and moved to leave.
At that point, Guo Ronghai panicked, afraid Jiang Luo would go after him or report him to Li Fengrui. He hurriedly said, “I’ll let your brand into our mall! I’ll give you the best floor, the best spot, the lowest commission!”
Jiang Luo had already reached the door. He turned back, looked at Guo Ronghai, his tone calm and composed. “Relax. No matter what I sell, it won’t be in Pacific. And I definitely won’t let you make a single cent off it.”
“And don’t worry—out of Haicheng’s four major department stores, all three besides Pacific will have ‘Vilanido.’”
“I don’t need to threaten you or report you.”
“I won’t do anything at all. Your Li Shao, eager to make his mark, will ask you himself why every other mall has Vilanido—and Pacific doesn’t.”
Jiang Luo reached for the door, curled his lips, and gave Guo Ronghai one last glance. “Good luck.”
“Or you can come beg me—like a dog. If I feel soft-hearted, maybe I’ll point you toward a way out.”
Jiang Luo left. The door closed behind him, and Guo Ronghai collapsed into a chair.
Once your weak spot is seized, you’re nothing more than a defeated dog with an iron collar locked around its neck.
…………………………………………………..
Jiang Luo left, took the elevator downstairs, and didn’t rush off. Instead, he found a staff member at Huating and borrowed a landline, casually dialing Huo Zongzhuo’s brick-sized cellphone.
The call connected. When he heard Huo Zongzhuo’s gentle “Jiang Luo?” his heart finally softened and relaxed.
Yes—whenever he was dealing with Huo Zongzhuo now, Jiang Luo felt completely at ease. He thought maybe this was what people meant by being influenced by those around you. Facing parasites like Guo Ronghai brought out his darker side almost instinctively, but the moment he heard Huo Zongzhuo’s voice, he stopped thinking about all that.
“Where are you?” Jiang Luo asked, one hand holding the receiver, the other in his pocket.
Huo Zongzhuo replied, “Beijing.”