Chapter 112: To Wushang

Wang Dashan sharply noticed something was off with his sleeping partner.

From meals to turning off the lights and sleeping, he felt her tossing and turning beside him.

After thinking it over and over, Wang Dashan finally couldn't hold back and asked: "You've been turning all night—something on your mind?"

Luo Yuzhu didn't hesitate: "Nothing, go to sleep, don't worry about me."

"Still stubborn, after all these years of marriage, don't you think I know you? Is it about something from the past? Speak up—I won't blame you. Saying it out loud will make you feel better."

Still the same words—Wang Dashan wasn't stupid; his old simplicity had vanished. Over the years, only when the past came up did she act like this—she'd never hidden anything else from him.

In the darkness, not even a pin could drop—Luo Yuzhu stared blankly at the ceiling.

After a long while, Luo Yuzhu sighed deeply. At this age, with children grown, what was there left to hide?

"He came to see me today—he said he's getting married. I never expected he'd wait this long to marry. I've held him back…"

"He?"

"Yes, him." Without waiting for Wang Dashan to ask, Luo Yuzhu said: "His name is Chen Jianghe. He was an abandoned infant rescued by Chen Jinshui of Yiwu's Chen Village. Later…"

"Do you remember that sock factory we went to back then?"

"Mm."

"That was my mother's workplace—I grew up there. When we went, the factory manager was him."

After hearing this, Wang Dashan understood. Fate was so unpredictable. Otherwise, he might have spent his whole life single, and certainly never found a woman as good as Luo Yuzhu.

He rolled over and hugged her: "Enough, stop overthinking. Doesn't it feel better now? Everyone has their own destiny—you can't force it. The past is gone; look ahead. He's a sock factory manager—his life must be fine. Don't worry. Maybe someday we'll even work together. Old friends, you can trust him."

His words were sincere—no hidden malice or lies. He could tell Luo Yuzhu was truly unwell; otherwise, he wouldn't have asked at all. First, he always knew when she had something on her mind—but if she didn't speak, he never pressed. Second, their children were grown, the company was thriving, their life was excellent—why dwell on useless things?

Luo Yuzhu had never spoken before for no reason—she only feared Wang Dashan would overthink, or that she'd dwell on it herself. But she hadn't expected him to understand so clearly. She smiled warmly, snuggling closer to him: "You're right—we're old friends. Sleep."

Old friends…

How could she sleep? Though speaking eased her a little, feelings—only the one who suffers truly knows.

………

The next day, in Long Teng Tower's conference room, Wang Yan, Luo Yuzhu, Wang Dashan, the legal director, the apparel division boss, and mid-to-senior managers gathered together.

The apparel division's middle management reported in detail: "The newspapers have reported the clothing quality issue. After investigation, it didn't come from our own factories—it originated from Yiwu in Zhejiang Province. We haven't pinpointed the exact location yet. Consumers are furious and completely distrust our explanations."

Looking at Wang Yan, Luo Yuzhu asked: "What's been done about the troublemaker?"

"We're negotiating now—he's making outrageous demands and refuses all compromise—he insists we issue a public apology. Clearly, someone's behind this, deliberately targeting us."

Luo Yuzhu had no patience for this: "What kind of leader are you? The moment this happened, you should've fixed it. Now your three-year reputation is in ruins, and you're still thinking of negotiation? Tell me—what's there to negotiate, huh?"

No management arts mattered—money worked best. Long Teng's senior leaders earned top salaries in China. So Luo Yuzhu didn't care about excuses—you took her money, you did your job. That was only fair.

The matter was simple: someone bought fake goods, was incited—or outright hired—to cause trouble. After the incident was sensationalized, people everywhere jumped in, hoping to scam them for a quick profit.

Fake goods? Everyone understood—the same logic as pirated Microsoft software. It was about capturing market share and building awareness. Long Teng targeted mid-to-high-end customers; many couldn't afford or wouldn't spend on them.

Since they started making clothes, they'd been copied endlessly. They'd hired so many designers, worn out their brains—only to enrich others. But it did boost their brand awareness—everyone in the city knew: this was China's true fashion leader. The word "fashion" had been firmly controlled.

But this time, the counterfeiters went too far—they copied the logo exactly. Long Teng sold only through its own stores, never wholesale or loose sales. So how could consumers not know where they bought them? How much they paid? Now these shameless frauds came knocking, pretending to be victims—did they think money was that easy to make?

Wang Yan waved his hand to defuse the tension: "Don't get angry—solve the problem. Tell me, if we sue this person, what's the likely outcome?" He gestured for the legal director to speak.

"Manager Wang, we can prove our innocence—charges include defamation, slander, extortion…"

The legal director methodically outlined the possible charges and verdicts.

"Good. Send the lawsuit notice today—including all the cheerleaders. Leave no one out. Sue them to the fullest. As for reputation, once we find the source, spend money on a CCTV campaign and coordinate a promotional event. Long Teng was built on clothing. Even if it's no longer our main business, the apparel industry still has high profits—and it represents our brand image. The enemy is hidden; we're exposed. This isn't entirely your fault, but I won't tolerate a repeat."

He didn't mention any mastermind—that would be stupid. Whoever fired the first shot, domestic or foreign competitors in the same industry—or even rivals in Long Teng's other sectors—would surely have had a hand in it. They'd deal with them one by one later.

"Yes, thank you, Manager Wang. I'll be careful—I'll be very careful." The division boss knew Wang Yan—he was the real boss, just rarely involved. He knew what happened to those who caused trouble. Facing Wang Yan, they were all uneasy.

Wang Yan nodded: "Since I have nothing else to do, I'll go to Yiwu. Maybe check out some good projects to invest in—so you won't keep saying I'm idle."

"That's just idle banter—I'm not serious. You do what you need to do. I'll go."

Wang Dashan smiled and waved his hand.

"I'm not blaming you. Lately, with too much stillness, I've felt the urge to move. I've never been to Yiwu—might as well go see it properly. You've got plenty on your plate—this is just a side matter. Don't worry about it."

Life had grown too comfortable. Only recently had Wang Yan remembered Qiu Yingjie's cancer. He recalled clearly—the tombstone said around 1995, give or take a year. It was 1992 now—the illness might already be lurking. Even if untreatable, it might still extend his life a few years.

Seeing Wang Yan wasn't joking and held no ill will, Wang Dashan nodded: "Fine, go then. I won't argue. I'll tell the logistics director there to contact you. A man of wealth doesn't sit under a eaves—no matter how tough you are, stay careful."

"Alright, now you're talking like a scholar. I'll listen to you." Wang Yan laughed.

He didn't object—having subordinates handle things was better than doing it himself. In this era, logistics men could fight harder than street thugs—even gang bosses couldn't match them.

"Then that's settled. Meeting adjourned. I'm leaving today."

After bidding farewell to Wang Dashan, Wang Yan packed up and boarded the train to Yiwu.