Chapter 984: The Fifth Encounter

A Bao’s business is thriving, so the night-time business at Ye Dongjing naturally doesn’t suffer. At dinner time, people come here seeking A Bao, hoping to discuss deals or get rich alongside him.

In fact, Ye Dongjing’s business was never bad under normal circumstances—it never actually lost money. Even though Lingzi’s attitude was poor, service quality low, and prices high, the young monk’s skills had improved. Once barely at Level Three, after more than two years, he had reached the peak of Level Three, and occasionally his signature dishes even broke through to Level Four.

This level was already impressive—enough to compete among the top chefs in major restaurants. Over time, business naturally improved significantly.

Lingzi sat at the counter, happily counting money and recording accounts daily. Perhaps her neck ached from counting, so she lifted her head to stretch. As she looked up, she saw a black sedan pull to a stop outside the window.

Immediately, a man in shorts, a sleeveless shirt, and sneakers, with slicked-back hair, stepped out, clutching a briefcase and a brick phone. He locked the car door with one hand and walked toward the shop.

Lingzi smiled, set the money aside, and rose to greet him: “Long time no see, Boss Wang.”

“Hey, we just saw each other during the New Year.”

“Oh my, how can you say that? It’s been four months since the New Year! Look at your outfit now—did you finally finish everything?”

“Finished. I’ve got plenty of time now.” Wang Yan sat down at the empty window seat. “Your business is doing well.”

“Thanks to Boss Bao—he does well, so I do well. You know that.”

“Where are Teacher Ge and Tao Tao? Broke up?”

“Of course not—they’re at Teacher Ge’s place. They play mahjong every night. Oh my, aren’t they crazy? Teacher Ge’s place isn’t big, yet they squeeze together to play mahjong—just inviting suffering. Oh, one more thing: your old apartment’s been rented out. A tailor from Suzhou moved in—everyone calls her Little Auntie. Oh my, Little Auntie’s voice is so sweet, her eyes so alluring—Tao Tao’s drooling over her.”

Wang Yan nodded: “Bring the dishes quickly, Boss Lady. Let me see if the young monk’s improved.”

“Of course he’s improved—but his progress over the past year and a half has been limited. You still need to guide him. What do you want to eat?”

“You decide. I haven’t been here in a year and a half—do you think I’ve forgotten my own tastes?”

“Oh my, you don’t know? Teacher Ge and Tao Tao talk about you every day.”

“You drink my wine, take my gifts, and still gossip about me?”

Lingzi shook her head with a smile: “Not exactly gossip. You know them—they just complain. They feel things aren’t lively without you.”

She turned and went into the kitchen. When she returned, she carried a cold appetizer platter and a bottle of Moutai from the counter. “Sit tight, Boss Wang. It’s busy now—wait a bit. If you can’t wait, help yourself.”

Wang Yan nodded with a smile. Without waiting for Lingzi’s invitation, he poured himself wine and ate, utterly at ease.

Outside the window, the world changed daily; inside, wine, beauty, wealth, and desire flowed endlessly. Wang Mou sat by the window, sipping quietly—already atop the crest of the wave…

But this feeling didn’t last long. The jingling of bells tied to his fellow disciples’ clothes, as they moved with each step, announced the arrival of Teacher Ge, Tao Tao, and Linghong, who now surrounded Wang Yan.

“Did you call them?” Wang Yan nodded toward Lingzi behind him.

Lingzi smiled: “When Boss Wang returns, it can’t be too quiet—we must welcome him properly.”

“You heartless little Northeasterner! Why didn’t you call us before coming? We could’ve thrown you a proper welcome.”

“Exactly, Boss Wang. Have some old liquor, tell us about your adventures abroad—expand our horizons.”

Linghong added: “Right! Boss Wang, you’re not being fair—you didn’t even tell us ahead of time. If you had, we’d all have celebrated together tonight.”

Wang Yan shook his head: “We’re not going to disappear. Why rush? After finishing this year and a half, I’ll have plenty of free time.”

Teacher Ge asked, surprised: “You’re not leaving again?”

“What kind of talk is that? I never left. I just traveled around to make more money—that’s life. Lingzi just told me you and Tao Tao drink my wine, take my gifts, and still gossip about me.”

Oh my, Boss Wang, I’d never dare! Don’t believe Lingzi—she’s exaggerating. I just miss you! You’ve been silent, so I talk about you, wondering where you’re making your fortune and whether you still remember Ye Dongjing. I know you remember, otherwise how could I keep drinking Moutai? All the bad talk comes from that old guy—he says you’re ungrateful, and every time we drink, he brings up how he took care of you back then…

“Tao Tao, don’t slander me like that.”

“Did you say it or not?”

“Oh my, Little Northeasterner, isn’t it true? In 1990, you came alone—wasn’t it me who rented you the apartment…”

“Enough, enough. It’s always the same story. Haven’t you drunk the Moutai? Want me to return your money?”

“That’s our friendship—can’t be bought back. Besides, I don’t have money. If you want it back, I’ll spit it out.”

That old guy’s getting bolder, Wang Yan chuckled and shook his head.

“The older he gets, the less shame he has.” Tao Tao added.

“Agreed.” Linghong said, then cut off Teacher Ge’s rebuttal and asked, “Boss Wang, I remember you sued Nike. Why’s there been no news lately?”

“The earlier noise was me buying publicity. Now it’s time to stop—can’t keep marketing forever. The authorities are already strained. Besides, my direct stores haven’t covered the whole country yet, while the counterfeiters—who copy my brand—are already selling nationwide. Worse, some people come to my store with fake clothes, demanding after-sales service and replacements.”

Speaking of this, Wang Yan shook his head with a smile.

Suing Nike was last year’s affair. After presenting a banner to the Apparel Bureau, I arranged people to act, then bought news coverage everywhere. The goal was to use Nike—a foreign brand—as a stepping stone to prove how lucky Hongyun was. Even though Nike copied the design, their materials were slightly better at the time, but in marketing, you ignore that.

I elevated Hongyun to Nike’s level, loudly condemning them for shameless plagiarism. Meanwhile, I canceled all domestic and international discounts, pricing Hongyun directly against Nike. Yes, I bought ads abroad too.

Simply put: denigrate Nike, elevate myself.

The effect was excellent. In that period, sales at my fewer than a hundred stores skyrocketed—supply couldn’t meet demand. Fortunately, I’d anticipated this and pre-stocked inventory.

But as Wang Yan said, the biggest beneficiaries were the counterfeiters. Just copy the design, slap on Hongyun’s logo, sell for ten or twenty yuan—huge demand. Cheap, stylish, and rumored to be a big brand.

This lawsuit has dragged on nearly a year, with repeated scandals, yet still no resolution. Nike keeps copying; Wang Yan keeps suing. Marketing stopped after the New Year—I got the advantage, the lawsuit’s stuck, Nike plays dead. Further marketing would just trouble the authorities—they’re already overwhelmed. Wang Yan is understanding.

“Boss Wang, I don’t get it,” Linghong asked bluntly. “You can’t win against Nike, so why not sue the counterfeiters?”

“A few factories dare sell fakes at my price, but most are dirt cheap. They’re small workshops with poor machinery. My designs are fresh and sell well, so they copy. If I sue them and make them pay, how will they eat?”

Tao Tao thought a moment: “But doesn’t that hurt your authentic sales? If everyone’s wearing fakes, why pay a hundred when you can get one for ten?”

Wang Yan shook his head: “Most people secretly laugh. You can’t afford the real thing, so you buy the fake—even if you don’t know it’s fake. Then I feel superior.”

“Hey, Little Northeasterner’s right—it might even make fake-wearers later buy the real thing from him.”

“I don’t have such grand plans. I just want to make money from the rich. Foreigners sell for over a hundred yuan in China—why should they get all the profit? Why can’t I? I don’t believe everything foreign is better.”

“Ambitious.”

Wang Yan waved his hand: “How are you all doing? I heard a Little Auntie moved into my old apartment and drove Tao Tao crazy?”

Oh my, Boss Wang, don’t say that! If Fangmei hears, I’m done for. Men—how can any man resist looking? Honestly, blame Teacher Ge. That old guy may be old in age but young at heart—he rents to single women.

“Don’t talk nonsense. Which single women did I rent to?”

“Still denying? Lingzi, Linghong, Teacher Shi, Little Auntie, Jinbao’s mom, and…”

Teacher Ge felt deeply wronged: “You’re mistaken, Tao Tao. You were the first to rent this shop. Then Boss Bao came, brought Lingzi to rent my apartment. Then Linghong returned from Japan. Jinbao’s mom—I saw her struggling alone with her child, so I helped…”

In a few sentences, they were arguing again.

Lingzi didn’t join in—she kept running back and forth serving dishes, bringing bowls, chopsticks, and cups, while everyone ate and drank merrily together…

Wang Yan wasn’t truly idle. His business was still growing rapidly—he still handled personnel, finance, kept track of everything, guided development, controlled internal corruption, and coordinated relationships.

He also owned a semiconductor company. He participated in research projects, offered advice. Now, college graduates were assigned jobs—so the problem wasn’t talent, but finding people. He had to go out and recruit, convincing people to join his research team.

But as an experienced boss, he fully trusted his subordinates’ abilities—even if they weren’t perfect, it was fine. He always believed people had potential, just lacked platforms. Perhaps there were limits, but if you followed orders, why need high limits? As long as tasks were handled clearly, personnel managed well, and operations didn’t collapse, high-quality, safe production would ensure no major problems.

Ultimately, this was a time of wild growth, of grabbing territory. Even minor issues were suppressed by rapid business expansion and explosive company growth, never causing major impact.

So he was very at ease.

He simply walked around, looked around. Occasionally, he’d take his camera out and snap photos.

Since returning, he hadn’t seen A Bao. He heard A Bao was touring factories and also trading state bonds. When wealth reaches a certain scale, making money becomes easy. A Bao was no longer the same—he was accumulating wealth rapidly and gaining reputation. In truth, today’s A Bao was far more impressive than before, partly influenced by Wang Yan.

But Wang Yan had little interest in A Bao’s glory—he still lived comfortably…

“Miss Wang is here,” the rib-and-rice-cake vendor greeted warmly.

“Boss, same as usual.”

Miss Wang’s voice was as lively as ever. She replied to the vendor, took a chilled soda, sat by the window, and gulped it down, savoring the coolness.

She propped her chin on her hands, gazing blankly out the window, without turning: “Boss, has Boss Wang been here?”

“Oh my, not at all. Since he came on New Year’s Day last year, it’s been nearly a year and a half.”

“Miss Wang, you’re friends with Boss Wang—why not just call him?”

“It’s different. You wouldn’t understand.”

Miss Wang replied lazily. The vendor recognized the tone—he knew she didn’t want to talk further. The girl was sharp, so he fell silent.

Their last meeting was when Wang Yan delivered the banner to No. 27—over half a year ago. They’d exchanged a few calls since, always to help with customs clearance. Because Wang Yan’s clothing stores were everywhere across Asia’s major cities, opening in each country meant extra paperwork. Beyond that, they only exchanged greetings—nothing more.

She often wondered how she felt about A Bao. That winter they met, A Bao invited her to the Peace Hotel for New Year’s festivities. She admitted: that day, she was deeply moved, and suppressed those feelings. But later, she became uncertain.

She shook her head, still propping her chin, sucking idly on the straw, her gaze fixed outside, waiting for the fifth meeting at Rib-and-Rice-Cake…

Under her gaze, a black Santana pulled up to the door. She saw Wang Yan, in shorts and a sleeveless shirt, waving at her. She smiled back.

Then she saw Wang Yan seem to remember something—he bent down, pulled a camera from the car, and began photographing her. She smiled, posing willingly. After a while, he tossed the camera into the car, locked the door, and walked into Rib-and-Rice-Cake.

“Oh my, Boss Wang, long time no see! Miss Wang just asked if you’d come—what a coincidence!” The vendor greeted Wang Yan with delight.

He’d once been unsure. Now he was certain: Wang Yan was the richest man he’d ever met.

“Oh my, Boss, you’re still looking sharp! Hey, you’re wearing Hongyun? Boss, you’ve got taste.” Wang Yan gave him a thumbs-up.

“I know Hongyun’s yours—I’m supporting your business. But Boss, I have to be honest—it’s too expensive. This sleeve cost me ninety-nine yuan.”

“See? You still misunderstand my brand. Foreigners charge high—you call it premium. I match their prices—you call it expensive? That’s inconsistent. Miss Wang knows: Hongyun is an international brand—I’ve opened stores across Southeast Asia.”

Wang Yan waved his hand, sparing the still-stunned vendor, and smiled: “You support my business, I support yours. Same as always—remember?”

“Impossible to forget, Boss Wang. Sit down. I’ll serve Miss Wang first—right away.”

Wang Yan took a soda, stood there, sizing up Miss Wang. She wore a Hongyun sleeveless shirt, a floral skirt, and Hongyun’s white sneakers. Due to the heat, her curled hair was tied high, and she still wore the glasses Wang Yan had given her.

Miss Wang felt embarrassed under his gaze, glancing away. But she was self-assured—she shouted: “What are you staring at? What’s so interesting? Come sit down!”

Wang Yan raised an eyebrow and smiled: “It’s been over half a year—you’ve gotten even more beautiful, Miss Wang.”

“Boss Wang’s got smooth talk now?”

“Miss Wang has natural beauty—I never lie.”

Watching him sit down with a grin, Miss Wang said: “You’re dressed like you’ve completely retired?”

“Pretty much. But it’s not easy. You know—I’ve got a logistics company, a seasoning company, a clothing company, and overseas clothing operations. Still plenty to do. But I won’t need to fly around the world like before. So yes, I’ve definitely slowed down.”

“When did you return to Shanghai?”

“About ten days ago?” Seeing her displeasure, Wang Yan added: “I haven’t forgotten you promised to treat me to dinner. But fate is unpredictable—I can’t control it. Come too early, I might miss you. Come too late, I might miss you too. So I waited these days, felt it was right, and came. Turns out our fate really is strong.”

We’ve known each other two years. This is my fifth visit here—and every time, I’ve run into you. Today’s meal is on you—you promised.”

“No problem! My treat—eat whatever you want.” Miss Wang patted her chest, delighted.

How has the past half year been?

What do you think of me?

I think you’re beautiful.

Miss Wang clicked her tongue, ignoring Wang Yan’s teasing. “Thanks to you and Boss Bao’s support, I’ve performed excellently at work—my superiors are very satisfied. Oh, by the way, you’ll need to have your finance team contact me again. We’re doing a semi-annual audit, and your company is the only domestic brand selling overseas—we need to track your overseas sales.”

“Fine, I’ll go over tomorrow.” Wang Yan nodded with a smile. “Miss Wang, what do you think of my clothing company?”

“Of course it’s great! I take back everything I said to you before. I never imagined that in just two years, you’d built up the brand and even expanded overseas.”

“Actually, you don’t need to take it back—I’m losing even more now. The money for buying the storefront came mostly from my own pocket, plus bank loans. The factory expanded, I hired more workers—all of that costs money. I’ve also acquired a textile mill and a synthetic fiber plant; the equipment’s even more expensive, and I’ve got researchers running experiments—getting the lab equipment isn’t easy at all. Oh, it’s such a headache.”

“Who told you to be so stubborn and start a branded clothing company? I heard Boss Bao say you made a lot in Russia. Now you’ve dumped it all into your clothing company and logistics firm. You haven’t seen much profit, but you’ve got thousands of employees—if things go wrong, going bankrupt is the least of your worries.”

Miss Wang pursed her lips, then smiled again. “But you’ve got guts—that’s why you’ve gotten this far. You really are impressive.”

“You’ve got good eyesight, Miss Wang.”

“If I really had good eyesight, I wouldn’t have said all those discouraging things to you back then.”

Wang Yan shook his head with a smile. “I meant you praised me for being impressive—you’ve got good taste!” As he spoke, he raised his thumb and thrust it toward Miss Wang’s face.

With a slap, Miss Wang swatted his hand away. Wang Yan casually reached out and took the item from the smiling owner as he approached.

“Eat up. Your favorite.”

Miss Wang picked up her chopsticks and poked at the dish. “It’s my absolute favorite. Hey, Boss Wang, don’t you like pork ribs with rice cake?”

“When we first met here, you asked me something similar. I said it was pretty good.”

“‘Pretty good’ means delicious. So why don’t you come here often? Even when you were busy before, you always had time to rest—driving here for a meal wouldn’t take long.”

“I like many delicious things. Once you eat the same thing continuously, it loses its special flavor. So I prefer to stretch out the time between meals—eating it occasionally keeps my anticipation alive.”

“I’m different. I love pork ribs with rice cake—no, it’s my absolute favorite!” Miss Wang emphasized. “I told you before—I’ve eaten this dish since I was a child. I could never get enough of it.”

Wang Yan nodded with a smile. “How about we go eat on Huanghe Road someday?”

“There are so many good restaurants—why not Zhapu Road? What about Yunnan South Road? Why must it be Huanghe Road? Besides, I can’t afford it. Occasional visits are fine—call it business networking—but going regularly would be a mistake.”

“If occasional visits are fine, then you can go.” Wang Yan nodded. “Then tomorrow, let’s go to Jin Fenghuang and see how they’re doing.”

Miss Wang turned to look at Wang Yan, who was smiling warmly. She didn’t refuse, but she disagreed with his choice. “I’ve been there with Boss Bao. I’m not saying this to be rude, but Jin Fenghuang’s chef isn’t as good as you, Boss Wang. Why go to Huanghe Road?”

The serving owner chimed in. “Miss Wang, you’ve forgotten—Boss Wang got his start selling lamb skewers on Huanghe Road. Now that his business has gone overseas, of course he should visit where it all began.”

“Oh, right, right—I forgot!” Miss Wang tapped her head. “So you’re going to Huanghe Road to reclaim your dignity?”

“That’s not right. I never lost face. Selling lamb skewers on Huanghe Road? That was hard work leading to prosperity. Later, when Boss Jin Meilin’s owner gave me trouble, she paid me ten thousand yuan in compensation. But I understand what you mean.”

Wang Yan smiled. “When I first came to Shanghai two years ago, I had only a thousand or so yuan saved. Back then, Huanghe Road was bustling, but I couldn’t afford to eat there. Over a hundred restaurants lined the 755-meter stretch—I’d only eaten at Jin Meilin, because they couldn’t bear the gossip and asked me to come in as a showpiece. I went with Tao Tao.”

“Later, when I had money, I had no time. Doing business in the Soviet Union kept me busy for a year and a half. Now I have both money and time—I have to go taste it. Not just Huanghe Road—I’ll eat my way through Zhapu Road and this Yunnan South Road too.”

“If Jin Fenghuang isn’t good, what about Hong Lu? I heard Boss Bao goes there most often—it should be pretty good, right?”

Miss Wang nodded. “Better than yours.”

Wang Yan chuckled. “So now I’m the standard?”

“Of course you are. Your cooking is excellent.”

“Next time, let’s set a date for Yedongjing—I’ll cook again, so you won’t forget what my food tastes like.”

“Great, it’s settled. What’s your best dish? The ones you made last time?”

“Of course not.” Wang Yan, still eating the rice cake, raised an eyebrow. “My best dish is slow-cooked old hen soup—it’s medicinal, extremely nourishing, and passed down in my family.”

“Your ancestors were generous—they passed everything to you.”

“Not really. I just didn’t learn it well enough.”

Miss Wang smiled knowingly—he was being modest. “Then make it for me next time?”

“No, that won’t work. Normal people shouldn’t eat it—it’s only for postpartum recovery, injury, or when someone needs serious nourishment. It’s also extremely complicated to prepare. We’ll talk about it another time.”

“Then tomorrow, Hong Lu?”

“Hong Lu it is. If I remember right, you finish work at five-thirty—I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

“It’s settled. Let’s toast.” Miss Wang raised her soda bottle.

Wang Yan nodded with a smile, raising his soda bottle and clinking it against hers.

The glass bottles collided with a crisp ring, sending bubbles surging upward from the bottom.

This was their fifth meeting. Miss Wang was delighted. They felt no awkwardness from their long separation—instead, they felt closer, effortlessly so…