Chapter 126: I Don

May 17, Futian District, Shencheng.

Chen Yansen leaned against the Mercedes, tugged at his tie, exhaled deeply, and turned to Cao Dahua: “Call Lao Zuo. Why hasn’t he arrived yet?”

“Don’t rush, I just called—he’s on his way!” Cao Dahua patted his belly and wiped sweat from his brow.

Wang Zihao got out of the car, retrieved two bottles of mineral water from the trunk, and handed them over.

Cao Dahua took the water, thanked him, and thought: It’s been so long since I came back—I’d forgotten how stifling and hot Shencheng’s May weather is.

Chen Yansen waved his hand, turned back to the rear seat, adjusted the air vent, and let the cool air blow on his face.

Song Yuncheng glanced out the window, saw Wang Zihao chatting with Cao Dahua and not paying attention inside, then passed him half-drunk bottle of water: “Here.”

Chen Yansen didn’t refuse, took it, and tilted his head back to gulp down a large mouthful.

He’d originally planned to bring only Wang Zihao and Song Yuncheng, but Cao Dahua heard he was coming to Shencheng to set up a factory and insisted on tagging along, claiming he was a mentor at the entrepreneurship park and ought to help Chen Yansen oversee things.

After landing, they rented a Mercedes ML500 from a car rental service and drove straight to the address provided by Zuo Hongyu.

Unexpectedly, Zuo Hongyu had suddenly flaked out—fifty minutes late.

“Tap tap tap—” Wang Zihao turned and knocked on the window.

Chen Yansen looked toward the intersection and saw Zuo Hongyu, panting, stepping out of a car and running over, face flushed with apology, followed by another man.

Though displeased, he got out and smiled to greet them.

“Chen Zong, I’m truly sorry—I got held up last minute.” Zuo Hongyu’s face burned red with embarrassment.

“Let’s go see the factory first,” Chen Yansen said without elaboration.

Cao Dahua stood aside and shot Zuo Hongyu a furious glare.

At that moment, the man behind Zuo Hongyu spoke: “Mr. Chen, I’m Zhou Jinling from Ouhan Mobile. Zuo’s late because of me.”

Chen Yansen looked up and saw a middle-aged man under forty, dressed in a blue suit streaked with visible dust, half his hair white—an unnatural shade for his age.

“Little Zhou? You’re Xiao Jiangxi?” Cao Dahua rubbed his eyes, barely recognizing him.

“Hua Ge, long time no see,” the man replied with a bitter smile.

Chen Yansen smiled—he hadn’t expected these three to know each other. He checked his watch and suggested: “There’s a tea shop over there. Let’s sit and talk slowly.”

Chen Yansen glanced between Zhou Jinling and Zuo Hongyu, sensing something had happened between them before they arrived.

“How did you get so old?” Cao Dahua couldn’t hold back and asked outright.

He was four years older than Zhou Jinling, yet Zhou looked ten years his senior.

“Hua Ge, let’s go over there and talk,” Zuo Hongyu pulled Cao Dahua toward the direction Chen Yansen had indicated.

Song Yuncheng also got out and followed behind.

After sitting down, Zuo Hongyu glanced at Zhou Jinling, saw he wasn’t speaking, and volunteered: “This morning, Xiao Zhou threatened to jump off a building. I talked to him for a long time before he finally came down.”

“Factory shut down, wife left, kid isn’t even mine—I just couldn’t go on.”

Zhou Jinling shrugged, took over the story, and laughed bitterly.

Fuck!

So fucking bad!

No—worse than bad. He’s just cursed.

Chen Yansen leaned back, afraid of catching his bad luck.

“Little Zhou, I heard from Lao Zuo you were doing pretty well these past two years—how’d you suddenly end up like this?”

Cao Dahua frowned, puzzled.

“Two months ago, the authorities launched a crackdown targeting counterfeit phone manufacturers like Ouhan. Now, less than one in ten Shanzhai phones remain in Huaqiangbei—either shut down or in jail. I was lucky—I paid the fine and got released.”

Zhou Jinling sighed, offering a hollow smile.

Chen Yansen took the lemon tea Song Yuncheng bought, sipped it, and listened half-heartedly.

There were far worse off than Zhou Jinling—what did it matter to him?

If not for his old connection with Cao Dahua, he’d have left long ago—this was pure waste of time.

Zhou Jinling quietly observed Chen Yansen’s expression, his heart sinking—he realized this man was a textbook businessman: no compassion, no morality. Everything he said was just noise to him.

“What’s a crackdown?” Wang Zihao asked curiously from beside him.

“Intellectual property infringement and selling fake or substandard goods—touch it and you’re dead. Da Bolo was lucky—they pivoted fast. Even though they made Shanzhai phones too, their tech licenses and supply chains were traceable, so they weren’t touched.”

Zuo Hongyu explained slowly.

Zhou Jinling nodded, filled with regret—he’d ignored Zuo Hongyu’s warnings.

Three months ago, he was a wealthy, top-tier boss—luxury car, tipped waitresses at business karaoke at least five hundred yuan per person. Now he was a pariah, terrified of being recognized.

Chen Yansen stayed silent, glanced at Zhou Jinling, and thought: No wonder more and more Shanzhai phone makers have been approaching FoxTao lately—offering commission rates of 80%.

They’re all just inventory dumps!

“You made a fortune in previous years—why would you even think of jumping?” Cao Dahua blinked, then asked.

“After the factory collapsed, I saw Apple phones selling well in China, so I hired an agent to become a distributor. Turns out he was a scammer—he stole tens of millions.”

Zhou Jinling’s expression was numb, as if recounting someone else’s story.

Wang Zihao unconsciously shrank back.

He wasn’t superstitious, but this guy was just catastrophically unlucky—like a walking curse.

The wife leaving, the kid not being his—those were the final blows.

“Do you think I’m the unluckiest man alive?” Zhou Jinling looked up, smiling bitterly.

Everyone exchanged glances, unable to lie.

“But before this, my life was smooth sailing. Five years ago, I, Yu Ge, and Hua Ge all entered the phone industry. Hua Ge’s factory collapsed within a year. Yu Ge joined Da Bolo. I chose to start my own business.”

“In just three years, I made Ouhan the top tier in Huaqiangbei—sold products across Southeast Asia and Africa, earning a hundred million a year…”

Zhou Jinling lowered his head, listing his past glory.

Cao Dahua rolled his eyes, silently cursing: This kid’s a bastard—he brags, then drags me into it?

Chen Yansen had heard of Zhou Jinling’s group—they made a fortune during the Shanzhai phone boom.

The smart ones pivoted in time, escaped disaster, and used their accumulated capital and supply chains to enter the smartphone market. One standout was Xiaomi, founded a year later, whose founder also rose from Shanzhai phones.

The slow ones, like Zhou Jinling, rode the wave until they crashed—and their minds shattered.

Judging by how he lost tens of millions to a con artist, he lacked depth, had no strategy. His past success came only from boldness and catching the right tide.

Chen Yansen said nothing the entire time.

He understood what Zhou Jinling was implying—but he wasn’t a savior. No reason to help him.

Zhou Jinling kept talking—his recent investments all failed; his savings were nearly gone.

His wife sued for divorce and took more money.

Before leaving, his beautiful, educated ex-wife bluntly said: Don’t even think about the kid—he’s not yours.

The consecutive blows pushed Zhou Jinling to the edge—he considered suicide.

“Chen Zong, I think Xiao Zhou has real ability—he’d make an excellent factory manager. He’s well-connected in Shencheng, has abundant resources. So I took the liberty of bringing him to meet you.”

Zuo Hongyu said this to Chen Yansen.

“When a great roc rises on the wind, soaring ninety thousand miles—is it the wind’s merit, or the roc’s own strength?”

Chen Yansen smiled and countered.

In his view, Zhou Jinling might have some ability, but he’d almost certainly fail to keep up with today’s—and tomorrow’s—demands.

Such a man couldn’t even manage a workshop floor, let alone be a factory manager.

Zhou Jinling’s heart turned to ash. The flicker of hope Zuo Hongyu had ignited vanished instantly.

“Chen Zong, can you give me a hand? I don’t want to lose—I want to win once.”

After a long silence, Zhou Jinling suddenly knelt before Chen Yansen, pleading desperately.

He had nothing left—he only wanted to rise again!

With his white hair and kneeling figure, sobbing, Zhou Jinling moved Song Yuncheng and Wang Zihao to pity.

Zuo Hongyu and Cao Dahua hadn’t expected this—they rushed to pull him up, but he refused, determined to make Chen Yansen accept him.

Chen Yansen snorted inwardly, his voice calm: “If you’re willing, start on the assembly line. If you truly have ability, I believe you can rise to factory manager.”

The meaning was clear—he could stay, but only if he started screwing in bolts.

Zhou Jinling froze. He’d assumed Zuo Hongyu’s influence would land him at least a department manager position—never imagined Chen Yansen would show zero mercy.

“I—I’ll think about it.” Zhou Jinling slowly stood, sat back down.

“Lao Zuo, it’s getting late. Let’s go see the factory.”

Chen Yansen stood up. The fifteen minutes wasted had already given Zuo Hongyu more than enough face.

“Yes, Chen Zong.” Zuo Hongyu patted Zhou Jinling’s shoulder, speechless, then hurried after him.

Back in the car, Cao Dahua thought for a moment, then added: “Xiao Chen, Lao Zuo’s just like this—he didn’t mean anything by it.”

Cao Dahua had spent years in the Virtual Institute—he knew Chen Yansen’s mind. If Zhou Jinling hadn’t come with Zuo Hongyu, Chen Yansen might’ve offered him a workshop supervisor role.

“It’s fine. Doesn’t matter anyway.”

Chen Yansen signaled Wang Zihao to drive.

Zhou Jinling had some redeeming qualities—at least he could bend and endure. This morning he threatened suicide; this afternoon he knelt to beg for a job.

His knowledge of Southeast Asian and African low-end phone markets was useful, though not crucial—he could manage without it.

If Zhou Jinling truly worked his way up from the assembly line, Chen Yansen wouldn’t mind giving him a chance, offering a hand.

But to demand a factory manager position outright? Pure fantasy.

Song Yuncheng listened to Chen Yansen and Cao Dahua’s conversation, thoughtful—he understood Chen Yansen’s thinking.

“You used to be a factory manager? All that money from selling 991 navigation devices must’ve vanished, right?”

Chen Yansen looked at Cao Dahua and suddenly asked.

“Stop prying, kid!” Cao Dahua’s face flushed.

He thought to himself: he had to shut Zuo Hongyu up first, or how could he ever act superior in front of Chen Yansen again?

Chen Yansen smiled faintly, pulled out his phone, gave Xu Dan a brief instruction, then hung up.

The Zhou Jinling incident had reminded him: most Shanzhaiji manufacturers had gone bankrupt, but the sales networks they built years ago could be revived—if he brought in the right people.

These men, though rough and hard to manage, far outshone ordinary sales staff in ability.

Zhou Jinling, left standing there, sank into self-doubt, unsure whether he truly had any ability.

If he did, why was he now such a mess?

If he didn’t, how had he built a fortune worth hundreds of millions from nothing when he first came to Shenzhen?

Before arriving, Zhou Jinling had researched Chen Yansen’s background.

He entered the industry at eighteen and became a billionaire within a year; working under a boss like this, opportunity would never be lacking.

Too bad, the man clearly looked down on him.

Zhou Jinling sighed and wandered aimlessly along the streets of Shencheng, like a homeless vagrant.

(End of Chapter)