Chapter 404: Earn What You Can Help With

"No, it's his godfather—Li Ye, brother, why are you so angry? I came to discuss it with you!"

Hao Jian, seeing Li Ye's sudden change of expression, was utterly stunned.

In the past, whenever Hao Jian shared business ideas with Li Ye—whether right or wrong, deep or shallow—Li Ye would always offer fair and candid advice.

But today, Hao Jian had barely begun speaking, hadn't even clearly explained his idea, yet Li Ye had reacted so harshly?

But Li Ye gave no room for explanation; he merely sighed and said coolly, "I drank too much today, maybe I spoke out of turn. Let's drop it for now, lest we damage our harmony. Find a place to stay, we'll discuss it at tomorrow's meeting."

"Huh?"

"You can't even help out—why should Little Ye take you along to make money?"

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"Is Pei Wencong some kind of Bodhisattva who saves the suffering without expecting anything in return?"

The woman glanced at Hao Jian through the rearview mirror of the Santana and said, "Let's go eat at Lao Mo!"

"After eating, we can go dancing—you haven't improved your steps lately, you need more practice!"

"Got something to discuss?"

Jin Peng poured Hao Jian a glass of wine and said gravely, "You only think about going to Hong Kong to make big money—have you ever thought about what happens if you lose?"

Little Ye certainly made money in the Hong Kong stock market, but risky investments like this mean someone wins and someone loses.

Jin Peng suddenly asked, "What if you lose?"

"Forget Lao Mo," Hao Jian thought for a moment and said, "Let's go to Jishuitan—I'll find a brother to have dinner with."

The Beijing office had several sedans; whenever Hao Jian came, one had to be assigned to him.

Hao Jian: "."

Pengcheng Factory Seven now employs tens of thousands, producing products in the millions daily—and all those millions must be sold nationwide, in a state of "insufficient supply," thanks entirely to Jin Peng's sales system.

Jin Peng pursed his lips, glancing sideways at Hao Jian, and said coolly, "Just now, you said you wanted to use whose money to go to Hong Kong and make a fortune?"

Jin Peng sneered, "Little Ye's earnings outside have been supporting us all—the luggage factory, the electronics factory, the clothing factory—doesn't every one of them have a share of you and me?"

Little Ye certainly didn't need a single candied sweet now, but every time he received some, he'd call Old Hao specifically, chuckling and chatting for a few minutes, asking how his goddaughter Hao Cuicui was doing—her health, her studies.

Because Li Ye and Hao Jian's bond began with candied sweets, these two packs contained their fate and connection.

Hao Jian thought for a moment, then uncertainly said, "You mean… beneficial to the country and people?"

Hao Jian sat stunned for a long while, then took a deep breath and said, "But Little Ye is making money too!"

Hao Jian waved his hand. "We're just old brothers having a drink—no business talk."

"I'm talking about the factory's money—I'm not doing this for myself, am I?"

Hao Jian didn't hide anything; he spoke frankly: "I just went to deliver candied sweets to Little Ye, and he scolded me. I couldn't understand why, so I came to have a drink with you—help me figure it out."

Ten minutes later, Jin Peng returned carrying a large bag of braised dishes.

Seeing Hao Jian get in, the woman put away her small mirror, started the car, shifted gears, and asked while driving, "Mr. Hao, who did you visit today? Why didn't they even offer you a meal?"

The woman named Xiao Na's expression darkened slightly, her tone annoyed: "What business needs hiding from your secretary? If I know nothing, how can I advise you?"

As soon as he stepped out of the courtyard, Hao Jian's brow furrowed tightly, a trace of sadness on his face.

Hao Jian got out at the north side of Jishuitan, watched Xiao Na drive away, then found a place to call Jin Peng.

Hao Jian opened his mouth in shock, mumbling "Aba aba" several times before saying incredulously, "Wasn't all that money invested by Pei Wencong? Then how…?"

Hao Jian sat slumped in the back seat of the Santana: "I didn't plan to eat here."

Jin Peng, watching the dazed Hao Jian, couldn't help asking, "Old Hao, do you still remember the four words Little Ye told us back in our Pengcheng hostel?"

The woman perked up, smiling: "Is that Manager Jin Peng? I've heard of him—this time I'll finally meet your capable subordinate."

"How could I let my craft go to waste! Brother, rest up—I'm off now."

But Jin Peng didn't let it go; he smiled and asked, "What's this? Are you jealous because Pei Wencong is making money?"

"Feeling like your three percent share in Factory Seven isn't enough? Then I've got only one percent—should I start a rebellion?"

Hao Jian felt slightly relieved, then turned and left the sihe courtyard.

"Our Factory Seven's profits this year have been good, so we've got some cash on hand. I looked into Hong Kong's stock and currency markets—the same ones we first visited, the Hang Seng Index that Luo Runbo talked about."

So Hao Jian thought for a moment and told the woman, "Xiao Na, find your own place to eat—I need to talk to Manager Jin."

Hao Jian let out a weary laugh.

Jin Peng cut him off sharply, sneering, "If your father had carried a gun on that 25, 00-li march fifty years ago, you might be a big shot now—why bother waking up early and working late for a few measly bucks?"

After making plans with Jin Peng, Hao Jian walked through two hutongs to the gate of a courtyard in Xinjie Kou.

Jin Peng's courtyard was better than Li Ye's Zaojunmiao sihe, less than five kilometers from the Flag Square—already a prime location in what would become the Second Ring Road.

Today's Pengcheng Factory Seven was no longer the place where they once had to beg and plead just to get a car, regardless of condition or age.

"Then where do you think Pengcheng Red Bull's money came from? How do you think Fenghua Clothing's export sales keep rising year after year? Little Ye bought two trading companies in Hong Kong and lost money to break into overseas markets—didn't you know?"

2605: 700: 3: 000:: a0

Jin Peng stared at Hao Jian: "We all heard those four words back then. But later, when I mentioned them to others, they laughed at me as a fool. I even doubted them myself—but eventually, I firmly believed in Li Ye."

Jin Peng was also very puzzled, because since their five-man startup team began, Li Ye had always been the one giving advice and explaining principles—he'd never scolded anyone.

The whole matter wasn't complicated, so Hao Jian explained it clearly in under two minutes.

"Where did Little Ye's money go—you don't know?"

"Then if we now have capital… why won't Little Ye let us go to Hong Kong to make money?"

Jin Peng leaned forward, his tone oppressive: "Old Hao, let me tell you a truth: if you can help out, you earn money; if you can't help, you don't get paid."

"Capable subordinate? Hmph."

Now he was scolding Hao Jian—how strange.

Hao Jian helped Jin Peng plate the braised dishes, poured the wine, and they clinked glasses first, then gloomily opened up.

He said, baffled, "Back then, Little Ye told us to buy in too—but we didn't have foreign exchange then!"

Li Ye looked at Hao Jian, opened the candied sweets right in front of him, took two pieces, popped them in his mouth, chewed, and nodded: "Good—taste hasn't changed. Your old Hao's craft hasn't faded."

"If?"

Hao Jian suddenly understood and quickly protested: "I did want to use Factory Seven's funds, but don't you know what kind of man I am?"

"The capital belongs to everyone—any profit won't be mine alone, right?"

Walking down the hutong to the street, Hao Jian walked five or six hundred meters before opening the back door of a Santana and getting in.

In the driver's seat sat a young woman, holding a small mirror, admiring herself.

These candied sweets were made by Hao Jian's wife, An Xiaolian, who sent them over every so often.

Later, as you know, the Hang Seng Index plunged hundreds of points—Pei Wencong went from a small literary society leader to a big boss.

"But… but I specifically consulted several senior traders and top managers in Hong Kong—they all said Hong Kong and the Tower's stock markets are rising steadily; if we invest a few million U. . dollars, we could reap…"

Hao Jian blinked, quickly saying, "No problem, no problem—brother, I came at a bad time. I often drink too much at business dinners in Pengcheng. Lie down and get some rest."

Little Ye loses his own money—back then, when he told us to buy in, wasn't it our own money? But now you want to risk everyone's money? What are you thinking?"

Hao Jian stood up awkwardly to leave, and as he went, sheepishly pulled out two large packs of candied sweets.

"Help me analyze? Wait—you got scolded by Little Ye? For what?"

Jin Peng's current position is Sales Manager of Pengcheng Factory Seven—officially Hao Jian's subordinate, but outsiders had no idea of their true relationship.

Jin Peng wasn't Hao Jian's subordinate—he was Hao Jian's brother, and also his… constraint.

Jin Peng opened the courtyard gate, led Hao Jian inside, then grinned: "Old Hao, why the sudden urge to drink? Why not go to a fancy restaurant? Why not invite Qiangzi or Dayong? What's so secretive?"

"Yes—those four words."

Though Hao Jian was a well-known "star factory manager" in Pengcheng, he knew well: without Jin Peng's control of the sales channels, his position as manager would crumble instantly.

We're out in the open, working hard and bearing the burden to earn money for him—but how many shoulders has Little Ye lifted for us in the unseen corners? Haven't you thought about that?"

Hao Jian was stunned again, utterly ashamed.

"You manage Factory Seven's affairs here—that's helping Little Ye and the brothers watch over the family business, so you take three percent. But going to Hong Kong to make money—what help can you give Little Ye?"

Thanks to Li Ye's guidance, the key figures of Pengcheng Factory Seven all bought courtyards in Beijing—whether they lived in them or not, they had to stand united with the brothers.

"And this year, Little Ye had you build the new luggage factory, and the electronics factory scheduled to be completed—where did all that investment money come from?"

Hao Jian blinked: "What?"

Jin Peng's mouth twisted into a cold, mocking smile.

Hao Jian was wary of Xiao Na's intentions—certainly, the private residences of the brothers didn't need her to know about.

Xiao Na glanced at Hao Jian's face in the rearview mirror, then said nothing more.

Hearing the word "rebellion," Hao Jian snapped back to awareness.

"No, absolutely not! If I betray the brothers, may thunder strike me dead!"

(End of Chapter)

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