Chapter 20 The Twentieth Day of Not Running Away The Twentieth Day of Not Running Away...

Chapter 20 The Twentieth Day of Not Running Away The Twentieth Day of Not Running Away...

"Boss Song? What brings you here?" Chen Bozheng was only noticing Boss Song when Wen Chan tugged at his sleeve.

He gave Lin Qingfeng and the others a few instructions, then came out with Wen Chan to greet Boss Song.

Looking at the crowded scene, Boss Song said, with a hint of sarcasm, "Little Chen, you're amazing! Your business is booming."

Chen Bozheng smiled politely and said, "It's all just good luck."

Old Song sneered inwardly, put his hands in his pockets, and gestured with his chin toward Chen Bozheng and his group's stall, "Little Chen, what's up with the style of your clothes?"

Chen Bo pretended to be confused, "These clothes styles, speaking of which, I really have to tell you, I don't know what happened, that Boss Ye packed the wrong goods for us, but once the goods arrived at the destination, there was no way to send them back, so we just sold them anyway, and unexpectedly, the customers were quite willing to buy them."

Wen Chan stood by, suppressing a laugh.

She really hadn't realized that Chen Bozheng had such a talent for lying, lying without even thinking.

Boss Song's eyes darkened, and he raised his eyebrows: "What a coincidence. Congratulations, you've turned misfortune into a blessing in disguise."

"You're too kind. Would you like to pick out a few clothes for your wife?" Chen Bozheng greeted him, "We don't want your money."

"No need." Boss Song waved his hand, making an excuse that he had to leave. He turned around, his face as black as the bottom of a pot.

Wen Chan watched his retreating figure and nudged Chen Bozheng next to her. "This guy doesn't look like he's up to anything. I wonder if he'll send someone to sabotage our business."

“He wouldn’t dare.” Chen Bo’s eyes turned cold, his deep gaze beneath thick lashes revealing a pair of profound eyes. “He might dare to do this, but we’re not pushovers either. Beijing isn’t just a place where Boss Song calls the shots.”

Wen Chan was slightly relieved.

Everyone says the 1990s were the golden age, but how many people know that in that era, doing business, big or small, required connections, both in the legitimate and criminal worlds? Otherwise, once your business started to grow, a bunch of thugs would target you, and violence was commonplace.

Especially in Beijing, if you're not a local and don't have any connections, then no matter how famous you are outside of Beijing, you'll have to stay put here.

According to what I've heard in my past life, a certain triad family in Hong Kong wanted to open a disco in Beijing in the 1990s. Because they didn't manage to cultivate good local relationships, the disco, which cost them over a million yuan, went bankrupt after only a few years.

That criminal family was quite famous and powerful, but in Beijing, they still got the short end of the stick and couldn't do anything about the local thugs.

"Fuck the hell out!" The place where Boss Song and his gang often hung out was a video arcade. After entering the video arcade, Boss Song kicked the stool next to him in a fit of anger.

The henchmen exchanged glances and winked at Old Song.

Left with no other choice, Old Song had to bite the bullet and step forward. "Boss, who offended you? Why are you so angry?"

"Back then, when you went to Shenzhen with Chen Bozheng and the others, what did you do? Do you even know what kind of goods they were getting?" Boss Song stared at Old Song with eyes as sharp as knives.

Old Song shrank back, sweat pouring down his face. "I've checked the order; it's exactly the styles you gave me. There's no mistake!"

Boss Song frowned, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "Are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely sure!" Old Song said, "I've checked the order several times, just in case they're lying to me. Boss, is there a problem with the design?"

Boss Song plopped down in the chair, wanting to light a cigarette, but couldn't find the lighter.

Old Song was quick-witted enough to take a match and go over to light it for Boss Song.

Boss Song took a deep breath and exhaled a puff of smoke. "That style is wrong. I've never seen Chen Bozheng's style on the market before. This Chen Bozheng is indeed as cunning as the rumors say!"

Old Song was startled. "Boss, you mean they changed the style after I left?"

"Otherwise, how do you explain this situation?" Old Song said irritably, crossing his legs. "I thought this bastard was going to lose everything this time, but it turns out he might make a fortune!"

When Boss Song got to this point, his face showed a hint of gritted teeth.

Old Song hesitated and said, "Then what should we do? Maybe we should just give up? I think Chen Bozheng is not someone to be trifled with, and he's quite capable."

Boss Song stared at him, making Old Song too afraid to speak. He pointed at Old Song with his finger, then turned his head and told his underlings to bring over the mobile phone.

When reporter Cheng arrived, he looked around nervously before entering the video arcade, his face full of reluctance.

He said to Boss Song, "Boss Song, why did you suddenly call me out? Is there something urgent? I'm a reporter, after all. If people see me getting too close to you, it won't look good."

Boss Song smiled broadly at Reporter Cheng and even offered him a cigarette. "Old Cheng, you're right. I'll definitely be more careful in the future. But don't worry, this video arcade is my territory. Nobody dares to talk nonsense here. I called you here not to trouble you with anything difficult, just a small matter."

"A small matter?" Reporter Cheng chuckled, took a drag of his cigarette, and flicked off the ash. "How could there be a small matter on your side, Boss Song? The commotion you guys caused before was quite significant, a brawl involving hundreds of people, which almost alerted the higher-ups."

Old Song laughed and said, "That happened several years ago. Why bring it up again? Besides, times have changed. Who still does things like fighting and killing?"

Reporter Cheng lowered his eyelids, sneering inwardly. This Boss Song was known as a smiling tiger. Yes, he no longer engaged in fighting and killing, but instead stabbed people in the back.

They're probably looking for him this time to frame someone.

“We’re all acquaintances, so just tell me. If it’s a small matter, I’ll help you with it,” Reporter Cheng said.

While journalists may appear to be social celebrities, they are really just megaphones. Once they've been paid, they can speak for one person today and for another tomorrow.

This isn't the first time Reporter Cheng has done shady work for someone, nor will it be the last.

Upon learning what Boss Song wanted him to do, Reporter Cheng was both amused and exasperated. "Just a clothes stall, Boss Song? I thought it was a big deal. You're not kidding me, are you? With your skills, Boss Song, taking down a stall owner is like crushing an ant."

"Don't worry about that, just do it. You'll get all the benefits once it's done." Boss Song was too lazy to explain much to Reporter Cheng.

They didn't just want to kill Chen Bozheng; they wanted to completely destroy him.

Wen Chan wasn't feeling well. After helping out at the stall for a few days, Chen Bozheng told her to go home and rest. Everyone knew about her health condition and advised her to stay home.

Wen Chan naturally wouldn't refuse such a kind offer.

It just so happened that Lin Qingfeng's younger siblings were on holiday, so the two of them ran errands for Wen Chan, sometimes buying fruit, sometimes buying popsicles.

Wen Chan also demanded that they absolutely not tell Chen Bozheng, otherwise, given Chen Bozheng's personality, he would definitely nag endlessly.

Lin Xiaohong was very curious. "Sister Wen, why can't we let Brother Chen know that we're eating popsicles?"

Wen Chan wasn't really courting death; she even specifically chose a mung bean popsicle for a refreshing treat. Licking the popsicle, enjoying the breeze, and watching TV, she felt incredibly happy.

Hearing this, she hesitated for a moment, then made up an excuse, "Because Brother Chen said that eating popsicles will make me fat, and he wants me to be thin and slender to look good."

Lin Xiaohong's eyes widened. "You're not fat at all! You're so beautiful. Many boys in our compound say you're like a fairy."

"Really?" Wen Chan's lips curled up. "How did they praise me?"

Without hesitation, Lin Xiaohong said, "They say you have fair skin, long and black hair, and long legs. Sister Wen, you must not listen to what Brother Chen said. You need to gain some weight to look good. You are too thin now. My mom said she would make you some soup to help you get better."

Wen Chan couldn't help but laugh as she listened.

"Something terrible has happened!" Lin Xiaoming ran in from outside, holding a newspaper. "Sister Wen, something's happened! Your clothes are in the newspaper!"

"What did they say about us in the newspaper?" Fatty and the others ate their lunch while peeking at the newspaper Wen Chan had brought.

Wen Chan said, "Anyway, they never say anything nice. They just say that the clothes we sell are immoral and corrupt, and they even invited some expert to say that our clothes are vulgar."

"What kind of bullshit newspaper is this? We're selling our clothes, what business is it of theirs?" Lin Qingfeng couldn't help but curse in frustration.

Liu Yan glanced at the newspaper, her appetite vanishing instantly. "What are we going to do? Didn't we just call the garment factory a few days ago to ask them to increase their orders? With all this criticism in the newspaper, how are we going to sell our clothes?"

Wen Chan raised an eyebrow, picked up the newspaper, and said, "Why are you all in such a hurry? Did I say this was a bad thing?"

ah?

Everyone stared blankly at Wen Chan.

Wen Chan patted the newspaper and asked, "Do you know how many copies of this newspaper sell in a day?"

The crowd looked at each other.

Wen Chan said, "I called their newspaper and they said the daily circulation is at least 200,000 copies. That means at least 200,000 households have seen our clothing stall."

Chen Bozheng's heart skipped a beat. "Isn't this indirectly advertising for us?"

Wen Chan nodded. "That's right, we were criticized, but that's a good thing. Think about it, 200,000 households know about our clothing styles. How many of them are our target customers? What's the big deal about being criticized? If the newspapers praised us, we'd be worried. The group we're selling these clothes to is young women who pursue fashion and want to be different. These young women love what the mainstream media criticizes. Don't you think that makes sense?"

Wen Chan's words calmed Liu Yan down.

Liu Yan thought about it carefully, "What Xiao Wen said actually makes a lot of sense. Didn't the newspapers criticize bell-bottoms and sunglasses before? But the more they criticized them, the more their businesses thrived!"

“Young people today are different from before; they crave rebellion and individuality,” Wen Chan said. “The harsher the criticism in the newspapers, the more prosperous our business will be!”

Lin Qingfeng and several other men, including the monk, expressed their incomprehension of what women were thinking.

"Are you the clothes stall from the newspaper?" A few young women approached with newspapers in their hands while the group was eating.

Liu Yan quickly grabbed a tissue to wipe her mouth, went over to greet her, and after glancing at the girl's newspaper, replied, "Yes, that's our stall."

"It really is your stall! That's great! Do you still have that off-the-shoulder skirt from the newspaper? It's black and white; do you have a red one?"

"I want that off-the-shoulder short-sleeved top, the white one!"

The arrival of the girls was like the sounding of a victory horn.

Before long, more and more people arrived.

Although the newspaper did not directly mention the location of Wen Chan and her group's clothing stall, it did directly mention Xiushui Street.

This is much easier to find.

Wen Chan and her friends' clothing style was criticized more than once. The next day, another newspaper also published an article criticizing them, saying that the young girls' revealing clothing showed a lack of self-respect and self-love.

The reporter who wrote the article probably still thinks it's the 1970s, where a lack of self-respect and self-love can make girls take off their pretty clothes and put on drab work uniforms.

They were unaware of the young women's rebellious spirit.

Of course, more importantly, the clothing styles photographed in the newspapers were so beautiful and unique that they were miles ahead of the batwing sleeves and bell-bottoms that were everywhere.

Even black and white photos can't diminish the allure of those clothing styles.

Almost every girl in Beijing knows that there's a stall on Xiushui Street that sells clothes with unique styles; it's even been featured in the newspapers.

This piqued everyone's curiosity.

Since I had nothing to do on Sunday, I had to go check it out with my best friend. When we got to the stall, the place was packed with people, and when I saw how beautiful and stylish Wen Chan and Liu Yan looked in their clothes, even the poorest girl couldn't help but take out her money.

"How much stock is left?" After a long day, everyone returned with the money from selling the goods, exhausted yet excited, too tired to even count the money.

After the meal, Chen Bozheng asked everyone to count the goods and see how much was left.

The fat man went to check the stock and came back, his face flushed with excitement. "There are only a little over a thousand items left, Brother Zheng! We're about to sell out! What are we going to do?"

Liu Yan immediately sat up. "There are only a little over a thousand pieces left. How could it be so fast?!"

"What's so fast about it? We haven't had a single free day in the past two weeks. I'm surprised we still have time to spare," Lin Qingfeng said weakly, slumped in his chair.

Liu Yan panicked, "Oh dear, so many people still want to buy our clothes! Today, Brother Dong and Sister Liu from the market even asked me if we could wholesale some to resell. If we run out of stock now, I'm afraid someone will steal our business."

The main reason why Wen Chan and his team's clothes are selling well is because they are the only ones available.

They are the only ones in all of Beijing that have these kinds of clothes.

But Liu Yan had been in the clothing business for several years, so how could she not know her peers? Once a hit product appeared on the market, people would immediately follow suit.

They've been selling for over two weeks, so it's likely that other competitors have already bought the clothes and used them to create patterns.

If they run out of stock, competitors will immediately come out and take over the market.

This deal is essentially a one-off transaction; if we can't capture the market share quickly, it will benefit someone else.

"Don't worry, I called Boss Ye this morning and he promised to ship our goods gradually! This time he's willing to let us pay after delivery, so I ordered 300,000 yuan worth of goods directly."

Chen Bo calmly dropped a bombshell.

Lin Qingfeng, on his deathbed, suddenly sat up, jolting upright. "Three hundred thousand, Brother Zheng, that's too much! How could Boss Ye possibly agree to that?"

Chen Bozheng was also puzzled. He had originally planned to transfer some money to Boss Ye first, but Boss Ye refused outright, saying that he was being too polite.

"I don't know either. Let's just consider it a favor we owe Boss Ye, and we'll repay it when we have the chance."