Chapter 44: Business Before the Boutique Opens

At this moment, Zhou Jianliang finally noticed the faint blush on Wang Yun’s cheeks. He glanced at Jiang Butong, whose expression remained calm, and as an adult, suspicions arose in his heart: could there be something going on between these two?

“Manager Zhou, how much is this cassette?” Jiang Butong asked.

“The agent price is twenty yuan,” Zhou Jianliang replied, collecting his thoughts.

“Can it go any lower? I guarantee this will take off,” Jiang Butong began negotiating.

Zhou Jianliang frowned. The factory director had previously told him the lowest price could go down to eighteen yuan, but he didn’t want to offer that right away.

Jiang Butong observed Zhou Jianliang’s hesitation and knew there was room to maneuver. He handed over the sales ledger Wang Yun had copied.

“We’ve sold quite a few cassettes lately, more than a thousand units. Every day you delay, customers start slipping away. Believe me, other factories have already begun producing this kind of compact cassette recorder,” Jiang Butong continued.

“But this price is already very low,” Zhou Jianliang said, somewhat unwillingly.

“But it’s not the lowest. Think about it—lower prices bring market share. Your recorder will gain recognition, and for your factory, this deal is a sure win,” Jiang Butong pressed.

Zhou Jianliang fell into deep thought. In truth, their electronics factory wasn’t doing well; nobody had core technology, and most industries were just copying whatever was popular in the market.

“Fine, I’ll give you the lowest price of eighteen yuan per unit. How much stock do you want to order initially?” Zhou Jianliang began to compromise. This compact recorder was his pet project; as long as sales grew, his position in the factory would be secure.

Jiang Butong glanced at Wang Yun. She signaled that he could decide—she would follow his lead from now on.

“We’ll take one hundred compact recorders to start.”

“One hundred units is a bit low,” Zhou Jianliang commented.

“I can sign a minimum guarantee agreement: each month, the order increases—first month, one hundred units; second month, two hundred; and so on,” Jiang Butong proposed.

Now it was Wang Yun’s turn to be surprised. The price of these recorders was much higher than cassettes; if in half a year sales reached six hundred per month, that would be ten thousand yuan.

“Deal,” Zhou Jianliang agreed.

“But you must grant us exclusive agency for your recorder. Once our sales take off and your costs drop, the price must go down to fifteen yuan,” Jiang Butong added.

After a round of negotiations between Zhou Jianliang and Jiang Butong, a rough agreement was reached.

Jiang Butong became the primary agent for their factory’s compact recorders. Anyone wanting a recorder would have to source it from him.

As a condition, Jiang Butong committed to increasing sales by one hundred units each month, capping at one thousand units per month.

When monthly sales hit one thousand, the agent price would drop to fifteen yuan per unit.

They drafted a preliminary agreement, and Zhou Jianliang would return to seek approval from the factory director.

After Zhou Jianliang left, Wang Yun tugged at Jiang Butong.

“Aren’t we taking too big a risk? The cost of these recorders is much higher than cassettes,” she said anxiously.

Jiang Butong gently took Wang Yun’s small hand in his. Wang Yun glanced at him, surprisingly making no effort to pull away.

Her hand was petite, with rounded, plump fingers and delicate skin.

“Don’t worry. Trust me, let me share a secret,” Jiang Butong said.

“What secret?” Wang Yun leaned closer, her perfume wafting into Jiang Butong’s nose.

“We make only two yuan profit per recorder, setting the agent price at twenty yuan,” Jiang Butong said, toying with her soft hand.

“But why?” Wang Yun puzzled, forgetting entirely that her hand was still in his. She knew they could sell for much more.

“Right now, most recorders cost seventy or eighty yuan. Imagine what happens when a twenty-yuan recorder appears on the market...,” Jiang Butong explained.

Wang Yun suddenly understood. Jiang Butong planned to use a low price to capture the wholesale market.

It was bold—now she saw why Jiang Butong proposed the incremental sales agreement. As monthly sales reached one thousand, their purchase price would drop to fifteen yuan per unit.

That meant as sales increased, their profits would rise, too.

“But what will others think? Won’t competitors retaliate?” Wang Yun worried, fearing retribution.

“Don’t worry. We’ll still make money, and others will surely follow suit eventually. Right now, no one has thought of this,” Jiang Butong replied.

He knew these compact recorders would remain popular until around 2000, when MP3 players would begin to disrupt the cassette market.

If cassettes and recorders truly retired, it would be around 2005, since MP3s costing over a hundred yuan would be out of reach for half the rural market.

So, they could do business with recorders and cassettes for another eight or nine years.

Who could say how much capital they’d amass by then?

Wang Yun grasped Jiang Butong’s strategy and felt somewhat reassured, only then noticing he was still playing with her hand.

“Rogue!” Wang Yun spat at him, hurriedly pulling her hand back.

She feared that if things continued, not only would she fail to attract Jiang Butong, but she herself would succumb first.

“If you’re feeling overwhelmed, just hire someone. That way, you’ll have it easier,” Jiang Butong suggested.

“Hire someone? Are you paying the salary?” Wang Yun pouted. She’d only recently become busy; before, she’d had plenty of leisure.

Jiang Butong laughed. “I don’t want you worn out—I’d feel bad.”

Wang Yun shot him a look and fell silent, her head lowered as she began to calculate accounts.

Jiang Butong lingered for a while. As dusk settled, he swung by the clothing wholesaler to pick up a few dresses, since Chen Pan’er had sold several today and was likely running out.

The clothing wholesaler was a middle-aged woman who had known Wang Yun for many years. Hearing Wang Yun had referred him, she offered a good price—the styles were fresh and fashionable.

Now that Chen Pan’er and Wang Yun were firmly separated, Jiang Butong felt relieved. He could flirt with one without the other noticing—avoiding jealousy between them.

On the way back, Jiang Butong drove to the clothing store.

It was already evening; people were strolling after dinner, some enjoying barbecue at roadside stalls.

The streets were livelier than during the day.

He parked and headed for the Metebang shop, which finally belonged to him alone.

The restaurant and Wang Yun’s cassette business had only counted as his involvement; this shop was his own creation.

Walking up to the door, Jiang Butong saw several shoppers inside through the window. Chen Pan’er was all smiles.

It was already past seven—could there still be customers?

He recalled that night markets were not yet popular in this era.

A sudden idea struck him: night markets! When clearing out clothes, he could buy a rack and set it outside the shop, drawing attention and quickly moving excess stock.

As he entered, Chen Pan’er hurried over and whispered, “Did you restock the floral dress we sold this afternoon?”

“What’s up?” Jiang Butong asked. Had someone else taken a fancy to it?

“That customer likes the floral dress, but the size she tried was too big. Since we sold one today, do you have more?” Chen Pan’er explained.

“In the van, I’ll get them,” Jiang Butong recalled, glad he’d replenished the stock.

He retrieved the goods from the van and handed them to Chen Pan’er.

Sure enough, the woman was taken with the dress. She tried it on—the fit was perfect—and promptly paid.

Chen Pan’er attended to other customers browsing clothes.

Jiang Butong went to the checkout counter and opened the drawer, finding over four hundred yuan.

Damn, the shop isn’t even officially open, and business is already this good?

He and Chen Pan’er had only arrived that afternoon, meaning they’d sold over four hundred yuan in just a few hours.

In half an hour, Chen Pan’er had evidently sold several more pieces, and outside, passersby, seeing people shopping inside, were drawn in—new faces kept arriving.