Chapter 47: A Restless Night

Wang Yun was somewhat surprised as well. She only knew that the people in the parking lot called Jiang Butong "Brother Tong," but she hadn’t expected that at a random restaurant, people would treat him with such respect.

Jiang Butong found a few seats and handed the menu to Zhou Jianliang.

“Brother Zhou, you go ahead and order.”

“Xiao Tong, do you come here often?” Zhou Jianliang couldn’t help but ask.

“It’s alright, mostly because I know the owner here,” Jiang Butong replied, realizing Zhou Jianliang was starting to probe into his background.

“No wonder—the waiters all seem to know you.” Zhou Jianliang ordered two dishes and then passed the menu to Wang Yun so she could pick a few.

Wang Yun, without hesitation, ordered two dishes. Jiang Butong added a cold dish and requested some beer and juice.

As they ate and chatted, most of the conversation revolved around Zhou Jianliang asking Jiang Butong about himself.

Through their conversation, Zhou Jianliang discovered Jiang Butong was far from ordinary: experienced, broad-minded, eloquent, and insightful.

He felt increasingly confident about partnering with Jiang Butong as an agent for tape recorders.

After a few rounds of drinks, Chen Sheng came over to toast them. Knowing these were Jiang Butong’s guests, he didn’t say much, just gifted them an extra dish.

This left Zhou Jianliang feeling both honored and astonished—thanks to Jiang Butong’s reputation, the owner himself had come to toast him.

The meal lasted over two hours before they finally dispersed.

Zhou Jianliang and Chen Sheng had become acquainted, which satisfied Zhou Jianliang greatly. He decided that the next factory gathering would definitely be held here.

After seeing Zhou Jianliang and Wang Yun home, Jiang Butong headed to the clothing store. It was past nine o’clock in the evening, and he wasn’t sure if Chen Pan’er and Qing’er had finished work yet. He bought dinner for both on his way.

At a quarter past nine, the neon sign of Metrobon Clothing Store was still shining brightly.

Through the window, he saw two customers inside, still shopping.

Jiang Butong glanced at the display racks and was startled: many of the clothes counters were empty.

He waited in the car for a while, only entering the shop once the two customers had left.

Qing’er was at the cashier, tallying up the accounts, while Chen Pan’er was folding clothes that had been tried on.

“Have you eaten yet?” Jiang Butong asked as he entered.

“Not yet,” Qing’er replied, placing the money in the drawer.

“Come over and eat—I brought you dinner.” Jiang Butong set their meals on the coffee table.

Once Chen Pan’er finished folding clothes, she came over and said to Jiang Butong, “You’ll need to restock tomorrow. We ran out of quite a few sizes today. I promised several people I’d have their orders ready tomorrow.”

“How much did we run out of?” Jiang Butong had already noticed how quickly the clothes were selling—faster than he’d imagined.

“We sold about fifty pieces today, not counting what Brother Chen and Jiang Yuan took,” Chen Pan’er replied, tucking loose hair behind her ear and starting her meal.

Their lunch had been hurriedly bought from outside and they hadn’t eaten until late afternoon.

“What’s the turnover?” Jiang Butong asked.

“About two thousand five hundred. I haven’t finished counting yet,” Qing’er replied, taking only a few bites before resuming counting the cash.

“Eat first; you can count later,” Jiang Butong stopped her.

After the two finished their meal, Chen Pan’er took out her notebook to record what needed restocking for the next day, while Qing’er continued counting the money.

Jiang Butong understood that at this time, there was no comprehensive inventory system—everything relied on manual record-keeping, unlike later years when supermarkets would scan barcodes and check inventory directly on computers.

Overall, the clothing store’s first day of business had been decent. As long as he cultivated a stable clientele, these customers would bring steady profits.

At ten o’clock that night, Jiang Butong sent Qing’er home. Security wasn’t great yet, and it wasn’t safe for a girl to go home too late.

Fortunately, Qing’er lived close to the store, so Jiang Butong felt somewhat reassured. He considered having Qing’er or Chen Pan’er move closer for convenience.

Chen Pan’er handed him a long list, detailing all the styles that needed restocking the next day.

Jiang Butong calculated the day’s turnover—it totaled two thousand seven hundred, exceeding his expectations.

He had already figured out the gross profit for clothing; even on discounted items, the margin was at least thirty percent, and for other styles, it hovered around fifty percent.

Subtracting rent and costs, he estimated today’s profit conservatively at about twelve hundred.

Chen Pan’er looked at the transaction total, a smile appearing on her face. Now she understood—even without a salary, the commission alone would be a considerable income.

It seemed worthwhile not to draw a salary—she could just wait for the year-end bonus.

“What time should we come tomorrow?” Chen Pan’er asked.

“Around nine. Talk it over with Qing’er—you two can stagger your shifts. Generally, mornings aren’t busy; the main rush is in the afternoon and evening,” Jiang Butong replied.

“Do you think our clothing store’s turnover could surpass the private kitchen restaurant?” Chen Pan’er asked again.

“It’s hard to say—give it a few days and we’ll see.” Jiang Butong couldn’t be certain; he only knew that all industries on the mainland were developing, and the future market was vast.

After Chen Pan’er finished tidying up and turned off the lights, Jiang Butong locked the door and drove home.

Back at their place, the two had grown familiar. Jiang Butong watched as Chen Pan’er wandered about in shorts, her pale legs and tight vest accentuating her curves.

This little lass really trusted him, Jiang Butong thought.

Chen Pan’er had already washed up and sat cross-legged on the bed, her bare face charming and delicate, skin smooth and fair.

“Why are you staring at me?” Chen Pan’er glared at Jiang Butong.

“When will you let me sleep on the bed?” Jiang Butong teased.

“Hmph, dream on.” Chen Pan’er snorted softly.

Jiang Butong thought to himself: If you’re craving my company, I’ll just rent a new place. When I’m surrounded by other girls every day, let’s see if you still want me around.

“I’m thinking of finding a new place,” he said.

“Oh? You’re moving out?” Chen Pan’er asked, trimming her toenails.

“That’s right. What if you start charging me rent again?” Jiang Butong lay back, hands behind his head.

Chen Pan’er paused, her eyelashes giving an imperceptible quiver. After so many days, she’d grown used to living with Jiang Butong—especially at night, when they could share late-night snacks, chat, and confide in each other like roommates.

“If you move out, I won’t refund the money I made selling tapes,” Chen Pan’er said.

“Fine, you don’t need to. I’ll go look at apartments tomorrow if I have time,” Jiang Butong replied, turning off the light and preparing for bed. He’d been so busy these days, his career had only just begun and already he was running nonstop.

Chen Pan’er, seemingly annoyed, tossed the nail clippers onto the nightstand and turned her back to Jiang Butong to sleep.

Her mind was a tangled mess. She wondered: Why does Jiang Butong want to leave? Is it just because she won’t let him sleep on the bed?

But he hadn’t even confessed—what was she to him, really?

Did holding hands mean they were dating?

In the darkness, Jiang Butong watched Chen Pan’er toss and turn, unable to sleep. He smiled slightly. She was still just a young girl—she couldn’t handle teasing, nothing like Wang Yun.

Yet, on a night like this—just the two of them—if it were Wang Yun, perhaps something unexpected might happen.

The next morning, Jiang Butong woke first. He had a lot to do today.

First, he needed to restock the clothing store, then coordinate with Zhou Jianliang for the first batch of small tape recorders, and handle Wang Yun’s earlier order of six thousand yuan worth of tapes. If he had time, he’d also check in on Jiang Yuan.

The only thing he could fully trust now was Chen Sheng’s private kitchen restaurant. That place was running smoothly, with Chen Sheng and Jiang Dazhuang managing it, so there shouldn’t be any trouble.

As Jiang Butong brushed his teeth, he noticed Chen Pan’er was still asleep. He wondered what was wrong—she usually woke up early.

It wasn’t until he was ready to leave that Chen Pan’er finally woke up, sporting dark circles under her eyes, clearly having slept late.

Jiang Butong was startled. “What’s wrong? Your circles are so dark.”

Chen Pan’er glared at him with grievance before getting up to wash.

“Why aren’t you talking?” Jiang Butong asked.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Chen Pan’er replied, her mood clearly sour.

“I’m sorry. I won’t move out,” Jiang Butong guessed it was because of what he’d said last night.