Chapter Sixty-Three: Finalizing the Contract

It was just this feeling that made Zhang Ye decide—he would buy here. After all, this was the wholesale district where every shop sourced their goods, so the prices couldn’t differ by much; there was no reason to expect anything cheaper elsewhere. What’s more, he was determined not to give that saleswoman across the aisle the satisfaction, especially after her attitude. Otherwise, wouldn’t her words about them being too poor to buy be proven right? Zhang Ye himself didn’t care what others thought—he’d been through too much, and such concerns no longer weighed on his mind. However, since Liu Meiju was with him, he would never allow his mother to lose face, not as her son.

“May I see the packaging?” Zhang Ye asked, just to be sure.

“Hmph, putting on airs, aren’t you?” The thin-lipped, gaunt-faced saleswoman across from them, who had been watching their every move, sneered with undisguised contempt. Whether she was truly unnerved inside, no one could say.

Zhang Ye ignored her entirely, keeping his eyes on the saleswoman in front of him. Behind him, Liu Meiju was too stunned to speak. The composure and quiet confidence Zhang Ye displayed left her in awe. Was this really her son? The sense of unreality was overwhelming. He handled things methodically, and every gesture seemed to inspire trust.

Even though his pants were simple cloth, and his shirt a bit tight at the shoulders, all of that faded into the background when one watched the way he carried himself.

“Yes… yes, of course!” The saleswoman was a little dazed herself. This young man didn’t look very old, but the aura he exuded was powerfully attractive—she found herself blushing.

Hurriedly, she pulled out a set of short-sleeved shirts, complete with plastic hangers, a cardboard box, and a shopping bag, handing them all to Zhang Ye.

Zhang Ye accepted them and examined them closely; these really were Korean goods. With the current state of domestic counterfeiting, there was no way any local factory could produce something this convincing. If there were factories capable of such finesse, they’d be counterfeiting big-name Western brands, not these obscure Korean imports.

After inspecting the packaging, Zhang Ye casually took a few more garments from the wardrobe and checked them over, confirming the quality. Only then did he nod in satisfaction. “Not bad. They’re real.” He looked up, thought for a moment, then said, “Since we’ve just opened, we can’t stock too much at once. For this first purchase, we’ll take 10,000 pieces—5,000 sets of tops and 5,000 of bottoms. How about it? Can you give us a better price?” A confident smile curved his lips as he spoke.

“Te… ten thousand?” The saleswoman wasn’t sure she had heard right—or perhaps she simply couldn’t believe it.

Most clothing shops, even when they sourced from here, would only take two or three thousand pieces at most. To take ten thousand in a single order—that was a true power buyer. After all, a clothing shop was only so big, and many stocked various brands. To take ten thousand pieces in one go—that bordered on madness.

Behind him, Liu Meiju was just as shocked. She hurried forward and seized Zhang Ye’s hand. They had discussed the amount before, but only settled on a thousand pieces. Now he’d suddenly multiplied that by ten—she was panicking.

She knew that while she had enough money in her purse, it represented the family’s hard-earned savings from over a decade of toil. What if they lost it all in one go?

Zhang Ye smiled gently. “Don’t worry. Summer’s only halfway through—there’s plenty of time, and we’ll sell them all.” He remembered it well: at that time in Lihua County, these new Korean-style clothes were the absolute craze—fashionable, trendy, beloved by every young person.

It got to the point where, if you looked outside, almost everyone was wearing them. Some parents, calling their kids in for dinner, would pat a shoulder—only for a stranger to turn around.

“All right, let’s go for it,” Liu Meiju decided after a moment’s thought. She’d always had a bold streak—otherwise, she’d never have been persuaded by Zhang Ye to quit her job in the first place. Her hesitation came only from the sheer size of the sum involved: the family’s entire savings, amassed over ten long years, was at stake.

“So, ten thousand pieces. Do you have that much in stock?” Zhang Ye nodded, making it official.

“Yes, yes, we do!” The saleswoman nodded furiously, nearly dizzy from the size of the order.

Ten thousand garments—sixty thousand yuan. In all her time here, such large orders were usually negotiated by the bosses themselves, not lowly sales clerks. This was the first time she’d landed such a deal on her own. She was nervous, but even more excited.

In fact, she suddenly felt a measure of gratitude toward the saleswoman across the aisle. If she hadn’t been so sarcastic and difficult, how could such a windfall have come her way?

“Very well, let’s sign a contract. We can pay you a twenty percent deposit now, and settle the remainder upon delivery. You do offer delivery, correct? Even though we’re a bit far out,” Zhang Ye asked, after some thought.

Ten thousand pieces was no small matter, and it was a six-hour journey from Guangyang City to Lihua County. While not exactly dangerous, there were risks. He had to think of his family’s interests.

As for the contract and deposit, that was just sensible business, protecting both parties. Should anything go wrong, the contract would hold both sides accountable.

“For orders over three thousand pieces, we do offer home delivery. With your order, there’s no problem at all. We have standard contracts here—please review it. If everything is in order, we can sign right away. These contracts are standard and rarely have any issues,” the saleswoman said, her delicate face bright with a smile as she drew a contract from a drawer and handed it over.

Zhang Ye read it carefully, then let his mother and Liu Wentao take a look. Finding no problems, he nodded and signed, leaving a deposit of twelve thousand yuan.

Across the aisle, the thin-lipped, gaunt-faced saleswoman had gone pale, her eyes fixed in disbelief on the thick stack of bills Zhang Ye had laid on the table. At the same time, her resentment toward Zhang Ye and the other saleswoman from Lingyu Garments only grew. She was the sort who would never reflect on her own faults.

Addresses and phone numbers exchanged, Zhang Ye was about to leave with his mother and Liu Wentao when a man from the rival shop approached. He was dressed in a black suit and shoes, with a deep blue tie and a crew cut as sharp as a blade—he looked exceedingly crisp.

“Xiao Chen, how many deals did you close today?” He strode into the thin-lipped saleswoman’s shop without preamble, asking casually.

“Manager, today’s sales report—none at all.” Her tone was utterly different from when she was dealing with Zhang Ye’s group: respectful, even submissive, as she hurriedly poured him a cup of tea.