Chapter 105 — The Real and the Fake Young Master
Xie Siquan said, “Boss He, I’m talking to you. About the textile factories—based on what we just discussed, what do you think?”
He Dongting’s gaze remained on Xie Jing. After Xie Siquan impatiently called him again, he finally turned his attention and spoke, “You mean the Huaxing Textile Bureau? That factory was originally a government-private joint venture, a machine textile plant. But the machines are outdated and operations have been mismanaged. It has been losing money for two years. If you make the offer, the price would be 400,000 silver.”
The Huaxing Textile Bureau was actually two factories joined together, occupying prime land near the dock. In today’s Shanghai market, just considering land and property value, the price would be far more than that.
He Dongting’s meaning was clear: if Xie Siquan asked, he was willing to hand over both factories.
Xie Siquan sneered, swirling his wine in the cup, raising an eyebrow, “Boss He, I think you misunderstand. My family is from Sichuan—what’s the benefit of us asking for these? I’m just helping a friend mediate. Business should be mutual; don’t come back later regretting or questioning what’s real or fake, right?”
He Dongting’s expression remained calm, but he had nothing to say. Xie Siquan sat across, full of sarcasm, not leaving him any space to assert himself. The atmosphere grew tense.
Suddenly, Lord Bai Jiu spoke, “I’m not looking to buy the Huaxing Textile Bureau. I just want to lease it.”
He Dongting froze. “Lease?”
Lord Bai Jiu nodded: “Yes. Five-year term, fifty thousand dollars per year.”
He Dongting frowned: “If I may speak frankly, I’ve heard about the Bai family’s dye factory in the eastern suburbs. It’s not small. Owning these two textile factories could be useful…” His words were tactful but clearly dissenting.
Xie Siquan was more straightforward: “Short on cash? How much do you need? I can help with the money.”
Lord Bai Jiu shook his head, smiling: “Thanks, but this is enough.”
Xie Siquan: “You’re not planning to stay long in Shanghai?”
Bai Jiu: “Who knows.”
Xie Siquan felt it was a loss. Frowning, he advised, “You’d just be working for someone else for free. If business thrives in five years, you’ve made their fortune; if not, your money is wasted… Brother Bai, you protected my Jing’er in the north. Don’t worry about borrowing this money—I can give it to you freely.”
Hearing this, He Dongting finally shifted his gaze from Xie Jing to Bai Jiu, “You helped Jing’er in the north?”
Xie Siquan, displeased, said, “Hey, don’t call him that casually. He’s a few years younger than me. You have the nerve to call him that?”
He Dongting replied, “Today’s family matters aside, my apologies if I embarrassed you, Mister Bai. In any case, I’ll toast you. But my capacity is limited—we’ll stick to two glasses of red wine, alright?”
He reached for the wine, but Xie Jing, seated diagonally, pressed down on the bottle and said softly, “Mr. He, I’ll do it.”
He Dongting froze, then repeatedly said, “Alright, alright.”
Watching Xie Jing pour the wine, he momentarily lost composure, coughing and hastily removing his glasses to dab at his damp eyes, hiding his embarrassment.
Xie Jing, relying on the wide table and dishes blocking the view, efficiently replaced Lord Bai Jiu’s white porcelain cup with his own. When Bai Jiu picked it up, it was indeed just water.
He glanced at Xie Jing’s cup—barely a sip had been taken.
Bai Jiu smiled faintly, discreetly pinching Xie Jing’s fingers under the table, thanking him.
He Dongting rarely drank in large quantities; usually just a few small sips. But today, he had downed several strong drinks. Even the wine Xie Jing poured, he finished without leaving a drop. Nervously, he asked, “Your name is Xie Jing?”
“Mm.”
“How old are you?”
“I…”
Xie Siquan interrupted, “Why are you talking to a child? Jing’er is too young; you won’t find common ground.”
He Dongting said, “I just felt a connection at first sight and wanted to know more.”
“Some things are better discussed later. I invited someone else for dinner—he’s about Jing’er’s age, they can talk,” Xie Siquan said, shaking his cup and smiling faintly. “Perfect, familiar faces, good to meet.”
At that moment, sounds came from the staircase. The restaurant owner personally guided two people over.
The young man with a weak appearance was He Shuwei; the other, a short and stout man in a suit wearing a gold watch, approached with a broad smile, “Boss He, long time no see. I’ve been trying to meet you. Coincidentally ran into Young Master He on the road and followed him for dinner.” He handed out business cards, hesitated slightly at Xie Jing, then offered one with a smile, “I’m Wang Yongxin, manager at Dacheng Exchange.”
Xie Jing dressed plainly but had an extraordinary presence. Wang Yongxin guessed he was the young master from a prominent family.
Wang Yongxin noticed a jade pendant casually worn by Xie Jing. Recognizing its quality, he brightened and became even more polite.
Xie Jing took the card, casually set it aside, uninterested. In recent years, countless “exchanges” opened in Shanghai, attracting investors, but most collapsed within three to five years. Bai Jiu had warned: focus on industry to save the country. Money-making schemes like this weren’t worth the effort.
Xie Jing stayed quiet.
Lord Bai Jiu, also disinterested, served Xie Jing a small dish with fish maw in steamed broth: “Be careful of bones.”
Xie Jing ate slowly. The fish maw was tender, no bones.
Wang Yongxin, who had come with He Shuwei, didn’t expect all three present to be influential figures. Excited, he talked about recent market trends to showcase his worth.
Normally, he wouldn’t care for He Shuwei, a rich second-generation heir. But with access to the He family fortune, he felt this was an opportunity for success.
He Shuwei noticed He Dongting’s grim expression, hesitated, and explained, “Father, I received a call inviting me to dinner. I didn’t know you had other guests. Met Manager Wang on the road—about the trust company, I wanted to discuss with you. Manager Wang is talented…”
He Dongting’s face darkened: “Quiet.”
He Shuwei complied, sitting quietly.
Xie Siquan snorted, “Trust company? Boss He, you’re entrusting the family fortune? Of course, you’ve found an heir, raised for over ten years—no one else could compare.”
He Dongting: “Not true.”
He Shuwei bowed, ashamed: “I acted on my own to help ease your burden.”
Xie Siquan slammed his cup down: “The elder is speaking. Who are you to interrupt?”
He Shuwei didn’t dare say “Uncle” anymore. This Sichuan master was nothing like Shanghai nobility—anger could mean punishment.
He Dongting wanted to explain, but Xie Siquan shifted focus, asking Wang Yongxin, “You know He Shuwei well?”
Wang Yongxin sensed the tension, sweating, but smiled at the elders, “Yes, familiar. He Shuwei is talented and capable; I’ve seen his drafts—they’re excellent.”
Xie Siquan lazily asked, “You often go to the He family? I hear Boss He spoils the young master?”
Wang Yongxin glanced at He Shuwei, “Yes, he’s the only son. Last year for his coming-of-age gift, he got a ship. On birthdays, charity work—any parent wants their child safe and well.”
He Dongting slammed the table: “Enough!”
Wang Yongxin choked, unsure what he said wrong.
Xie Siquan smiled broadly, propping his chin on his hand, “Why stop now? Say more, I want to hear, learn from Boss He.”
He Dongting clenched his fists, looking helplessly at Xie Jing. He couldn’t argue—the boy reminded him of all his actions.
Lord Bai Jiu served another small plate to Xie Jing. All eyes fell on the boy.
He Dongting thought Xie Jing’s careful eating—scrupulously finishing even plain vegetables—reflected all the hardships he endured, and it pained him deeply.
Wang Yongxin, realizing the tension, stuck to business topics, “This year’s chamber election, public opinion favors Boss He. Congratulations in advance.”
Xie Siquan interrupted, “I heard your members often go to places like Bailemen or Xianlesi?” He looked at Bai Jiu to confirm. “Last time at the auction, Boss He invited you to Xianlesi, right?”
Xie Jing paused eating, looked at Lord Bai Jiu, who calmly replied, “Yes, I was busy, couldn’t attend.”
Xie Siquan clicked his tongue, “What a pity. I heard there’s a famous singer called White Rose or Red Rose… rumored to be close with Boss He…”
Before he finished, He Dongting slammed the table, standing, “Say what you want, but this I never did!”
Xie Siquan mocked, “If not, then fine. I only come once or twice a year anyway.”
He Dongting, never so enraged before, felt his chest explode. Meeting Xie Jing’s gaze, a thread in his heart snapped. Never losing composure before, he now hurled the wine bottle and a cup onto the floor.
He Shuwei was shocked, never seeing his father like this. He tried to help: “Father!”
He Dongting shoved him away, “Step aside, Xie Siquan. Today, I will get the truth!”
Xie Siquan, also angry, overturned the whole table. Dishes smashed, soup splashed, staining He Dongting’s pants, and dirtying He Shuwei and Wang Yongxin’s clothes.
Xie Siquan stood, sneering, “You think you can argue with me?!” He grabbed Xie Jing: “Let’s go!”
Both groups left angrily. He Dongting, unsteady, was supported by He Shuwei, but he refused to leave, hoarse, “Let go, I’m going back to the restaurant.”
He Shuwei panicked, “Father, Uncle is furious today. They just left; better wait another day…”
He Dongting opened his eyes, “Have the driver follow them.”
He Shuwei dared not disobey.
The Bai family’s cars in Shanghai weren’t flashy, but a row of five black cars driving through gave a northern-style impression.
He Dongting’s driver followed them, but after circling, they stopped at a late-night street stall, guarded outside. No outsiders could approach.
Author’s Note: Mini Scenes
Father He wronged, slams wine cup!
Uncle immediately flips the table!
Xie Siquan: Come on, stop eating 🙂
About the street stall—
Uncle: Didn’t expect it? We can still eat another meal. Slightly, Slightly.
