While the First Garment Factory was bustling with activity and full of energy, the Third Garment Factory was desolate and quiet.
To cut off Zhou Qiqi's escape route, Qiu Fengxian really went all out this time.
He embezzled all the money in the factory's accounts, both the obvious and the hidden, even emptying the workers' welfare funds and pension reserves.
That wasn't enough. He mortgaged the factory buildings, land, and several pieces of old equipment that were still valuable to the bank, obtaining a huge loan that could crush a person.
But the money didn't stay in the account for long; it flowed out like water, turning into raw materials.
He bought up mountains of British camel wool and those ridiculously expensive imported accessories, whatever the First Garment Factory was scrambling to buy, he bought at a premium.
They spent all their money just to barely buy all those things, and in the end, they didn't even have the money to rent another abandoned factory.
All the materials that were bought at high prices ended up just piling up in the workshop.
Qiu Fengxian reasoned that even if production started now, the clothes wouldn't sell, and he'd still have to pay for labor and utilities, which was really not worthwhile. He might as well just stop production altogether.
As a result, the garment factory, which was barely able to operate, suddenly stopped production, and the workers were given temporary leave.
The only people still busy in the factory were Qiu Fengxian's cousins.
Their only task was to keep a close watch on the First Garment Factory's movements and report back immediately if there was any disturbance.
Ten days have passed, and the scene that I had imagined—Zhang Guoqiang and Zhou Qiqi crying and begging him with money—has not yet appeared.
People who sell fabric on the black market also say that they haven't seen anyone from the First Garment Factory come to inquire about prices.
However, Qiu Fengxian was not in a hurry at all.
Every day, he would sit with his legs crossed, nestled in the large leather chair in his office, slowly sipping freshly brewed premium Longjing tea.
He had several brand-new, shiny car brochures spread out beside him, and his finger was pointing at a picture of a black Santana, as if it were already his.
When his sister-in-law, Liu Xiangqin, came to ask about the situation, he just scoffed.
"What's the rush? I have both types of fabric in my hands! So many orders are pressing down on me like death knells. Unless Zhou Qiqi can perform magic and conjure up good fabric, she'll crawl to me and beg for it!"
He was quite certain that Zhou Qiqi's struggles were merely delaying her acceptance of her fate by a few days.
Then a younger cousin came running in, panting, saying that a large truck had brought a whole load of wool fabric into the First Garment Factory in the early hours of the morning.
Qiu Fengxian's heart skipped a beat, and he almost dropped the teapot in his hand.
But after hearing the news that his cousin had found out, he learned that it was just domestic wool fabric produced by an obscure small factory in Province B.
His heart, which had been in his throat, immediately settled back into his stomach, and he even chuckled out loud.
"Made in China...made in China? Hahahaha..."
The contempt in his voice was almost overflowing, as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world.
"Is Zhou Qiqi desperate for money? Or has she lost her mind? Using domestic wool fabric? That's all inferior stuff! Dusty and limp, lacking any structure, and the dyeing is so bad it's unbearable to look at! The clothes she makes are more like clothes for a beggar!"
He was completely relieved, convinced that Zhou Qiqi was desperate and resorting to any means necessary, trying to fool him with something utterly worthless.
He even felt that he had overestimated Zhou Qiqi before.
However, Zhang Guoqiang and Zhou Qiqi haven't yet come crawling over to him begging for help, as he had expected.
This made Qiu Fengxian feel a little embarrassed, as if he had been looked down upon.
"It seems I gave the First Garment Factory too much face before!"
He stroked his chin, his eyes darting around, a sinister smile spreading across his face. He immediately called his cousins in again.
"Go, assign each of you a task. Immediately contact the major wholesalers in Huacheng who have signed contracts with the First Garment Factory, as well as the purchasing managers of those department stores."
He lowered his voice and gave the order with a stern face.
"Tell them that the First Garment Factory has completely cut off its raw material supply and can't produce any goods at all! That contractor, Zhou Qiqi, is about to lose everything and is already preparing to pack up and run away! The more dire the situation, the better! Tell them to urge the goods to arrive as fast as they can!"
His face regained that smug smile of complete control, as if he could already see the First Garment Factory being bombarded with calls demanding delivery, and Zhou Qiqi having nowhere to turn.
"Make the fire burn brighter! Burn them to death! I don't believe Zhou Qiqi can hold out for long! Sooner or later she'll have to crawl to me obediently!"
He could almost hear the delightful sound of money slipping into his pocket.
Qiu Fengxian and his relatives were incredibly nimble and efficient at engaging in such selfish and harmful activities.
The phone in the office of the First Garment Factory had been quiet for the past few days.
Just as Zhang Guoqiang had finally gotten some peace and quiet and was thinking about moving the telephone back to his office, the agonizing ringing started again like a maniac, one shrill and urgent ring after another, without ever stopping.
This time, the person on the other end of the phone wasn't just asking for delivery; their tone went far beyond simply urging for the goods to be delivered.
They were all furious, their voices so loud they almost shattered the receiver. They were either yelling about returning the goods or calculating their losses on their fingers, demanding exorbitant compensation, and their words were full of threats.
Making phone calls wasn't enough; within two days, someone even traveled all the way from out of town and blocked the entrance to the First Garment Factory.
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