"Hangzhou cuisine is good, and the flavors are quite popular."
"How about Hangzhou cuisine? The salary... thirty yuan a month, is that okay?"
Secretary Liu's smile froze.
With a monthly salary of thirty, in a place like Shanghai, you probably couldn't even hire a dishwasher, let alone a chef.
Seeing the troubled look on Secretary Liu's face, Zhang Duotian suddenly had an idea and asked, "Secretary Liu, how much does a head chef at the Peace Hotel earn per month?"
Secretary Liu shrugged: "I don't know the specifics, it's a trade secret. But I reckon you can forget about earning less than three hundred yuan a month."
What?
Three hundred yuan a month?
Or the minimum?
Li Fuguo's face instantly turned a deep purplish-red; his earlier comment of thirty yuan was utterly ridiculous.
"Three hundred a month, that's three thousand six a year... It's just cooking a few dishes, why should I pay?" he muttered, full of resentment.
Zhang Duotian's eyes flickered, and he gritted his teeth, saying resolutely, "Secretary Liu, three hundred and fifty! Three hundred and fifty a month, you help us find two famous chefs!"
Secretary Liu shook his head directly.
"With 350 yuan, you can't hire a famous chef. Besides, they'd have to leave their hometown to go to Funing. Nobody's willing to move unless they get 600 yuan a month."
"What the hell? Six hundred!"
Li Fuguo was completely furious. Six hundred a month, two would be twelve thousand a month, and the salary alone would be fourteen thousand four thousand a year!
He wondered if the restaurant could earn that much in a year.
"I'm not looking anymore! I'm not looking in Shanghai anymore! It's too damn shady!" Li Fuguo waved his hand angrily.
Secretary Liu helplessly spread his hands: "In Shanghai these days, good chefs are highly sought after, and all the major restaurants are vying for them. To put it bluntly, even if you really offered six hundred, you might not be able to hire anyone."
Li Fuguo shook his head vigorously.
"We're not looking anymore. The salary is too high; we can't afford it."
"Oh well."
...
Meanwhile, on Hong Kong Island.
Shallow Bay.
Zhang Zhongming was wearing floral shorts, shirtless, and flip-flops; his bronze skin gleamed oily under the blazing sun.
He sat quietly at the bow of a small fishing boat, like a silent statue.
Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and a cold glint flashed in them.
In the distance, a small truck is driving along the coastal highway.
He lightly patted the bronze plate beside him with his backhand.
"Bang!"
With a soft sound, four figures immediately emerged from the cabin, each exuding a fierce aura and possessing wolf-like eyes.
The leader, Ah Long, had a hideous, centipede-like scar above his right eye, making him look extremely fierce and completely different from when he was in Jiaxing.
The truck came to a stop, and a bald man jumped out of the passenger seat, laughing as he walked toward Zhang Zhongming.
"Brother Ming, long time no see! I heard you've been really impressive lately, even taking down the Red Flower Double Sticks of Hung Hing in Causeway Bay!"
Zhang Zhongming merely glanced at him coldly, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper were being rubbed.
How much stock?
The bald man's smile froze, and his gaze unconsciously fell on Zhang Zhongming's neck.
There, a long, shocking scar stood out, as if it might split open at any moment.
"Two hundred DVDs, one hundred pagers." The bald man's smile returned. "Brother Ming, you have quite the appetite, can you handle it all?"
Zhang Zhongming did not answer, but instead gave Ah Long a wink.
Ah Long tossed a heavy black handbag over.
“Count them.”
"Hahaha, no need to count! I trust Brother Ming!" the bald man said, but his hand had already unzipped his pants.
He glanced at the neatly stacked banknotes inside and smiled even more broadly: "Brother Ming, come to Portland Street sometime, I'll treat you to a good time! Earning so much money is just like paper if you don't spend it!"
Zhang Zhongming remained expressionless, waved his hand, and signaled his men to start moving the goods.
The transaction was completed in about half an hour.
"Bye-bye, Brother Ming!" The bald man climbed into the car and drove off.
Zhang Zhongming jumped onto the small boat, watching the departing truck, his cold, hoarse voice echoing in the sea breeze.
"From now on, I won't get my goods from that bald guy anymore."
"Brother Ming, why? Why would he dare to smear us?" one of his men asked, puzzled.
Zhang Zhongming squinted, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
“We’ve made way too much money off him.”
“If he gets greedy, we won’t be his money-making gods, but his fat sheep.”
The people on the boat fell silent instantly, a chill rising from the bottom of their hearts.
Zhang Zhongming said no more, only saying to himself, "Set sail, to Shenzhen!"
"good!"
...
Shanxi.
In the darkness, a heavy truck loaded with black coal bumped along the national highway.
Inside the coal pile in the truck bed, Brother Dao was completely blackened, except for his eyes, which shone eerily in the darkness.
A figure silently crawled up to his side; it was Cheng Agou, who was also covered in coal dust.
He lowered his voice, his tone carrying a hint of urgency and excitement.
"Brother Dao, there's a tunnel ahead, we... can jump out of the car now!"
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