Chapter 365 Signing a 10 million contract
Mr. Zheng’s last sentence – “Everyone’s money is hard-earned” – kept me awake all afternoon.
Is this sentence correct?
A scene suddenly appeared in front of my eyes, a conversation I had with Mr. Chen.
Once, Mr. Chen lamented to me that he was the same as the street vendors who fried noodles.
I asked, “Why?”
He said, "Noodle vendors have to get up early in the morning and close their stalls very late. I'm the same way. I come in early every day and often work overtime until 11 or 12 at night. If a decision is wrong, it can cost hundreds of thousands, or even millions, of dollars.
The most a noodle maker can earn is a little less that day, but they won't beg for food. In our line of work, some people actually end up begging because of poor decision-making."
Yes, the Cruz family can spend money lavishly, but it’s undeniable that their money is earned through hard work—hard work not only in terms of physical effort, but also mental effort.
I must change my sympathy for people like Luo Sheng. Luo Sheng is lazy. If he was willing to work hard, he would not live in a toilet.
Crook is not wrong to demand an obvious expectation.
I climbed out of bed and wrote three standards.
Then, he revised it again and again, crossing out all the seemingly plausible attributes, and called Mr. Zheng to learn about Cruz's previous health condition.
After thinking for a long time, I wrote down three specific criteria:
Initial recovery: You can get out of bed and move around.
Consolidation: Able to take care of oneself.
Recovery: Can return to university as a professor, go abroad, and return to the physical condition before the poisoning.
After writing these few sentences, I feel really tired.
Go to bed!
…
At 3 pm, Mr. Zheng came to the room, talked to me for a while, and then reminded me to bring my passport and ID card.
We walked out of the hotel and got into the car that came to pick us up.
When I got to Crook's house, I continued with the same acupuncture and cupping treatments I'd done that morning, and gave Cruz some Chinese medicine. After the medicine, I didn't apply any more sleep therapy to him.
Instead, he expressed the following to Crook:
"Send someone to record Cruz's sleep patterns so I can compare the effects of the medication," Crook instructed Phil, who was standing nearby.
Back in the hall, I explained the three steps of treatment, the desired goal, and the required amount to Mr. Zheng, who translated it for Crook.
Crook said something, which Mr. Zheng translated as: "Answer me in 20 minutes."
The Crook family members stood up and walked together to another house.
Mr. Zheng told me, "I also asked them that if they agree to the plan, they must find another translator. I can't stay here long-term."
I nodded, understanding Mr. Zheng's decision. As a businessman, chairman, and social activist, he has a lot to deal with.
Mr. Zheng continued, "Of course, I also suggested that the new translator should preferably be Chinese. It would be even better if he were from mainland China and has been here in the past ten years. That way, you will have the same cultural background and be able to communicate better."
I said, "That's very thoughtful of you."
We finished our discussion and are now waiting for the outcome of their discussion.
Time passed by minute by minute, and we both felt a little nervous.
I was nervous because they thought my price was too high and they would try to bargain with me. I'm really not a salesperson.
I'm more worried about my impulsive nature and whether I might do something inappropriate. For example, if they lower the price to four or five million, will I give up treatment in anger?
Because they could have spent 50 million initially, only to see their efforts go to waste, with Cruz's condition getting worse. And if I asked for 10 million, and they thought it was too expensive, I'd have reason to suspect they were feigning enthusiasm for my eldest brother's treatment, but were actually stalling treatment, waiting for Cruz to pass away.
Mr. Zheng didn't say anything. I guess he had some concerns - he was afraid that at this time, the Ke family would cause trouble and make his good intentions go to waste.
Twenty minutes passed and they still didn't come out.
Mr. Zheng looked at his watch.
I glanced at the pendulum clock in the living room, my eyes drifting away, my ears catching the click, click sound.
At this time, Crook finally came out and invited us in.
In a room that resembled a study, there was a large desk with a printed document on it. In front of the desk stood two tall chairs similar to the traditional Chinese armchairs.
Crook gestured for him to sit down.
Mr. Zheng and I sat in front of a document. I guessed it was a contract, so I looked at him. He didn't respond, but read it carefully.
Members of the K family stood behind us.
Mr. Zheng read it word by word with great concentration and composure.
Then he turned his head and said to me, "The content of the document was drafted according to the three criteria you provided. Since you don't understand English, let me explain. This document is very simple and does not contain any additional conditions that would hold you responsible if the treatment failed."
This is already quite relaxed in the Philippines. I personally guarantee that you can sign with confidence. They are Party A, and you are Party B. All three of them signed and placed their blue fingerprints. You just need to sign on the right and place your fingerprints.
I completely believed Mr. Zheng and wrote the three words "Wanshanhong" stroke by stroke.
Mr. Zheng reminded me to make three copies.
I signed three documents.
He reminded me to give my ID card and passport to Phil. Phil made copies and affixed them to the last page of the document. He then gave one copy to me and one to Mr. Zheng.
Mr. Zheng said, "Let's go to the living room now. There will be a simple ceremony." We walked into the living room together. Two cocktails were on the table.
Crook raised his glass, and I did the same.
He said something and Mr. Zheng, standing beside him, translated: I wish us a pleasant cooperation.
They clinked their glasses and drank it all in one gulp.
This kind of etiquette is strange to me. This isn't a business deal, it's medical treatment. Do I have to drink to celebrate signing a medical treatment contract?
Later, I gradually understood this contract culture. Signing a contract is a kind of cooperation, no matter what the content of the cooperation is.
We sat down and Crook said a lot to me. Mr. Zheng told me:
"To facilitate my treatment and to thank Mr. Zheng, they have hired a Chinese translator in Manila to take over Mr. Zheng's job. The translator will arrive tomorrow morning."
I nodded to show that I understood.
The contract was finally signed. The wine was drunk. Mr. Zheng left the Ke family villa.
Back in the room, Mr. Zheng said, "Since they have hired a special translator, I will meet with the translator tomorrow morning and then prepare to return to Cebu."
I was a little reluctant to leave. Mr. Zheng was so kind. He understood me, and more importantly, he could give me sound advice. He wasn't just a translator, but my backbone in the Philippines.
So, I tentatively asked, "Who is the new translator?"
He shook his head. "It's not customary to pry around here, so, like you, I currently know nothing. However, we can communicate more often. You can call me anytime. I hope Cruz gets better soon."
I said with some emotion: "I feel a little sad."
He said, "Mr. Wan, you have to believe that Kruk is a good man. He has no bad intentions. So, He Yun will still take care of your daily life. You can rest assured about everything here."
Mr. Zheng also wanted to rest. I stood up and walked him for a long, long way.
To be honest, it's like when my mother went to my grandmother's house when I was a child, and I looked at her back, hoping she would come back soon. I am reluctant to see Mr. Zheng leave.
Everyone has moments of vulnerability, especially when in a foreign country.
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