Chapter 55 Plagiarism

Chapter 55: Copycat

Within days, Jiang Luo learned Li Fengrui's next move.

On the third floor of Pacific Department Store, a new women's clothing store named "Weilanido" appeared. Not only were the clothes sold there nearly identical to those at their own Vilanido, with the same pricing and identical store layout, but even the model poster at the entrance featured the same Caucasian girl.

Moreover, the counter had opened so quickly—it hadn't been long since their meal together on East Nanjing Road.

Jiang Luo realized Li Fengrui had prepared this in advance.

So, this was his tactic.

Jiang Luo personally saw this "Weilanido" at Pacific Department Store, smiled faintly, without much thought, and soon turned to leave.

When his colleagues found out, they reacted strongly, buzzing with opinions:

"How can they copy like this?"

"Exactly! Even the name is identical, just missing a radical."

"We need to confront them. What do they mean by this?"

"Right, let's confront them!"

Jiang Luo remained calm. When he received a call from Wang Chuang, who was out of town, listening to him rant about how they couldn’t just copy them, Jiang Luo said lightly, "Have you forgotten? Back in the small market, the stuff we sold was also copied from those foreign brands and Hong Kong goods."

Wang Chuang argued, "But that’s different!"

"We might copy, but we sell under our own name—we don’t use the same brand!"

"How can they call themselves 'Weilanido'? They’re clearly riding on our coattails!"

Jiang Luo said calmly, "Yes, they are. What are you going to do about it?"

"Go there and trash the place?"

"Sue them?"

Wang Chuang: "I…"

"But they can’t just copy us!"

Wang Chuang understood Jiang Luo’s attitude and was taken aback: "No, aren't you worried?"

"They’re using the same name, selling the same clothes, at the same price. Not only are they riding on our coattails, they’re making money that should be ours!"

"They’re stealing our money!"

"Taking it right out of our pockets!"

"How can you be so calm?"

Jiang Luo said unhurriedly, "What can we do? We can’t trash the place, suing them takes time, and we can’t shut them down. If I’m not calm, should I go cry at their doorstep?"

Jiang Luo added, "Li Fengrui isn’t really going all out against me."

"If he truly wanted me gone, he could have just burned my factory to the ground."

Like what happened to him in his previous life.

"Damn it!"

Wang Chuang was alarmed: "That’s not possible, is it? He wouldn't do that, would he?"

Jiang Luo snorted, "Why do you think it’s impossible?"

"Rejecting him means I’ve offended him."

"He’s not an ordinary person."

"If he were to take serious action, why would it just be copying a brand?"

Jiang Luo said musingly, almost sarcastically, "We should thank Young Master Li."

"If it weren’t for Young Master Li’s 'magnanimity,' we might not even have a factory anymore."

"And if a few factory workers died, I could land in prison."

Just like in his previous life.

The year 1990 was an era of nascent capitalism, gradually baring its teeth, where anything could happen.

Jiang Luo didn’t fixate on Li Fengrui’s "Weilanido" and didn’t allow the company’s staff to dwell on it either.

When he soon discovered that "Weilanido" had even copied several new designs that his factory had just finished—designs that hadn’t even hit their own counters yet—Jiang Luo directly had his design drafts delivered to Li Fengrui.

Li Fengrui, at home, paged through the design sketches Jiang Luo had sent. He found that they included not only winter clothing but also new spring designs for the following year.

As he looked through them, Li Fengrui sensed a hint of provocation, but along with the sketches was a note with a line of text that read:

"Here are the original drafts, so you won’t have to trouble yourself sending people to the factory to look for sample clothes.

Business is for everyone.

I once heard an entrepreneur say: Why go into the food business? So that every citizen can eat affordable, quality meals.

Why sell appliances? So that in the future, everyone can watch color TVs and use refrigerators and washing machines.

I’m not an entrepreneur, just a merchant.

But if in the future, everyone can wear affordable, quality clothes I designed, with wardrobes full of choices, then I think that would be pretty great.

What do you think, Young Master Li?"

Li Fengrui reread the note several times, his brow lightly furrowed.

He understood—Jiang Luo sending the original drafts wasn’t meant to provoke him but to genuinely let him use the designs to make clothes.

Jiang Luo plainly didn’t care if someone copied his brand.

Entrepreneur...

Everyone can...

Having received an elite education from a young age, Li Fengrui didn’t harbor such ideals or aspirations, and reading this didn’t stir him much.

But he grasped somewhat that Jiang Luo likely wasn’t just in it to build a brand to make money.

His ambitions reached far higher.

At this point, Li Fengrui somewhat understood Jiang Luo's remark about "people with different paths can't work together."

Indeed, Jiang Luo and he had different goals, different ways of thinking, and entirely different paths.

Li Fengrui felt a bit disdainful—hmph, "everyone can"? Did Jiang Luo think he was some leader serving the nation and its people?

Curious, he wanted to see what Jiang Luo could actually accomplish.

He also couldn't help wondering: Who was that entrepreneur?

Who taught Jiang Luo all this?

Who was Jiang Luo working with in business?

Early morning, at the Hilton restaurant, Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzhuo were having breakfast together.

Huo Zongzhuo was flipping through some documents, looking quite focused. He hadn't eaten much breakfast, having only taken a couple sips of the milk Jiang Luo had brought over earlier.

Jiang Luo, while eating, glanced at Huo Zongzhuo and casually asked, "Has the floor price been announced?"

"Once your land is developed, the price per square meter probably won't be less than 6,000 yuan, right?"

"Hmm."

Huo Zongzhuo kept his head down, still reading: "The price isn't low."

He added, "Real estate is important, and the country values it. It'll be needed for future GDP."

Jiang Luo thought for a moment while eating: "If housing prices are high, how can ordinary people afford to buy?"

"Will there ever be high-quality, affordable housing that everyone can buy?"

Huo Zongzhuo still didn't look up: "As the economy develops, some will get rich, some won't."

"If the economy doesn't grow, everyone stays poor, and so does the country."

"There's a saying: you can't have both the fish and the bear's paw."

"Progress follows a spiral path; it's seldom perfect."

"My view is that we should develop the economy first, then figure out how to achieve 'communism.'"

Jiang Luo raised an eyebrow and nodded, though it wasn't clear if he fully understood.

Huo Zongzhuo finally looked up and smiled: "Was that too profound or idealistic? Didn't quite get it?"

Jiang Luo shrugged, indifferent: "Whether I understand or not isn't important."

With a curious tone, he asked: "Since you care about both the country and people's livelihoods, why not work in the public sector?"

Huo Zongzhuo took a sip of milk and looked back at his documents, replying gently: "The country doesn't lack politicians or leaders."

"What the country needs are entrepreneurs who can transform local economies."

"Entrepreneurs can do more and are more flexible than leaders within the system."

Jiang Luo smiled without comment, just recalling Huo Zongzhuo's phrase "everyone can" from a previous life.

So, why was it that back then, even though Huo Zongzhuo would give him the cold shoulder, Jiang Luo—someone who bore grudges—could never bring himself to dislike this man?

Because Huo Zongzhuo was a principled entrepreneur with ideals and a sense of national purpose.

Jiang Luo couldn't scorn him; he genuinely admired and looked up to him.

"The steamed buns are cold."

Jiang Luo reminded him, "Put that aside for now."

He reached over, took the stack of documents, and set them aside.

"Eat first."

Only then did Huo Zongzhuo stop and start eating breakfast, asking Jiang Luo: "What's your day looking like?"

Jiang Luo joked: "Guess."

Huo Zongzhuo: "Going to the factory?"

Jiang Luo, with a playful shrug: "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Two hours later, Jiang Luo's car pulled up in front of a Bank of China on a street in Minhang District.

Jiang Luo got out, and a tall, slim figure in a suit quickly came out of the bank, approaching warmly to shake his hand: "You must be Boss Jiang. Hello, hello."

"Did you have a smooth drive? It's quite cold today—there's frost on the roadsides."

"Come, let's head to the office inside."

"I have all the paperwork ready; we can talk inside."

The person was named Qian Heng, a client manager in the bank's credit department. Young, he'd just graduated from university last year and started doing business on his own this year.

Qian Heng wasn't from Haicheng; he graduated from Tongji University and stayed in the city. With no connections or background, he joined the bank and ended up in the credit department, where his performance consistently ranked at the bottom.

Coincidentally, when Jiang Luo called the credit department a few days ago, Qian Heng happened to answer.

After briefly discussing Jiang Luo's loan inquiry over the phone, Qian Heng scheduled a meeting for today at the bank.

Qian Heng was still a rookie. Leading Jiang Luo to the meeting room, he went to fetch a thermos to pour water and nearly scalded his hand—he was all thumbs.

Jiang Luo found it amusing and quietly suppressed a smile.

Taking the tea, Jiang Luo couldn't resist teasing: "Are you sure you've got this, Manager Qian? If not…"

"OK, OK," Qian Heng said, heading out while looking back: "I'll go get the materials; please wait a moment."

Soon, Qian Heng returned and sat with Jiang Luo at the conference table. Looking down at the documents, he asked haltingly: "You're looking for a loan, Boss Jiang?"

"Yes," Jiang Luo replied calmly.

Qian Heng glanced at the materials again, stammering: "Do you have any assets?"

He clarified: "Assets like property, cash, and so on. The car you came in also counts."

Jiang Luo, composed: "I don't own a house. The car you saw is rented. There's about 150,000 yuan in cash in my bank account."

"I have an import-export business, and registered under the company are also apparel brands and several trademarks."

"I also have an apparel factory in Juxiang Town, Jiading District."

"My funds aren't in personal accounts; they're all in the company's account."

I see.

Qian Heng listened carefully, taking notes on a piece of paper.

Qian Heng: "May I ask about your company's line of business?"

Jiang Luo: "Apparel design, production, sales, and also toys..."

Qian Heng made notes while listening.

Qian Heng asked again: "The factory is also yours, correct?"

Jiang Luo: "Yes."

Qian Heng: "What are your trademarks?"

Jiang Luo: "'Shengfei®', 'Seven Joys Childhood®', 'Vilanido®'."

They covered the basics of the company's situation.

Qian Heng: "Which segment of your business is currently the most profitable?"

Jiang Luo: "Vilanido in the department stores."

"There are three locations in Haicheng, and one in a department store in Jinling."

Qian Heng nodded: "What's your monthly revenue?"

Jiang Luo: "Previously, there was only one location in Haicheng, but we recently opened two new locations."

"With just one location, the monthly revenue in November was about 600,000 RMB."

Six hundred thousand?

That's significant!

Qian Heng nodded repeatedly, secretly impressed: "Then business is really quite good."

Indeed.

Jiang Luo was completely unfazed.

Qian Heng reviewed his notes he had written on the paper and by now had a decent grasp of Jiang Luo's situation.

He finally asked: "So, how much do you want to borrow?"

Jiang Luo stared at Qian Heng: "Ten million RMB."

Sorry?

How much?

Qian Heng thought he didn't catch that.

Jiang Luo: "Ten million RMB."

This time, Qian Heng heard it clearly, and his eyes widened noticeably as he looked at Jiang Luo.

How much!?

Ten million?

Ten? Million!?

Qian Heng gaped at Jiang Luo, half wondering if he was dreaming.

He couldn't tell if Jiang Luo was dreaming or if he was the one dreaming.

Ten million.

That's ten! Million!