Chapter Twenty-Six: Gaining Something for Nothing

“Haha, you really are impatient.” With a flick of his finger, Chu Dong sent his cigarette butt tracing a graceful arc before it landed perfectly in the trash bin outside the door.

Zhao Fan had been about to comment on Chu Dong’s almost arrogant display, but seeing the cigarette land dead center, he kept quiet. Besides, the current predicament left him curious about what Chu Dong had to say. He decided to hear him out.

“If I say I want to acquire your property at a low price, you should at least consider whether I have the means to do so,” Chu Dong said, gesturing at the Audi parked outside. “If I’m driving that old car, do you really believe I can afford to buy your building? Or are you planning to give it away for free?”

Chu Dong straightened in his seat. “I want to work with you. Of course, that’s only if you’re willing.”

“And how exactly do you propose we cooperate?” Zhao Fan was puzzled that Chu Dong still hadn’t explained his plan. These days, many young men used their connections to rake in profits with just a word. He was beginning to think Chu Dong was one of them.

“What’s your name?” Chu Dong didn’t answer, instead asking Zhao Fan in return.

“Zhao Fan. Don’t beat around the bush—just say what you mean.” Zhao Fan was growing impatient again.

“You’re President Zhao, right? Haha. I noticed your asking price isn’t too high, so you probably didn’t spend much acquiring the land.” Chu Dong glanced at Zhao Fan, then walked over to the model display. “Of course, that’s none of my business. You don’t need to worry about me doing anything behind your back. Just asking.”

“No matter what I spent, the building is still under construction, and money is bleeding out every day. My investment isn’t small, either.” Zhao Fan finished his cigarette and followed Chu Dong to the display.

“With your current prices, give me five hundred yuan per square meter above cost, and I’ll sell for you. The expenses here at the sales office are on me. How much I sell for is my business. Any surplus is mine, any loss is mine. If I can’t bring you back ten million within a month, I’ll pay you five million out of my own pocket.”

Turning to the model, Chu Dong spoke calmly and confidently.

Zhao Fan was stunned. He hadn’t expected such terms. At his current sales pace, he was spending about three hundred per square meter just on staff, and with sales stagnating for so long, the real loss was more than five hundred per square meter. Chu Dong’s proposal could pull him out of the quagmire. But was it believable?

Seeing the confusion in Zhao Fan’s eyes, Chu Dong pulled out a stack of documents from his bag. “These are copies of the properties under my name. You’re welcome to verify them. Of course, if you think you can sell everything yourself, I don’t mind having made the trip for nothing.”

Zhao Fan said nothing, but took the documents. Glancing over them, he gestured for Chu Dong to return to the sofa.

“Brother, you’re clearly not an ordinary man, but with your terms, I still wouldn’t make a profit. You know, there are palms to grease everywhere. I’m selling at this price just to break even. If I go by your offer, I’ll still be losing money.” The old fox Zhao Fan smoothed his hair—a local style meant to flatter the higher-ups—and spoke with a bitter expression.

“Then what are your terms? Let’s hear them,” Chu Dong replied, not believing a word.

“At the current price, I’ll give you two hundred per square meter. Even if you sell for ten thousand per square meter, I won’t be envious. How about that? I’m practically giving up all profit here.” Zhao Fan looked pained, as if parting with his own flesh. Anyone would think he was offering the best he could.

“Sorry for the interruption, Brother Zhao. I must have picked the wrong day. Should have checked the almanac.” Chu Dong stood up to leave, not giving Zhao Fan a chance to react.

Zhao Fan had been waiting for Chu Dong to haggle, hoping that if he raised his offer to three hundred per square meter, he could agree. But Chu Dong turned to go without a word of negotiation. Zhao Fan panicked, hurried after him, and grabbed his arm.

“Brother, brother, come on, we’re just negotiating. Why are you leaving?”

“I’m here to make money, not to risk my life.” Chu Dong was firm, peeling Zhao Fan’s hand from his arm. “You know my terms. It looks like I’m confident, but if I make a mistake, I could lose everything. You, on the other hand, could make five million without lifting a finger. Your property sells as usual—what do I get? Besides, if I didn’t know what I was doing, would I be here talking to you? Five hundred per square meter, or there’s no chance for the two of us to work together.”

“Brother, you know the saying—open with a high price, settle for a fair one. You can’t let me lose too much, can you?” Zhao Fan was finally showing signs of yielding.

“In that case, I’ll take four hundred per square meter, but you’ll have to cover promotional costs. That’s my offer. If you agree, we’ll continue; if not, I’ll just…” Chu Dong lifted his bag, ready to leave.

“Alright, it’s a deal!” Zhao Fan now saw Chu Dong as his lifeline and was terrified he’d walk out. Even at five hundred per square meter, Zhao Fan wouldn’t lose out, so he hurriedly agreed.

“Why do I feel like I’ve just walked into a trap? Is Brother Zhao really after my five million? If it’s free money, who wouldn’t take it?” Chu Dong thought to himself. If he failed, he’d need five million as a fallback, but if he succeeded, it would be like giving away money for nothing.

Zhao Fan, however, wasn’t thinking that far ahead. His mind was occupied with the pressure from the bank’s loan demands and the board of directors. The idea that Chu Dong was pulling a fast one hadn’t occurred to him at all.

“Who says so? You’re young, but you have the drive to start something of your own—that’s something to be proud of. With your abilities, if you don’t seize this chance, who knows how long you’ll have to work for it? I think our partnership is a win-win. Come, let’s discuss the details.” Zhao Fan clung to Chu Dong, almost dragging him back in from the door.

“As we discussed, let’s draft a contract. I’ll give you a fifty-thousand deposit upfront. If I fail to meet the terms, my hotel will be yours—do with it as you please, run it or auction it, I don’t care. If it’s worth more, you profit; if less, consider it an unfortunate friendship. Deal?” Chu Dong sat, pressing Zhao Fan for a decision.

“Deal. Let’s settle it today. I’ll have someone draw up the contract right away.” Zhao Fan was a local—he’d heard of Chu Dong’s hotel and knew it was worth over seven million. But it never crossed his mind that the hotel’s title deed was still held by the bank.