Chapter Thirty-Three: Work Comes Again

“No, no, absolutely not. This is extortion—blatant extortion!” Chu Dong paced back and forth in the room, adamantly refusing no matter how much Qiangzi pestered him.

“Come on, you’re being unreasonable. You won’t even spare three million? Fine, three million and I’ll give you both advertising spots.” Qiangzi looked heartbroken, as if he were suffering a huge loss.

“If you’re my brother, don’t haggle anymore. I can’t let you lose face, either. Here’s the deal: one million, flat, and I’ll only use one spot. The other one, you can keep for other clients—but I have one condition.” Chu Dong was only teasing Qiangzi; besides, those two ad spots would be lucky to fetch a million at best.

Imitating Fu Biao’s famous catchphrase, Qiangzi replied, “Say whatever condition you want. If I can do it, no problem. If I can’t, well…” He spread his hands. “Then I can’t do anything about it, can I?”

“Oh, stop it. I know you too well.” Chu Dong sat down. “Your ad for other sponsors has to follow my plan.”

“That’s easy, saves me the trouble of designing it myself. With that time, I could take on more jobs.” Qiangzi was more than happy with this arrangement.

Two days later, Qiangzi barged into Chu Dong’s room without knocking, pointing and gesticulating for a while before catching his breath.

“So this is why you were so generous, offering to design the ad for me—you never intended to let me bring in other sponsors!”

“Isn’t that a sponsor recruitment ad up there?” Chu Dong put down his pen and smiled at Qiangzi.

“Sure, it’s a sponsor recruitment ad.” Qiangzi flopped into a chair. “But look at it—‘Annual rent five million.’ Who in their right mind would spend five million a year on an ad there?”

“Well, didn’t I do it?” Chu Dong crossed his legs and tilted his head as he regarded his childhood friend.

“Damn, I just realized—you’re advertising yourself in disguise!” Qiangzi slapped his thigh, suddenly enlightened.

“Hahaha…” Chu Dong burst out laughing, unable to straighten up from the joy.

“You little fox, so that’s why you only wanted one spot for a million. You set me up!” Qiangzi was filled with regret.

“One million isn’t too little, is it? I’ve done the math, that’s the market value. I haven’t shortchanged you.” Chu Dong handed over a fine bottle of red wine and passed Qiangzi a glass.

“The thing is, a few days ago I called my old man and bragged I’d sell the spots for at least one and a half million. Who knew you’d pull this kind of trick on me. Looks like I’ve talked my living expenses away again. All because I chose the wrong friend.” Qiangzi took the glass and snatched the bottle. “I swear, I’ll drink you out of house and home. A sly fox like you deserves this kind of retribution. No, I’m calling Haozi over too. Between the two of us, we’ll empty your wine cellar tonight.”

Just as Qiangzi had said, Chu Dong had played a clever trick. The two massive billboards facing each other at the train station were impossible to miss—visible from over two hundred meters away, right in the bustling heart of Dalian. Few passersby could ignore them. One side featured an image ad for Anju Real Estate Planning; the other was a sponsor recruitment ad designed by Chu Dong. Anyone with half an eye could tell the two billboards were of equal value.

So even if people didn’t pay much attention to Anju Real Estate Planning at first, seeing the other side advertising a five million annual sponsorship would inevitably make them take a second look.

Think about it: someone capable of spending five million yuan for a year’s outdoor advertising in a city like Dalian—where billboards rarely fetch over a million—must have tremendous strength and courage. The impression it left was deep. This is called imprinting by contrast, or repeated memory.

Chu Dong’s play was nothing short of brilliant. He didn’t care if people questioned whether spending five million on an ad was worth it, or if they thought he was crazy. All he needed was for Anju Real Estate Planning to become widely known in the shortest possible time.

In Chu Dong’s mind, what is a name brand? A brand is one that is famous, universally known, a household name. If you mention it and no one’s heard of it, what kind of brand is that?

That five-million sponsorship ad was really just a foil for his other ad. He deliberately created a controversial topic, and didn’t mind if it became a joke or idle talk—what he feared was going unnoticed.

And so, in less than a week, word spread in the industry about a miraculous planning firm that had salvaged Tianxiang’s failed investment. Soon, more and more people were talking about Anju Real Estate Planning. This company, barely two months old, was rapidly becoming a household name.

“Your family’s blockhead must have had his head slammed in a door—five million for an outdoor ad? Has he got any sense at all?” Li Youlan strolled through the mall arm-in-arm with Tan Xue, unable to resist bringing up Chu Dong again.

“What’s it got to do with me? He’s not spending my money.” Tan Xue rolled her eyes helplessly. She’d given up correcting Youlan’s habit of calling Chu Dong ‘her family’s’—she was too tired to care.

“Not your money now, but it’ll all be yours in the future! The way he burns through cash. I heard he made a bundle recently—if you listened to me, you’d marry him now and keep a tight hold on those finances before he blows it all. Men just don’t know how to manage money.”

“Enough. Either change the subject, or I’ll ask my dad to send you to manage my affairs. Honestly, you care more about that idiot than I do.” Tan Xue was at her wits’ end. She’d just escaped her nagging parents for some peace, only to have Youlan sounding as obsessed as them.

“Dream on. I only care because I feel bad for you, not for that blockhead.” Li Youlan pouted. “Hey, look at that dress—so pretty! Come on, I want to try it on.” She dragged Tan Xue into a boutique.

“Bro, I need your help again. If you nail this job, I’m telling you, fame will find you whether you want it or not.” After pulling an all-nighter, Chu Dong hadn’t even finished his current project when Zhao Fan called, mysterious as always.

“Brother, just tell me what you need. I’m only afraid of not having enough work. As for how good it’ll be, I’ll do my best.” Phone wedged between ear and shoulder, Chu Dong tidied his desk and switched off the lamp that had been burning all night.

“I know how capable you are. This is nothing for you.” Zhao Fan was no longer as arrogant as when he first met Chu Dong—he’d learned to flatter.

“Zhao, don’t try to butter me up for a discount. I’ll charge every penny I’m owed. You know, I need the money to get married!” Chu Dong replied with playful ease.

“Let’s talk in person. Zixuan Teahouse, two thirty. Don’t be late.” Zhao Fan could tell Chu Dong was tired, so he set the meeting for later.

“No problem, I’ve been waiting for your call, God of Fortune.” Chu Dong hung up, set his alarm, and collapsed onto the bed, instantly asleep.