Chapter 45 The Clothing Store Officially Opens

Chen Pan’er was clearly struggling to keep up. Jiang Butong had no choice; he had to step in as the boss and become an employee himself, starting to promote their goods. The two of them kept busy until after nine o’clock, when the flow of customers finally began to dwindle.

Jiang Butong glanced outside. Most shops had already closed for the night; only a few restaurants still had their lights on. There were hardly any people left out for a stroll or shopping. Unexpectedly, nightlife in this town only truly began in summer. The night market would gradually take shape, eventually embarking on rapid growth.

The last customer in the shop bought a twenty-yuan T-shirt, allowing Chen Pan’er a moment’s respite.

“Business was pretty good today, wasn’t it?” Jiang Butong asked.

“Yes, I could barely manage on my own—and you didn’t even pay me,” Chen Pan’er retorted with a huff.

“We’re still in the early stages of entrepreneurship; don’t sweat the details. When it’s time for year-end dividends, you’ll be happy with the tens of thousands in your hand,” Jiang Butong painted her a rosy future.

“Do you know how much we sold today?” Chen Pan’er said.

“How much?”

“Over eight hundred,” she replied, still surprised by their first day’s turnover.

“Not bad. Keep it up. If you feel overwhelmed, I’ll hire another shop assistant,” Jiang Butong offered.

“No need, I can still handle it. When it really gets busy, we can hire someone then,” Chen Pan’er conceded. She was only complaining for the sake of it—hiring someone would mean wages coming out of the shop’s revenue, which would cut into her dividend.

“By the way, I’ll give you a sales list later. You need to keep up with restocking. If you hadn’t brought back merchandise in time today, we would’ve lost that customer for nothing,” she reminded him.

“All right. Gather your things and let’s close up. I’ll treat you to dinner,” Jiang Butong said, knowing he’d worked her hard today and began pondering recruitment.

Once Chen Pan’er finished tidying up, Jiang Butong turned off the lights and locked the door.

“Where shall we eat?” Chen Pan’er asked. She’d managed to save several thousand yuan this summer. Usually, she was quite frugal—last time, she treated Jiang Butong after selling tapes, spending over a hundred yuan, which pained her deeply.

“Let’s go to the private kitchen. Haven’t been to Old Chen’s in a while,” Jiang Butong started the car.

These days, he was the one using the car most often: Chen Sheng didn’t need it, Jiang Yuan couldn’t drive, so it was just him, shuttling between the wholesale market, restaurants, and the clothing store.

“Fine, but remember to pay. Don’t keep eating and forgetting to pay,” Chen Pan’er reminded.

“Got it,” Jiang Butong replied, driving toward the private kitchen.

With Old Chen’s temper, even if I pay him, he’d throw the money back at me and grumble, “Butong, who do you think you’re insulting?”

A few minutes later, Jiang Butong and Chen Pan’er arrived at the private kitchen. Previously, the Chen family restaurant had hired a new chef, while Chen Sheng spent most of his time overseeing the private kitchen.

He had no choice—the private kitchen was thriving. Now, with business on track, daily revenue was steady at five or six thousand yuan, while the Chen family restaurant, being smaller, could only manage two or three thousand at most.

Jiang Butong led Chen Pan’er through the glass door. Inside, the place was ablaze with light and noise; crates of beer were being carried from the storeroom, and almost every seat in the main hall was filled.

The waiters here recognized Jiang Butong and Chen Pan’er, greeting them warmly. Jiang Butong headed for the kitchen, where Chen Sheng and Jiang Dazhuang were busy stir-frying dishes. Two additional helpers had been hired for prep and odd jobs.

Chen Sheng noticed Jiang Butong and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Where have you been these days? Haven’t seen you around,” Chen Sheng asked.

“Busy with the clothing shop—today was opening day,” Jiang Butong replied.

Jiang Dazhuang finally saw him and laughed, “Butong, don’t leave just yet. It’s been so long since we all ate together.”

“Didn’t we just eat together a couple of days ago?” Jiang Butong teased. He could see how Dazhuang’s culinary skills had improved, becoming more proficient; he’d heard that he now handled most of the simpler dishes.

The restaurant’s division of labor was clear: Chen Sheng managed the complex dishes, while Jiang Dazhuang handled stir-fries and cold dishes.

“Why didn’t you tell us your clothing shop was opening? We could’ve come to support you,” Chen Sheng said, sounding anxious.

“It’s just a small affair, nothing worth making a fuss about,” Jiang Butong replied, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, then handing one to Chen Sheng.

“That won’t do. A shop opening deserves a celebration—only then will business flourish,” Chen Sheng insisted, superstition written all over his face.

“All right then, tomorrow—you all come over,” Jiang Butong agreed, chatting with them for a bit.

Originally, he’d planned to mooch a meal, but seeing how busy Chen Sheng was, he waited until after ten o’clock, when the crowd thinned and Jiang Dazhuang finally cooked a few dishes.

Chen Sheng, still in his chef’s uniform, invited Jiang Butong and Chen Pan’er to eat.

Now, with more staff in the private kitchen, one table wasn’t enough—they needed two. Chen Sheng, Jiang Butong, Jiang Dazhuang, and Chen Pan’er sat at one table; the remaining five employees took the other.

“Want a drink?” Chen Sheng asked Jiang Butong.

“No drinking when driving,” Jiang Butong waved him off.

“What kind of rule is that?” Chen Sheng poured him a full glass anyway.

Jiang Butong paused, realizing that drunk driving wasn’t yet a criminal offense, but for his own safety, he’d best drink sparingly.

“Butong, have a bit more. Last time you came you didn’t drink,” Jiang Dazhuang urged.

These days, Dazhuang was eating well at the restaurant and was getting rounder.

“How come Jiang Yuan didn’t come with you today? I thought he’d be here,” Chen Sheng wondered. He liked to drink with Jiang Yuan—they were infamous for their stamina, able to drink from dusk till dawn.

“Butong, why didn’t you bring Yuan along? Heard he’s doing really well these days,” Jiang Dazhuang laughed. Last time Jiang Yuan came, he’d even styled his hair with mousse—looked quite dashing.

“I didn’t see him at the parking lot today. Seems he’s been hanging out by the video arcade,” Jiang Butong said.

“Come on, let’s eat. Pan’er, help yourself,” Chen Sheng urged.

The meal was lively and cheerful, swept away like a storm. The best part was the crowd—the atmosphere was perfect for dining.

...

The next morning, Metebon Clothing officially opened. Chen Sheng, Jiang Yuan, and Jiang Butong were all present. Wang Yun wanted to come but was tied up at her own shop.

Jiang Yuan and Chen Sheng bought balloons and flowers to decorate the entrance.

“Ah, now it feels right,” Chen Sheng said, satisfied.

Chen Pan’er rolled out opening day promotions: two items at twenty percent off, three items at thirty percent off, and special T-shirts starting at 9.9 yuan.

There were already plenty of onlookers nearby; seeing the promotions, they flocked into the store.

Jiang Dazhuang grabbed Jiang Butong, looking worried. “Butong, those 9.9 yuan T-shirts—are you selling at a loss? Don’t go losing money.”

“Don’t worry, Dazhuang. You know Butong—he’s never lost money on a deal,” Chen Sheng drawled, cigarette dangling from his lips.

He had come to trust Jiang Butong deeply; he never did unprofitable business. What seemed like a loss now would surely pay off later.

“The T-shirt cost eight yuan wholesale,” Jiang Butong whispered.

“Damn! I knew you’d never lose money,” Chen Sheng choked.

“Butong, when will you get me some clothes to wear?” Jiang Yuan, finished with the balloons, came over.

“Anytime. You guys just pick what you like and put it on my tab,” Jiang Butong said, patting his chest.

“Chen, want to go browse?” Jiang Yuan suggested.

“Let’s go—no point passing up a good thing,” Chen Sheng replied, following Jiang Yuan into the shop.

“Dazhuang, why aren’t you going in?” Jiang Butong noticed him still standing outside.

“I’ll pass—I’m not interested in clothes. Don’t want you losing money over me,” Dazhuang replied with a hearty laugh.

He really was a straightforward fellow.

All morning, the shop was bustling. Chen Pan’er was overwhelmed, so Jiang Butong, as the boss, joined the sales floor. Seeing the situation, Chen Sheng sent Dazhuang back to the restaurant to fetch the cashier girl to help out.

Jiang Yuan had originally wanted to bring his buddies, but Chen Sheng stopped him.