Chapter 9: Are you sure this isn't a case of taking the money and running?

Meanwhile, in the rented apartment where Liang Yuzhu lived, she lay listlessly on the sofa, quietly staring at the ceiling, her mind replaying Wang Yang’s words from yesterday.

Since partnering with Wang Yang to start the company, her thoughts had never ceased—either worrying about potential losses or wondering how long it would take before the company turned a profit.

Now, things had improved; the company was finally making money. But just yesterday, Wang Yang had successfully saddled her with a thirty-million loan.

Thirty million...

If Wang Yang failed to make money, she might never repay such a sum in her lifetime.

Yet Wang Yang had promised her they would definitely earn money—and at least five times that amount...

Five times that sum would be over a hundred million...

She had never even seen such an amount in her life.

With that thought, a faint smile gradually appeared on her previously expressionless face.

Ringing.

At that moment, her phone beside her lit up, the ringtone urgent.

Liang Yuzhu immediately looked down, nervously picking up the phone. Seeing the caller was Meng Manman, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hello, Manman, what’s up?” Liang Yuzhu answered, a trace of confusion in her voice.

Meng Manman’s tone was urgent: “Yuzhu, you didn’t agree to Wang Yang’s loan yesterday, right? You didn’t actually go to the bank to take out a loan, did you?”

“Ah…” Liang Yuzhu’s gaze wandered, unsure where to rest it. She gripped the sofa fabric nervously, her toes curling together. “What’s wrong, Manman? Did something happen?”

“I just saw that Wang Yang posted on Weibo!” Meng Manman said anxiously.

Liang Yuzhu paused. “Posted on Weibo? What’s... wrong with that?”

“It’s a big problem!” Meng Manman corrected her. “I just found out that during a recent livestream for your company, there was an accident.”

“What?” Liang Yuzhu grew more nervous, sweat beading on her palms.

“There were a lot of trolls during the livestream, demanding that Wang Yang lower the price of an F22 fighter jet. He agreed! And now, he’s in the U.S., claiming he’s going there to buy fighter jets!” Meng Manman poured out all the details, her voice filled with anger.

“Buy... fighter jets?” Liang Yuzhu’s eyes widened in disbelief.

She instinctively wanted to say, “That can’t be,” but she swallowed the words.

After all, Wang Yang had told her he was going to stock up and that it would cost a lot, but never said anything about buying fighter jets...

Though, to be fair, Wang Yang hadn’t specified what exactly he was buying.

“That’s exactly what he said,” Meng Manman said firmly. “So, I think Wang Yang is planning to run off with the money. Before fleeing, he wants you to take out a loan in the company’s name so he can take the company’s funds and escape easily.”

“But... if Wang Yang runs off with the money, he’ll face legal consequences. That’s embezzlement of company funds and punishable by law,” Liang Yuzhu explained.

She was not unfamiliar with such matters—in fact, she was well versed. She often studied legal regulations, thinking that even though Wang Yang handled operations and earnings, she could learn enough to assist him when needed. Even if she couldn’t help him directly, gaining knowledge was beneficial.

Meng Manman felt overwhelmed. “My goodness, he’s already fled to the U.S. Do you really expect the police in Jiuzhou to cross the ocean to catch him? Many who flee to the U.S. are never brought back.”

“Hmm...” Liang Yuzhu responded softly, lowering her head.

Meng Manman asked again, “I’ll ask you one last time: Are you absolutely sure you didn’t go to the bank to take out that loan?”

“No... I didn’t,” Liang Yuzhu hesitated, choosing not to reveal the truth to her best friend.

Deep down, she believed Wang Yang wasn’t the kind to run off with the money.

When he first approached her, explained the business, and detailed the matters, she transferred all her money to him that very night.

The next day, Wang Yang came to her, helped set up the company, handled the paperwork—everything was ready. She only needed to sign, appear briefly, and complete the formalities.

If Wang Yang truly intended to flee with the money, why didn’t he do it at the start? Now, it was too late.

“Manman, I think Wang Yang hasn’t fled to the U.S. He’s probably really there to stock up. The fighter jet thing might just be a way to shut down the trolls,” Liang Yuzhu patiently explained.

Meng Manman sighed helplessly. “Fine, whatever he’s doing in the U.S., the point is, he’s there now. And since you didn’t take out a loan with him, well...”

She hesitated, then said, “Forget it. If something happens, we’ll deal with it then.”

“Yuzhu, you really need to be careful. Don’t let Wang Yang fool you,” Meng Manman warned earnestly.

“I know,” Liang Yuzhu replied.

After hanging up, she set the phone down gently on the sofa, her eyes fixed on the empty living room, her thoughts swirling.

After a moment, she picked up her phone again, opened Weibo, and found Wang Yang’s account.

Reading his latest post, her expression changed briefly before returning to its previous calm.

Wang Yang... shouldn’t really be buying fighter jets in the U.S., right?

After all, those aren’t things anyone can just buy. It must be a tactic to silence the trolls.

With that in mind, she quietly put the phone down, resumed her previous posture, and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

...

United States.

A black SUV stopped in front of a building emblazoned with the words “Lockheed Martin.”

After stepping out, Wang Yang adjusted his suit and looked up at the architecturally striking building, feeling a surge of admiration.

If only I owned a company like this, wouldn’t life be wonderful?

Lockheed Martin was one of the world’s top ten arms manufacturers, a powerhouse.

Of course, this was not the headquarters but a small branch, and Joel Mijas was merely the branch president.

Guided by the driver, Wang Yang and Jiang Liangliang entered the company.

After routine security checks confirmed no firearms or weapons, they were allowed in.

Unlike the intimidating image often associated with arms companies, there were no frightening weapons on display or armed guards patrolling. Everyone wore sharp suits, their hairstyles neat and tidy.

If not for the various gun displays and supply chain diagrams on the walls, one could hardly tell it was an arms company.

After a brief glance at these, Wang Yang was led to the president’s office.

“Mr. Mijas, Mr. Wang Yang from Jiuzhou has arrived,” the staff member announced, knocking lightly on the door.

Upon hearing “Enter” from inside, the staff opened the door, bowed slightly, and gestured for them to come in.

“Welcome, my friend,” said Joel Mijas, a nearly two-meter-tall, dark-skinned man with deep-set eyes behind thin silver-framed glasses and full lips.

They exchanged a brief hug and sat together on the sofa.

“Coffee or tea?” Mijas asked first.

“Tea, two cups,” Wang Yang replied.

The assistant nodded and immediately went to prepare the drinks.

“I want to know why you want to buy these two fighter jets. They’re just shells, and even cut up,” Mijas asked casually, leaning back.

Wang Yang relaxed too, unbuttoning his jacket. “To you, these might be scrapped, discarded metal, but to me, these are treasures!”

“I plan to restore the cut parts. Once repaired, they’d be great for display or collection.”

Mijas smiled and shook his head. “Restore? No, no, no, my friend. I advise against restoration unless you’re willing to invest a huge amount of money—lots and lots. Even then, it won’t be worth that much.”

“I understand, but I have a way to increase their value,” Wang Yang said.

Mijas nodded. “Alright then.”

He didn’t care if Wang Yang really could restore these shells or if they were truly treasures. He just wanted to sell them quickly to maintain the company’s cash flow.

“The price for each F22 shell is three million U.S. dollars. For two, six million, plus about six hundred thousand for shipping, totaling six million six hundred thousand.”

“Mr. Wang Yang, I think this is the lowest price I can offer, a sign of my sincerity. And you Jiuzhou people like the number six, right? Six million six hundred thousand dollars—pretty auspicious, isn’t it?”

Leaning forward, Mijas smiled sincerely, but his eyes behind the glasses gleamed with cunning.

[The U.S. military’s price for an F22 shell is two million dollars.]

Suddenly, a notification appeared before Wang Yang’s eyes.

So the system has this function too?

This is great; now I won’t be easily scammed when buying things. Not only won’t I be ripped off, but I can also see their bottom line and negotiate step by step to get the lowest price.

That means the U.S. military’s price is two million, yet Mijas quoted three million, so this guy is trying to earn extra for himself.

If I agree to this price, paying three million per jet, I’d be the ultimate sucker.

Sure enough, negotiating is necessary everywhere, with everyone.

Since Mijas quoted such a high price, he must have prepared for me to bargain him down.

With this in mind, Wang Yang clasped his hands and spoke directly: “Mr. Mijas, I’ve traveled all this way to the U.S. to discuss cooperation sincerely. I believe you should show me the same sincerity.”

Knock, knock, knock.

The assistant entered with three cups of coffee and placed one before each person.

Mijas made a finger gesture to the assistant.

The assistant understood and fetched cigars from a cabinet, skillfully cutting one while squatting by the coffee table.

“Mr. Wang Yang, I believe my sincerity is enough. Three million per jet is already cheap. After all, you’re not the only one interested in these shells,” Mijas said, taking a puff and exhaling a cloud of smoke.

In truth, he was bluffing.

These two retired, fully dismantled F22 shells had sat on the market for a week with no inquiries.

Finally, a sucker like Wang Yang came along and offered to buy them. Mijas was thrilled.

These shells, though cut into pieces, still took up space.

For an arms dealer, inventory is a nightmare—costs of effort, sunk costs, and maintenance.

Selling these would allow him to purchase more in-demand arms, ensuring rapid capital turnover.

Still, he had his own selfish motives. Although the military commissioned him to sell at two million each, he raised the price to recoup his expenses and earn extra.

He figured Wang Yang wasn’t very smart; a truly savvy buyer wouldn’t buy these scrap jets.

“So, Mr. Mijas, you won’t sell these two fighter jet shells to me for less than three million each?” Wang Yang leaned forward, ready to walk away.

He already knew the bottom price for these shells and how absurd Mijas’s quote was. Now was the time to negotiate.

He was also sure no one else was interested; otherwise, Mijas would have told him to leave immediately.

Good products never linger unsold; only those that can’t sell put on a show when buyers appear.

Mijas’s eye twitched but quickly recovered. “Mr. Wang, what price do you want to offer?”

Seeing him soften, Wang Yang sipped his coffee and leaned back with a faint smile. “The coffee’s good.”

“Our coffee is the best,” Mijas said, drawing on his cigar. Hidden behind the smoke, he squinted at Wang Yang.

“Mr. Mijas, I’m straightforward and don’t like wasting time on trivial matters,” Wang Yang said, crossing his legs. “Two million per jet, including your storage, shipping, and other costs, the most I can offer is 2.3 million.”

The room settled into silence. Mijas smiled, watching Wang Yang, letting the cigar smoke drift between them as if to create a barrier.

Wang Yang returned the gaze silently.

Jiang Liangliang knew this was a psychological duel.

Whenever Wang Yang negotiated with brands, he started with an unacceptable price, then shifted, offering to raise it considering possible costs.

This tactic always worked; the brand representatives grudgingly accepted his offer.

But this time...

He was dealing with an arms dealer, and his offer was 700,000 less than the asking price!

Seven hundred thousand dollars—almost five million Jiuzhou currency. Could Mijas accept that?

Jiang Liangliang held her breath, nervously clutching her clothes but maintaining a calm exterior.

She knew she couldn’t show anxiety or hold Wang Yang back.

The tension lingered.

Finally, Mijas lost his composure.

He smiled slightly, tapped his cigar, flicked off the ash, inhaled deeply, and exhaled a thick cloud before saying, “Mr. Wang Yang, I’m curious—do you negotiate like this in Jiuzhou?”

“That’s not important. What matters is that I’m now talking business with the sincere Mr. Mijas,” Wang Yang said calmly, raising his coffee and nodding. “The coffee’s excellent, Mr. Mijas.”

Mijas laughed heartily, clapping his hands in the air. “Very good, very good.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve negotiated like this. Mr. Wang Yang, you’re indeed an interesting person—and a master negotiator.”

He stood up, and Wang Yang rose as well.

They smiled and shook hands.

“Let’s settle at your price—2.3 million per jet, my friend.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mijas, my friend,” Wang Yang replied.

Mijas added, “Now that the price is set, we need to discuss shipping.”

He beckoned. The assistant promptly presented the shipping quote.

“You know, Mr. Wang, these can’t be airlifted—only shipped by sea. And shipping costs aren’t under my control. So, shipping each jet costs three hundred thousand dollars.”

“Of course, your Jiuzhou customs will handle clearance. I’ll only ensure the jets reach your designated port.”

Mijas laid down his cigar, took a big sip of coffee, and raised an eyebrow. “The coffee’s strong and rich.”

Wang Yang glanced casually at the shipping quote and nodded. “No problem. I want to see the jets first. If I’m satisfied, we can sign the contract. As I said, I don’t want to waste time on trivial matters. I’m sure you feel the same way, Mr. Mijas.”

Another hearty laugh escaped Mijas. “Of course. We’ll head over now, but I need ten minutes to prepare.”

“We can use that time to enjoy the coffee.”