Chapter 227: Negotiation (2)

Bai Zimu, alongside Duojie and his group, drove for nearly two hours before arriving at the place where Langka resided.

It was situated at the foot of a mountain, a town-like area that appeared somewhat livelier than the village where Duojie and the others lived. The houses were mostly built using a Tibetan-style brick-and-wood structure; the wooden buildings, brushed with clear varnish, were spacious and bright. Families lived here, moving with a relaxed and unhurried pace.

Duojie and the others found the guards, announced their names, and stated they were looking for Langka.

Langka’s subordinates did not make things difficult for them in the slightest, even personally leading them to the door. This was far easier than Bai Zimu had imagined, or perhaps, it meant that here, Langka had nothing to fear and could meet any outsider with complete ease.

Langka existed here almost like a chieftain, and his residence was also slightly different. [Read on RanaTranslations🌸] The walls were constructed of stone, painted white, giving off a dazzling luster under the sunlight. The upper half was similar to other houses, also a wooden structure, but decorated with colorful striped trimming all around. Upon entering, the interior was extremely spacious; the pillars and crossbeams were painted with golden lotus flowers and auspicious clouds, while on both sides sat carved wooden sofas furnished with grand, luxurious red-and-black soft cushions.

The person leading the way instinctively lowered his voice upon entering, telling them:

“Wait here. I’ll go invite Langka.”

Bai Zimu and the two accompanying guide-translators were fine, after all, they were from the outside; upon seeing it, at most they just took a few extra glances at the unseen Tibetan customs. However, Duojie and the few others were already becoming somewhat uncomfortable. They had never seen a house better than Langka’s, especially this entire set of sofas and the folding screen; Duojie was standing directly facing the screen, which was also carved from a single piece of precious timber, seemingly depicting the sun, moon, and stars.

Everything here made Duojie endlessly envious.

Bai Zimu sat down on the sofa, patting the spot next to him and saying:

“Duojie, come sit.”

Duojie was somewhat afraid to; his buttocks only brushed it slightly before he started fiddling with the soft cushion. This soft cushion was embroidered with gold thread and small pearls to create a pattern, and he was terrified of breaking such a fine item by sitting on it.

Bai Zimu said in a low voice: “It won’t break by sitting. I tried it.”

Only then did Duojie sit down.

Not long after sitting down, they heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind. Closely followed by this, someone lifted the coral bead curtain and walked in. It was a man appearing to be in his forties, dressed in a long black robe. As if afraid of the cold, his collar was turned up, blocking all the way to his throat. His hair was mid-length, the ends slightly curled, and his pitch-black hair and eyebrows shared the same color. When his gaze swept over the people, it was like the glacial meltwater of the Tanggula Mountains mixed with unmelted ice shards—a single glance was enough to send a chill through one’s body.

But without a doubt, this man was handsome.

Langka sat in the seat of honor, his back perfectly straight. He idly rotated the amber prayer beads in his hand a few times, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before pausing on Bai Zimu for an extra two seconds.

It was only an extra two seconds, and nothing more; very quickly, Langka’s gaze shifted to the person beside Bai Zimu, as he opened his mouth to ask:

“You are Duojie?”

Duojie sprang to his feet, stammering: “I-it’s me! I came today to discuss business with you…”

Langka waved his hand, saying to him:

“Let’s not rush that for now. I have some private matters I wish to discuss with you first.”

“What?”

“You’ve spoken many things regarding me, and some are incorrect.”

Langka slightly raised his chin, signaling the few strapping fellows beside him to grab Duojie. It happened too suddenly; just as Bai Zimu and the rest stood up, they were already blocked by Langka’s men on the left and right at their seats. There were many people here, and it was Langka’s home turf. Unable to save Duojie for a time, the crowd couldn’t help but shout loudly, the atmosphere growing exceptionally tense.

Bai Zimu was close by, but he only managed to grab Duojie’s sleeve. Looking up forcefully at Langka, he said:

“We came to discuss cooperation, Mr. Langka. Is this your way of treating guests?”

Langka was slightly surprised, but he still uttered a sentence in Tibetan in a low voice, having someone peel Bai Zimu’s hand away. Meeting Bai Zimu’s gaze, he switched to Chinese and said:

“He did something wrong, and I’m giving him a minor punishment. You don’t need to be nervous.”

Bai Zimu’s hair was nearly standing on end, his pair of eyes shining brightly due to anger.

Langka watched him for a moment. Bai Zimu’s utter refusal to yield, for some unknown reason, actually amused Langka. He let out a light laugh, shouting something loudly in the local dialect. After this single sentence, the few young lads from the village who had come along with Duojie stopped making a fuss; after looking at each other in dismay, they quieted down. Only Duojie shouted even louder, struggling while yelling something, looking as though he were about to cry.

Bai Zimu’s hand was pried open. Worried about Duojie, he asked the translator beside him in a low voice:

“What did he just say?”

The translator wore a bizarre expression, scratching his head and thinking for a while: “Just… a small punishment, taking away one of his possessions.”

Visions of swords and bloodshed flashed through Bai Zimu’s mind, making him associate it with a rather unpleasant outcome. Very quickly, Duojie was sent back.

As punishment for speaking ill of Langka behind his back, Duojie’s proud full beard had been shaved completely clean. With his entire face exposed, he was a lad in his early twenties, looking somewhat immature and carrying the appearance of a young man. However, such a person as Duojie, who usually didn’t take a beating to heart, currently had red-rimmed eyes, having clearly cried.

Seeing that he had only been shaved of his beard, Bai Zimu relaxed significantly.

Duojie sat there like a defeated little calf, his eyes red, choking back words.

His pride was gone.

He was no longer the most handsome man in the village.

Upon entering, Langka had immediately asserted his dominance; after this, Duojie no longer had the confidence to discuss business. The others also stuttered and stammered, not really daring to push for anything. After discussing a few sentences in a low voice with the translator, Bai Zimu took over the task, wanting to continue negotiations with Langka.

Langka took a glance at him, asking: “Who is he?”

The few Tibetan-robed young lads who had come along helped introduce him, but they hadn’t discussed it beforehand. Some said “Luo Jiaqing,” while others called him “Lei Xiaochuan.” After speaking, the few people looked at each other and hurriedly changed how they addressed him once again, only it remained uncoordinated, with everyone saying something different.

The translator beside them closed his eyes: “…”

How was he supposed to translate this?

Langka didn’t ask the others anymore, fixing his eyes on Bai Zimu as he asked: “What are you called?”

“Lei Xiaochuan, you can just call me Little Lei.”

Bai Zimu said, “I see you speak Chinese, and your appearance is also different from the locals. You don’t mind if we chat directly, right?”

Langka waved his hand, dismissing those on his left and right. When speaking with him, he displayed a few degrees more tolerance than with others: “Of course. I’ve always had the final say here.”

Bai Zimu stood up, taking the proposal and walking over to hand him a copy:

“I wrote this; if you are interested, you can take a look. The business on the grassland is vast, and relying on one person alone to do it poses some difficulty. I very much want to make friends with you—”

Langka didn’t take the proposal. Instead, he looked down at his right foot, slightly furrowing his brows as he asked:

“Injured?”

Bai Zimu’s foot injury had already healed for the most part, but having ridden in a car the whole day and walking a stretch of road just now, he temporarily appeared with a slight limp. He pursed his lips gently, suppressing the anger at the bottom of his heart as he tried his best to say peacefully:

“It’s nothing.”

Langka asked again: “Born with it?”

Bai Zimu: “…”

Bai Zimu: “Considered so I guess.”

Langka let out a barely audible sigh, and only then did he take his proposal to flip through. He rarely saw little friends from the mainland here, and the one before him had uncommonly evoked his goodwill. It was just a pity he was a pretty little cripple.

“Aside from the medicinal herbs mentioned just now, there are also large quantities of beef and mutton. I can contact a large-scale supermarket in the mainland; the raw beef and mutton can be semi-processed before being transported over. In addition to these, I also have an idea regarding this year’s mutton—the acquisition price you set previously is too low—”

“Your data is very comprehensive, but you got one point wrong.” Langka pointed to the profit margin inside, saying calmly:

“My profit margin isn’t this large. [Read on RanaTranslations🌸] I only add ten percent before selling it outside.”

Bai Zimu was stunned for a moment: “Why? This is unreasonable.”

Generally, the net profit hovered around 30%; he had even considered that Langka might have forced the prices down, pocketing the lion’s share.

Langka placed both hands on his knees, his face showing few changes in expression:

“I hate competition. Comparing back and forth is too troublesome.”

Bai Zimu reacted almost instantly; this price was a moat Langka had built up. On the grassland, this price was already the thinnest of margins. As long as the price remained at this level, no one would be able to outcompete them. If it was like this for mutton, he was afraid the other items were much the same.

The strategies Bai Zimu had contemplated along the way crumbled before this single move.

He had thought of many things, but the only thing he hadn’t anticipated was that Langka was playing a price war.

Bai Zimu stood there, narrowing his eyes. His skin was fair, his lip color very light, but when he pursed them, it brought out a very faint red; paired with his indifferent eyebrows and eyes, he carried a look of subdued anger:

“Mr. Langka, I’m afraid this is inappropriate, right? By doing this, how do you expect others to do business?”

Langka said seriously: “They can find something else to do.”

……

Duojie and the several young lads around watched them. Although they had only half-understood the words Bai Zimu and Langka spoke and couldn’t quite comprehend them, everyone had completely smelled the gunpowder scent between them.

Duojie’s gaze fell on Bai Zimu, then he carefully looked at Langka.

Clearly, their Han-compatriot friend looked very weak, but for some unknown reason, Duojie inexplicably felt that when compared to Langka, he wasn’t losing ground in the slightest.

But if forced to explain, he couldn’t put it into words either.

Duojie thought to himself, perhaps it was an aura—these two people both looked like tough characters; they grew up looking good, but their hands were the darkest.

Remembering Luo Jiaqing tied up in Director Qu’s house, Duojie touched his own smooth, clean chin again, a wave of heartache washing over him. He decided that upon returning, he would never tell “Langka’s stories” again, nor would he ever mention Bai Zimu’s.

Han people truly loved holding grudges far too much!

The business negotiation didn’t go very smoothly, but because the conditions Bai Zimu proposed were superior, Langka still agreed to allocate a portion of the supplies to try sending them to the supermarket together with them.

Langka said: “You don’t have to bring Duojie and the others. How about the two of us cooperate together? How did you phrase it in your proposal just now? The volume is too small?”

Bai Zimu furrowed his brows: “How can that work? I originally came for Duojie and the rest. Besides, their village alone may be small, but there are so many villages—added together it would definitely…” Reaching this point, suspicion arose within him, and he raised his head to look at Langka, sure enough catching sight of the smile harbored in the other party’s eyes.

Langka’s face had undergone plastic surgery; while sitting there, nothing could be seen, but the moment he smiled, the tugging of several muscles on his face made him look somewhat terrifying. He himself seemed to notice it as well, very quickly restraining his expression once more.

Bai Zimu was close by. As his gaze swept over, he also spotted the faint, irregular scars on the forehead behind his hanging hair.

Langka stood up and said: “It is already very late. Please stay and dine together.”

Locals emphasized giving the host face when visiting as guests; Duojie and the others stayed behind, and Bai Zimu also followed along to take a seat at the banquet.