Chapter 127 — Preparations Before the Investment

"Ha, Dad, I really have never seen anyone like you," Yang Xunai said. "Turning down the role of chairman because you'd rather be a worker."

"Those are two different things, aren't they?" Yang Cheyan said with a laugh. "All right then, it's settled. I'll call Director Feng right now and give him the good news."

"Dad, when you talk to him, tell Uncle Feng that my friend plans to inject thirty million, but he insists on owning the factory. Ask him whether he agrees," Yang Yanzhou said.

"Fine, I'll go tell him right now," Yang Cheyan replied, rising and leaving Yang Juehuan's room.

The reason Yang Ce had added that last remark was that he wanted to test Feng Wanjiang. Yang Juehuan's words carried an implicit message: the ownership my friend demands means that you, the director, will no longer be running this factory.

If Feng Wanjiang was truly the kind of leader who cared only about the factory's well-being, he would certainly not mind that condition. But if he was really out to secure some personal gain, he would surely hesitate.

And if he genuinely did not care, then Yang Ce would entrust him with heavy responsibilities—after all, people with such dedication to their work were rare, something to be stumbled upon rather than sought. That was why Yang Ce had come up with this idea on the spot. Yet it was also the most effective one: when personal interests are at stake, a person's true character is laid bare.

After his father left, Yang Ce called Hou Lin and explained the idea he had just conceived. Hou Lin noted it down and said there was no problem at all—leave it to him.

Feng Wanjiang had dropped by Yang Cheyan's home today with high hopes, only to return utterly disappointed. It was clear there was probably no hope for this matter now, and he felt a pang of regret over the fruit and the hairtail and ribbonfish—he had paid for those out of his own pocket.

Feng Wanjiang had worn himself ragged over this factory. But most of all, he blamed himself. Back when the factory was doing well, he had failed to see the direction of the future, failed to reform its technology and bring in new products—and that was what had brought the factory to the brink of collapse.

Now he spent every day and every night researching new technology, seeking new avenues of growth, and he had even approached a number of imported automakers, who had agreed in principle to cooperate. The only thing missing now was money.

Feng Wanjiang sighed. Over the past stretch of time, he had gone everywhere he could go and seen everyone he could see, but the funding gap was simply too large. The factory could not scrape together a single cent, and it still owed the bank more than ten million in foreign debt.

True, it was a local enterprise with the backing of the local government, but the factory's situation was now beyond any remedy. Without a large injection of capital, it could only wait for bankruptcy. And Songjiang was no first-tier city; its finances were already stretched thin—where would the money come from to solve the factory's problems? So it was up to Feng Wanjiang alone to find a way.

At that moment Feng Wanjiang sat at the computer in his home, smoking, searching online for the latest information on auto-parts manufacturing and supply and demand, and pondering a way out for the factory.

Just then the phone on the desk rang. Feng Wanjiang picked it up and saw it was an unfamiliar number.

"Hello, this is Feng Wanjiang speaking," he said politely as he answered. He had called so many people for help recently that he could not tell who might be on the other end.

"Director Feng? This is Yang Cheyan."

"Ah, Old Yang!" Feng Wanjiang's heart stirred—could there be good news? He hurriedly said warmly, "Hello, hello!"

"Director Feng, just now Yan and I talked at length about the factory," Yang Cheyan said.

"How did it go? Any news?" Feng Wanjiang asked anxiously.

"Well, here's the thing," Yang Cheyan said after a moment's thought. "Yang Ce doesn't have much money. His godfather only gave him a little over five million to start his company, and he's already gone through most of it."

"I see. Well, that's all right, ha ha," Feng Wanjiang said with a bitter, disappointed smile.

"However, a friend of Yang Juehuan's heard about the factory's situation and expressed interest in investing," Yang Cheyan said, changing tack.

"Oh? Really? That's wonderful! Where is this friend? I'll go see him right now and explain everything in detail," Feng Wanjiang said without pausing for breath.

"Wait, Director Feng. Yang Juehuan's friend has a condition. If you find it acceptable, he'll invest," Yang Cheyan said, following the script Yang Ce had given him.

"What condition? Let's hear it," Feng Wanjiang said without a second thought.

"His condition is that he wants ownership of the factory," Yang Cheyan said. Even as he finished, he felt a little uncomfortable himself, though the thought that Yang Ce would still put Director Feng to important use somewhat set his mind at ease.

"All the money?" Feng Wanjiang frowned and pondered for a moment. "How much would he put in? Our factory's fixed assets come to more than twenty million. Even with over ten million in foreign debt, there's still nearly ten million left. Of course, those machines may be valued at that, but in truth they're not worth that much—still, at the very least, the investment can't be less than twenty million, surely?"

"He says he can invest thirty million," Yang Cheyan said.

"Thirty million!" Feng Wanjiang exclaimed, then immediately said with delight, "Really? Old Yang, if it's thirty million, that would be wonderful—that would solve the whole problem!"

"But Director Feng, that person's condition is ownership of the factory, which means you would then—" Yang Cheyan hesitated, then gently reminded him.

"Me? So I wouldn't be director anymore?" Feng Wanjiang suddenly laughed. "What's the big deal about that? If I'm not, then I'm not. As long as the factory gets back on its feet, I don't care if I have to go back to the workshop and be a worker alongside you. But on one condition: the investment has to be legitimate. No playing games, no cooking the books, no coming in under the guise of investment just to get at the land."

"Of course not," Yang Cheyan said, and hearing Feng Wanjiang's words, he felt a surge of emotion. It seemed Feng Wanjiang was truly a decent man after all.

"By the way, Old Yang, could I meet this person? Right now?" Feng Wanjiang felt as if weeds were growing in his heart—he could hardly wait.

"Let me go ask Yan about his friend. Isn't this a bit too hasty?" Yang Cheyan had not expected Feng Wanjiang to be so impatient.

"Not hasty at all, not hasty at all. The sooner this kind of thing is settled, the better—the factory can climb out of its predicament that much sooner," Feng Wanjiang said.

After hanging up, Yang Cheyan could only shake his head. Feng Wanjiang really was an impatient man. He had no idea whether Daming's friend was ready. Entering Yang Juehuan's room, he found Yang Ce browsing the news online, and said, "Daming, Director Feng is an impatient man—he wants to meet your friend right now. What are we to do?"

"Right now?" Yang Shuoxuan said with a helpless smile. "Looks like he really is anxious. But what did Uncle Feng say about that matter?"

"Director Feng agreed to the condition you mentioned. But he said you must invest in good faith—you can't use the name of investment to actually get your hands on the factory's land," Yang Cheyan said.

"I know that. Don't you trust your own son?" Yang Xutang said, a little amused. "The reason I'm investing in this factory is because you, Dad, have feelings for it, and because your son is capable. That's all there is to it."