Chapter 141 — Old Buffon's Origins
Years of Heartflutter · Page 107 of 214
Sun Jie shook her head. She had little to do with underworld affairs and had no idea what sort of person her father would admire, so she simply assumed it must have been Yang Ce's conduct the night before that had won his favor.
For now, she could only take things one step at a time. Some things that ought to end had to end. Though Sun Jie was loath to admit it, she had truly discovered—just as Yang Ce said—that being with a man felt different from being with a woman. Utterly, completely different.
She no longer felt much attachment to that old feeling. Picking up the phone, she dialed a number she had not called in a long while.
"Hello, it's me." Sun Jie hesitated, then said, "Do you have time lately? Let's meet up."
She could not tell what was said on the other end; when she heard it, she replied, "All right, then. Call me when you're free—I'm in Songjiang now."
She hung up and sighed. Why had she thought of ending this ambiguous relationship? Was it because of Yang Ce? Or was it simply that she had grown tired of it?
She shook her head to drive off these tangled emotions and opened the company files, setting to work on the documents that had piled up over the New Year.
When Yang Ce got home, he heard voices talking in the living room. He had assumed it was his father and Director Feng discussing factory matters—no, Manager Feng now. With the city's approval, the factory had been solely funded by Mingyang Group and reorganized as Songjiang Mingyang Heavy Industry Group, producing auto parts exclusively. Thanks to Old Buffon's stewardship, the production lines had been installed in no time—and not only could they turn out auto parts, but also mixers, cranes, and all manner of construction machinery. So the name they had first intended, Songjiang Mingyang Automobile Company, no longer quite fit, and they had simply renamed it the more general Heavy Industry Group. From what Old Buffon said, he even meant to ship in a few helicopter production lines from Europe.
Aircraft manufacturing, being such sensitive technology, was rarely set up in foreign countries—but Old Buffon's family happened to hold a controlling stake in an aviation company. Civilian airliners and fighter production lines obviously could not be exported lightly, so the only thing he could give Yang Ce was helicopter manufacturing, a lower-threshold technology. For that, Old Buffon felt somewhat ashamed. After all, Yang Ce was his master, and he ought to have held nothing back—but owing to EU restrictions, some things were beyond what Old Buffon could decide on his own.
Even so, Yang Ce was deeply grateful, and he resolved privately that, so long as it did not violate his principles, he would teach Old Buffon as much real skill as he could.
Chinese martial arts were, after all, profound and vast; whether Old Buffon could grasp them would depend on the man himself. But things like acupoint striking—Yang Ce could teach him a smattering, at least enough to show off in front of his friends.
"Dahai, just help your big brother out this once," came the voice from the living room—his eldest uncle, Yang Dashan.
"Brother, it's not that I won't help you—it's that I truly can't. The factory has only just started operating, and there are so many places that need money," Yang Cheyan said. "And besides, the gap in your funding is really a bit too large."
"Dahai, aren't you the group's chairman? Doesn't your word count? Just five million—with five million, my Moonlight City can hold on," Yang Dashan said anxiously.
"Brother, I've learned quite a bit about business from Old Feng lately, and I know the situation at your Moonlight City too. If you keep running it this way, it's only a matter of time before it goes under. That's not something any amount of money can save," Yang Cheyan sighed.