At the teahouse, the guzheng's lilting notes drifted through the air.
"Haha, President Zheng, here's to a successful partnership."
Zheng Yan Che curved his lips faintly and briefly clasped the other man's hand. "To a successful partnership."
Only after watching his satisfied business partner leave did Zheng Yan Che pick up his document envelope and head toward the car by the roadside.
It was laughable, really. This had been a difficult client, and more than a month of negotiations had gotten them nowhere. He attended the drinking parties and enjoyed the entertainment as usual, but simply refused to budge.
Today, Zheng Yan Che had invited him out with the intention of trying one last time. If it worked, it worked; if not, he would find another partner.
He had never expected to step out of the Maybach and see an unprecedentedly broad smile on the other man's face. Instead of putting on airs as before, the man had even come down the steps to take his hand.
Zheng Yan Che chuckled, resting a hand on the side mirror as his gaze lingered over the car's sleek, beautiful lines.
Clothes made the man, and a saddle made the horse-the saying had a point. With sufficiently impressive trappings, even if you wore the most ordinary clothes, people would merely think you were understated.
Conversely, no matter how glamorous your outfit was, the moment someone saw you arrive in a taxi, they would think you were all show and no substance.
Society was that pragmatic. The level of success you wanted to achieve depended on how well-equipped you were.
The Maybach had sat untouched in the garage for a month while Zheng Yan Che drove his own BMW and drank himself half to death entertaining the client every day. Yet none of that