I'm a Master in India

Chapter 263: Firefly Project

Mona Lisa recently encountered an annoying man, in his forties, bald, fond of designer clothes, with lecherous eyes that often roamed, yet he pretended to be a gentleman.

Such a person was clearly a high-ranking executive or boss of some company; they held themselves in high regard and disdained vulgar approaches.

However, the dancers were adept at handling such men; they were experienced and skilled at manipulating people's hearts.

For instance, these social elites would approach a dancer before leaving Sapphire and ask if she was free after work.

She would smile and tell him to come back tomorrow, and the next evening, he would return to Sapphire, sitting there, fixated on her.

She also remembered him, occasionally giving him a sweet smile. He would have the waiter give her generous tips, spending a fortune on her.

Her dance seemed to become more energetic, and she would sway her hips in his direction. He would stay until Sapphire closed, then approach her to ask for her phone number.

She would refuse, telling him to come back the next day, saying she would wait for him. So, he went to Sapphire every day, and his tips grew larger and larger.

Finally, one day, when he had almost given up hope, she quickly slipped a note into his hand. On it was her name, which he had yearned for, and her phone number.

See, just a little trick could make those wealthy bosses spin around in circles.

The dancers were not without their own crushes; wealthy young masters in their twenties and thirties were often very popular. They were handsome, young, friendly, and rich—no girl disliked them.

However, they couldn't openly express this affection or show exclusive loyalty to a particular guest.

Those who came to Sapphire were all prominent figures, and you had to satisfy their self-esteem.

But you also couldn't be too intimate, otherwise he would take it for granted that 'she is mine,' and he would no longer cherish her.

Mona Lisa quickly mastered the essence of survival at Sapphire: making guests fall in love with her and believe that she harbored the same feelings.

When she saw a man splurging at Sapphire for the first time, she would give him her full attention and flash her most captivating smile.

Mona Lisa's smile had a power of its own, making you feel that you hadn't been tainted by life to be so crude and unbearable.

This trick worked wonders; that annoying pest succumbed to her smile.

Once that person became her regular customer, Mona Lisa would call him every day, slowly coaxing him to reveal his worries.

Sometimes Mona Lisa would also throw a small tantrum, making him do this and that for her, like a spoiled child.

She even demanded that the guy not whisper to anyone else besides her.

Mona Lisa, in turn, would care for her guests like a wife caring for her husband, constantly sending them signals: I belong only to you, I belong only to you, I belong only to you.

It was peculiar how those shrewd big shots, usually so calculating, would become as if blindfolded in this game of mutual consent, completely immersed.

They would automatically imagine that Mona Lisa loved him so much that she would even be jealous if he spoke to other women.

When it came to manipulating hearts, dancers were no worse than politicians.

They knew what would excite them and what would soften their hearts.

For example, just now, Mona Lisa had tearfully complained to Dute about being disrespectfully treated by some guy last week, and he had vowed to teach the person a lesson.

No matter how influential or invincible a man might be outside, he would be defenseless when faced with a helpless girl.

This tactic was especially effective on businessmen like Dute; they were usually older, accustomed to leading others, and powerful in Mumbai, making them unable to refuse Mona Lisa's pleas.

"That kid won't get away, don't worry. But I have something today; I need to see a friend first," Dute said, patting his chest as he sat on the sofa.

"Brother, which friend are you seeing today?" Mona Lisa, clinging to him like a small bird, asked.

"A rival in the same industry."

"A rival?"

"Yes, but not to argue, rather to discuss cooperation. He'll be here soon; he'll definitely give me face," Dute said with a triumphant smile.

"Wow, Brother, you're so capable."

"I told you, I have a lot of influence in Mumbai. Look, he's here."

Chandani was about the same age as Dute, wore glasses, and appeared more refined.

"Chandani, come sit," Dute waved to him.

"This place is nice, very lively."

"This is Mona Lisa, the brightest star of Sapphire."

"Hello." Chandani secretly observed her, somewhat amazed by the charming smile Mona Lisa displayed.

"I told you, this place is definitely worth a visit." Dute placed his arm behind Mona Lisa's chair, asserting his claim.

"I heard it's run by a Brazilian?" Chandani smiled.

"Yaar, that's why they can find so many beautiful foreign girls."

"Their dancing is indeed good, more passionate than Indian girls."

The few of them sat in a booth in the VIP lounge, with a table in front and a small circular partition behind them.

Each booth maintained a certain distance, ensuring privacy so they didn't have to worry about their conversation being overheard.

"Do you want me to find you a girl?" Dute raised an eyebrow at him.

"Let's talk business first; we can have fun later." Chandani waved his hand.

"Alright, the Su'er Television matter is indeed more urgent."

"Shouldn't we find a quieter place?" Chandani looked at Mona Lisa on the other side of the sofa.

"She's just a little girl who doesn't understand anything," Dute laughed loudly, "Don't mind her."

"No, Brother, you two talk; I'll go mix some drinks for you." Mona Lisa obediently got up and left.

She was perceptive and had extremely high emotional intelligence. Although the name "Sur" made her heart skip a beat, she strongly resisted the urge to stay.

She understood the principle of playing hard to get; she just needed to wait a little longer. Once she was alone with Dute, she had countless ways to extract secrets from him.

Dute had also long considered Mona Lisa his confidante, treating her like family and trusting her unconditionally.

Only after Mona Lisa's back disappeared did Dute shift his gaze back.

"In short, we can't let them expand further. This month it's 50,000 units; who knows how many it will be next month?" He spread his hands.

"They don't seem to have plans for color TVs for now."

"Chandani, that kind of thinking is very dangerous." Dute was somewhat displeased. "Expansion is the instinct of capital. You and I both started from nothing and slowly got to where we are today."

"What do you plan to do?"

"That guy has a strong backing; ordinary methods won't work, and we can't resort to violence. We can only use special business tactics."

Dute was also a Brahmin, and a local Brahmin from Maharashtra at that, with a powerful family in Mumbai.

If Sur Electrical Appliances was just a small company with no background, and Ron had no connections, Dute would have already acted.

He had countless ways to ruin Sur Electrical Appliances, including but not limited to bribing officials to directly shut down Sur's factory.

He could also hire thugs or gangsters to directly kidnap the owner.

These methods, though crude, were effective.

Business warfare in India has always been so simple and unadorned.

The weak cannot survive in Mumbai; those who succeed are either thugs or prominent families with influential connections.

Dute and his associates had certainly investigated Ron—no, they didn't even need to investigate; it had been written about countless times in newspapers.

The famous Dr. Sur, everyone knew him as a good man.

Hmm, such people are usually easier to bully.

If it were before, Dute would have forced him out using underhanded tactics, even without violence.

However, since the great fire at The Palace, the attitude of many in Mumbai towards that Sur had subtly changed.

There were rumors that The Palace's demise was greatly related to Sur, but most people didn't believe it.

Dr. Sur is a good man, so how could this be linked to him?

The Palace was clearly destroyed by an accidental fire, hmm, that's the official report.

But some powerful figures spoke of the matter with great reserve. They refused to say more, and certainly wouldn't be foolish enough to clarify anything.

Others, not understanding the reason, also vaguely sensed something. In short, Dr. Sur could no longer be seen as a harmless good man.

Dute also didn't know the details of The Palace incident, but he understood how to read people.

That Sur was definitely not to be trifled with, and with the Sur Industrial Park endorsed by the Chief Minister, ordinary people couldn't do anything to him.

Since that was the case, they would solve the problem through business means.

In normal business competition, others couldn't say anything, right? The market wouldn't favor you just because you were a good person.

As long as they operated within the rules, everyone would accept the outcome.

"To curb the sales of Su'er Television now, we can only find a way through public opinion." This was the result of Dute's careful deliberation.

"Public opinion?" Chandani was a bit surprised.

"Yes, their advertising is very successful, that's a fact. But precisely because it's well-known, any blemish will be magnified."

"Dute," Chandani raised an eyebrow, "Honestly, you surprise me."

The masses are blindly obedient; they enjoy creating gods and are also keen on destroying them.

"When a wall falls, everyone pushes it" describes this kind of psychology.

Su'er Television, if not a household name, was at least famous in South India.

If a product scandal were exposed now, those reporters who carried magnifying glasses all day would surely go crazy with joy.

"How do you feel about the angle of safety hazards?" Dute said proudly.

"Tell me more." Chandani's eyes lit up.

"Just make up a name, like electromagnetic hypersensitivity, where prolonged viewing of Su'er Television causes fatal complications. Or that Su'er Television's radiation exceeds standards and has a probability of causing cancer."

"Will that work?" Chandani was somewhat skeptical.

"Brother, how many smart people do you think we have in our country? Most are illiterate, and the rest are half-baked; they don't understand these things at all, nor do they need to.

As long as someone takes the lead, the rumors will quickly ferment on their own; we'll just give them a small push. Of course, this isn't the real killer move yet."

"There's more?" Chandani was truly shocked now.

This guy usually looked so jovial, but he had so much malice hidden inside.

Chandani even felt a bit fortunate that Onida and Videocon were also competitors, and he hadn't used these tactics against himself.

"The real killer move is to make Su'er Television explode, preferably in public. The picture tube, fluorescent screen, and power supply—these places are easy to tamper with."

"How exactly do we control it?"

"Simple, buy a few back, and we'll modify them."

"Sounds very feasible."

"I call it the 'Firefly Project'!" Dute chuckled softly.

Ahem, this inspiration came from a safety accident at the Videocon factory.

When that worker connected the power supply incorrectly, the television exploded.

What a great inspiration! It was his own factory that exploded, but he could pin it on someone else, right?

He was already imagining the scene of Su'er Television being condemned by thousands.