Reborn in 2005, starting with repairing mobile phones

The meeting room door closed gently behind us, shutting out the Zen-like atmosphere of the dry landscape painting.

On either side of the long table, the finance and legal teams from both sides were already in place.

The projector lit up, and Chen Wei'an stood in front of the whiteboard, clearly explaining the equity structure, payment schedule, and default clauses in fluent English.

The data and tables were turned page by page.

The negotiations lasted for three hours.

Wu Ming spent forty minutes debating the proportion of the "strategic reserve" material before finally accepting Lin Dong's proposal that "35% go to Gulf Capital, 5% to Oriental Technology, and Wu Ming has priority to subscribe to the remainder."

Jamal imposed extremely stringent audit terms on the Rossi family's new company, repeatedly scrutinizing the boundary between "absolute control" and "operational independence."

Lin Dong proposed a compromise clause of "third-party annual audit + veto power for major matters", and both parties eventually agreed.

12:17 a.m.

Wu Ming took off his reading glasses, rubbed his temples, and signed his name in the designated place on the last document.

"Brother Xiaolin,"

He put down his pen, his tone carrying a sense of relief that had finally settled. "I've signed thousands of contracts in my life, but tonight's... is the most complex one I've ever signed, and also the one with the lowest profit margin."

He paused, looked up at Lin Dong, and suddenly smiled, "But it's also the most reassuring one for me. From now on, in the Port of San Francisco, I won't have to be on tenterhooks every time I ship a cargo, having to outwit and outmaneuver the local bullies."

Jamal also signed the last page.

He closed the folder, took off his thin-rimmed glasses, and a rare smile appeared on his face: "Mr. Lin, it's a pleasure doing business with you. Our family has very strict requirements regarding the final use of these materials."

The independent logistics solution and end-to-end traceability system you provided exceeded our expectations.

He stood up and extended his hand to Lin Dong, saying, "I hope this isn't the last time we'll work together."

"Of course not." Lin Dong shook hands with him. "The material supply chain is very long, and there will be many areas where we will need Mr. Jamal's help in the future."

Jamal nodded, said no more pleasantries, and left the conference room with his assistant.

Wu Ming also got up and straightened his coat, pausing briefly as he walked to Lin Dong's side.

"Young man,"

His voice was lowered, carrying a distinctively admonishing tone, "Once this batch of goods is delivered, Mingyuan Trading and your Dongfang Technology... will be officially connected. If you need anything in Shenzhen in the future, feel free to call me."

He handed over a personal business card. Unlike the gold-embossed business card with titles printed on it last time, this one only had his name and a handwritten phone number printed on it.

Lin Dong accepted it with both hands: "Thank you, Mr. Wu."

"You're welcome." Wu Ming patted his arm. "Let's cooperate more in the future."

The door closed, and the conference room fell silent.

Chen Wei'an let out a long breath, gathered the scattered documents one by one, and neatly put them into the leather folder.

"Mr. Lin," her voice was a little hoarse, her throat tight from the intense negotiations, "Wu Ming and Jamal have both signed. Now... about Old Jackson?"

Lin Dong glanced at the time.

12:40 a.m.

"Let's meet now," he said. "Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, at the same coffee shop."

Without the slightest hesitation, Chen Wei'an immediately dialed the number.

The slightly surprised voice of Old Jackson came through the receiver—the invitation at this time was itself a signal.

"Mr. Jackson, excuse me. Mr. Lin wishes to meet with you at 10 a.m. tomorrow to report important developments to the Rossi family in person." Chen Wei'an's words were concise and professional.

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.

"Ten o'clock, same place as always." Old Jackson hung up.

The next morning at 10 a.m., at that old-fashioned coffee shop at Fisherman's Wharf.

Old Jackson arrived five minutes earlier than the agreed time.

He was still wearing that brown corduroy jacket, with black coffee in front of him, but this time his posture was much more upright than before—he knew that what they were going to talk about today was not a test, not a prelude, but a substantial result.

Lin Dong and Chen Wei'an arrived on time.

After a brief greeting, Lin Dong skipped the pleasantries and directly pushed the two signed contract summaries in front of Old Jackson.

"Wu Ming and Jamal have both signed."

Lin Dong, speaking calmly through Chen Wei'an's translation, said, "The equity structure, prepayment of service fees, audit terms... everything is finalized. Now only the Rossi family is left to be dealt with."

Old Jackson looked down, his gaze sweeping over the few pages of paper.

His pupils contracted slightly.

Thirty-five minutes later, old Jackson's car drove into a sprawling private estate north of San Francisco.

Michael Rossi sat in his study, wearing a dark shirt, with a neatly manicured Italian garden outside the window.

He was in his early fifties, with gray hair and sharp, eagle-like eyes.

Old Jackson placed the contract summary and meeting minutes in front of him.

"He got Wu Ming and Gulf Capital to sign the papers in just one night," old Jackson's voice was unusually grave. "Michael, this is no ordinary young man."

Michael Rossi did not speak immediately.

He picked up the few pages and read them word by word.

"We'll own 25% of the new company and be responsible for its operation and management. We'll pay three years' service fees upfront and have priority for future cooperation..." He put down the documents and tapped his fingers lightly on the smooth tabletop.

"That sounds very tempting."

Old Jackson didn't respond; he knew this was just the beginning.

“But,” Michael looked up, “why should I only take 25%? This is my port. Without my approval, their goods can’t leave Zone C. Without my tacit consent, Wu Ming’s men can’t even get through the gate.”

He leaned back slightly, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable confidence: "Young people have ideas and the ability to execute them, which I admire. But admiration is one thing, business is another. 25%—not enough."

Old Jackson remained silent. He had anticipated this reaction.

At 2 p.m., Lin Dong received a notification for the meeting.

The location was changed from a coffee shop to the study at the Rossi family manor.

Michael Rossi sat in a large leather armchair, making no move to get up and greet him, but simply pointed to the seat opposite him.

Lin Dong sat down, and Chen Wei'an stood to his side and behind him.

"Mr. Lin," Michael said directly, his tone polite but distant, "I've reviewed the cooperation framework you proposed. It's very creative and shows great sincerity."

He paused.

"But 25% equity is not enough."

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

After translating the sentence, Chen Wei'an's palms were slightly sweaty.

This is the most blatant attempt to make exorbitant demands—using absolute control over the port's land to claim a larger share.

Lin Dong's expression remained unchanged.

He waited for Chen Wei'an to finish translating, nodded slightly, and then spoke.

"Mr. Rossi, from a business perspective, you feel 25% isn't enough. I'd like to ask, what percentage would be sufficient?"

"51%." Michael Rossi stated the number without hesitation. "Controlling stake. This new company must be under our absolute control."