It's just that they have money.

The car was parked in front of a glass curtain wall building by the river.

The restaurant is on the top floor. You need to take the elevator to the lobby on the first floor first, and then transfer to a private elevator to go up.

As the two entered the lobby, Zhang Zhenghao's slippers made a clattering sound on the marble floor, which seemed particularly out of place in the quiet space.

"It's a little awkward." Zhang Zhenghao touched his nose.

Wrinkled T-shirt, baggy shorts, slippers, and messy hair—he certainly doesn't look like someone who would be entering a high-end restaurant.

"How about I go buy you a tie now? You can learn from Chen Xiaodao." Fang Chen said casually as he checked his appointment at the front desk.

"That's a movie." Zhang Zhenghao rolled his eyes. "The average price per person here is over a thousand. The waiters at the door could glare you to death."

The receptionist glanced at him upon hearing this, her gaze lingering on his feet for a fraction of a second before looking away, her face still bearing the standard professional smile.

From beginning to end, they never uttered the classic phrase, "Those who are not properly dressed will not be received."

Zhang Zhenghao followed behind Fang Chen and said in a low voice, "You really didn't stop him?"

Fang Chen didn't turn his head, his tone indifferent: "You followed me in, stopping you is the same as stopping me. I have an appointment, so whatever we wear is fine."

Zhang Zhenghao pondered the statement for a moment, and suddenly felt that it made a lot of sense, but something still felt off.

The elevator takes you straight to the top floor. As soon as the door opens, a stunning river view unfolds before you.

The restaurant is softly lit, with tables and chairs spaced far apart, providing ample privacy for each table of guests.

The waiter led the two to a window seat, handed them the menu, and then quietly stepped back three paces.

Zhang Zhenghao opened the menu, glanced at the prices, and gasped.

"Two hundred and eighty for an appetizer?" He brought the menu closer, thinking he had misread it.

"Order whatever you like, it's on me."

"This isn't a treat, it's charity," Zhang Zhenghao muttered, but still carefully flipped through the menu.

After ordering, while waiting for his food, Zhang Zhenghao leaned back in his chair, looked at the river view outside the window, and suddenly sighed.

"What's wrong?" Fang Chen asked.

"It's nothing, it just feels unreal." Zhang Zhenghao looked away from Fang Chen. "A few months ago, we were eating barbecue skewers at a roadside stall, haggling over a few yuan's worth of change. Now you're sitting here, the two of you eating over three thousand yuan worth of food in one meal, and you don't even blink."

Fang Chen smiled. He used to always want to become rich when he was poor.

Now that they have money, they realize that the hard times they used to live were actually quite nice.

The appetizer arrived, its presentation as exquisite as a painting, but the portion was pitifully small.

Zhang Zhenghao picked up a small piece, put it in his mouth and chewed it, his expression complicated.

"Is it good?" Fang Chen asked.

"It doesn't taste good." Zhang Zhenghao said with a displeased look.

Fang Chen also took a small bite.

"really."

It's better to make it yourself.

"..."

"..."

Fang Chen recalled a time when he was having dinner and chatting with Zhang Wen, and Zhang Wen mentioned some interesting stories about the kitchen.

He still remembers the exact words.

"Either you're the boss's biological father, or you've given prior notice, or you're quite influential; otherwise, what's served on your table is most likely an apprentice's practice piece."

Fang Chen even asked at the time, "Then what does the head chef do?"

"The head chef just stands there and watches. When important guests arrive, the head chef cooks personally. For ordinary guests? The better second or third chefs cook, and the less capable apprentices cook. The head chef takes a bite, and if it's about right, it's served. Anyway, you won't be able to tell the difference."

Fang Chen couldn't help but chuckle as he thought of this.

"What are you laughing at?" Zhang Zhenghao asked.

Fang Chen repeated Zhang Wen's words, and Zhang Zhenghao's expression turned even uglier after hearing them.

"So, we're here today to give the apprentice some practice?"

"It seems so."

"So, we're here today to give the apprentice some practice?"

"It seems so."

Zhang Zhenghao threw down his chopsticks, leaned back in his chair, and looked at Zhang with a complicated expression.

Fang Chen looked at the appetizer in front of him, which was so exquisite it didn't look like food, and suddenly felt a little bored.

I have money, a car, and a house.

Sitting in this rooftop restaurant overlooking the river, eating dishes prepared by apprentices for practice, it doesn't feel much different from the days of eating skewers at roadside stalls a few months ago.

wrong.

At least we enjoyed our meals back then.

"Having money is all you've got." Fang Chen put down his chopsticks and laughed self-deprecatingly.

Zhang Zhenghao glanced at him but didn't reply.

The two were silent for a while before the second dish was served.

The presentation remains exquisite, and the portion size remains petite.

Zhang Zhenghao picked up a piece, chewed it, and swallowed it expressionlessly.

"I have something to tell you," he suddenly said, his tone becoming more serious.

"explain."

"Do you remember my group for gardening enthusiasts?"

Fang Chen nodded.

He had heard of Zhang Zhenghao's group; it was full of planting enthusiasts from all over the country, from balcony gardeners to large-scale farmers who had leased thousands of acres of land—all sorts of people.

After agreeing on the collaboration with Huang Ziang, Fang Chen asked him to inquire about any influential figures he could work with.

"There are several big shots in the agricultural business in the group. One of them, Liu Wenhu, is from Northeast China and I often chat with him. He started out in the agricultural materials business and has been doing it for over 20 years. He's involved in the entire industry chain, including fertilizers, pesticides, seeds, and agricultural machinery. Last year alone, he sold hundreds of millions of yuan worth of fertilizers."

Fang Chen raised an eyebrow: "That impressive?"

"The key is that this person isn't the kind of boss who sits in an office," Zhang Zhenghao continued. "He himself graduated from an agricultural college and spent more than ten years working in the fields. His understanding of fertilizers, soil, and crops is deeper than that of many experts. When someone in the group asks a technical question, he never acts aloof and answers everything he knows."

As Fang Chen listened, a thought suddenly flashed through his mind.

The biggest problem for Huang Ziang's blueberry cultivation is sales, but behind sales lies brand and quality.

Behind the quality lies the planting technology.

Behind the technology are agricultural inputs.

Fang Chen remained silent for a few seconds.

He invested three million yuan in Huang Ziang, not so that Huang Ziang could make a living by tending those few dozen acres of greenhouses.

If possible, create a brand, a truly competitive agricultural brand.

For building a brand, the supply chain is fundamental.

Agricultural inputs are at the very top of the supply chain.

"Can you help me get connected?" Fang Chen asked.

Zhang Zhenghao thought for a moment and said, "I can give it a try, but I'm just a small fry, so don't get your hopes up too high."

"So how are you going to bring it up with him?"

"Just say you have a friend who grows blueberries and you want to ask him some questions," Zhang Zhenghao said. "Don't talk about cooperation yet, just ask for advice. People respond better to a gentle approach than a forceful one; the more sincere you are, the more willing he is to help you."

Fang Chen nodded.

"Okay, you make the appointment for me first. He'll decide the time and place, and I'll go find him."

Zhang Zhenghao glanced at him: "You're not planning to let him come to Jiangcheng?"

"They've been doing this for over twenty years, managing such a large business. Why should they fly over to see me?" Fang Chen said. "I'll go see him and show my sincerity first."

Zhang Zhenghao smiled and said, "Okay, I'll talk to him when I get back tonight."

The two chatted for a few more minutes before the rest of the dishes were served.

The taste was still just average, but Fang Chen's mind was no longer on the meal.

He was thinking about Huang Zi'ang's project.

Three million, 30% of the shares, he owns a small portion and does not participate in management.

This was his trust in Huang Zi'ang, and also his way of protecting himself.

But he can't really just ignore everything.

Once money is invested, you must be responsible for it.

If Huang Zi'ang could get in touch with Liu Wenhu, it would be a godsend.

For Fang Chen himself, this is also an opportunity.

In any case, we must consider what to do if the system suddenly crashes one day.