Transmigrating into a Book in the 80s: After Giving Up, I Was Pampered by a Rough Man

Liu Wensen pressed the pause button on the tape recorder, and the cassette stopped spinning.

He reached out and pulled out the cassette tape, picked up a marker from the table, and wrote the date and names on the plastic casing.

After finishing writing, he got up and put the newly recorded cassette tape into the safe.

On the second shelf of the safe, a stack of items was already neatly arranged.

The one on top is a photocopy of the promissory note stub purchased from a black market scalper.

Underneath is the mailing slip for a private address in Greenwood, Maryland.

Liu Wensen stared at these items, his eye twitching slightly.

"Damn it! They're really using me as a pawn?"

"Knowing full well that I signed a 20 million yuan benefit disclosure agreement, why are you still making me go through the trouble of getting some written explanation?"

The more Liu Wensen thought about it, the more frustrated he felt.

If he doesn't take action, Manhattan will immediately cut off resources, and all his previous investments will be wasted.

If he does it, and if Jiang Mian investigates later, he'll be the one to take the blame for everything.

I'm getting bullied by both sides, I'm not liked by either.

There was a knock on the door, and the assistant pushed it open and came in.

"Sir, the payment path for yesterday's one million dollars has been filed in layers."

"Copies of all documents, records of those involved, and timelines have been prepared."

"The other document has been sent to an overseas bank safe deposit box as you instructed, and the lawyer has also made a memorandum of sealing it."

Liu Wensen walked to the liquor cabinet and poured a small half glass of whiskey.

He tilted his head back and took a gulp, his throat burning.

"Well done!"

"Not a single one of these things can be missing. If I lose even one, I'll lose one way out."

The assistant hesitated for a moment, then said, "Sir, since Shen Wanyi doesn't treat us like human beings at all, why should we do what she says?"

Liu Wensen put down his wine glass. "What do you know?"

"Now, Smith is shameless in his pursuit of regaining the bidding rights in North America, and he's searching the world for my weaknesses."

"If I don't follow Shen Wanyi's lead, I'll be kicked out of the game immediately and won't even be able to get to the poker table."

The assistant was even more puzzled, "Wouldn't asking for a written explanation just hand over leverage to Miss Jiang?"

Liu Wensen sneered, "That's called betting on both sides."

"Go ask Oriental Flavors for materials; that's for that guy in Manhattan to see."

"She wants me to be her gun, so I'll be that gun for now."

"What if the situation in North America gets out of control, or if the investigator's acceptance of bribes can't be covered up..."

Liu Wensen pointed in the direction of the safe.

"That set of things in the safe is our talisman."

The assistant's mind raced. "You mean...?"

"If it really comes to that, I'll take this evidence to talk to Ms. Jiang."

Liu Wensen threw the empty glass onto the bar, making a crisp clinking sound.

"Use Shen Wanyi's fatal weakness to replace that 20 million yuan breach of contract liability."

Liu Wensen straightened the hem of his clothes. "Go, call Boss Qian."

……

Oriental Style Asia Pacific General Distributor Office, Tsim Sha Tsui, Kowloon.

This office was recently renovated, and a huge poster that takes up the entire wall hangs on the front wall.

In the poster, Leslie is wearing that red and gold silk-wrapped battle robe, his posture upright.

Next to it are four large, gold-plated characters: Oriental Style.

Qian Weimin was sitting in his executive chair, a thick cigar between his fingers, with his legs crossed.

Two subordinates in suits stood in front of the desk, reporting with pained expressions.

"Boss, Mrs. Li and Mrs. Zhang called again, saying they're willing to increase the price by 50,000 yuan, as long as Mr. Lu comes to their home to make clothes for them..."

"Raise the price?" Qian Weimin tapped his cigar in the ashtray, looking disdainful.

"Doctor Jiang is short of that 50,000 yuan? Go tell them, don't even think about adding another 500,000, not even 500,000!"

Ah Hai nodded repeatedly, "Understood, I'll go and refuse right away."

Just then, the brick-sized mobile phone on the table suddenly rang.

Qian Weimin waved for Acheng and Ahai to leave.

He picked up his mobile phone and asked, "Hello, who is this?"

Liu Wensen's gentle voice came through the phone, "Boss Qian, it's me, Liu Wensen."

Qian Weimin raised an eyebrow and immediately put his legs down.

Oh ho, they've actually come knocking on our door!

Qian Weimin cleared his throat, and his voice immediately switched to enthusiastic mode.

"Oh, Mr. Liu! What a rare guest!"

"Please don't take it to heart, Mr. Liu, for the poor hospitality we provided at the tea house last time."

Liu Wensen chuckled on the other end of the phone.

"Mr. Qian, you're too kind. We're all business people, how could I possibly hold a grudge over such a small matter?"

"The main reason I'm making this call today is to talk to Mr. Qian again about compliance matters in North America."

Qian Weimin pressed his mobile phone, a sneer flashing across his face, but his words remained serious.

"Oh? Mr. Liu's magnanimity is truly admirable."

"Then tell me, is there anything else I can advise you on?"

Liu Wensen slowed down his speech and began to lay out the bait step by step.

"Although we had some disagreements last time, the compliance points I raised were very concrete."

"The FDA's review process in North America is very rigid. You are currently riding high, and the bigger the tree, the more likely it is that you will be targeted by the review agency if you want to enter the market."

Qian Weimin continued, "Yes, yes, that's why we're also having a headache."

"See, that foreigner Smith was still babbling on and on yesterday."

Liu Wensen's lips twitched; he was too lazy to listen to Qian Weimin's nonsense.

He then changed the subject, saying, "To shut up people like Smith and to prevent future trouble from the censorship authorities, I have a safer suggestion."

"What suggestion do you have? Mr. Liu, please speak frankly."

Liu Wensen threw out the hook.

"I know that Oriental Style uses a lot of functional terms in its promotional materials in Hong Kong."

"For example, repair, nourishment, and some customers have even mentioned 'improving specific functions' in their rumors."

"If these terms are spread unchecked to North America, they could easily be classified as illegal advertising for unapproved drugs."

Qian Weimin knew perfectly well that this bastard had finally revealed his true colors.

He suppressed the urge to curse and asked in a humble tone.

"So, Mr. Liu, what do you think we should do?"

Liu Wensen smiled. "It's very simple."

"I suggest that Oriental Styles issue a brief written statement in an official capacity."

Liu Wensen pronounced his words very accurately on the other end of the phone.

"The statement clearly states that the Golden Thread Nourishing Essence does indeed have substantial effects on skin repair and anti-aging."

"It also states that Oriental truffles have specific effects of conditioning, nourishing, and improving male function."

He didn't forget to add a sentence.

"With this official statement, I can use it to access my compliance resources in North America to help you go through the 'special diet or traditional homeopathy' pathway."

"This way, we can retain these selling points while remaining fully compliant with regulations."

"Others who want to use these words in their writing will find themselves at a loss for words."

After hearing this, Qian Weimin dusted off his cigarette ash and frowned.

This "banana man" (a person who is culturally Westernized) says these terms are risky, yet he insists on implementing them himself, and even comes up with a lame excuse about risk compliance.

Such an obvious contradiction, does he think I, Qian, am a country bumpkin?

What is he doing?

Could it be...?

Qian Weimin touched his slicked-back hair, his brows relaxing.

"Oh, I see. Mr. Liu is truly a professional!"

Liu Wensen sounded clearly puzzled, "Then, Mr. Qian, when can you prepare this material?"

Qian Weimin deliberately drew out his words, "Well..."

"Logically speaking, since Mr. Liu has been so helpful, we should act immediately."

"But……"

"But what?" Liu Wensen pressed.

Qian Weimin grinned, "But you also know that Dr. Jiang has the final say on Dongfang Fengwu."

"I'm just a gofer; for things like getting the official seal stamped, I have to ask her for permission."

Liu Wensen wasn't in a hurry. "Of course."

"However, time is of the essence, and we hope that Mr. Qian can approve the explanatory materials for this kind of 'repair' and 'nourishment' as soon as possible."

"Understood, understood," Qian Weimin replied repeatedly.

After hanging up the phone, Qian Weimin threw his mobile phone onto the table.

He tilted his head and thought for a moment, then came to a somewhat uncertain conclusion: This banana man wanted to be a traitor!

Qian Weimin spat, "Can't even be a good lackey, truly lacking in professionalism!"

After he finished cursing, he casually picked up his suit jacket from behind and draped it over his shoulders.

"Ah Hai, prepare the car!"