Chapter 106: Turning Losses into Profits

“Losing money? How could we be losing money?”

“Today’s total revenue is three hundred and five yuan, eighty-seven cents. After deducting operating costs, the net profit is about one hundred and fifty yuan.”

Chen Huajiang had just finished balancing the accounts and looked at Black Tiger and the others with a smile as he spoke.

“What!? Impossible, absolutely impossible!”

Black Tiger leapt to his feet, his face full of shock. He strode over to the counter, grabbed the ledger, and began calculating for himself, clearly unwilling to believe Chen Huajiang’s words.

“How could this be possible?”

“No way, right?”

“Chen, you must have made a mistake.”

All the subordinates, including the chef still lingering in the shop, looked at Chen Huajiang with disbelief.

Chen Huajiang said nothing, simply shrugged with a smile and walked away, finding an empty table to sit under, casually lighting a cigarette.

Many people underestimate the power of small profits and quick turnover, just as they look down on roadside stalls or breakfast vendors and fast-food sellers. Although the profit per unit is not high, the overall profit is considerable.

In later years, many people bought houses and cars thanks to small restaurant businesses. It was the rise of the internet that made many realize how lucrative those little ventures they used to scoff at actually were.

“Tiger, how is it?”

“Tiger, haven’t you finished calculating yet?”

“So is it profit or loss? I can’t believe we could make so much in one day.”

Black Tiger checked the numbers again and again, time slipping by, his subordinates growing impatient, some even muttering to themselves whether Black Tiger’s elementary arithmetic skills were lacking.

This kind of cash flow account only required addition and subtraction, not even multiplication or division.

“How is this possible, why is it like this!?”

Black Tiger double-checked three times, confirmed three times, and the truth was undeniable: it was indeed a profit, and one hundred and fifty yuan in a single day.

Faced with such ironclad facts, disbelief no longer had any ground. The person collecting the money was his own man, the waiters were his own men, everyone in the shop except Chen Huajiang belonged to him. Even the chef was recruited—or coerced—by him.

Unless Chen Huajiang had bribed every single person, including the customers, persuading them to spend extra money, the accounts could not possibly be wrong.

All that remained in Black Tiger’s heart was confusion: why was it like this?

“It’s real?!”

“My God, how could this be? One hundred and fifty in a day?”

“Weren’t we losing money? What’s going on?”

The surrounding subordinates were equally stunned, a commotion rising among them, faces full of doubt as they all turned to look at Chen Huajiang with Black Tiger.

“It’s very simple. In the restaurant business, you can’t just look at one aspect. Sometimes the things that seem to lose money are the very key to making a profit.”

“You only see the loss from the tofu pudding, you only notice that the pickled vegetable buns are given away for free, but you fail to see that they bring in foot traffic, attracting a crowd of customers eager for a bargain.”

“Our shop’s tofu pudding isn’t sweet, only savory. Savory tofu pudding with pickled vegetable buns—after eating, wouldn’t they want something else? Perhaps a fried egg, a poached egg, a steamed bun, or a meat bun?”

Chen Huajiang exhaled a plume of smoke and smiled as he explained.

“So that’s it.”

“That’s how it works.”

“I never imagined it; truly unexpected.”

The group suddenly understood, each of them looking at Chen Huajiang with newfound respect.

This principle is common knowledge in later years; many eateries offer free pickled vegetables and seaweed soup to whet customers’ appetites.

These are called appetizers: only when the customer’s appetite is awakened can they eat more, and thus spend more.

But at this point in time, Chen Huajiang didn’t claim to be a pioneer—after all, coastal cities, and even some cities across the sea or in rebellious provinces, probably already used such tricks. But in Nanming City, this strategy hadn’t appeared yet, especially since proper restaurants were rare and most workers still ate in cafeterias.

“But that’s not right. Most customers didn’t buy anything else; they just ate the tofu pudding and pickled buns and left.”

“Yes, that’s what I noticed, too.”

“Me as well—not all, but most customers only consumed the tofu pudding and vegetable buns.”

Several waiters furrowed their brows, looking at Chen Huajiang with confusion. Black Tiger and Ermao nodded in agreement; they’d witnessed the same and looked at Chen Huajiang, puzzled.

“Is that really so? Each day you walk down the street, you see hundreds, maybe thousands of people—do you remember any of them?”

“No, of course not. You pay no attention to the faces passing by unless someone glares at you or steps on your toes; only then do you remember them.”

“The ones who order extras, you instinctively overlook. But those who ‘cashed in on a bargain’ stick in your mind, gnawing at you with resentment. So, in the end, your memory only keeps those who took advantage. Memory lies—but data does not.”

Chen Huajiang laughed, stubbed out his cigarette, and pointed to the ledger on the counter.

This is a universal principle: the mind doesn’t necessarily record good deeds, but it always remembers the bad.

Take schools, for instance—a teacher may remember the troublemakers even decades later, while the obedient students are forgotten within a few years.

Hospitals are the same; doctors don’t recall those who calmly queue for treatment and prescriptions, but the ones who cause disturbances or fights are remembered vividly.

“So that’s it!”

“I never imagined my eyes and mind would deceive me. If it weren’t for the ledger, I would hardly believe it myself.”

“Exactly—I didn’t believe it either. I was convinced we’d lost a lot today. I never expected it; Boss Chen really knows his business. There’s definitely a knack to running a restaurant.”

The subordinates all nodded in understanding and agreement, praising Chen Huajiang.

Black Tiger nodded as well, giving Chen Huajiang a look of admiration.

At that moment, he realized that when it came to business, he was truly outmatched and genuinely convinced.

Yet he wouldn’t give up on business; on the contrary, his resolve grew stronger, and he was ever more determined to forge a good relationship with Chen Huajiang.

This speed of earning money far surpassed hustling on the streets—especially after that incident at the burial ground, which taught Black Tiger a profound lesson: the real boss is the one with money.

A boss without money will find even his own followers deserting him.

The past few days of losses had left morale shaky, and Black Tiger, not being blind, had seen it all clearly—some subordinates had even argued with him outright.

“Tiger, the brothers have worked hard all day—shouldn’t you hand out some red envelopes?”

Chen Huajiang walked over and quietly reminded Black Tiger.

Lost in thought, Black Tiger didn’t catch it at first and stared blankly at Chen Huajiang. Then he realized and gratefully nodded, understanding that Chen Huajiang was giving him the chance to play the “good guy.”

“Brothers, you’ve worked hard today—following me, Black Tiger, has been no easy task.”

“If all this hard work still doesn’t make money, then I, Black Tiger, would truly be a failure.”

“Ten yuan each—take it as my gratitude for your trust, and as compensation for the worries I caused you in the past few days.”

Black Tiger stood up, gestured with his arm, and addressed his men loudly.

“Tiger, you’re too kind!”

“Tiger is righteous!”

“Thank you, Tiger!”

The subordinates’ faces blossomed with smiles, their eyes full of admiration and respect for Tiger.

This only strengthened Black Tiger’s resolve to make money; the change in his men, regardless of wealth, was remarkable—at least in his eyes.