Chapter 651 - 422: Commission
After a few moments, the brief silence in the cabin was finally broken.
Mova, who had hurried away earlier, reappeared.
This time, however, she was pushing a serving cart. Her steps were much steadier than before, but her expression still betrayed a hint of awkwardness.
The surface of the cart was polished to a brilliant shine, reflecting the soft light.
All sorts of tableware and food were neatly arranged on top.
The blush on Mova’s face had still not completely faded.
Like the last wisp of sunset clouds outside the cabin window, it added a unique charm to her already delicate features.
Approaching Feng Mountain’s side, she lowered her head slightly and asked softly, "Mr. Feng, lunch is filet mignon. What kind of wine would you like?"
"Red wine will be fine." Feng Mountain’s expression was calm, as if nothing had happened earlier.
Mova nodded lightly, a professional smile on her face, and skillfully pulled out the tray table from the seat.
The table slid out with a soft mechanical sound.
She then brought the exquisite lunch items down from the cart, placing them one by one on the table.
Each dish was like a meticulously carved work of art, exuding an enticing aroma.
Next, Mova took out a beautifully packaged bottle of red wine from the cart and gently twisted open the cork.
She slowly poured the red wine into a stemmed glass.
The deep red liquid slid down like silk, leaving beautiful streaks on the side of the glass.
Then, she gently placed the glass in front of Feng Mountain.
The wine in the glass shimmered with a captivating luster under the light.
"Mr. Feng, please enjoy your meal. Let me know if you need anything." Mova bowed slightly, her eyes showing a trace of respect.
"Sit for a while. I like to chat while I eat."
Feng Mountain looked at Mova calmly, picked up his cutlery, and gestured to the seat opposite him.
He elegantly cut a small piece of steak and chewed it slowly.
The steak was tender and juicy, with a decent texture.
But from memory, it still fell far short of the beef from the Crown Territory.
The beef from the Crown Territory, with its rich, meaty aroma and delicate texture, was like a top-tier feast for the palate.
Then again, he was on a plane. Having steak at all was already quite good.
Mova, of course, knew why Mr. Feng had asked her to stay. She nodded slightly.
She walked to the opposite seat and sat down slowly. After smoothing her skirt, she looked up at Feng Mountain and asked.
"Mr. Feng, what kind of work were you referring to earlier?"
Feng Mountain picked up his napkin and dabbed his mouth gently, his movements elegant and unhurried.
Leaning back slightly in his chair, he spoke with a hint of confidence in his eyes.
"I’ve established a travel agency in China and now need to set up an office in Alaska to handle tourists traveling from there. The job is relatively easy. I can offer a base salary of 3,000 US Dollar after taxes, plus a 1% commission on each tourist’s tour fee, as well as a year-end bonus."
He paused, his gaze falling on Mova’s face as if observing her reaction, then continued.
"Although the base salary is a bit less than what you make at *Petroleum*, the commission adds up to be quite substantial. A tour group is about to depart from China soon, with around 200 people. The average tour fee per person is 30,000 US Dollar, so 1% is 300 US Dollar. You can do the math on what the 1% commission for 200 people would be."
A faint, sly smile played on Feng Mountain’s lips.
Mova was slightly taken aback, but her mind immediately started racing.
’According to Mr. Feng,’ she thought, ’a 30,000 US Dollar tour fee means a 300 US Dollar commission. For 200 people, that’s a 60,000 US Dollar commission!’
’Plus the base salary, the actual take-home pay would be substantial.’
However, Mova still had a doubt.
’How is that number of tourists calculated?’
’After all, Alaska has a harsh climate. Not many tourists are willing to visit each year.’
At this thought, a cautious expression appeared on Mova’s face, and she asked softly.
"Mr. Feng, this tour group of 200 people... is that the total number of tourists for a whole year, or...?"
Hearing this, Feng Mountain couldn’t help but roll his eyes and toss his napkin onto the table in exasperation.
"Of course that’s the number for one month! If it were only 200 tourists a year, what would be the point of me opening a travel agency? Do you think I’m just playing house?!"
’A 200-person tour group per month, times 12 months, is 2,400 people a year.’
’A 300 US Dollar commission per tourist... for 2,400 people, that’s 720,000 US Dollar.’
The number made Mova’s heart pound.
’With that kind of money, I could not only pay off my student loans but even have enough left over to buy my parents an apartment with heating.’
’But what if Mr. Feng is lying to me?’
’If I quit my stable job at *Petroleum* and throw myself into this so-called travel agency, only to end up not making a single cent, then my fate would be...’
’Streetwalker!’
A single term suddenly leaped into Mova’s mind.
’Just like those women on the streets of Fairbanks with their garish lipstick, huddled in the thirty-below-zero wind, smoking, with ice crystals on their eyelashes and eyes as empty as stagnant water, waiting for men to pick them out with strange gazes.’
Feng Mountain wiped his mouth with his napkin and looked up to see Mova’s conflicted expression.
Guessing what she was worried about, he simply took out his phone.
"Don’t worry. I can have a word with Jeff and temporarily borrow you to help me. If you find that the reality isn’t as good as I’ve described, you can still go back to your job at *Petroleum*."
"Is that really possible?" Mova’s eyelashes fluttered, and beneath the proper smile trained by her flight attendant etiquette, she couldn’t hide the surprise in her eyes.
North Slope Petroleum Company was one of the top 100 listed companies in the United States. Countless people wanted to work there, and she herself had only managed to get in after passing round after round of rigorous evaluations.
An unheard-of arrangement like being seconded while having her position held was simply impossible at North Slope Petroleum.