Chapter 582: The Letter
Adrian Hawthorne, of course, had no objections. He trusted the Thorne family. They discussed the matter and decided to go to Vessaria the day after tomorrow. First, they would call Crazy Master and have him prepare the shipment.
It seems when it rains, it pours. The next day, Clayton Xavier also brought good news. He had made a few more trips to Wraven over the past few days and, sure enough, had landed another large order.
The machinery factory’s heat bonus had been a huge hit. For all the years they had distributed summer bonuses, the workers had never praised them, but this time they were all singing its praises. Naturally, word of this got out to the other factories.
The workers at those factories were disgruntled. Why should the machinery factory get ten feet of dacron while they only got popsicle coupons? They wanted fabric, too.
When the workers started making a fuss, the management had to find a way to appease them. They found out that Director Wood had arranged the supply, so they went to him. Director Wood, in turn, went to Clayton Xavier.
"It’s three factories in total. They aren’t as large as the machinery factory—only about a thousand workers combined. It’s also ten feet of fabric per person," Clayton Xavier explained, stating the order size. He wasn’t particularly satisfied himself. Wraven was too small, with too few factories. He planned to check out Oakfell after a while.
The large state-owned enterprises in Oakfell had tens of thousands of employees. If he could land their bonus contracts, his commission would be much larger. Clayton Xavier was quite confident he could do it.
However, what he really wanted right now was to go to Capria. He wanted to see more of the world. Being out and about lately had changed Clayton Xavier’s perspective. He realized he had been too naive before. The old saying was true: ’Traveling a thousand miles is better than reading a thousand books.’ He shouldn’t be cooped up at home all day. He needed to get out and see the vast world.
His heart ought to be as vast as the world itself.
"Can I go with you? I don’t mean anything by it, I just want to go and have a look around. I can go off on my own once we get there," Clayton Xavier said, looking at Adrian Hawthorne with a pleading expression. His tone was cautious, afraid Adrian might misunderstand.
After all, given what his grandmother had said before... but in reality, he was overthinking things. Adrian Hawthorne wasn’t worried in the slightest. Crazy Master wasn’t the type to deal with just anyone. And even if his supply channels were discovered, he wasn’t concerned. In business, you made it on your own merits.
"Go if you want. You’re paying your own way."
Adrian Hawthorne’s tone was much better than before, though still a bit stiff. He couldn’t stand Clayton Xavier’s meek, servant-like tone; it made him sound like some villainous capitalist. ’A grown man talking like a girl. How annoying.’
Clayton Xavier broke into a grin. "Thank you!"
He decided not to tell his grandmother. He’d just say he was going out to arrange some business. Clayton Xavier found it strange that he could now lie to his grandmother so nonchalantly, and without a shred of guilt.
’I remember reading an article once that said lying can sometimes be a form of kindness—that life needs white lies. At the time, I thought the author was misleading their readers. Isn’t honesty the greatest virtue?’
’But now, I understand what the author meant. White lies really can smooth the edges of life.’
"Adrian Hawthorne, you’ve got mail!"
A postman in a green uniform called out from outside. Adrian Hawthorne froze for a second before his face lit up with joy. It had to be a letter from Aston Marsh.
Sure enough, it was a letter from Janton City. The bold, sprawling characters on the envelope were clearly Aston Marsh’s style. Adrian Hawthorne poured the postman a glass of iced tea and invited him to rest for a bit. The postman readily accepted; the heat was brutal.
"Your village has quite a few relatives in Tristone, doesn’t it? Seems like there’s a letter coming in every other day. Here’s another one today," the postman, who was quite talkative, remarked.
Adrian Hawthorne found that strange. As far as he knew, Accountant Golding was the only person in the village with relatives in Tristone they regularly contacted. But it was unlikely Accountant Golding’s daughter would be writing so often. Curious, he asked, "Is it for the Golding family?"
"Nope. It’s for someone with the surname Shen. All the letters lately have been for her," the postman said with a chuckle.