"These are clothes for your son. My wife helped me pick them out."
After laughing and joking around the airport terminal for a while, everyone decided to grab some sweet and sour pork before returning to their respective cars. Among Jiang Hai's group, only he and Xiang Hua didn't own cars in Harbin, so they rode with Fu Yuan, while the others drove their own vehicles.
Cars are cheap these days, ranging from modest to luxurious, and after getting in, Jiang Hai casually handed Xiang Hua a stack of children's clothes from his backpack. Xiang Hua accepted them with a smile, unaware of their true value—he only noted that they seemed well-made.
Fu Yuan, whose family was well-off, immediately recognized the brands: Bonpoint and Teenie Weenie, both luxury names in children's clothing. Each piece cost several thousand yuan—considered cheap by Jiang Hai's standards.
"Jiang Hai, you're really rolling in money! This stack must be worth tens of thousands!" Fu Yuan exclaimed, astonished. Xiang Hua was even more shocked; he couldn't believe the clothes were so expensive.
"It's not much money. You'll have plenty when you have kids in the future," Jiang Hai replied, patting the seat beside him with a smile. For him, this was trivial, hardly worth worrying about.
Even so, Xiang Hua's curiosity got the better of him. Seeing the clothes' quality, he studied them intently, and Jiang Hai couldn't help but smile at his carefree demeanor.
The three of them chatted and laughed all the way to Jiang Hai's chosen restaurant, a local spot famed for sweet and sour pork. Jiang Hai had clearly explained his preferences beforehand, ensuring they went somewhere authentic.
Legend held that this dish originated from a chef in a Daotai's residence. Harbin, bordering Soviet Russia during the late Qing Dynasty, was a front-line region, and Qing officials, including the Daotai, sought to maintain good relations with Soviet forces. Foreigners preferred sweet and sour flavors, so the chef adapted traditional braised pork strips to create Guo Bao Rou—originally called Pot-Fried Pork, later renamed after the Soviet pronunciation of "bao" (explosion).
Today, this dish remains one of Harbin's culinary icons, second only to Demoli stewed fish. Jiang Hai loved it, indulging whenever he returned home.
At the restaurant, they ordered six dishes for seven people—not because Jiang Hai was stingy, but because portions in Harbin were notoriously large. A single dish often fed three people from the Jiangzhe region, reflecting the local appetite. The cost of living in Harbin wasn't high, and locals earned significantly less than those in Shanghai.
As the dishes arrived, Jiang Hai and his companions ate voraciously, pausing only to sip water or other beverages, since the drivers abstained from alcohol.
"It's only six o'clock. Want to go out and have some fun?" Huang Yunfei asked mysteriously, prompting curious glances. Jiang Hai immediately understood the implication.
Since Jiang Hai's family incident, he had kept a distance from these friends, partly out of shame. In America, he had indulged occasionally, but it had been a long time, especially with several women at home. He wasn't particularly keen on going, but since no one objected, he let it slide.
"Going's fine, but where? There aren't any good places lately," Wang Yong said hesitantly. He had some experience in this realm, and his girlfriend had been loyal despite knowing his habits.
"I know a decent place, cheap too," Wu Ming offered. Though he had recently married and had a three-year-old son, he had surpassed Wang Yong in experience.
"Stop! I'm not going to the cheap places. I have a harem; I don't want trouble," Jiang Hai said, stretching his hands. His current situation demanded caution—even if his health made him mostly immune, he wasn't willing to risk it.
"I know a place with options, cheap and expensive, depending on your budget," Fu Yuan said, piquing everyone's interest.
"Let's check it out!" Huang Yunfei urged. Wang Yong paid the bill, and the group headed to Fu Yuan's recommended location.
Along the way, they discussed their industry knowledge via a WeChat group. Professional women were dispersed across various establishments: low-end hair salons and massage parlors, slightly better bathhouses, and high-end clubs. The latter, formerly called nightclubs, now operated under "club" branding, offering entertainment with accompanying women.
The club Fu Yuan brought them to appeared to be a karaoke lounge. While singing was possible, accompaniment by women was expected. Hierarchies, levels, and pricing varied widely—overnight stays, single encounters—leaving Jiang Hai somewhat bewildered.
Upon arrival, the group entered a high-end building. Staff outside were attentive, even pressing elevator buttons for them. On their floor, two rows of women in cheongsams with high slits, draped in black mink shawls, stood at attention.
"Welcome to the XXX Clubhouse!" they announced. Xiang Hua and the others, unaccustomed to such grandeur, were visibly stunned.
"Did you make a reservation?" a middle-aged man, fifty or so, approached in a pink sequined suit, hair dyed golden-white. Jiang Hai felt an inexplicable urge to punch him.
"No, any large private rooms available?" Fu Yuan asked, handing over a red RMB note. The man pocketed it with a grin.
"Of course! VIPs always have rooms. This way, please!" he said, leading them to a spacious private room.
Inside, the room was brightly lit, with leather sofas and a large TV, clearly indicating a high-end establishment. Jiang Hai glanced around, acknowledging the quality while remaining his usual calm self.