A month has passed since Silas Croft, that pathetic imitator, boarded the westbound train.
In this month, a silent yet earth-shattering revolution occurred in New York's canned food market.
The "brand war" initiated by Allen had an effect akin to dropping a depth charge into a calm lake.
The aftershocks are still reverberating to this day.
That afternoon, Allen, as usual, arrived at Mr. Gable's grocery store.
This place had long become his best vantage point for observing the market's pulse.
"Allen! You busy man, you finally have time to visit this old man!"
Mr. Gable immediately dropped what he was doing when he saw him, warmly pulling him to sit at the back of the store.
"How could that be, Mr. Gable. I've always been thinking about your beer," Allen said with a smile.
"Haha! There's plenty of beer," Mr. Gable poured him a large glass, his face beaming with an irrepressible smile.
"Seriously, Allen, you're the most incredible guy I've ever met. How did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"How did you manage to make all of New York obsessed with your canned food!" Mr. Gable excitedly waved his arms. "Do you know, your 'free exchange' event almost burst my store at the seams when it started! I've never seen so many people in my life, holding letters, lining up, just to exchange for your two free cans of stewed beef!"
"I apologize for the trouble I caused you. But, did they come back to buy later?"
This was the question Allen truly cared about.
"Come back? More than just come back!" Mr. Gable slapped his thigh.
"Allen, let me put it this way. Before, I had to talk myself hoarse to sell ten cans of yours a day. Now, I don't have to say anything at all; your 'Red Label' alone sells a hundred cans a day! A hundred cans! And, guess what's the most interesting part?"
"What is it?"
"It's that the way customers who come to the store to buy things now, especially those housewives with children, greet each other has changed."
Mr. Gable mimicked a woman's voice, pinching his throat, and said, "'Oh, dear, are you still buying those lead-containing cans? Stop feeding them to your children!' 'Heavens, of course not! I only buy Williams now, haven't you seen that shield logo? That's what's safe!'"
The two exchanged glances and both burst into laughter.
"You won, Allen," Mr. Gable said sincerely. "You not only sold canned food, but you also taught all the housewives in New York a lesson about food safety. Now they don't recognize anything else, only your 'shield'."
Just as the two were chatting happily, a man in a sharp suit, carrying a briefcase, walked into the store.
He looked around, his gaze finally settling on Allen.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Williams?"
The man's tone was polite and enthusiastic.
"That's me, and you are?"
"My name is Goodwin, from New York Bank." The man handed over a business card.
"Mr. Williams, I apologize for the intrusion. My superior, our Bank President, has noticed your company's recent... commercial activities."
"Oh?"
"Yes," Goodwin pushed up his glasses and continued.
"We've noticed that over the past month, dozens of businesses, including Mr. Tilford's trading company, have been depositing large and stable sums of money into your company account at our bank daily. This amount has attracted the attention of our headquarters."
Mr. Gable, standing nearby, listened with his mouth wide open.
He knew Allen had made a lot of money, but he didn't expect it to be so much that New York Bank would personally send someone.
"Business is going quite well, Mr. Goodwin." Allen's tone didn't change much.
"More than just quite well, sir."
Goodwin's face showed a professional smile.
"Our bank's analysts have conducted a preliminary assessment of your business model. We unanimously believe that Williams Food Company is currently the most promising industrial company in all of New York. Therefore, our Bank President specifically sent me to talk with you about deeper financial cooperation in the future."
"Financial cooperation?"
"Yes. For example, providing you with larger commercial loans for your next phase of expansion. Or, offering some sound investment channels for your company's idle funds. We at New York Bank are very happy to be the financial backing for the development of your business."
Allen smiled and took the business card.
"I am very grateful for your bank's kind offer, Mr. Goodwin. However, my company's cash flow is quite ample at the moment, and there is no immediate need for a loan. But I would be happy to visit your Bank President Harrison another day and make friends with him."
"We eagerly await your visit."
Goodwin, having achieved the purpose of initial contact, politely took his leave.
Watching his retreating figure, Mr. Gable looked at Allen as if he were a monster.
"My goodness... even the bank is actively coming to you to offer money. Allen, you really are a big shot now."
After saying goodbye to Gable, Allen returned to the factory.
The evening meeting was held on time in the now quite expanded office.
"Alright, everyone, let's hear it." Allen sat at the head of the table. "Bill, you start. How's the meat?"
"Allen, just you wait and see!"
Old man Bill, now the second boss of Metropolitan Meat United Company, still spoke in his gruff voice, but his face was flushed with health and happiness.
"Those wholesalers now have to make way when they see me! We've signed exclusive contracts for all the high-quality meat sources around New York! Our procurement costs dropped another half-cent last week! The meat in the warehouse is piled as high as a mountain, enough for your factory to operate at full capacity for two months!"
"Very good." Allen nodded. "Jones, how's production?"
"Reporting, sir!" Corporal Jones stood up, his voice clear and loud.
"The two-shift system has been completely streamlined. The workers' morale is very high! Our daily output has stabilized at three thousand two hundred cans! And the quality inspection report shows that the defect rate is less than five per thousand!"
"Miller, what about security?"
"Reporting, sir, the factory is as solid as a fortress with no problems whatsoever. The street thugs now have a saying that they'd rather rob the police station than mess with Williams Factory."
Everyone's gaze finally focused on Catherine.
Catherine adjusted her glasses and opened the thick ledger in front of her. Her voice was like a heavenly melody.
"Sir, and everyone," she cleared her throat, "I announce the financial data for Williams Food Company and its associated enterprises for the last full operating month."
"Total sales: eighteen thousand six hundred forty dollars."
"Total cost expenditure, including raw materials, production, operations, salaries, and expansion costs: ten thousand three hundred twenty dollars."
"This month, the company achieved a pre-tax net profit of... eight thousand three hundred twenty dollars."
When the figure "eight thousand three hundred twenty dollars" came out of Catherine's mouth, even Jones and Bill, who had somewhat anticipated it, couldn't help but gasp.
In one month, they earned wealth that an ordinary wealthy New York family could never achieve in a lifetime.
"Very good." Allen's face finally showed the most relaxed smile he had had in a while.
"Everyone has worked hard. This month's bonus will be doubled on top of the original amount."
A suppressed cheer erupted in the conference room.
After the meeting, Catherine stayed behind.
"Sir, eight thousand dollars a month. Have you ever thought that exactly one year ago today, you were still in that dark basement, worrying about your first order of a few tens of dollars?"
There was a hint of emotion in her voice.
"Of course I remember, Catherine." Allen walked to the window, looking at the myriad lights of New York in the distance.
"But I also remember what I told myself."
"What did you say?"
"This is just the beginning."
Allen's gaze turned south, towards the direction shrouded in war clouds.
"Catherine, when a person has so much money that they can't spend it all in several lifetimes, money is no longer the goal. It becomes a tool. A tool that allows you to achieve bigger goals."
"Then what is your next goal?"
"My next goal..." Allen smiled, "is a super big client, hundreds of times larger than the entire New York City."
He had already completed the most crucial initial accumulation.
His factory, his team, his brand, his cash flow, everything was ready.
It was time to knock on the door that would truly make his business soar.