I Have 10 Trillion Dollars only Usable For Simping Chapter 2721 - 1690: Country Bumpkin

"How much? Thirty thousand?"

When she heard the price, Lan’s mother, who had just been thinking the belt looked quite nice, instantly widened her eyes.

Thirty thousand yuan.

For a belt.

Forget people from the countryside, even most city folks wouldn’t be able to accept that.

She’d specially lugged over those oranges that only ripen once a year—how much were they a jin?

This year’s purchase price seemed to be twenty-five cents.

Calculated like that, how many jin of oranges would this one belt be worth?

"What are you yelling for. Keep your voice down."

Wu Guangjiang was actually quite calm, or rather, he had no choice but to be; the salesgirl was standing right there, and if she saw them making a scene, how embarrassing would that be.

"It’s too expensive."

Lan’s mother secretly tugged on her man’s arm. It wasn’t that she was unwilling to spend money on their son, it was just that her sense of value simply couldn’t accept it.

Honestly, Wu Guangjiang also felt it was a bit over the top. When he walked in he had of course mentally prepared himself; he knew this was a luxury store, but at most he’d thought a few thousand would do it. Who knew it would far exceed his expectations.

The leather jacket on his back, the priciest one-of-a-kind item in the whole town, had sat unsold for two years before he bought it outright.

How much was it after the discount?

Not even six thousand.

If you stripped the leather off his jacket, how many belts could you make?

"This belt is crocodile leather, so the price is a bit higher. If you’re not satisfied, you can take a look at those models over there, they’re a bit more affordable."

Strictly speaking, using the word "affordable" in an international luxury brand store felt quite out of place, but it was precisely this kind of detail that showed the sales associate’s professionalism.

Sales, like teaching and nurturing students, is about "teaching in accordance with their aptitude"; when dealing with different customers, you have to adopt different communication styles.

This salesgirl, whose looks were on par with a model’s, had clearly heard Lan’s mother’s exclamation, but her expression didn’t change at all. That cliché of "dogs looking down on people" did exist, but it didn’t play out in every store.

Different brands have different business philosophies, and their requirements for employees’ qualities also differ.

Of course.

It’s not entirely a brand issue either.

A thousand people, a thousand faces.

The species is born with diversity.

"Wu Guangjiang, I told you ages ago but you wouldn’t listen. Enough, let’s just go out and find some random street stall and buy one, I’ll take your kindness as given."

Martial Saint had no psychological baggage at all and muttered as if no one else were around, not the least bit afraid of losing face.

The more you care about something, the more you lack it.

If you call Bian Zaide a broke bastard, he’d probably just smile. But call him an ugly bastard and he might blow up.

"You think your old man is the kind of person who breaks his word?"

The more Martial Saint talked like that, the more Wu Guangjiang couldn’t back down. Forget thirty thousand, even if it were three hundred thousand, he’d have to grit his teeth and buy it today.

He forced out what he thought was a magnanimous smile at the salesgirl. "We’ll take this one, wrap it up."

The salesgirl once again showed her excellent professionalism. She glanced at Lan’s mother, then at Martial Saint, and didn’t forget to look at the silent Boss Jiang, then said with a flawless polite smile, "Would you like to think it over a bit more?"

She was definitely speaking out of kindness, but Wu Guangjiang didn’t see it that way; he thought she felt he couldn’t afford it.

"What’s there to think about. This one."

Lan’s mother fell silent.

"May I ask how you’d like to pay?"

"Uncle, let me."

Someone was very considerate—didn’t say much, but spoke up at crucial moments.

Thirty thousand yuan was nothing to Lan Peizhi, but that didn’t mean it was the same for the Lan Family.

For an ordinary rural family, taking out thirty thousand yuan was no easy matter.

"Hey, this is a gift from us to Martial Saint, what are you paying for?"

Wu Guangjiang, though vain and fond of showing off, also had his principles. He refused to let Jiang Chen pay and reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket.

"Wu Guangjiang, you’re serious?"

Martial Saint was stunned.

He knew the family’s financial situation fairly well. Don’t be fooled by how Wu Guangjiang strutted around the village—that was just for show, propped up by sheer bravado.

His older sister’s relationship with the family hadn’t been good for a long time.

"Card."

Ignoring his son, Wu Guangjiang pulled out his wallet, took out a credit card, and handed it to the salesgirl.

Martial Saint froze for a second, awed by his old man’s flair.

"Please wait a moment."

The salesgirl was also surprised. Working in a place like this, her ability to size people up was unmatched; this couple, radiating a strong rustic aura, were most likely from the countryside.

Are farmers these days really this rich?

But since the customer wanted to spend money, as a sales associate she had no reason to refuse.

The pleasing-to-the-eye salesgirl walked off on her long black legs, high heels clicking as she temporarily left.

"Wu Guangjiang, not bad, hiding a little private Treasury from us."

Wu Guangjiang’s expression stayed indifferent as he said casually, "Your old man’s been alive for more than half his life, you think I don’t have any savings?"

If Jiang Chen had really been the one to pay just now, Martial Saint probably wouldn’t have felt much. But thirty thousand yuan weighed completely differently in different people’s hands.

The most expensive thing Wu Guangjiang had ever bought for himself in his life had never gone over thirty thousand.

"You didn’t dig out your funeral money for this, did you, Wu Guangjiang? You can act cool all you want, but don’t drag me down. I don’t want people pointing at my spine behind my back."

"A mere thirty thousand, that’s all."

Wu Guangjiang shot his son a sideways glance. "You really look down on your old man."

"Mom..."

Martial Saint looked at his mother.

Lan’s mother gave a wry smile. They’d already bought it; they couldn’t exactly go back on it now. Besides, her man had always been the head of the household.

"Since your dad’s bought it for you, just accept it."

Martial Saint said nothing more.

Signing, card returned, all done in one go. Under the salesgirl’s courteous send-off, the group walked out of the international top-tier luxury flagship store on the first floor.

Wu Guangjiang was carrying the belt he’d spent thirty thousand hard-earned yuan on, the corner of his mouth twitching in a way no one else noticed. It was clear that his heart was bleeding.