Chapter 265: New Trends and Directions

The celebration hosted by the President reached its peak with the arrival of the Progressive Party’s vice chairman.

The chairman of the Progressive Party committee was absent, so the vice chairman came to offer congratulations on his behalf. This wasn’t due to any conflict between the chairman and the President; in fact, the party leader himself didn’t attend either.

Both men—by status, position, and reputation—far surpassed the current President. Their presence would have caused considerable discomfort.

Would people gather around the chairman and the party leader, or around the President?

This uncertainty could even cause cracks among the three men, who were otherwise on good terms. These cracks rarely showed but would eventually create small gaps—until some event caused those problems to explode.

So neither attended, nor would they steal the spotlight. Instead, they entrusted the vice chairman—someone with enough status but who wouldn’t overshadow the host—to represent them in congratulating the President.

People still gathered around the President, their faces filled with admiration and longing as they watched two men in the crowd laugh and chat, often joining in forced laughter at small jokes that weren’t really funny.

To live to this level—referring to the two men in view—was worth having faced the harshness of life alongside hundreds of millions of others.

“Mr. Lynch!”

As Lynch held his wine glass and gazed at the world’s busiest scene in the distance, a very unfamiliar voice spoke beside him. He turned in time to see a well-dressed man and his companion.

The man appeared about forty-four or forty-five, with neatly trimmed facial hair that made him look somewhat younger than his age.

“Hello, I don’t yet know who you are…” Lynch said politely, nodding and extending his hand.

The man shook his hand and introduced himself, “You can call me Clayton, and this is my wife.”

“Hello, Mr. Clayton, and madam!”

The introductions complete, Clayton wasted no small talk and went straight to why he approached Lynch: “I heard you set up a secondhand goods trading and auction event in York State, and it’s doing quite well. Is that right?”

Lynch nodded. Many details were still kept from the public, but to politicians and capitalists, such information was never hidden.

Power and wealth were the supreme passes in society, effective anywhere at any time.

What Lynch did in York State was easily known by those entitled to know, so he didn’t deny it.

Clayton continued, “You know, they’re all in cahoots…” He gestured vaguely with his wine glass at certain people, mainly politicians. “Where I’m from, we want to promote this kind of goods flow, but I have a small problem I hope you can help me with. May I?”

Lynch sipped his wine, “Why not? Tell me, maybe we can discuss it.”

“I knew you’d be approachable. We’ll definitely be friends!” Clayton’s behavior puzzled Lynch. He wasn’t sure if this was Clayton’s true nature or just a mask he wore. But everyone in society had to carve out a role and wear a mask. It seemed odd but was true—not only in high society but in the lower classes too.

People remembered those who made a strong impression—their public persona and the role society expected them to fill.

Some were good listeners, making many friends and confidants.

Others were brash and impulsive, and it was common to be bumped or challenged by them.

Everyone adapted their mask to their environment. Probably, what Lynch saw was Clayton’s mask—though Lynch himself had one too.

“I’m handling some local issues,” Clayton said. “Recently, our city’s police have become more efficient, cracking down on many illegal resale dealers. But I’m facing trouble.”

“My supply of secondhand goods is dwindling. Some sellers come to me asking high prices. We gave them a clear price guide for these goods, but that has squeezed profit margins on buying and reselling. How do you handle this?”

Clayton’s words were a bit jumbled, but Lynch understood: the secondhand market there was slow; once goods sold out, there wasn’t much left to sell.

Sellers had become cunning, knowing roughly how much their goods could fetch thanks to the auction’s pricing guide.

So buying low and selling for profit was getting difficult.

There might also be political pressure. When a policy becomes mainstream, if implementation hits a snag, people don’t consider the role of ordinary citizens—they question the competence of those in power.

Lynch thought a moment and answered, “You can sell new goods. As far as I know, many warehouses still have unopened stock. People are more interested in those.”

Clayton frowned, “But owners won’t easily sell those at low prices, especially recently, with our new President in office. Rumors suggest the real economy may start to revive.”

“I’ve met some who told me they’d never sell to me until they go bankrupt!”

Clayton drank deeply, and his wife smiled apologetically to Lynch and Severella.

This situation stems from upcoming federal international policies. The domestic market is nearly saturated, but there’s still a large international market.

The new President aims to open foreign markets for federal merchants. If successful, unsold domestic goods will turn into cash, reviving stagnant industrial cities.

This made some wait; if not for financial troubles, they wouldn’t rush to clear warehouse stock.

Lynch pursed his lips, “Mr. Clayton, if you listen to what you just said, you’ll find they actually gave you the solution.”

Seeing Clayton’s confused face, Lynch explained, “They said they won’t sell until bankruptcy. Then you let them go bankrupt.”

“Banks, governments, unpaid workers—someone will worsen their financial state. They’ll either compromise or fail.”

Clayton, ready for a grand speech from Lynch, was stunned by this solution. He struggled to find words.

“We’re merchants, Mr. Clayton. We pursue profit and profitable partners. Befriending those people won’t benefit you, but letting them fail will solve your problem and bring great returns. So why not let them go bankrupt?”

The reasoning was sound; Clayton had no immediate rebuttal.

After a long pause, he sighed, “You know, right now, you sound more like those financiers in Eminence than an entrepreneur.”

The financiers in Eminence were notorious throughout the federation. Some teams specialized in selling off a company’s profitable core and forcing bankruptcy on others for huge gains.

They didn’t care about others’ futures; only the money at hand and incoming cash mattered.

This is the irreconcilable conflict between traditional entrepreneurs and the rising financial players in today’s society. For those involved in capital operations and financial games, a company’s value lies in its final sale to secure greater returns.

Entrepreneurs, however, value legacy and certain cultural sentiments that financiers often find laughable. This has caused many traditional businesses to be left behind by emerging enterprises.

It’s a sad reality but the trend of the world’s development. Future entrepreneurs will understand this more clearly.

Doing well is not as important as talking well.

Talking well is not as important as selling well.