Chapter Seventeen: The Reason for Failed Training

Zhang Congwen secretly flashed a five at Song Jiawei.

Song Jiawei looked utterly incredulous. "Five hundred? That's it?"

Zhang Congwen was speechless. Normally, the two of them had remarkable tacit understanding, but why did this guy always mess up at critical moments?

Unable to help herself, Zhu Qingyan interjected, "It's five thousand!"

In truth, Zhang Congwen's original price was three thousand. He never saw himself as a professional dog trainer, so he would instinctively ask for less. But Chen Na had been unpleasant to everyone and her attitude was exactly the kind he disliked most, so in the end, he decided to quote five thousand. Otherwise, it wouldn't be worth all the time he'd spent talking and the frustration he'd endured.

Song Jiawei nodded to himself, then turned to negotiate with Chen Na.

However, deep down, Zhang Congwen doubted Chen Na would ever agree to pay them five thousand. The reason was simple: the process was all wrong. Normally, you would agree on the price first, then train the dog, and only after a successful result would you get paid.

But since Zhang Congwen lacked experience, he'd skipped the first step and foolishly helped with the dog training first, trying to name his price afterwards. Naturally, the other party would take the chance to give him less.

After all, the dog was already trained—could he possibly undo it?

Downstairs from Chen Na’s apartment, Zhang Congwen finally couldn't resist asking, "So, how much did we get this time?"

Unexpectedly, Song Jiawei put on airs, grinning slyly. "Guess."

"I think at most four thousand," Zhu Qingyan mused after a moment.

Zhang Congwen was even more pessimistic. "I’d say three thousand tops. Maybe just over two thousand."

Song Jiawei grinned again. "Nope. Eight thousand."

"What?" Zhu Qingyan’s jaw dropped in astonishment. She had thought exactly as Zhang Congwen did—without agreeing on a price up front, there was no way to get a high fee.

Zhang Congwen was even more incredulous. He’d thought asking for five thousand was already a stretch; he hadn’t expected Song Jiawei to actually get eight. Truly, a salesman through and through—ruthless!

And the key was, the client really paid it.

Song Jiawei fiddled with his phone for a moment, and Zhang Congwen’s phone chimed with a transfer notification. He took it out—exactly eight thousand.

"How did you pull that off?" Zhu Qingyan immediately blinked at him, curious.

"Because I’m just too handsome," Song Jiawei replied, with a ludicrous swagger.

"Get lost! Even a pile of dog shit on the sidewalk would look better than you," Zhang Congwen retorted, having long developed immunity to Song Jiawei’s posturing.

"Then go ahead, try it. You and I, we’ll compare," Song Jiawei replied shamelessly.

"But really, how did you do it?" Zhu Qingyan pressed, still curious.

Song Jiawei grinned and launched into a lengthy explanation. "It’s actually very simple. For people like her..."

At first, Zhang Congwen tried to take note of Song Jiawei’s methods, but after a few sentences his head began to spin, his mind turning to mush. It had to be said: everyone has their own innate talents—some things can’t be forced.

When it came to dealing with people, Zhang Congwen truly had no talent, nor could he learn Song Jiawei’s ways.

After the three of them had left, Chen Na sat on her sofa, gazing at her Alaskan Malamute with a complicated expression. Even now, she resisted the things Zhang Congwen had told her.

According to his advice, she ought to spend less time with her beloved pet and give the Malamute more freedom. But deep down, she still felt her actions were an expression of love.

Yet, seeing Zhang Congwen’s training as he took the dog out, she had to admit he had some skill. Though she was reluctant to acknowledge it, she couldn't help but wonder if he might be right.

The more she thought, the more agitated she felt, and she unconsciously began to neglect the Malamute. At first, the dog was bewildered, lost. But as time passed, it slowly began to stick out its tongue, its tail wagging lightly.

Whether Chen Na noticed this scene remained unknown.

After leaving her home, the three went straight out for a meal.

Having made eight thousand, Zhang Congwen was inevitably stuck with the bill—a fate he accepted cheerfully. After all, without Zhu Qingyan, he wouldn’t have had this opportunity, and without Song Jiawei, he’d have been at a loss today.

At Zhu Qingyan and Song Jiawei’s insistence, they didn’t go anywhere fancy. They simply picked a well-reviewed, affordable spot on their phones and ordered a few ordinary home-style dishes.

Soon, the fragrant food arrived, and the three resumed their conversation.

Unsurprisingly, they kept talking about today’s dog training.

Zhu Qingyan asked, "Do you think that Alaskan can really change in the end?"

Zhang Congwen shook his head. "Hard to say."

"Why don’t you have more faith in yourself?" Song Jiawei asked. "If that’s how you feel, then I might just feel a bit guilty about taking this eight thousand."

"It’s not that I don’t believe in myself," Zhang Congwen explained. "As for the dog itself, I’m completely confident. Under normal circumstances, training this dog is easy—one or two hours, tops. The challenge lies with the owner; I don’t trust her. If she won’t listen and make changes, the result will be the same—nothing will change. Sometimes, when a dog can’t be trained, the problem isn’t the dog at all, but the owner’s refusal to cooperate."

Both Zhu Qingyan and Song Jiawei nodded in perfect agreement.

"I just wonder about her daughter," Zhu Qingyan suddenly said, out of nowhere.

"Her daughter?" Song Jiawei was taken aback. "What’s her daughter got to do with dog training? Or are you worried about her injuries? It should just be a minor wound; otherwise, Chen Na wouldn’t be so unconcerned about the biting, nor so unwilling to blame her beloved dog."

He had a point. Except for extreme dog lovers, a normal person whose daughter had been seriously injured by their own dog wouldn’t be so indifferent.

But Zhu Qingyan shook her head. "I’m not worried about her daughter’s injuries. I’m thinking about her parenting. From the way Chen Na interacts with her dog, it’s clear she’s a very controlling person. If that control only targets the Malamute, it’s one thing; but if she’s like that with her daughter too, then her daughter probably doesn’t have it easy at home."

Thinking of Chen Na’s daughter, Zhu Qingyan couldn’t help but empathize. Women are naturally more empathetic than men; neither Zhang Congwen nor Song Jiawei had considered this, but Zhu Qingyan had thought of it early on. She felt a pang of sadness.

Song Jiawei, oblivious, fanned the flames. "Who knows? Maybe her daughter can’t escape either."

Zhu Qingyan’s compassion only deepened.

At this, the three fell into a tacit silence. After all, even the best judge can’t adjudicate family affairs—much less them. They couldn’t train dogs and then try to train people too.

"By the way, Congwen, how about coming with me to the dog market tomorrow?" Song Jiawei suddenly remembered.

"What for?" Zhang Congwen asked, curious.

"I want to buy a puppy," Song Jiawei replied.

He’d doubted Zhang Congwen’s dog training skills at first, but after seeing him in action, he was convinced. With such a resource at hand, it would be a waste not to use it.

"Great, let’s go together," Zhu Qingyan chimed in enthusiastically.

"Don’t you two have work tomorrow?" Zhang Congwen complained.

"I’m off tomorrow," Song Jiawei said with a shameless grin. He worked in sales, so his days off didn’t follow the usual schedule.

"I work for my father’s company," Zhu Qingyan said. "If I want time off, all it takes is a word. But do you have the time?"

She directed the last question at Zhang Congwen.

He was speechless. Working for her family’s company, renting an apartment just because she felt like it—such is the life of the wealthy and willful.

"He’s fine. He’s unemployed at the moment," Song Jiawei said without a second thought.