Mercenary’s War
Chapter 1246: One Thousand Two Hundred Twenty-Nine: Having Money with Nowhere to Spend It

Chapter 1246: Chapter One Thousand Two Hundred Twenty-Nine: Having Money with Nowhere to Spend It

A steaming round ball was placed on the table, accompanied by billowing steam and a strong mutton smell.

The hostess, Jansen’s mother, cut into the black, round object, revealing a dark mush inside. It looked somewhat like dumpling filling, except the color and texture were completely unappetizing.

The side dishes were mashed potatoes, fries, and finely chopped carrots. Jansen’s mother scooped servings of Scotland’s national dish, haggis, onto everyone’s plate in turn.

When it came to food, the Russians didn’t have much to say, so Yelena’s expression was fine, without much change. But Rafael was a different story. Coming from a country known for its cuisine, he managed to maintain a smile, but Gao Yang noticed him swallowing hard a few times.

Once everyone had a portion of the black mass on their plates, Jansen cheerfully exclaimed, “Everyone, give our famous dish, haggis, a try! It takes a lot of time to prepare, but it’s worth the wait.”

Jansen’s father, Will, raised his glass and said loudly, “Cheers!”

You don’t drink red wine with haggis—it’s paired with whiskey, and since the Jansen family now ran a distillery, whiskey naturally took center stage.

The whiskey was good, genuinely good.

As for Scotland’s haggis, Gao Yang took a bite and found it was actually decent—much better than it looked. The heavy pepper masked the mutton smell, and the texture was surprisingly smooth. While he considered it a waste to turn sheep offal into something like this, he hadn’t been expecting much in the UK anyway.

After spending three years on the Sudanese Grasslands, Gao Yang had eaten all sorts of strange things. Not to mention well-cooked sheep offal—even a half-raw, blood-dripping concoction wouldn’t faze him. Whether it tasted good or not was one thing; whether he could eat it was another.

Gao Yang’s tolerance was strong enough to clear his entire plate without flinching, but the others weren’t as resilient.

Rafael, after a single bite, was done. He maintained a calm expression, using his fork to stir the food around the plate, but he refused to take another mouthful.

Eileen, however, remained steadfast. Maintaining perfect table manners, she ate the dish piece by piece without a change in expression. After all, she had been a Special Forces soldier—the training she underwent was not something ordinary people could relate to.

Jansen smiled and said, “Let me tell you how haggis is made. Take the lamb’s heart, liver, lungs, and suet, chop them up, add seasonings like pepper and onions, then stuff it all into the lamb’s stomach. Tie the stomach up with string and boil it in a pot for about three hours, and voila!”

Jansen was definitely being intentional. Yelena had been trying to manage a few more bites, but after hearing Jansen’s description, she refused to eat another mouthful.

Fortunately, Will was empathetic. He waved his hand and said with a smile, “This dish is a delicacy for us, but many people might not be able to get used to it. If it’s not to your taste, feel free to leave it unfinished—it’s no problem. After all, you’re not Scottish, and I completely understand.”

Rafael and Yelena looked as if they had been granted amnesty, while Gao Yang, smiling, remarked, “It seems I’m one of the lucky ones who can enjoy it because I find it delicious.”

They had worked so hard to prepare the dish, and someone ought to eat it. For Gao Yang, while the food here might not qualify as gourmet, it was certainly edible, so he decided to be the polite guest and show his appreciation.

That said, haggis wasn’t really proper “dark cuisine.” Eating haggis was far better than being forced to try some of the infamous “dark dishes” the British were known for.

Compared to the food, the Jansen family’s whiskey was far superior. Jansen’s father ran a small distillery that made whiskey using traditional methods. While Gao Yang wasn’t particularly fond of Western liquor, he could still tell good whiskey from bad.

After downing a small glass of whiskey in one gulp, Rafael let out a satisfied sigh and exclaimed, “This whiskey is incredible! Mr. Jones, your whiskey must be in high demand now, right?”

Will smiled and replied, “Sales have been good recently, and that’s thanks to Jansen’s two friends who helped advertise it for us. Our orders are already booked through next year, and we’ve survived the hardest times.”

Jansen gestured toward Gao Yang with a smile. “You should thank him—Adele and Catherine are his friends, not mine.”

Will raised his glass toward Gao Yang with a smile and said, “Then I must thank you. As a token of my gratitude, I’ve decided that you’ll have a lifetime supply of free whiskey, unlimited! Haha, cheers!”

Gao Yang finished the whiskey in his glass and, looking at the bottle on the table, said curiously, “This tastes a bit different than what we used to drink before.”

Jansen chuckled and explained, “Our whiskey comes in four grades. The cheapest is ten pounds a bottle, followed by thirty pounds, then one hundred pounds, and the most expensive costs one hundred fifty pounds a bottle. The ones I gave you before were the one-hundred-fifty-pound bottles, but what we’re drinking now costs thirty pounds.”

After saying this, Jansen pointed at his father and added with a smile, “My father’s favorite is this one. The price difference is due to different production methods—the smaller the batch, the more expensive it is. As for taste, that depends on your preference.”

Most Europeans drink wines under ten euros. A one-hundred-fifty-pound bottle of whiskey counts as high-end, while the extremely expensive wines that cost tens of thousands per bottle are luxury items that even most Europeans have never seen or tasted.

Will shrugged and said, “Our whiskey is relatively expensive, so sales were poor at first, and the distillery was on the verge of shutting down. Later, Jansen made some money, which helped us get through the tough times, and after those two lovely ladies advertised for us, sales improved. The thirty-pound bottle sells best, followed by the ten-pound one. As for the one- and one-hundred-fifty-pound bottles, we only produce them in symbolic quantities.”

Jansen laughed and said, “The most expensive bottles were all for you guys, haha!”

Will put down his knife and fork, spread his hands, and said, “We’re a new brand. I have full confidence in the quality of our whiskey, but entering the high-end market clearly takes time. The UK alcohol market is extremely competitive. Honestly, I’m already satisfied that our distillery is doing this well.”

Gao Yang chuckled and said, “For the most expensive bottles, don’t sell them for one-hundred-fifty pounds. Rebrand them, change the packaging, and sell them for one-thousand-five-hundred pounds a bottle. You can come up with a gimmick—I’ll help you open up the US market.”

Will stared blankly and said, “Mr. Gao, are you joking?”

Gao Yang shook his head. “I’m not joking. In fact, your whiskey is genuinely excellent. I know a few people who are full of praise for it, but they have nowhere to buy it. Here’s the issue: if you export your whiskey to the US, it’ll sell for at most two to three hundred pounds. Honestly, that’s too low.”

Will looked bewildered and said, “Three hundred pounds? Too low?”

Gao Yang nodded. “Yes, too low. For rich people—well, if you sell it for three hundred pounds a bottle, they’ll think your whiskey isn’t suitable for entertaining friends with. It doesn’t have the prestige. In plain terms, they can’t show it off. Do you understand?”

Will shook his head. “I don’t understand. A three-hundred-pound bottle is low-end? Can’t be shown off? Sorry, I don’t get it. To me, my whiskey is already high-end. The production process is complex, and it requires aging in specially-made oak barrels for a long time. Selling it for one-hundred-fifty pounds barely leaves any profit.”

Gao Yang smiled and asked, “How many of your most expensive bottles can you sell in a year?”

Will gave a bitter smile and replied, “Distributors buy very few, mostly for display rather than personal use. So far, not a single bottle has been sold.”

Gao Yang waved his hand and asked curiously, “What’s the annual production?”

Will frowned. “At most five hundred bottles. That’s the upper limit.”

Gao Yang was amazed and exclaimed, “Only five hundred bottles? That little? What about the one-hundred-pound bottles?”

“About one thousand five hundred to two thousand bottles at most. That’s already pushing it.”

Gao Yang let out a long breath and said, “Such low quantities! Make it a limited edition—number every bottle, one to ninety-nine, and make it so scarce that people can’t buy it even if they want to. The best ones can sell for, hmm, let’s say five thousand nine hundred ninety-nine pounds per bottle! For the next tier down, limit it to one thousand bottles and price it at nine hundred ninety-nine pounds each—tentative pricing. Raise the price if demand exceeds supply.”

Will gave a bitter smile and said, “No one would buy whiskey at that price, Mr. Gao. We’re not a renowned winery or a distillery with a long history. I understand the concept of high-end luxury goods, but we’re not capable of pulling this off. It won’t sell.”

Just then, Eileen’s phone chimed. She glanced at it and made a gesture toward Gao Yang.

Gao Yang nodded, then continued smiling at Will. “As for high-end whiskey, you’re not selling any right now. Even if you priced it at ten thousand pounds a bottle, it wouldn’t make much of a difference, right? And let’s be honest, even if you sold all five hundred bottles of your most expensive whiskey, how much would you actually make? Earlier, you mentioned the profit margin was slim. Let’s assume it’s ten pounds per bottle—five hundred bottles would only bring five thousand pounds in profit. That’s not how you establish a brand.”

Raising his glass to Will, Gao Yang knocked back his drink in one gulp, then grinned and said, “Just follow my advice. Do as I say: create a gimmick, write a compelling story around it, and leave the rest to me. I’ll help you crack the US market. My job is to make your whiskey popular in American high society so they’ll scramble to buy it.”

Will also emptied his glass in one go, then gave a wry smile. “Unless the buyers are all crazy.”

Putting down his glass, Gao Yang replied with a straight face, “Mr. Jones, you need to understand one thing: rich people aren’t stupid, nor are they crazy—they’re just rich and looking for ways to spend their money. Trust me, number your bottles and leave the rest to me.”

(To be continued. If you like this story, please visit Qidian [qidian.com] to vote for recommendations and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation. Mobile users, please visit m.qidian.com for reading.)