Chapter 153: The Stirring Torrent

Sun Zetao’s description of going abroad—especially through the Foreign Languages Institute—revealed that the primary destination was actually Africa: "You bet! Going to aid Africa and make revolution!"

That made Rang Weidong somehow picture Zhang Lanzhi leaning against an African tree and twisting this way and that, causing him to burst into laughter.

There was truly no bitterness left in his heart: "What about going to Europe or America, particularly to the United States for self-funded study? Are there any channels for that? A friend of mine really wants to go."

The fake foreigner certainly wouldn't mock him for using the "I have a friend" excuse: "Self-funded? With costs running three to four hundred thousand a year, how many can afford that? Of course, you can work and earn money after you get out there, but you need to cover at least the first year."

Rang Weidong definitely wasn't going to pretend to be rolling in wealth; he just silently drove and listened: "Go on, and then?"

Sun Zetao was indeed well-informed: "State-funded study abroad is where everyone fights for a tiny handful of government-sponsored slots, though actually, you know who has the easiest time getting those, leaving even fewer for everyone else. Self-funded is much freer. As long as you get an admission letter from any foreign university, you can apply for a passport and a visa to study abroad. In this process, the passport can be obtained because of the admission letter, while the visa requires several hundred thousand for study expenses, language proficiency, and relevant educational background checks. Some country embassies require face-to-face interviews to chat and decide whether to grant a visa."

At this point, he even pointed toward the International Building they were passing: "Look, the United States Embassy is on that embassy street right behind there. A lot of people go down there acting foolish, trying to find an opportunity—as if that's possible."

Rang Weidong wasn't that foolish.

He always went straight to the point: "Then how do you get an admission letter?"

The foreign-languages student suddenly laughed: "There are plenty of ways. Earlier, an older guy went to Peking University’s library, copied down every single address of American universities he could find, and then wrote letters to them one by one. As a result, he actually got an admission letter from California State University, Long Beach. So nowadays, there's a huge crowd every day mailing massive stacks of letters to foreign universities."

Rang Weidong laughed as well: "Right, once that creative idea gets copied by too many people, it loses its meaning. What else?"

Sun Zetao slowly turned serious: "Actually, the biggest problem with that method is that people over there don't know if you even have the capability to study at a university. Therefore, the simplest and most direct way for self-funded study is to take the TOEFL test. It's similar to our Chinese language exam, but entirely multiple-choice, designed to test academic proficiency in English. They held one in '81, and then it stopped. Word has it that it might start up again next year; the department has been hearing whispers of this."

When Rang Weidong was a veteran security guard, he certainly would have heard of this test, but his understanding was limited to those two words.

"My friend, you could say that apart from being good at foreign languages, everything else about her is a complete mess. So taking TOEFL is definitely her route. Next year?" He firmly memorized it in his mind, but didn't want to go to Shanghai himself for a face-to-face meeting—how was he supposed to notify her?

Sun Zetao leaned back in his seat: "Actually, they have it every year, but for the past two years, people just had to figure out a way to go to Hong Kong to take the TOEFL."

Rang Weidong scoffed: "Going to Hong Kong is no different from going abroad! Might as well just prepare properly and get ready for the possible exam next year."

Sun Zetao adopted a somewhat joking tone again: "Well, what if she just wants to go abroad, and studying is just a front? Actually, most people are like that. So besides state-funded and self-funded study, another way is to have overseas connections help casually pull strings for some school or another. Wouldn't that be dead simple?"

Nonsense, even Rang Weidong knew that route: "Might as well just marry a foreigner to go abroad—that's the simplest way."

Sun Zetao went "Oh": "Ah, for women, yes, that method is indeed the simplest, especially in Shanghai where that trend is the strongest—Japan, Mexico, Argentina, anywhere will do as long as they can get abroad. It's just like converting agricultural status to non-agricultural status."

Rang Weidong still couldn't help bursting into mocking laughter.

That analogy was far too vivid.

Farmers were risking their lives finding ways to leap over the agricultural threshold and become non-agricultural residents, yet city dwellers were desperately trying to flee abroad. Once they went abroad, what's next—trying to leave the planet?

Human desires truly were endless.

However, wasn't Jin Zhuoqun desperately trying to make that agricultural-to-non-agricultural conversion? He understood very well that reaching the non-agricultural milestone was precisely the state where he could best unleash his potential.

That was already a million times better than the blind approach of those who had no idea what they wanted to do abroad and just wanted to desperately get out first.

Amidst the banter, the car turned into the mouth of the hutong, just in time to swing into the factory compound. The factory buildings had a revolutionary industrial style from ten or twenty years ago, while the single-story rooms were purely a surviving row of traditional courtyards from that era.

The whole factory might as well have been converted from a courtyard.

Sun Zetao was immediately pulled away by Meng Hongfei to communicate with the Japanese technicians.

Rang Weidong chatted with Zhang凌云 for a few moments. Hearing that Sun Zetao was also an outer-ring accomplice who had previously done sales for the foreign-languages department, he figured they might as well pull him into the company.

Just like a tractor driver serving as a chauffeur, everyone had their own complete and well-defined responsibilities: "Right, especially Russian—we can prepare for that too. You're from the Northeast? Russian... ever heard of border trade with the Soviet neighbors?"

Zhang Lingyun readily replied: "I don't know a thing about it yet, but I'll keep it in mind. When I go back to the Northeast and gather information everywhere, I'll definitely keep an eye out for this kind of information."

Rang Weidong satisfiedly emphasized his own experience to him: "The further south you go, the more open it is, and the better suited for commercial exchange. The further north and the more closed-off and narrow-minded the region, the easier it is to be treated as a profiteer engaged in empty speculation and illegal resale. For example, in Shangzhou, Sichuan, someone was arrested for reselling melon seeds, and an older brother of mine is still locked up because of it..."

***

Zhang Lingyun only then realized that his work carried such great risks.

The others, apart from closely following the technicians and trying to diligently record anything that might be related to the automated production line, were mainly listening in on Rang Weidong's explanations.

Thus, they didn't notice the two little fellows quietly slipping down from the backseat of the off-road vehicle, walking around the single-story rooms with their hands behind their backs and whispering to each other.

By the time everyone was busy almost up to dinnertime—and even started the production line to churn out dozens of packages with a *swish-swish*, shocking everyone with the crushing superiority of modern industry—Rang Weidong finally realized that Old Third Shen hadn't returned yet.

When he asked He Mei and the others who were more familiar with the situation: "There are a lot of outsiders in Peking, and long-distance calls are even more numerous. Going there to make a call probably means waiting in line for half a day, and some people even bring pancakes along to eat as lunch."

Rang Weidong decided to first find a small restaurant at the entrance of the hutong to have a group meal and continue chatting.

Those who needed to go back to school could have the tractor driver drive the vehicle back later; for now, this car would temporarily belong to the tractor driver so he could act as a chauffeur to transport everyone. His salary was tentatively set at fifty yuan, with other sales commissions still handled separately.

However, since he was taking on this driver's identity, he had to guarantee on-call service to work for everyone.

The others immediately started booing and shouting that the tractor driver should treat them to a meal. The tractor driver, who seemingly had a prairie disposition, readily said no problem.

Rang Weidong laughed and scolded him with a trace of disdain: "When the boss is present, don't rush to foot the bill—that's a virtue."

The college students adored Rang Weidong's trendy and novel linguistic style, which they had rarely heard before.

In the end, even Sun, the translator who had received a fifty-yuan base salary, requested to follow them tomorrow to the *Sunshine Daily* to witness the big scenes.

Because everyone had described to him how their boss had wielded authority freely at the All-China Federation of Supply and Marketing Cooperatives earlier that day—showing both professional standards and patriotic sentiment—it was a flawless performance.

The fake foreigner still knew well enough not to bring up the boss's previous inquiry about a certain young lady wanting to go abroad as conversation fodder.

The five-spice bucket, garlic pork elbow, stir-fried shrimp kernels, and gluten with cabbage couldn't compare to Rang Weidong vividly painting the future for everyone amidst laughter and chatter.

It wasn't until the old owner of the restaurant urged them that it was time to close up.

Rang Weidong suddenly remembered that he ought to leave someone at the factory to answer the phone; the contact number and address he had given Jin Zhuoqun that afternoon pointed to this place, and Shen Cuiyue might call as well.

So, checking the time and seeing it was already past nine: "I'll go check the Telegraph Building to see if anyone needs a ride back to the bus station along the way."

Only two people said they needed to head back to school, so they could just go with the tractor driver.

Rang Weidong simply took along his two little underlings.

After the three of them followed the main road out of the hutong, Chang'an Street bathed in nighttime lights presented a street of illumination—at the time, one of only two night-view landmarks in the country on par with the Bund, making it quite a sight to behold.

Especially as they passed through the city gate tower, it looked magnificent and towering.

Yet these two didn't even bother looking, instead urging him to go pick up Third Sister.

Stone leaned over the backrest of the front passenger seat and carefully spoke up: "Brother, do you want to go abroad?"

Rang Weidong knew his wits were more intricate than a hornet's nest: "Yeah, sooner or later we'll be doing foreign business. What's the point of just making domestic money? Everyone's poor here. Once this foundation is built up, we'll go make the foreign devils' money."

Stone glanced sideways at his brother, his hair grazing his buttocks, and just as he was about to ask again, they had arrived.

Mainly, once they passed the city gate tower, they turned right beside the Telegraph Building and managed to park right at the entrance of the building.

Immediately, a crowd swarmed around, curiously sizing up the vehicle: "Gorgeous!"

"What kind of car is this? Looks a bit like a 212, but it's not a 212... Is it an imported 212?"

"Buddy..."

Looking around, this was the scene where Rang Weidong had seen the largest gathering of sedans since his return to the 1980s.

A whole stream of imported cars.

There wasn't even a single Shanghai-brand; Eastern European cars were predominant, but Toyota, Mercedes-Benz, Nissan, and other models were also quite numerous, lined up three rows deep back-to-back!

Twenty or thirty cars, at least.

Even Rang Weidong was startled. Stepping out and casually exchanging a few words with people, he learned that these were drivers from various work units parking here to pick up evening fares, as the airport shuttle bus stop into the city was right next door.

Mao'er and Stone hung over the front of the car to take a look: "Brother, you go ahead. We'll wait right here."

Stone even made a gesture with both hands closing and opening like a clam shell, clearly another one of their underworld-style signals.

Rang Weidong reached out and dusted off his trousers to convey that he understood.

Strangely enough, after being busy all day, he had almost forgotten he had a gun strapped to his leg. Only upon paying attention did he feel its weight.

Still, he exercised caution as he squeezed into the bustling telegraph and telephone building. Even at night, it was abuzz with noise and excitement.

Rang Weidong vaguely recalled that there seemed to be a half-price discount for nighttime calls during these years, which was why some people specifically came at night to make long-distance calls—especially for international calls, where one had to factor in the time difference.

Who could have imagined that in just a few years, such a scene would completely vanish? Back in the day, he hadn't had any such needs whatsoever; he couldn't even find anyone to call.

Fortunately, finding Old Third Shen was easy.

Rang Weidong stood on tiptoe and looked around, spotting her as she predictably put on her striking white cotton mask, looking somewhat exhausted as she leaned against the wall in the orderly queue.

He squeezed his way over and muttered: "Go take a break, I'll take over."

The scammer girl abruptly raised her head, her eyes flashing like fireworks before quickly subduing: "I'm a bit hungry, but mainly I need to use the restroom!"

Rang Weidong gestured outside: "The two of them are in the car. I've got this. You take a break and go look for something to eat around the neighborhood."

He leaned against the spot and began pondering that if Jin Zhuoqun still hadn't made contact today, tomorrow he might really have no choice but to take the inscription bearing the two characters "Flying Swallow" to the newspaper office.

Although it had nothing to do with the photography exhibition, it would at least fulfill the task regarding the Supply and Marketing Cooperative.

Should he treat someone from the newspaper office to a meal to cultivate some goodwill?

In the past, Yu Songhai would sort out these matters himself, but now Old Yu was blessed with an inexplicable abundance of romance.

Did he have to take this responsibility upon himself now?

Yet Rang Weidong truly disliked doing this sort of thing.

However, no sooner had he thought about it for a short while than that familiar figure reappeared beside the queue.

Rang Weidong was slightly surprised: "What? You've already eaten?"

Even a bowl of instant noodles wouldn't have been that fast.

Shen Cuiyue shook her head: "No, just wanted to stand with you for a bit. It makes me happy."

Just two plain and simple words, spoken with genuine emotion.

Rang Weidong tilted his head to observe her expression: "Are you..."

Old Third Shen was already smiling, speaking in unison with him: "Flattery to curry favor."

The person standing behind them stretched their neck out—to think there was a romance drama to watch while waiting in line. Not bad at all.