Chapter 19: Driving Is Easy, Fixing Cars Is Hard; Saving Lives Is Easy, Getting Along Is Hard

Wei Dong refused without the slightest hesitation.

“I don’t understand lofty ideals, but if you know you’re running headlong into a wall and insist on doing it anyway, that’s just being stubborn. The problem isn’t that society is so dark—it’s that the developed regions have a different understanding than we do in these inland mountain areas. If you’re dead set on growing a narcissus in a cesspit, isn’t that just madness? Either do it quietly or go somewhere else to do it, but insisting on clashing head-on here, challenging the authority of the local leaders—that’s just asking for trouble.”

He didn’t even realize that he himself didn’t recognize any authority in his heart.

He claimed to want to cling to the coattails of the richest man, but if something didn’t seem right, he’d never blindly worship or follow, and he wouldn’t say so openly—he’d just quietly do things his own way.

Dong Xueying’s face was tense and disappointed. “I thought you were a brave man! A real hero—”

Wei Dong quickly waved her off. “Don’t flatter me. You’ve been brainwashed, fed too much chicken soup for the soul—and that other thing, what was it, anyway, all that talk about making a name for oneself and gaining fame, that’s him, while people like you just get sacrificed. This isn’t a conflict between enemies, just a difference in understanding and pace. You can’t teach a person by lecturing, but one experience can teach a lifetime. When reform and opening up bring better development elsewhere, that’ll naturally change the mindset of backward places. I don’t agree with stirring up conflict like this.”

If he hadn’t been to Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Shanghai, he wouldn’t have such a clear perspective.

This spring breeze of reform swept everywhere—some caught the wind and soared, some bore fruit, some leaves fell into foul ditches. Nothing would ever be the same for everyone.

The Sichuan Basin was famously impervious to outside influence; otherwise, why would they say the Sichuan roads are harder than ascending to the sky?

Dong Xueying frowned. “But they’re suffering in the detention center!”

Wei Dong surprised her by saying, “They brought it on themselves. If I were selling TVs, I’d do it quietly, not flaunt it every day to show how good business is. The tallest stalks get cut down first. There’s an old saying: make a fortune in silence. If you made your choice, bear the consequences.”

Dong Xueying was resolute. “But a great cause like this needs someone to stand up and shout for it—”

Wei Dong didn’t want to argue anymore. “Have you found a place yet? Should I help you move at night or during the day? Lucky enough, that bloody incident just happened to kill Ba Zi and the others, or they’d be searching everywhere for this batch of goods. I sympathize with your efforts, but that doesn’t mean I agree with your methods. So you won’t turn me in just because I sympathize, will you?”

Dong Xueying had never heard such reasoning. Her mind was now spinning in confusion.

Wei Dong couldn’t bear to look. He turned and found the notebook in a crack in the wall at home. “Old You stuffed this into my basket back then. You keep it.”

Unexpectedly, Dong Xueying shook her head again. “Old You trusts you, and so do I. If you get a chance, return it to him… Let me help you move. We have an empty house—it’s more convenient than living here.”

Indeed, cramming three people into a shoebox-sized room was no way to live; Wei Dong slept on a bamboo mat on the floor, relying on youth and robust health.

But the weather was getting colder.

Wei Dong, however, was keenly aware of the line between men and women. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for us to live together. Besides, you’re definitely being watched by the authorities—coming to see me every day would only expose me. I told you not to contact me.”

Dong Xueying bit her lip and left, aggrieved.

Wei Dong only felt annoyed and immediately grabbed a pack of Mountain City cigarettes before heading out to find a driver from the transport company to learn how to drive.

Crossing into a new trade is like crossing a mountain—only by getting close do you realize how surprising it all is.

There were no driving schools at this time. Learning to drive was like apprenticing at a factory: a technical skill for production. Without connections, you couldn’t even get the chance, let alone a license. You had to be organized by a relevant unit to take the skills test.

Wei Dong had only mentioned it in passing. The city hadn’t even given him a work quota; they just let him tag along and learn to drive—not even as a temp for the transport company.

That’s when Wei Dong realized: private ownership of vehicles wasn’t allowed. Those with connections might register a car under their work unit, but that was extremely rare. In Shangzhou, anyone who did that and got reported would be in serious trouble.

Because automobiles were considered production tools, privately owning them made you a capitalist—a historical step backward.

So there were many who wanted to learn to drive, but few who actually could, and even fewer who got to drive.

Wei Dong, with his reputation as a civic-minded youth, didn’t care about the title. After some effort, he found a driver hauling sand by the river and apprenticed as his assistant.

Driving wasn’t hard in those days—there were few traffic rules and not many cars on the roads. As long as you handled the clutch and gas, you were fine. The important thing was learning to fix vehicles.

Because they’d break down every few days.

Even if he wasn’t the smoothest talker, Wei Dong had no trouble getting along with people, telling animated stories about catching rapists, and even buying the driver drinks and food by the docks.

Their relationship quickly warmed.

The driver ate and drank happily, then asked knowingly, “I heard that little wife’s been coming to see you every day?”

Wei Dong dismissed it. “I can’t be bothered with ex-cons. I’ve just been out visiting relatives these days. My country mother doesn’t know any better—doesn’t even know what a married woman is doing coming around to see me.”

The driver, clearly a PhD in gossip, said, “She got divorced, you know. Heard she got arrested with You Big Mouth and the others. Her husband was told to take the divorce papers and threaten her to come clean, but she wouldn’t say anything about the ledgers or contacts. In the end, she just signed the divorce. Now her ex regrets it terribly—a pretty young wife like that!”

Wei Dong was unmoved. “Don’t bother me. If she hadn’t been so bold, that rapist wouldn’t have targeted her. I just want to learn to drive! And fix cars! Yeah, I’ll get a childhood friend to help out and learn for free.”

The driver looked at him helplessly. “You’ve never tasted the good life, have you? And don’t you know, with repair work, if you ask someone to help, once they learn, it’s no longer your skill. If you worked here, I definitely wouldn’t teach you.”

Wei Dong quickly slipped him another pack of cigarettes.

The driver, naturally, taught him with all his heart.

After all, the gas was paid for by the state.

It was past nine when he hummed his way home, considering whether he should get a bigger place to live.

But the reality was stark: the whole family—his father working as a gatekeeper for thirty yuan a month, the son making less than a yuan a day as a porter.

How could they afford a big house, a camera, brand-new bedding, cookware, and even ninety-eight-cent Mountain City cigarettes?

Anyone with a brain would suspect theft or corruption.

In a place where even the affairs of young wives were instant public knowledge, everyone lived in a fishbowl.

He knocked on the door, only to find Shi Linyan sitting with his mother on the bed covered with a new quilt. She jumped up, “I heard you were back, so I came to thank you!”

She held out her hand, open and straightforward.

Even with her arm bandaged, her delicate beauty shone through.

This old woman, though, hadn’t stopped arguing since retirement—she was a real spitfire.

No one dared cross the old man, though—everyone knew her hand had been cut for his sake. Plenty of curious eyes watched her come and go. After she got married, she moved out and even avoided visiting her parents too openly.

Back in the nineties, Old Shi was still a local legend; even after his retirement, he enjoyed all the privileges, living in a grand apartment. His daughter, after a lifetime of achievements, would return from the local university after retiring, divorced long ago, and that’s when they’d see each other all the time.

To Wei Dong, she was just an old lady. “Ah, my hands are dirty—fixing cars, hauling tires. Go home—it’s late.”

Shi Linyan’s beautiful eyes flickered, studying this unusual porter all the more intently. “They say you’ve started learning to drive. Do you really like it?”

Wei Dong replied offhandedly, “Aren’t the three passes to the new era driving, foreign languages, and computers? Of course I’m seizing the chance to learn.”

Forty years later, such talk would be utterly commonplace—maybe even a joke.

But in the eighties, for ambitious young intellectuals, these were the golden rules.

The English teacher’s eyes nearly burst with excitement. “That’s wonderful! How’s your English? Ever used a computer?”

She was so excited that her hands balled into fists at her chest.

Wei Dong, who could even play mobile games with one finger, was very handy with a mouse. “No, but I read in magazines that computers will soon be everywhere—in offices, in tax bureaus, you name it.”

In the nineties, when the nationwide Golden Tax Project rolled out, many grassroots tax offices had no idea what to do.

As it happened, Shi Linyan had already been transferred to the city’s only college, where she was among the first to teach computer courses. She helped the tax bureau set up a top-notch technical center that was the envy of the whole province and won national recognition.

That was the crowning achievement of father and daughter’s lives.

Wei Dong casually dropped a hint—maybe he’d changed many destinies already; it would be a shame to miss another.

Even the woman who should have been ruined had turned into Miss Dong; who knew what the future would hold.

Shi Linyan nodded vigorously. “Right! I saw you’ve bought a lot of magazines to study…”

He was just bored, really—reading magazines and newspapers to see what people were saying these days, and especially looking at the ads to gauge how commercial things had become.

There were no real estate ads to be seen yet, though.

He had no patience for more chit-chat with this old woman. “It’s late—go home and rest. It’s not safe out.”

Teacher Shi pouted, feeling her excitement interrupted. “I’m not finished—how’s your English?”

Wei Dong glanced at his mother, who was beaming with inexplicable pride.

To preempt any unrealistic fantasies, he said, “Let’s go, I’ll walk you these few steps. My rural high school English is a mess—might as well learn some Russian instead.”

It’d be more useful for transferring flights, after all.