Chapter 23: Just Tell Me If It Burns

The manufacturers were even more desperate than Wei Dong had imagined.

With the New Year approaching, this kind of fast-cured smoked meat was practically flying off the shelves. The Nonferrous Metals Factory had no money, the Hydroelectric Factory was poor, whereas the Cigarette Factory was flush with cash, and both the Cotton Spinning and Dyeing Factories were doing well. The Printing Factory was working overtime. It seemed the old supporting factories that struggled to transition from planned economy were suffering, while those closer to daily consumption were faring much better.

Sales were brisk.

Of course, Er Feng was only playing a supporting role, staying at a distance and passing the meat along, almost like Wei Dong was a walking advertisement for the floral cotton jackets from over there. Look how they're dressed—clearly newcomers from the countryside. Workers from the Dyeing Factory might recognize their products and come over out of curiosity.

With two partners helping, Wei Dong ventured even further. After asking around, he took the bus two stops from the main road and found several leather shoe factories. He studied the Labor Service Departments and Product Sales Offices at the entrances, trying to judge whether they were state-owned, military-affiliated, or collective-run.

Er Feng was captivated by those handwritten signs advertising special deals and promptly bought him a pair of leather shoes for only nine yuan! Such things would cost a fortune in the countryside.

Wei Dong, an expert in these matters, carefully examined the stitching. Having witnessed all sorts of shoddy products in the security room’s delivery cabinet, he quickly judged, “It’s made of paper! Paper core inside, pressed synthetic leather outside!”

The simple country girl had never imagined the city could be so treacherous; tears welled up as she hovered uncertainly, unsure what to do.

Wei Dong, ever responsible, reassured her, “Don’t worry, I’ll take you to return the shoes…”

He finally revealed, “They must’ve seen you dressed plainly and gave you fake goods.”

Er Feng burst into tears—it explained why she was being stared at earlier.

Even Wei Dong, usually oblivious, found shopping with Er Feng and Gou Dan much more entertaining than hanging out with Gou Dan alone.

He laughed heartily—their demeanor didn’t match that of rural folk at all. Unfazed, he found the storefront a few dozen meters away.

Sure enough, it was sorted out easily. No need to threaten anyone; they apologized for the mistake and even offered a discount if they bought again.

Wei Dong bought five pairs of earthy-colored suede work shoes.

Super cheap and hard to fake.

The two pairs for women were low-cut, while the men’s covered the ankles. Er Feng and Gou Dan happily changed into them right away.

Their feet warmed up dramatically.

Even during lunch, they kept glancing down at their new shoes.

But when the hotpot arrived, their attention quickly shifted.

The hotpot place inside the factory district was a grimy little eatery with just a few tables.

A feast for nine yuan—Er Feng nearly bit her tongue at the delicious flavors.

She finally got to drink soda, and even tasted Wei Dong’s beer, immediately thinking men had it tough—how could anyone drink such sour, musty stuff!

Gou Dan cradled two ounces of white liquor poured from a bamboo tube by the shopkeeper.

They all felt wonderfully satisfied.

After half an hour wandering back, the matron surprised them by saying her factory manager would come personally tomorrow morning to negotiate further.

Er Feng quietly tugged Wei Dong’s sleeve, her expression pleading for another meal at noon.

Wei Dong immediately recalled the joke—nothing can’t be settled over a meal of hotpot (or barbecue); if it can’t, then two meals!

A sense of certainty took root in him.

It was, after all, the urgency of the other party that gave him confidence.

He nodded calmly in agreement.

He’d let the hospital-side rental go, so they left their baskets at the matron’s place and went out to explore the city empty-handed.

This was, after more than ten visits to Jiangzhou, the first time Wei Dong could wander freely without any pressing purpose.

He originally planned to take a bus along the newly opened Yangtze River Bridge back to the city center.

Er Feng finally whispered, tugging her floral jacket, “Let me dress like a city person, please.”

Wei Dong looked at the Jiangzhou map. Not yet a municipality, the city had only one Yangtze River Bridge; crossing by ferry led straight to the wholesale market, but the bus route wound around in a giant “n” shape, taking at least an hour or two.

So, they returned via ferry, joking with Er Feng not to get seasick.

Gou Dan expertly explained that the breakfast stalls had turned into snack shops for lunch and dinner.

Wei Dong observed that these were some distance from the factories, with the furthest shoe factory several kilometers away. The Nonferrous Metals store in the middle sold cold dishes, unaffected by location.

Today’s hotpot reminded him that, in later years, the best-selling street food and takeaway was spicy hotpot skewers.

He didn’t know about other regions, but here in eastern Sichuan and lower Yangtze, it was simply a matter of boiling meat and vegetables in seasoned broth and charging per skewer.

Everyone knew, as long as there were plenty of customers, these little stalls could make good money.

He thought his parents should use their storefront for this, rather than being security guards or working in the cafeteria—they’d stand taller. With their backs injured, why keep bending and bowing?

He’d only realized this after seeing things outside: “Even in Shanghai, right across the famous Bund, the ferry landing feels like the countryside, even more so than here. But here, it’s not as strict as the city proper, so business is safer and won’t attract trouble.”

At such a sensitive juncture, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes as You Qili, but having a negative example or guiding light made following business opportunities seem truly worthwhile.

Er Feng listened, half comprehending, but nodded vigorously.

In winter’s low water season, the river wouldn’t reach the long stone steps; upon disembarking, they had to walk a bit across the shore, past wild grasses and stone embankments.

Wei Dong led them through familiar stone steps where local farmers traded goods—the earliest place to sell smoked meat. Yet this area was chaotic, rife with pickpockets and theft, and frequent crackdowns.

They soon spotted two children anxiously stopping passersby.

Such a setup made Wei Dong instantly wary; he pulled Er Feng and Gou Dan aside, “Be especially careful about this…”

Before he could finish, the shorter kid, whom Wei Dong had once forced to pay up face-to-face, noticed their evasive movement and skillfully squeezed over, falling to his knees: “Brother! Save Third Sister! Please save her!”

He clung to Wei Dong’s leg, wiping away tears.

Wei Dong quickly explained to Er Feng, “See, that’s how they trick people—while pickpocketing… damn it!”

His money was strapped to his leg.

These little devils would stop at nothing—would they actually use a blade to cut his pants for cash?

Without hesitation, Wei Dong lifted his leg to shake the child off—not to kick him, but to fling him away.

Unexpectedly, the kid clung like a sloth, refusing to let go, pleading, “Brother! Brother, I found you! Big Brother! I won’t pick pockets anymore!”

Despite repeated attempts, Wei Dong couldn’t shake him off. The taller one slid over and, just as skillfully, grabbed his