Chapter 36: None of Your Business

You Qili is truly a man who works under the banners of many slogans, possessing a remarkably broad vision. He learned from the lesson of selling sunflower seeds, which forced Weidong to stay away from Shangzhou and the county town, ultimately even avoiding the city center in the provincial capital. Quietly, he sold cured meat in the industrial zone on the southern bank, inadvertently conducting the most diligent and thorough market research and factory reconnaissance.

You Qili, on the other hand, was always flamboyant in his methods. He conducted his investigations centered on Shangzhou. For example, in the impoverished regions of the Three Gorges, citrus was always plentiful, yet due to transport difficulties, tens of thousands of pounds of oranges would rot in homes and fields each year. There were many villages and towns along the Yangtze, where apart from fishing, sand and gravel were the main industries. In cities, the demand for construction sand and gravel was enormous, but on the riverbanks, these materials piled up like hills, unable to be transported.

His idea was to bring in outside canning factories to purchase these oranges for fruit preserves, and then jointly plan with others to acquire a fleet of boats and establish a water transport company. He would haul oranges and sand and gravel. It was as if Weidong had stumbled upon another half-volume of a master’s secret techniques!

He had a truck; he could directly transport oranges to the canning factory. Buying oranges from farmers at low prices and selling them to the factory at a higher price—wasn’t that profit? Moreover, the words “canning factory” stirred Weidong’s sensitivity; after all, when exchanging planes in the North Federation, hadn’t they mentioned several trainloads of canned goods? Now, he needed to foster good relations with various canning factories!

He acted swiftly, securing contracts and agreements, and then split up with Dong Xueying to make phone calls and contacts. The canning factories confirmed they were still purchasing oranges; December to January was the peak picking season, and failing to fulfill the contract would incur penalties. Rural producers had already picked a substantial amount according to agreements but were waiting in vain for buyers and transporters, ready to weep. The intermediary step was missing, and You Qili deliberately kept both sides from linking up.

Weidong felt You Qili’s mind was indeed formidable, capable of devising many ingenious strategies. Yet his inner cultivation seemed to have gone awry; he always thought on such a grand scale, as if every action must shake heaven and earth and move the gods. And he always wanted to monopolize everything.

Weidong wouldn’t do that. He immediately went to the dock to find a master and asked if they wanted to report to the transport company and gather a few trucks to haul oranges together. The freight would go to the company, everyone would earn work points, but he could privately share a bit of the profit with the drivers.

The usually lazy, public-task drivers, upon hearing of under-the-table perks, were quick to agree. He then asked about sand and gravel. In a teahouse conversation, he learned the transport company had barges—could they be rented to haul sand and gravel? Again, the freight would go to the company, and they’d handle the transport from dock to the city construction sites, all paid in cash per trip.

The master was even more energetic, saying his brother-in-law worked at the shipping company, and he’d go arrange it immediately.

They agreed the orange-picking commune was fifty or sixty kilometers away; they’d reach it before lunch and still return to the city canning factory by evening. They would meet at the suburban highway entrance, and six or seven drivers immediately busied themselves.

They reported to the company, found tarpaulins, hired laborers—they were quite practiced at this. Whether they did more or less of the public assignments, it was all the same: one work point earned ten cents, and even with technical position bonuses, the most they could earn was one and a half yuan a day. Only a fool would work hard.

This semi-private job, with perks, even the transport company itself got excited, as their usual assigned tasks from various units yielded little profit. What they lacked was someone to find the source of oranges and the import-export channels of the canning factories.

Weidong admired You Qili’s vision while simultaneously despising his lofty but impractical approach. He hurried across the old street to the edge of the tax bureau’s construction site.

Just as he was about to open the car door, Shi Linyan, who had snuck out early because she had no classes, caught him: “Were you looking for me?”

That morning, she arrived in the classroom with messy hair and clothes, her face streaked with chaotic tears. The students were all astonished—how could their always beautiful and elegant English teacher be like this?

Prompted by female classmates, Shi Linyan hurried to the office to tidy herself. Even in an era with hardly any cosmetics, she could still dab on some baby cream and Pechoin, and comb her hair neatly. Now, she wanted to go home and change, quickly tucking loose strands behind her ears, hoping to present her most beautiful self.

But her efforts were wasted—“Get out of the way, you mangy dog! Go find a blind man to marry and stop flaunting yourself here…”

Mrs. Shi had spent the whole morning pondering: “You were a college entrance examinee last year. Don’t fear failure, take the exam again this year. I can tutor your subjects—all the humanities.”

Clearly, this tutor was not serious.

Weidong burst out laughing: “When you really reach your forties, you’ll see that the college entrance exam is nothing, so is love. Adults need to make money. The college entrance exam is just a way to learn how to make money. Only those clueless about making money focus on the exam, hoping to find a path.”

The tax bureau had seen many such cases; when people talked, this was the prevailing wisdom.

Teacher Shi frowned in surprise: “How can you be so materialistic!”

Weidong sneered: “You grew up sheltered by parents and elders, never endured the hardships of rural children. Now even policy emphasizes the economy, though they use nicer words—making money is what matters. The famous ‘black cat, white cat’ theory from the sixties, which I glimpsed in those two documents, is something Old You excels at.”

To his surprise, Shi Linyan immediately relaxed her brows: “Oh, that makes sense. Have you eaten?”

Before Weidong could reply, Mrs. Shi, with her strong local connections, had already been tipped off. She rushed over from the food bureau next to the hospital across the street: “What are you doing! You idle little thief, up to your tricks again, everyone look—this rural household who couldn’t get into college or become an official wants to marry a city girl and escape his status. Everyone, beware!”

Since it was just before lunch, the various local agencies had the habit of sneaking home early to cook. The area was bustling, especially at the tax bureau, where a crowd had already gathered at the gate, quickly forming a circle.

Shi Linyan was caught off guard, her face turning red once more.

Weidong, meanwhile, calmly enjoyed the spectacle—it wasn’t his reputation at stake. In fact, this might help the dizzy female college student see reality; it was a good thing.

Mrs. Shi wasn’t there to harm herself: “Everyone saw it—this comrade saved our daughter, and we helped arrange a job for him, yet he refuses to be a gatekeeper. He keeps pushing for more. Revolutionary work makes no distinction between noble and humble. Such ambition will never be satisfied!”

Shi Linyan hurried to pull her mother’s hand, but with so many people watching, she couldn’t bring herself to cover her mother’s mouth. Embarrassed, she wished the earth would swallow her up, finally stomping her feet and clenching her fists: “It’s not true! It’s not true!”

But her voice was meek compared to the booming tone of the food bureau’s deputy director.

Weidong was used to this old shrew’s habit of occupying the moral high ground and twisting things to her advantage.

He found it amusing; when dealing with fools, one should help them become even bigger fools, letting them march further down their brazen, corrupt path.

Thus, his refusal to argue, his placid smile as he leaned against the big truck, only infuriated Mrs. Shi more, as if her blows landed on a pile of cotton: “Don’t think you can get away with tricking our daughter. What can you do—can't study, can't work. You want to transform from porter to phoenix?”

Weidong responded with a mocking laugh: “Didn’t you just say revolutionary work makes no distinction between noble and humble? Why is being a porter suddenly so lowly?”

The old lady, a veteran of many battles, replied without haste: “We never rank professions, but some people are just bad elements—bad elements who can't do their job properly!”

She didn’t name names, but everyone knew who the jab was aimed at.

Weidong burst out laughing, not bothering to spar with her. Seeing the crowd was so dense it was impossible to move, he finally ended the show by patting the white painted letters on the truck door: “I’m a porter and mover, but driving this big truck means I’m doing my job well. And I should thank your precious daughter for giving me the chance to learn to drive—thanks!”

Many craned their necks to see the name—“Red Light Metal Factory”—and wondered among themselves, as no one in the city had heard of this unit. Shocked, they watched him open the door, climb into the cab, turn the key, and, as he closed the door, give Mrs. Shi a triumphant wave.

The scene was no less impressive than forty years later, when someone would remotely unlock a Mercedes, BMW, or Porsche at the tax bureau entrance.

A brand new Dongfeng 140 truck—going for nearly twenty-seven or twenty-eight thousand yuan, equivalent to the showiness of a two-million-yuan luxury car forty years later.

And it wasn’t even for sale.

Even buying a color TV required tickets; private citizens couldn’t buy vehicles at all.

Oh, and Weidong wasn’t done yet—he shifted gears, stepped on the clutch, and pulled his work permit from his jacket pocket.

He unfolded it single-handedly, extending it from the window: “By the way, just so you know, I’m now an official sales staff at a military factory, a third-line plant under the Ministry of Metallurgical Industry. Feel free to visit our factory anytime.”

He remembered to display his credentials Hollywood-style, folding and unfolding like an FBI badge—cool to the extreme!

Everyone leaned in like sunflowers turning toward the sun, eager to read the inscription.

Even Shi Linyan stopped blushing, standing on tiptoe with the others to catch a glimpse of the striking, luxurious registration photo!

But as it was horizontal, the whole crowd tilted their heads.

After fully putting on his show, Weidong tucked away the certificate, honked twice, and started up, as the crowd parted with stunned faces to let the “Red Light Metal Factory Labor Service Company” truck drive off.

All afternoon, the gossip about this young man spread through every agency in Shangzhou!

So many had mocked him for holding an imperial edict only to choose a weed by the roadside, as though his ancestors’ graves had smoked but he drowned them himself.

Turns out he’d made connections with a military factory.

In places unaware of the current reforms in military enterprises, people assumed that was truly the ultimate government job!

There were even those who went to the food bureau and tax bureau to congratulate the Shi family.

Mrs. Shi was so mortified it was as if she’d swallowed excrement.

Shi Linyan, meanwhile, held her head high, looking down her nose at everyone.

None of your business.