Chapter 44: You’re Nothing But a Porter

The stubborn forces would never yield to one another.

Early the next morning, they seized the moment as Wei Dong was just stepping out, preparing to head to the docks, and surrounded him in a swarm.

As always, the tax officers in uniform stood at the front, but those beside them wore particularly stern expressions. Two or three in white uniforms lingered at a distance, while the young policeman quietly pulled his superior aside to whisper.

The young woman who had deliberately distanced herself went to the detention center for her routine visit, leaving only the younger sister, Feng Chu, at the side of her brother-in-law, who was carrying a child.

Instinctively, she jumped in front of Wei Dong, shielding him: “What are you doing? What are you doing! Are you still trying to harass and suppress private business owners?”

Wei Dong, initially a little apprehensive about those stern-faced officials, suddenly felt a surge of defiance.

Are you foolish, volunteering yourself as the target? Yet, he was inexplicably moved. From his days as a security guard till now, no woman had ever dared to stand up to law enforcement for his sake.

He reached out, gently pushing aside the feather-light Feng Chu, handing her the child: “Stay out of grown-ups’ business…”

Facing the officials calmly: “Are you still suspecting me of tax evasion? Has your report been verified?”

The tax inspector spoke with conviction: “The newspaper states you transported and sold five hundred thousand pounds of citrus. The canning factory confirms they received five hundred thousand pounds. This generated thirty-five thousand yuan in transactions—black and white, isn’t this proof of your tax evasion?”

Everyone knows tax work is unpopular.

Ordinary people cannot see the tax’s importance to the nation, only feeling that their hard-earned money is being taken.

For farmers, taxes are especially heavy at this time, so evasion is commonplace.

Businessmen, too, rarely pay taxes—it’s the norm.

Wei Dong probably understands this best, sitting in the receiving room every day, listening to these men recount scenes of resisting taxes outside.

He didn’t play games with them: “Yesterday, you all left without a word. Here, this is the tax receipt list from the town’s tax office belonging to the canning factory. Go check it, but don’t forget, year-end accounts haven’t been consolidated yet.”

Normally, after a big business deal, people publicize their tax payments to show off.

You Qi Li and his team had made over eight hundred thousand in sales this past half year, proudly boasting about it, eager to hang banners when paying taxes.

So, they always paid at the city bureau.

No one expected Wei Dong to deliberately avoid the old matriarch and quietly pay taxes in the suburban town.

Without networked computers, these summaries are slow.

The tax inspectors, coming up empty, glanced at each other, knowing full well from the genuine receipts that he was prepared.

There was simply no weakness to exploit.

The white-uniformed officers on the sidelines began lighting cigarettes.

One persisted in digging deeper: “What about the sand and gravel transportation on the riverbank?”

Wei Dong pulled out another handwritten list: “We unloaded goods for three days, paying women and children scavengers for their labor. Here’s the payroll list—not only did we not make money, we lost about four thousand yuan. Taxes have already been paid on the citrus profits. Can we get a refund?”

He joked cheerfully, making the tax inspector flush.

Just as the inspector was about to lose his temper, Wei Dong took over: “No, right? When you make money, you pay taxes; when you lose, you bear it yourself—I understand. But Shangzhou hasn’t provided a good business environment, so before the Spring Festival, we simply helped fulfill some contracts, ensuring tens of thousands of citrus wouldn’t rot in the hands of villagers, and hundreds of tons of sand and gravel wouldn’t go unsold. After the festival, we won’t do business here, lest we violate profiteering laws. Isn’t that right?”

The young vocational school graduate holding the child watched with admiration in her eyes!

But among the stern-faced officials, one spoke: “You’re exploiting the hard-won revolutionary achievements through profiteering!”

Wei Dong pointed at the tax officers: “Excuse me, have I profiteered? Have I exploited?”

The tax side was thoroughly defeated.

Not only did they have the official tax receipts, but the handwritten payroll had each worker’s signature, even the weakest women and children earning over ten yuan a day.

In an era where unit monthly wages were only thirty or forty yuan in 1984, this was extravagantly high, proving sand and gravel couldn’t be profitable—it was only subsidized by citrus profits.

Looking at the dense list, still needing to be filled today, if this continued, even the citrus profits would get eaten up.

No matter how you twisted the facts, it couldn’t be called profiteering.

Wei Dong singled out a familiar, straightforward inspector, who shook his head silently.

So the stern-faced ones had to ask: “What was your purpose in doing this?”

Why?

Wei Dong thought, I have money, I do as I please.

But seeing their Zhongshan jackets, he knew that answer wouldn’t do: “The purpose is to prove the superiority of SHZY. Have you seen the docks? Have you visited the factory trash site? Aren’t they still sweating and bleeding? If, after decades, they’re still as miserable as the old society, where’s our superiority? So, labor deserves better pay, a happy Spring Festival. The reporter saw it, took photos—I met him there.”

His words were a slap in the face, but mentioning the reporter made the stern officials restrain themselves: “What’s with the reporter?”

Wei Dong shrugged everything off, not about to drag the young woman in: “I encountered him at the dock and factory trash site. If you can’t fix the problem, you fix the person who found it—go find him. I was just making a modest contribution to society, so he was excited, took lots of photos.”

The other side was speechless, unable to cover up the issue as grassroots officials often do.

Finally, they managed: “We’re the Special Task Force from the Wan Shang Trading Company. Come with us to see the leadership.”

Wei Dong’s heart trembled; he truly didn’t know how to handle this situation, relying entirely on a forty-year-later mindset to tough it out.

He knew how harsh such authoritarian tactics could be.

Now he understood why Dong Xueying carried the child as a shield—it was out of necessity.

But as he glanced up, he caught the young policeman’s eye; the latter quietly winked at him, lips twitching in a hint of a smile.

The message was clear—not so dangerous.

Wei Dong decided to gamble, patting Feng Chu’s shoulder: “You take the child to the docks, confirm and distribute today’s work list. I’ll come pay after my meeting.”

Dong Xueqing seemed less stubborn than her sister, especially after Wei Dong squeezed her shoulder, softly nodding in agreement.

In fact, she was passing along his whereabouts.

A white-uniformed officer started to intervene, but his colleagues quietly held him back.

Master You’s trick was ingenious—leaking to central media for public support was the only way to rescue them.

It had now become Wei Dong’s shield.

Moreover, Dong Xueying’s last-minute decision to report had changed everything.

Originally, the news might have mentioned You Qi Li and others by name, but now only Wei Dong was referenced in the public letters.

Even the white-uniformed officers and tax officials trailing behind became witnesses for Wei Dong, watching as he left with the task force.

With the central paper already covering the incident and the province establishing an investigation team,

if anyone wanted to protect themselves, they’d record the facts, preserving the truth of the situation.

So, everyone followed to the city compound.

The government compound of that era wasn’t as mysterious as it would later become.

The city leader, wrapped in a cotton coat, smiled when he saw Wei Dong: “When I visited you, I suggested you learn to drive. Now you’re leading a convoy and profiteering?”

Wei Dong steeled himself, lighting a cigarette: “Why is every commercial activity called profiteering? Here, have one, let me clarify what commercial activity is, then report how I legally brought back a vehicle empty-handed. I’ve never told anyone—see if it’s a crime.”

The other stern task force members withdrew.

The city leader who had approved the hero’s driver training at the transport company took the cigarette and lit up: “Isn’t your method just moving products around? Commerce is necessary, but the state has plenty of commercial institutions and staff. As long as products get from factory to consumer, all needs are met, but you middlemen insist on making excess profits—that’s profiteering!”

Wei Dong unexpectedly used a familiar argument from forty years later: “Have you seen the docks and factory trash sites? Countless urban poor live hard lives, jobless women and children earning only a few cents a day. That’s what happens when commerce is underdeveloped. If commerce thrives, countless jobless people can open small shops, diners, barbecue stands, and make a living. In moving products, if more can earn transport fees, society becomes prosperous.”

This was the argument most often used by brick-and-mortar stores defeated by e-commerce.

The leader listened seriously and immediately retorted: “It’s still the same goods—how does society become prosperous out of thin air, with prices rising?”

If a real economist were here, explaining the complexity might be impossible for these old revolutionaries.