Chapter 50: Sales Reign Supreme

Dong Xueqing seemed to realize that they had gained the upper hand and stopped shouting. She grabbed the crutch that Wei Dong had placed at her feet, gritted her teeth, and raised it in front of her. Her slender back pressed firmly against Wei Dong’s shoulder, and she no longer trembled.

Wei Dong was unfazed; country kids were tough and not so delicate. Encountering such situations while out in the world was a matter of fate—one could only fight bravely. So he didn’t rush out recklessly but held tightly to the man blocking the car window, whose arm had been broken, loudly directing Dog Egg and the others to attack several times.

Even the back and buttocks of the pleading man were pummeled by Dog Egg as he rushed over, before Wei Dong finally pushed him out of the car, poked his head out, and signaled, “Count the numbers, don’t leave anyone behind—let’s go!”

He didn’t bother to check the spoils. In this pitch-black night, who knew whether someone was lurking nearby with a sharp blade? There was nothing to gain anyway—why waste time?

Dog Egg and his crew had wrapped oil-soaked newspaper around bundles of dried grass and sticks, lighting torches as they swaggered, cursing and kicking the severely injured robbers lying roadside. At Wei Dong’s call, they scrambled back into the truck, knocking on the driver’s cabin to assure everyone of their safety.

The truck restarted, abandoning a heap of dark shapes without a backward glance. In the cargo hold, there was no longer the previous drowsiness or impatience—only the exhilaration and thrill after a fight.

“It’s always exciting going out with Dong!”

“I saved your life just now—someone sneaked behind you, and I knocked him down!”

“Wasn’t I saving Egg?”

“Damn, my arm got hit, it’s bleeding!”

“Let me see—no big deal, just smear some cigarette ash and it'll be fine.”

The ruckus in the back was barely audible in the cab. The vocational student simply leaned silently against the driver, seeking comfort. The face pressed against the window had left her with all the horrors of a film—likely a lasting psychological shadow.

Unexpectedly, as Wei Dong shifted gears, he elbowed her aside: “Are you boneless? Don’t press on my hand, or I won’t be able to act if anything happens!”

Yet Dong Xueqing was undeterred, persistently squeezing closer; if blocked by the gear stick, she shifted toward the back. These big trucks required a formal, upright posture with both hands on the wheel, and the back usually didn’t touch the seat. Even with a padded jacket, her slender body could squeeze in, stubbornly wrapping her arms around his waist. “I was scared out of my wits. When my mother died when I was little, my sister used to hold me like this all night while I cried…”

In those days, trucks didn’t have seatbelts, and the 2+1 seats without armrests could be arranged as one pleased. Many truck drivers were used to curling up and napping there.

Wei Dong, reminded of his own gloom after his father’s passing, didn’t speak, focusing intently on driving.

Dong Xueqing, now, whispered softly—not the cheerful chatter of earlier recounting amusing school stories, but bitter confessions since she could remember. “My sister married just to get the house back. Don’t resent her…”

“I’ve thought it over—if you and my sister stay in Jiangzhou, when I return to school, I’ll strive to transfer there and live with you. Don’t dislike me…”

Wei Dong was thinking about You Qili and his group; if they moved together to Jiangzhou, it might herald great progress. Her presence would hardly make a difference.

His mind held not a trace of the fantasies about two sisters; he responded absentmindedly, agreeing with a simple “mm.” His back muscles felt delighted—sitting like this was surprisingly comfortable.

To his surprise, Dong Xueqing, still holding him and murmuring, quickly fell asleep—likely exhausted from the fright.

---

After ten o’clock, they arrived at the small town, confirming the police’s advice to Wei Dong about the route. It wasn’t just a matter of distance on the map; safety was paramount. Whether early or late, it was best to rest within the county city—at least there would be food and shelter. In this tiny town, everything closed at night; aside from a few barking dogs, there was nothing to eat and certainly nowhere to stay.

Under the planned economy, migration wasn’t encouraged. Wei Dong, soon to head north as a salesman, finally understood why business was so hard in these times. Sleeping rough was minor, but driving by night through the wilderness was truly gambling with one’s life—one slip, and it could cost everything.

So he dared not drive on, letting everyone sleep in the truck for the night, with two people taking turns standing guard.

Earlier, they had picked up several watches from the trade store—three men’s and two women’s—which Wei Dong had bought but not given to his parents or anyone else. It wasn’t stinginess over the hundred-plus yuan each, but concern that wearing such a luxury could bring trouble.

He kept them hidden in the wall cavity at Old He’s house, wearing only one himself. Traveling without knowing the exact time was inconvenient, though he had no desire to show off.

Now he took it out to show the guards the time: “Change shifts every two hours. We’ll leave at dawn. Once we cross the mountains, we’ll reach the hometown of the big boss and have breakfast there.”

Everyone agreed, even giving the driver the most secure corner of the cargo hold.

The entire truck bed, padded with thick dry grass to carry the cured meat, wrapped in blankets, was as comfortable as any inn—the old man had said so himself.

Wei Dong, exhausted from the day, fell asleep immediately.

Dong Xueqing, who had been sleeping alone in the cab, probably woke after the engine cooled, shivering and searching for company. She found three or four excited, awake companions in the cargo hold and led them to the cab to play, then squeezed herself into Wei Dong’s warm embrace and fell asleep again, sweet and fragrant.

There was none of the usual gender separation practiced at school—she treated herself as half a sister-in-law.

Wei Dong dreamed of playing ball again, frustrated as ever.

Urgent!

He woke with a start, tiptoeing quietly out. The three girls outside made faces at him, hinting at the city girl—perhaps to report to Er Feng.

But the vocational student under the blanket remained motionless; only the trembling of her eyelashes betrayed her feelings. She curled herself tighter, cheeks growing redder.

After crossing the mountain twenty kilometers away, they found a restaurant near the train station for breakfast. She tried to act casual getting out of the truck, even shooing Dog Egg and the others away when they wanted to learn to drive: “You’ll need to study foreign languages when you drive later.”

Wei Dong finally began to understand what it meant to learn a foreign language—face flushed, heart guilty.

Fortunately, it wasn’t far from here to Xishan Camera Factory—just thirty kilometers along a broad road by the railway.

Dong Xueqing managed to suppress her embarrassment and started a Russian dialogue in earnest.

The truck reached its destination.

Though different in location from the Optical Instrument Factory, its structure was nearly identical.

---

There were cinemas, skating rinks, hospitals, libraries, all manner of amenities; department stores and service kiosks bustled with life. The vocational student and the companions who opened the tarpaulin were drawn in by the lively atmosphere.

Wei Dong asked directions and drove to the office building. Once permitted, everyone happily dispersed to explore.

Only Dong Xueqing stayed behind, carefully picking dry grass from his clothes. “I wish I could graduate sooner, so I could accompany you and my sister every day, doing such meaningful things.”

Wei Dong’s ears burned for the first time. “Mm, have a look around. Cameras are technical work—you can learn a lot.”

He also brought his prototype camera.

The factory leaders, introduced enthusiastically by the sales manager, welcomed him. They sat around a white-clothed conference table, displaying more than a dozen nearly identical “Aikesi” cameras, each with subtle differences, for discussion.

Wei Dong produced three rolls of film taken during the Spring Festival: “One color, two black-and-white. Film is expensive—the imported color rolls are almost thirty yuan, while domestic black-and-white is only five. And developing photos costs extra, right?”

Anyone who’d lived through the digital era would find it cumbersome, but the others disagreed.

Skilled hands took the rolls and stood up: “We have a developing room next door—we’ll process them for you.”

Others emphasized, “At this stage, we record in black-and-white first. The country is pushing for domestic color film. Once it’s available, we’ll be able to hold our heads high.”

Wei Dong immediately responded, “Yes! Only by supporting domestic color film can we suppress the price of imports. Do you know which factory produces it?”

The Optical Instrument Factory was simply hoping for matching domestic products to boost national prestige. Only those who’d experienced the later domestic production of mobile phones, cars, and so on would understand how vital this was in curbing import premiums. Now, they nodded repeatedly. “You have a broad sales perspective. Please help us sell this camera well.”

Dong Xueqing tried to mimic the quiet demeanor of the only female secretary in the conference room, though her curious gaze never left the dazzling array of cameras.

She’d certainly played with Wei Dong’s “foolproof camera” during the Spring Festival but hadn’t expected he co-developed it with the factory.

Her admiring gaze was unmistakable.

Wei Dong could only comment on external details: “Mm, mm, obviously the later ones are more refined. Very good. This Aikesi—you wanted an English name, right? Just an ‘X,’ nicely designed.”

He was actually thinking of a sports brand with a cross, but couldn’t recall how the slanted lines were made so beautifully.

He tried sketching on the paper provided at the conference table, and the technicians immediately came over to study and adjust.

Actually, making the logo in Roman letters “X” on the upper left corner of the camera front was quite standard.

He felt a red cross on a black camera wasn’t prominent—white seemed better.

No need for a lens cap; it’s easy to lose and inside’s just a tiny fingernail-sized glass. Why cover it? Later phone lenses never had covers, and they rarely got damaged.

For something costing twenty-some yuan, unnecessary extras should be minimized.

Overall, the factory’s attitude was very different from the SLR-making one—anything could be changed, as long as it sold.

At this point, it was evident they still didn’t know how to sell it.

Wei Dong had spent the entire Spring Festival pondering this problem.

No one else could have guessed.